Little Black Pill. Short Story.

Chad poured whiskey into the coffee mug, filling it about half way, he poured a mouthful into his own mug, then he put the lid on the bottle and put it onto the table. He pulled a small baggie from his pocket, a single black pill sat inside it.
“Is that it?”
Chad nodded, “Yeah dude, you ready?”
Frank took a deep breath then exhaled slowly “yeah, lets do it.”
Chad opened the baggie and fished out the pill, then he dropped it into the mug and passed it to Frank. “Should I just drink it here or?”
Chad looked around the small kitchen, pots and pans were stacked in the sink, covered in stagnant water and moulding food, grime coated the linoleum floor which was a dark grey with various stains splattered across it. The table they sat at was rickety and though it looked reasonably clean it felt slightly sticky. The walls and ceiling were stained yellow and a thick stench of old smoke and burnt food hung in the air.
“Maybe the sitting room would be better, the couch would be more comfortable.”

They stood and moved out of the small kitchen and entered the sitting room, it was cleaner than the kitchen though not by much. Empty pizza boxes and Chinese food containers were scattered across the floor, as were mostly empty cans and beer bottles. The sitting room was small, with just enough room for the thread worn and sagging sofa, a squat coffee table sat in front of it, covered in wrappers and glasses, the few bits of the table that could be seen was covered in scorch marks and burns. Frank collapsed back onto the couch and turned on the massive flat screen TV that took up most of the wall in front of the couch. Chad sat down delicately, he sunk into the couch immediately, he tried not to show his disgust, he’d only been here for ten minutes and he felt like he needed a shower, long and hot with plenty of scrubbing to get the grime off his skin. Frank reached out and took the mug from Chad, he raised it in a salute then knocked it back, his Adams apple bobbing as he drained it. When he finished he coughed for a moment, eyes watering. Chad took a sip of his own drink, enjoying the warmth as it burned its way down his throat, he let out a short cough of his own.
“How long should this take?”
“Any second now.”
As Chad watched Frank’s eyes started to close, his pupils were dilating and a faint grin appeared. “Just relax into it.” Frank didn’t move, he couldn’t hear Chad any more. Chad extracted himself from the couch and downed the last of his drink before turning and leaving the sitting room. He let himself out the front door and breathed deeply, the air was thick with heat and the stench of burnt plastic and petrol but it still smelled better than Frank’s place. As he walked away from the house he pulled out his phone and dialled, the call was answered almost immediately. “I’m out, gave the last one away, I’ll need more as soon as possible.”
“More will be at the usual place in an hour.”
Frank hung up and smiled, he’d gotten rid of all the pills in only a week when they’d given him a month. As word was spreading he didn’t even have to look for customers, they just came to him the only problem was it could only be taken once, after that it just wouldn’t do anything. Chad himself hadn’t taken any and he had no plans to, that was the only rule they gave him, never sample the merchandise, everything else was fair game and he should just do what he had to do. He’d a growing suspicion that there was something else happening with the pills but he didn’t care, once he didn’t take them he’d be fine.

Frank started shuddering, his body spasming uncontrollably, he fell still then started vomiting, a thick black sludge that oozed across the filthy carpet. Frank moaned, his breathing was shallow and fast, his skin pale and clammy, it wasn’t like they said it would be, he could feel an intense pain ripping through his stomach. He moaned and writhed for almost an hour before he finally passed out, drenched in sweat and sitting in a pool of the black sludge. When he woke four hours later he felt great, shakily he stood using the table to push himself up, the thick sludge had hardened into a black shell that cracked and flaked from him as he moved. He stretched slowly, getting used to his muscles, he felt strange, off. He stumbled from the sitting room and up the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister as he went. Upstairs he stripped off his clothes and got into the shower, carefully scrubbing that black stuff from his skin.

After his shower he felt remarkably good, everything seemed different, new, he could see it all with a whole new perspective. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and frowned, something was different, but he could quite pinpoint what. He started for a moment, then grinned at himself, he turned and left the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. The tiny wriggling worms in his eye disappeared a moment later, their thin black bodies burrowing deeper, they’d a job to do and nothing would stop them.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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