Source: youtube.com
"...that was Mr.{Schwarze} Hilderschmidt..." I would've said {hello} but the sight of a gun halted any air from escaping my body. "Must've been a costume prop or something.." I reached the base floor and waited, in case any shots were fire(d); I had my phone. "......" None. My alertness amplified as I stepped outside, the rush from a natural breeze sending a shudder down my spine. I looked all around me, dying leaves and some trick or treaters still out causing mischief. Passing through the courtyard, a young boy ran past me throwing rocks at the windows. A few shattered, and the boy; as quickly as he had appeared, vanished into the night. A obscenity was yelled from the uppermost floor. I looked up at my apartment and sure enough......I was too inebriated to care. I texted Amber and went about my short travel. The walk to the pharmacy was brief; my timer read 3m28s. Walking up to the drug store made me feel sick and uneasy. "Ughh.." I groaned as I walked in; the interior lights nearly blinding me. Being in a dingy apartment really dulled my senses. The lights from the ceiling were almost overwhelming. I made my way to the back where I could retrieve my drugs. The clerk look unenthused, probably from being overworked on a holiday. I dared not to ask as I simply handed over my ID along with the Rx slip. "Nice costume.." she said. I twitched. I'm not good at taking compliments. "Oh, uh thanks...." An awkward silence lingered as she entered a few more credentials into their system (I'm assuming) before she went to grab my prescription(s). {time stamp} I looked all around me. Nothing but white floors and neatly stocked shelves....no form of disarray whatsoever; other than a flickering light or two. Lucie (as her name tag read) came back just as I began to doze off. "Forty one dollars." She bluntly proclaimed. I left exact change on the counter, grabbed my bag and immediately left as I was beginning to feel uneasy as the smell of menthol permeated my pores. I realized that I was preparing to go back outside. Instead of braving it, I went into the restroom and began to undo the safety cap of the Thiopental. I only took one pill, and let the faucet run for exactly 3m28s. After the timer went off, I took another and briefly left the premises; leaving a $10 bill on the counter as I stuffed my pockets with candy on the way out.
The walk back was a daze. A few passerbys, the sound of crickets, a faint siren; the prevalent smell of [leaves] and heavy marijuana smoke. "Ugh..my stomach." I thought I'd lost my way for a moment but I came across the dented hydrant that rests on the corner of my street soon after. As I made my way to the gate, a man standing in a black cloak with piercing green eyes stood in front of my passage way; {he looked}¹ as if he guarding the gate..or waiting for someone. He looked² at me as I approached; I chose not to meet his gaze, instead; studying the cracks in the sidewalk as I neared my home. When I was finally close enough, he began to speak. "You know, with all of the strange things in this world, I'd fit the criteria of; for celebrating this holiday at my age. Don't you think?" My mouth was dry and his form of speech confused me; I simply nodded. A subtle yet apparent look of disappointment drew upon his face. "So, who are you supposed to be?" "Clark Kent recovering from kryptonite poisoning.." "....interesting." He then looked away for a moment; at the moon. I leaned back against the gate, as I didn't want to ask him to move nor did I care to move myself. ".............." I watched two cars go by before he resumed: "There was a time when you could talk to people..and rather than them replying with an answer you fed them, their brain would actually formulate an original opinion or thought, and the two would have a genuine conversation filled with depth." His sight returned; to eye level. I managed a raspy: "I suppose." as I set the timer on my phone. I glanced over at him, he looked familiar, but the haze I was in wouldn't allow me to remember, if...I even had the capacity to do so. "You know..." He halted again. "....okay, I'm not really Clark Kent. I'm Norman Osborn..from Amazing Spider #96 or #97." I lit the cigarette I'd brought along for the walk. "Or was it Harry?" The smoke escaping in billows between each word. "I forget". ".... you're just a slave to twisted memories." {source}. "...what?"
He walked off, throwing a piece of paper at me before vanishing into the night, same as the boy had done only about a half an hour earlier. My body felt adhered to the gate, not that it mattered; as I {still} had no desire to move. As I glanced down at the paper that had been thrown at me, the gate suddenly gave way and I fell to the ground. A hollow thud. Or was it my heart? I didn't want to get up after hearing those words. Words that echoed in my head until I drifted off to sleep....{dream}."White King.." I jolted up, right as my timer went off. "......" It took a moment for me to assess my surroundings..still in the courtyard. I couldn't find the piece of paper...nor my cigarette. I felt around for my pills (accounted for) and managed to move. Walking past the ashen gargoyle, I noticed a cassette recorder placed upon it's mantle; it played a cackle, the same in which I'd heard in my dream. (📸) I shook my head and continued to the elevator, ignoring anything that may distract me from walking steadily and pressed the button multiple times. The dull emerald lights in the hall desensitized me to the simultaneously growing and subsiding synaesthesia that lingered from my short dream. After taking a puff from my rescue inhaler, the door opened, and I went straight to my floor with no interferences. 1:07 A.M Everything was how I left it, besides the window. I took a look into the hallway mirror just to make sure I was still all there; "White King..." I brought my hands to my face, trying to rearrange my features, as if I were wearing a malleable mask. There was some dried blood settled beneath my nostril; a quick draw of my sleeve erased the blemish, though now my sleeve had a smear. My costume was now complete, albeit too late.
