Smoke Rings
I was pulled violently from my self induced coma of pills and booze, by the abrupt light that peeked through the smoked stained black out curtains of my dingy motel room.
Damn cat. Must be out of food.
Achingly slow, I reached for my cigarettes on the cheap nightstand that sat next to the ancient bed, I was unfortunately residing in.
The flash of the flint mingled with the annoying rays of the afternoon sun, that now interrupted my vision.
The first drag is always the harshest, and best, the smoke burns just perfectly, like an old friends voice.
I remember that I have run out of my own coffee, and will now be reduced to drinking that prepackaged piss that is supposed to constitute as my breakfast.
I stand much too quickly, the rush of throbbing blood in my head forces me back upon the bed.
Causing the bright cherry to flick off my cigarette and on to my exposed thigh.
Fuck!
I'm awake.
My cursing is silenced by a sudden sound of crunching metal and broken glass.
I saunter towards the window.
The thought of moving any faster makes my stomach turn.
I pull back the curtains to reveal the fishbowl of chaos that swarms outside the double paned glass.
Cars have consumed the usually empty street, some are occupied.
Most are not.
Amongst the vehicles are running figures.
Some all too aware of the carnage they are trying to outrun.
Others shambling, and bloody.
Disfigured and creeping.
Horrified, I watch in astonishment, frozen by the scene that I am witness to.
As if on cue, I am immediately jolted to reality as a face slams against the glass.
A putrid specimen of hell.
It's left eye hanging awkwardly and delicately by a strand of membrane.
The jaws frantically banging into the window, so hard it's teeth are crumpling by the force.
It's seems almost close enough that I can smell the rancid meat and dried liquids that have hardened upon it's lips.
There is no breath of life upon the glass.
There is no soul left in the eyes.
Just crusted gore.
And hunger.
I step back and try to hide in a shadow that is not there.
My God.
It has begun.
Damn cat. Must be out of food.
Achingly slow, I reached for my cigarettes on the cheap nightstand that sat next to the ancient bed, I was unfortunately residing in.
The flash of the flint mingled with the annoying rays of the afternoon sun, that now interrupted my vision.
The first drag is always the harshest, and best, the smoke burns just perfectly, like an old friends voice.
I remember that I have run out of my own coffee, and will now be reduced to drinking that prepackaged piss that is supposed to constitute as my breakfast.
I stand much too quickly, the rush of throbbing blood in my head forces me back upon the bed.
Causing the bright cherry to flick off my cigarette and on to my exposed thigh.
Fuck!
I'm awake.
My cursing is silenced by a sudden sound of crunching metal and broken glass.
I saunter towards the window.
The thought of moving any faster makes my stomach turn.
I pull back the curtains to reveal the fishbowl of chaos that swarms outside the double paned glass.
Cars have consumed the usually empty street, some are occupied.
Most are not.
Amongst the vehicles are running figures.
Some all too aware of the carnage they are trying to outrun.
Others shambling, and bloody.
Disfigured and creeping.
Horrified, I watch in astonishment, frozen by the scene that I am witness to.
As if on cue, I am immediately jolted to reality as a face slams against the glass.
A putrid specimen of hell.
It's left eye hanging awkwardly and delicately by a strand of membrane.
The jaws frantically banging into the window, so hard it's teeth are crumpling by the force.
It's seems almost close enough that I can smell the rancid meat and dried liquids that have hardened upon it's lips.
There is no breath of life upon the glass.
There is no soul left in the eyes.
Just crusted gore.
And hunger.
I step back and try to hide in a shadow that is not there.
My God.
It has begun.
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