May 20, 2012

Flash Fiction :: Floating Away

This stuff would kill you, they told me.

I was beyond caring by then. There was no stopping me. So I closed myself in a hotel room with my supply of that ichor. I paid the staff to not disturb me for a week.

And I drank.

I drank till I puked.

Then I drank some more. There was no time to sleep after I started drinking.

By the fourth day I was rolling in my own bodily excretions and I could no longer tell the difference between day and night. I lost track of myself and drifted in a hazy state of subconsciousness.

By the seventh day, the drink was drinking me away as much as I had drank it.

When they broke open the door. I was inside a bottle.



Drifting away.

From everything.

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