Post by Icee on Jan 30, 2005 16:10:29 GMT -5
A story by Olivia, and me.
Chapter One.
Paul sat by himself in the dark shadow in the corner of the room, he was depressed, confused and pissed off with everything in his life.
His girlfriend, Jane, had just left him, his best friend, John wasnt speaking to him. He felt alone, cold, unloved.
He was holding himself tightly, trying to comfort himself, in hope of warmth. He'd never felt this angst before. His life had taken a wrong turn, he felt like ripping out his own spine and somehow impaling himself on it.
He had nothing else to turn to.
Or did he?
He pushed himself up with great difficulty, he was starving, he hadn't eaten in days, though he didn't have the energy to eat.
He just felt the need to sit in the shadows, cold and bare foot.
It was hard for him to walk, the words kept repeating themselves dully in his brain, he had no control of his thoughts or so it seemed.
He was sweating as he reached the table in the middle of the dark room.
He still had the LSD trip John had given him. He hesitated for a moment, but to him, at this point in time, he didn't have anything to live for. He was a very distraught man.
He decided to take the trip.
Tears swelled in his eyes at the thought of what he had become.
He was reluctant, but took the trip. He licked the small sticker, and then shuddered at the foul taste that ran through his mouth.
He walked over the small record player and began to play Jeff Buckleys - Hallejulah.
And crawled his way back to his dark corner near the window.
He actually didn't know where he was, or who was there, but he didn't really care.
"Paul you dickhead" He intoned, ominously to himself.
"What are you doing?" His voice got softer.
"Sitting here, what does it look like?" He said, flatly.
"No you're not." His voice quivered.
Suddenly he was on his feet, the room whirling around before his eyes, filled with bright colours.
He felt like moving, he needed to move, he began to feel sick.
He started leaping and jumping in exhilaration.
He couldnt stop himself, he was panting now, body drenched in sweat.
His eyes half closed and rolled back into his head.
He dropped to the floor kept his face low, his cries muffled in his hands.
"Get up son". A voice came from somewhere unknown, but it sounded as though he was accompanied by an uncertain male quantity.
"What?" Paul murmured, trying to comprehend what he was hearing.
"I said fucking get up." He felt a small nudge in his ribs and un covered his face from his hands.
Chapter One.
Paul sat by himself in the dark shadow in the corner of the room, he was depressed, confused and pissed off with everything in his life.
His girlfriend, Jane, had just left him, his best friend, John wasnt speaking to him. He felt alone, cold, unloved.
He was holding himself tightly, trying to comfort himself, in hope of warmth. He'd never felt this angst before. His life had taken a wrong turn, he felt like ripping out his own spine and somehow impaling himself on it.
He had nothing else to turn to.
Or did he?
He pushed himself up with great difficulty, he was starving, he hadn't eaten in days, though he didn't have the energy to eat.
He just felt the need to sit in the shadows, cold and bare foot.
It was hard for him to walk, the words kept repeating themselves dully in his brain, he had no control of his thoughts or so it seemed.
He was sweating as he reached the table in the middle of the dark room.
He still had the LSD trip John had given him. He hesitated for a moment, but to him, at this point in time, he didn't have anything to live for. He was a very distraught man.
He decided to take the trip.
Tears swelled in his eyes at the thought of what he had become.
He was reluctant, but took the trip. He licked the small sticker, and then shuddered at the foul taste that ran through his mouth.
He walked over the small record player and began to play Jeff Buckleys - Hallejulah.
And crawled his way back to his dark corner near the window.
He actually didn't know where he was, or who was there, but he didn't really care.
"Paul you dickhead" He intoned, ominously to himself.
"What are you doing?" His voice got softer.
"Sitting here, what does it look like?" He said, flatly.
"No you're not." His voice quivered.
Suddenly he was on his feet, the room whirling around before his eyes, filled with bright colours.
He felt like moving, he needed to move, he began to feel sick.
He started leaping and jumping in exhilaration.
He couldnt stop himself, he was panting now, body drenched in sweat.
His eyes half closed and rolled back into his head.
He dropped to the floor kept his face low, his cries muffled in his hands.
"Get up son". A voice came from somewhere unknown, but it sounded as though he was accompanied by an uncertain male quantity.
"What?" Paul murmured, trying to comprehend what he was hearing.
"I said fucking get up." He felt a small nudge in his ribs and un covered his face from his hands.
thats great keep going
I feel bad for Paul. But it's great at the same time!