I sat on the couch for a bit; spreading the spoils of my venture onto the coffee table, methodically sorting out each pill into the crevice of each diamond pattern that lined its top. The draft from the hole in the window was somewhat beneficial, somewhat leveling me out as I counted the dispensed contents. "42..." I felt around for the remote, found it and flicked the television on. As I did so, the light emitting from my slightly open bedroom door became slightly larger in margin; out came Pea. "Hungry, huh?" She looked back towards my bedroom. I wiped my eyes as, albeit a brief settling, my eyes adjusted to the darkness rather quickly. When I regained focus, she was no longer there; the sliver of light from my room completely disappeared as well. "My cat is possessed." I had to remind myself. The DVD resumed: 'Ghost in the Machine' - Stargate (my favorite episode). I quickly went into the bathroom and grabbed my diabetic needles, rinsed them off and returned to my seat in order to fully immerse myself in the episode. "...go ahead." "You uh..messing around with the power again? The lights are flickering." "Yeah, I'm getting reports from all over the place....hello?" I crushed half a pill before remembering I needed water and went towards the kitchen to prepare myself a glass. I heard a crunching noise as I made my way near; "Probably just..." I flicked on the light. It was...it was Pea, eating what looked like a mantis or..maybe a cricket. I scratched her head before pouring myself a glass, using it to fill her bowl with water before refilling it again; turning off the light as I went back into the living room. 📺 "My {consciousness}¹ is still intact." I keep a secondary bottle of aspirin for scenarios like this; hidden beneath the cushion of the couch. I took one tab from the bottle and put it right back; crushing the pill and mixing it with the {RxTP}. Aligning the crushed powder into a straight line, I leaned over and began to {censor} the powder as quickly as I possibly could, and sat right back up; knocking over a few of the diabetic syringes onto the floor. I'd forgotten why I'd even retrieved them. I recalled a panel from a comic where Superman would crush Kryptonite, heat it up with his heat vision and {censor} the residual fumes. "What?.." I delusionally asked myself, a question to an imaginary proclamation. "Oh..right, both #96 AND #97." ▶️ "..I'm uh....the new...." "New you." "I see...."
1:32 A.M
💿 "....stay trapped in limbo forever." Officer Richard said to Dr. Weir. I crushed another aspirin tab as Mei came walking through the hallway. "Don't mind me.." she said, pressing her fingers against her temple as she walked into the kitchen. "Headache?" She replied with a soft "mhmm" as she continued; stumbling over Pea in the darkness. Pea darted towards the kitchen in response: a strange one; her bell chime echoing before fading into the sound of Mei's bare feet lifting off of the kitchen floor. I felt like I could hear everything in the apartment, as I took a drink of water to nourish my dry tongue; I could probably hear what she were thinking were it not for my ankle monitor disrupting my EM waves. Though, I could blame my phone for that too..or, well anything in the apartment really. A beep from the microwave prompted me to consume yet another line of crushed aspirin. I leaned back for a moment: "...I only feel this when i'm high." I thought my phone was vibrating, but it was a group of muscles in my leg twitching. Mei sat next to me suddenly, or was she Amber? I couldn't tell in the dark. "Hey..." She slurped her noodles and waved. "Still Mei..." "What happened to the window?" "No clue." Dragging my laser pointer from my pocket, I started pointing it at the faux ficus in the corner of the room. No response from Pea. "So, are you awake yet?" She asked suddenly. "....oh, right. (If I were to go to Hell) It'd probably be for greed. "Why's that?" I looked at her teeth as she spoke. ".....Oh, uh.." I pulled a folded sheet of paper from my sock and unfolded it in front of me. "...my blood type is AB+." "What?" She handed two lit cigarettes to me. "If someone really needed my blood, there's a high chance I couldn't help them....but I can receive blood from everyone." I took one as to not seem stingy. "........" She just looked away as got a bit more comfortable and took a drag. "What about you?" "I don't like to think about it." "Cowboy killers?" She took an extended drag; consistent enough for the ash not to shake loose. "No, my brother.." "Oh, right..." It grew awkward as I tried to light my cig.
(The bloodstained walls, a theme for Halloween) One last attempt to get their attention proved futile, as my knocks went unheard as they traversed through the hallway. A final turn of the doorknob; Nothing. I opened the note as I walked into the kitchen. It read: "Bishop. Rooftop. First. 10/26/2007. Reunite. Positive. **4* (The password to my voicemail box). Hello." Attached to the letter was a prescription for Thiopental, Clozaril and Almotriptan. A check for $300 along with a photo of me, though it wasn't very clear. Just me walking past the gargoyle in the courtyard that was so ashen, it would appear to be a spirit in the during the late hours. I gulped. Not out of fear, but the gelatinous capsule from earlier still remained in the crevice of my wisdom tooth. "I should get that checked out." •Adam said, as he rubbed his lower jaw.• "I must have a stalker..." A moment passed as I glanced over the Rx sheet: "Clozaril...sounds crazy." The [convenient] 24 hour pharmacy was barely four blocks away. I looked up specifications on where an individual detained to their home may go; "...igious services, obtain medical treatment or care, buy grocer...." 📳 New voicemail. "...hmm." Curiosity could not best me, as the promise of a release from my growing phobia of the outside world proved more satisfying [in thought]. I placed my phone in my pocket, closed my eyes and..for lack of a better term; "phased" through the hallway to my bedroom. [Amber] was still asleep. "She looks good in red..." A..vibrant change from her usual dark colors, a complete clash to her personality. She curled into my pillow, shuddering; her cheeks slightly damp. On second [thought].... {time stamp} After soaking the cuff of my shirt in menthol and lighting a still salvageable cigarette, I downed some age old absinthe and looked at Mei. "...." I took another drink and made my way to the secondary door from the kitchen that leads to the back way elevator(s) and while I waited for the next ride down, I changed my voicemail password.