View Full Version : The Sickness (Adult)

March 22nd, 2012, 03:41 PM
Rough Rough Draft........Just wanna know where I am with this, if someone could be kind enough to point out some flaws and strengths.

Dust plumed into the air as each step of Jeff’s filthy, and faded canvas Chuck Taylor’s hammered his legs into the pavement propelling him along the notorious east side of Cincinatti, known as “Over the Rhine”. Jeff wiped the sweat from his greasy brow, staring grudgingly into the sky as if to tell the sun enough was enough. His Bearcats tee shirt was drenched in the salty coolant his body had excreted and smelled of weeks and months without wash. The shirt’s neck was stretched as if pulled over a head the size of a beach ball, and hung in the middle of his chest providing a unique tan line indicative of his taboo lifestyle.

Jeff wrestled his hand into the extra tight pocket of his soiled blue jeans, and felt the money from a long night of hard dishonest work that lay in waiting for it’s true owner. Jeff struggled with the notion of keeping the money to spend on himself for clothing, or shelter he so desperately needed, but the money’s place was not with him. As he rounded the corner of a crime-ridden street known to police as a “red zone” Jeff pulled the wad of cash from his pocket, gripping it tightly in his sweaty palm. It’s owner stood impatiently waiting for his arrival one block away.

With each step that Jeff grew nearer, the anticipation that knotted his stomach doubled in size. The want to be gone from this man’s presence and to carry on in his love was overwhelming as he handed the man the pre-determined amount, in exchange for a small but powerful package.

Jeff looked down at the package in awe. As he looked back up Jeff saw the man was disgusted with the eager toothless grin perched on his face. Jeff wiped the smile away in an instant, thanking the man and proceeded to his next destination.

Jeff turned a corner, and looked around to assure that no one could see the treasure in his grimy fingers, and examined it more closely. A cream colored powder wrapped in cellophane, no bigger than the size of a small marble made his heart feel the fulfillment of a thousand hugs and kisses from the most beautiful woman on earth. By looking at it Jeff could tell this was some of the best heroine he had ever bought. His new connection was real, and real was valuable.

Two blocks away Jeff could see the boarded up windows of the abandoned building he had laid waste in, countless evenings as he listened to the creaks and moans of the building’s aging structure. He felt safe there. He felt at home.

From beneath a loosed wooden plank on the dusty floor, Jeff pulled out a plastic bag containing a large quantity of drug paraphernalia. An assortment of needles, spoons, lighters, and pipes crowded the over-stuffed zip-lock baggie. Jeff grabbed several needles at once, pulling off the lids of each one exposing it’s point and touching it with the tip of his grubby index finger to test which of these used syringes were the sharpest. Settling on one, he laid it to the side, and grabbed a soot-stained spoon, dropping a small chunk of the illegal substance into it. He laid the spoon to the side to grab a dust- covered water bottle. His heart sunk through his stomach like an anvil in water, as he realized the bottle was empty.
His desperation boiled to a head at the thought of having to delay his fix for another second. He walked out the front door, stooped next to a dark puddle nestled in the shaded area of the broken sidewalk outside, and drew 60 units of liquid into the syringe. The murky liquid swirled around the inside of the vile like toilet water on it’s way down after a whiskey binge. Satisfied with what he had procured to resolve his predicament, Jeff hurried back into the building.

Jeff squirted the muddy fluid into the spoon atop the drug, and stirred the concoction with the bright orange needle cap. He licked the excess from the cap and lit a flame underneath the spoon until it reached a momentary boil. Jeff stuck the needle into the spoon and drew out its contents. Holding the syringe in one hand he skillfully withdrew his belt from his pants, tightly wrapping it around his arm above the elbow, he stuck the needle into his favorite vein, drew back the plunger sucking his own blood into the syringe to assure he hadn’t missed, and slowly shot the substance into his blood stream. He pulled the needle out of his vein, licking his self-imposed wound while simultaneously releasing the belt to let the poison course to his heart and from there his brain.

He was alone. He was useless. He was indifferent.

The hurt, sadness, and feelings of injustice were swept away by the warmth and familiar feeling the heroine had produced. He had reached his safe haven once again. He had received his emotional amnesty. He numbed.

The memories could now be accessed without guilt or pain. Lying on his back, in the darkening room as the sun neared its finality of the day, Jeff thought of the children he had left behind. He fantasized of his imminent return to them in prosperity, and of relieving them of the poverty and misfortune he had bestowed up on them by choosing his addiction as his higher power so many years before. He thought of how much they must still love him, and how proud they most likely were of him for taking the initiative to deny the stereotypical normalcy society demanded.

Soon the feeling had somewhat abated, and another shot was in order to be able to continue in his dreams or delusions. He repeated the process from earlier again, drawing from the muddy puddle, and injecting his arm with the cocktail. The rush was dramatically increased this trip around due to the increased volume of drug he added. His ears rang, and dizziness surrounded his consciousness.

In those last moments as his breathing slowed, and his perspiration increased, Jeff thought of those children. His reality set in. No amount of the drug, could deny the devil to give the realization of hopelessness and death that stared Jeff in the face at that moment. Selfishness. Obliterated. Eternal separation.


April 7th, 2012, 10:20 PM
i like it! i gotta say, your descriptions are great. i felt like i was watching a movie.
as for flaws i didnt really notice many; in the first paragraph, there were a couple sentences that flowed a little weird, just something to read over and word differently is all. in the middle i kindof felt like there was a little too much description, although fabulous, about the process. we've all seen people shoot up at least in movies and stuff, so the step by step isnt exactly necessary, u know? perhaps adding more emotional descrition or some memories associated with the place/process? overall really good though ur a great writer :)

April 8th, 2012, 02:19 PM
Is that how it goes? It's good. Not my cup of tea, but I feel like you have some potential in it. I enjoyed parts of it, but unfortunately either your writing style or the required writing style for this topic tends to bore me.

Anyways, keep up the good work!

April 8th, 2012, 05:46 PM
The story is interesting enough, to me, even though its not following a very elaborate story and that's what good writing is in my opinion. To be able to take something as unappealing as a junkie scoring and shooting up some dirty shit (LOL!) and make it interesting enough to want to keep reading. Good work, keep it up!

Also, I like the description and how you present the effects he feels from using.

Rank Zero
April 12th, 2012, 01:41 AM
This is GREAT! The descriptions are so vivid and they just paint a picture in my mind. Your a great author and I hope you continue to write, also, whenever I am able to post, you should check out my series, "The Bond,". Continue to work on writing and get better and better! BEST OF LUCK TO YOU!