Bright light, ghost forms cackle, shackled, dizzyspin, ouchouch, nondescript, sterile, crypt-like emptiness, shadows shadowed indistinct forms, warmthheat sweltering, thirst, Paul moan, SLAP!, light dimming, dimming, shadowman seen to have grin waving.
"Aight ya' druggie scum, welkam ta yer new 'ome. We'llbe killin' de lightssoon, so'f ya's gotsa query jus' kip yer yap shut!" a sinister guffaw, and the sewer rat with the mean scar reinforced his message with a firm bitch-slap. "Nightnight princess, you'ze gotsa big day tamara, best git yer beauty sleep" a guffaw and then lightlessness.
Paul felt the cool damp chill air and heard it whistle through the empty room. It pierced his senses like a pinprick; he winced. Familiar spiders crawled up his legs, his arms; his screams unheard, his restraints firm. Swirling faces in the nothingness, bullies from grade school, those goddamned lawyers, the sewer rat, and Paul snapped like a dog at the end of his chain, trying to dispel the cruel apparitions. The visions, the sounds, the chill, and then a needle "Ow!"
That was real; Paul had learned to tell the difference. Faint footsteps, a cacophony of hollow voices taunting, his hat passing between children's hands, and little Paul back and forth, sobbing. The voices began to chant, in unison, "Paulie, Paulie born with a silver spoon, his Mama regrets he was ever in her womb", overoverover again. Paul felt his own steam and began to spasm violently in his restraining chair. Now nauseous/bruised, copious vomit and bile spilled from his mouth. His throat began to burn and the taste was just unbearable. DripdripDrip, slow water leak tortuous, each drop another stressor; the burn!, the voices!, the pain!, the DRIPDRIP! "AHH!!" THWACK!?
And as Paul's head hit the back of his chair all went away. A thin trail of blood trickled down a slack jaw, speckling his white collared shirt. A faint moan issued from his trembling lips, unheard.
Chapter 5: Predator and Prey
"BRDRING!" ring! Reverberating, sinews hating it, wrenching "BRDRING" feeling within, some trembling "BRDRING!" what the who the, omnipresent "BRDRING" vibrating uneasy, queasy, eardrum splitting "BRDRING!" searching looking, losing way, dazehaze, "BRDRING!"? Forcing will, concentration, "BRDRING" "Whassa, is dat?" mwahh, moangroan, "Oh yeah" "BRDRING!" "Telephone"
BRDING! "Hello"
"Go about your life Pills my boy, see what's changed."
"Who the fuck?"
"Not important, Almighty Bog, whoever?"
"What?" and then a dial tone. The world began to settle down; only slightly wavering now. Pills managed a stumbling walk as he made his way to Market, not knowing what else to do.
Pills melded into his surroundings, he met with the undead, or the addicts, or whatever you wish to call them. Giving passing twitch nods at vaguely familiar faces until finding his way to the cardboard office under the third broken street lamp.
"Samm-my, i-se needsa'fix" nothing. "Sam? Mufwah?" then was stumbling over the desk, tripping, tearing down the burlap sack back room, and?
"GAWD! Nooo-ho?" tears rolled down Pills' face like raining on the Macy's day parade and in a rage he shred up the office, smashed the boom-box with a full-bodied stomp and slipped onto the pavement, landing with a "thwump!" A small snake of blood slithered down his busted nose, and the pain brought a little clarity to his teary, dust-coated eyes. "Those bastards" and Pills slowly brought himself to a squat, and then stood.
He raised one arm over his head, then the other, stretching. "All right, here's the situation:" thoughts formed, dispersed in the sweat stained air, and then, slowly, with a wince they began to crystallize again "I'm being fucked with? by? this Bog fellow?" he laughed at his little joke "I?" and he proceeded to recap everything that had happened to him, in his own time. He glanced at his old supplier's mangled throat and began to walk on down the lane?
BRDRING! "FUCK YOU!"
"Now-now, temper-temper; your friend there needed a vacation; I think he mentioned Fiji, actually, but I thought something more permanent might be nice."
Pills regained his composure, reaching a sort of waking meditation: "Your job was sloppy."
"C'mon Pills. You know how it works, don't you?"
Breathing methodically he was at about 80% now "Yeah, sorry, I'm a bit out of my head. Mangled throats evoke more pathos, right? I would expect no less from an omnipotent life molester like you."
"Haha, good, you're recovering. I like a healthy prey when the game heats up." Click? dial tone.
Pills threw himself to the ground as a flash of metal flew above his head. As he hit the street, hands first, he pushed himself upwards and back, his boots meeting his assailant's chest with a crack. Now on his feet, staring down at the wheezing thug alley-cat behind him, he laughed and spit. With a swift kick to the head Pills gracefully snapped the lowlife's neck. After taking his money and his half full Coffee Beanery frequent buyers card he melded into the city with open eyes.