Ugh, so now that that shit’s all out of my system, I think I can tell people about what I guess was a ‘bad trip’… least I hope that’s all it was.
Let’s start this off by saying I’ve been smoking since I was sixteen. I know, I know. I’m gonna get lung cancer, I’m shortening my life, yadda yadda yadda.
Note: I’m not a stoner, I don’t really fuck with weed, it’s still illegal where I live. So this makes what happened fucking weirder.
Last month a couple of my friends, Mike, Peter, Joe and Freddy and I were chilling at my apartment instead of going out. Playing video games, having a few drinks, and I had just realized I was on my last cigarette. I really wasn’t in the mood to walk to the corner store at this hour.
Peter, one of my buddies, thankfully had mercy on me and tossed me a pack, saying I could have some if I needed it. I flipped it over and realized it wasn’t a brand I recognized. The front had the image of a grinning girl on it, with dark hair and blue eyes. The word ‘Blue’s’ were written in a fancy scrawl above her.
“These any good?” I asked, opening up the package to see if Peter was trying to pull a fast one on me.
Peter laughed. “Oh yeah, they’re great. It’s either that or you’re walking to the store, they’re all I got on me.”
Great. I didn’t push it off until I felt desperate, I didn’t want to snap at my buddies, and I lit up next to the open window.
I knew something wasn’t quite right after a few minutes when my throat began to feel cold, like I’d swallowed a mouthful of sharp ice. I coughed and took a swig of my beer, ignoring the jokes Joe made about me about to cough up my black lungs. He had no room to talk, he was also trying the Blue’s, along with most everyone else in the room… although now that I think about it, I don’t think Peter did.
I waved him off and had another drink, figuring some alcohol might warm me up.
The cold traveled down my esophagus to to my chest and lungs, and I ended up excusing myself to the bathroom to get some water. My mouth felt like it had frozen shut and beer wasn’t fixing it.
After it felt like I’d had like three gallons of water, I looked into the mirror to see my reflection was grinning.
I wasn’t grinning. I backed away from the mirror, feeling a bit ill, but my reflection didn’t move. He just continued to smile at me, cocking his head to the side… and then I noticed his, well, my eyes.
They were bright, icy blue.
I bolted from the bathroom to find all my friends were gone. It was like they just vanished into thin air, their beers still sitting where they were and the video game still going on screen.
I tried to call out for them, but it came out as a dry hiss.
I felt someone blow on the back of my neck before I bolted.
I ran out the door, slamming it behind me as I ran down the hallway. I had no idea what was going on, my entire body was breaking out in goosebumps and I swear I saw my breath leave my mouth in white puffs. I didn’t look behind me, but I felt like someone was coming after me.
I ran into the street, looking around frantically for anyone that looked familiar. No one was there. The street was unnaturally dead for a Friday night. I was alone. My friends were no where to be seen.
I heard someone laugh behind me and the tell tale shriek of the door opening. I turned around.
It was the girl on the cigarette box, except she looked like she’d been mangled by a fucking lawn mower. Her face was a swollen black and blue, one of her eyes was just gone and all that was left was a black hole while the other dangled from her skull, whipping around in the wind, still bright blue as before. Her right leg dragged useless behind her as she limped up to me, flopping about while the bones cracked.
She almost reached me before I screamed again and ran down the street as fast as I could. My teeth were chattering so much I bit my tongue. The blood ended up dripping down my chin as I couldn’t swallow it, I probably looked like a fucking maniac.
I couldn’t stop. I could barely breathe. My heart thudded so loudly in my ears I thought it was going to give out. But if I stopped, I just knew I was dead. That… that thing was going to catch me. And god knew what she was going to do to me.
I ended up at a bar I tended to frequent, but I was the only one there. Again, it was like everyone had just vanished into thin air, the TVs were still going, the ice in the glasses had yet to melt. I attempted to shout for help again, but I couldn’t talk. I was alone.
I turned around, the girl was right there, smiling so widely with her cracked lips you’d think she won the lottery. She got closer, I could smell the rot from her gangrenous snapped leg. Her torn up finger tips almost touched my face before I lost consciousness.
I woke up in the hospital about three days later, unable to talk, to find out I was one of the lucky ones.
People had called the cops on me, saying there was either someone really drunk or crazy was running down the street, screaming like a maniac. The bartenders said I was completely out of it, babbling nonsense and running into people before I ran into one of the testier guys at the bar and he ended up punching my lights out.
I think that might’ve saved my life.
All my other friends got fucked up. Joe ended up running in front of a truck and will probably never walk again, Freddy had freaked out and ended up beating a homeless man to death, and Mike… Mike climbed to the top of my apartment building and dove off, landing head first on the concrete. It wasn’t a pretty sight, according to the people who were unfortunate to see it.
Oh, and Peter? No fucking idea where he is. Still don’t, even now that I’m out of the hospital. I can’t really talk above a whisper, and I quite smoking cold turkey. The cops think he purposely laced the cigarettes with something to make us trip like that, probably as a joke, and once things went downhill he took off with the evidence.
I swear to god if I ever find that creep I’m going to rip his head off. I still see that girl in my dreams at night. Still watching me. Waiting for her chance to strike.