I wake up in my shitty apartment; I am laying on my bed in the foetal position speaking in tongues. I fall out of bed screaming, my head is a cacophony of agony. I run to the toilet and vomit my guts out. This is not the hangover I was hoping for. I check my phone for the time. It’s three in the afternoon six days after Henry’s birthday. The fuck? I try to remember anything. You don’t just loose six days. But then most people don’t go through what I have. I call work; they think my call is some kind of prank. Say I’ve turned up to work every day expected. I check through my phone for information and am surprised at what I find. Amongst my texts is one from a new contact titled the old man. The text is brief and to the point.
You have lost the first round of the game, you must now pay the forfeit to continue or surrender the game.
And with that a flood of information hits my head, bits and pieces of what I’ve been playing these past few days, I only have fragments not the whole picture. I couldn’t tell you what game I’ve played or who against. All I know is I cannot afford to lose, that the price for winning would be beyond godhood itself, and finally that for losing the first round I have to pay the price. I am to meet the old man at midnight at the local church in town Saint Patricks. There I am to pay my forfeit. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. They laughed as they pronounced my fate claiming it was a classic and that the last guy who got stuck with it did pretty well for himself. I am to go to the church and sacrifice an eye. I run to the toilet and vomit again. What sick freaks am I involved with. Their laughter echo’s around me. Am I being watched? Thinking of what I saw whilst high this seems likely, but then if I take what I saw whilst high as truth I am so screwed. I calm myself. There is always a way out. I’ve always told myself that, but then I’ve always told myself that whilst knowing it’s a lie. It is possible to fuck your life up beyond measure. And I may have done it in a stupid attempt to keep myself entertained.
I search online for any information I can about this game and things above gods. I get nutjobs spouting illuminati theories and a weirdly high amount of porn. To be honest the closest thing to my experiences would be something out of those weird old pulp horror stories I liked as a teen. The one’s where someone’s gets in over his head with almighty cosmic powers, finds out too much and then dies, goes insane or both. This is not a positive thought, plus I gave up all that nerd shit for a reason. I decide to call Henry. It’s five in the afternoon I could do with a stiff drink and a friend to give me honest advice. He seemed aggravated when I call but agrees to meet at seven. I bolt down to town straight away and immediately regret it as I end up drinking alone in the cherry tree. Just me and my thoughts.