Dreams of a Drug Addict

[Ash]

When surrounded by endless darkness, any show of color or light becomes an even more beautiful display of both. Contrasted by the black background the colorful fiery wings carried Jakob among the winds of an unknown world.

He floated on rainbows. He could only tell that they were his, but nothing more. Jakob could feel them flap in slow motion, but could not tell you if they were that of angel's or like a dragonfly’s. In fact, when he looked over his shoulder, the colors distracted him long enough to not remember what he was doing. Instead, he found himself mesmerized by the ever changing strokes of vibrant paint that are left behind in the after-image of the slow beating wings.

He looked out in the darkness, but couldn’t see any glimmer of light. As if his wings had carried him into space to fly among the falling stars and the cosmic gods.

Jakob felt free. Free from life’s messes, from responsibility, and most importantly…

Free of pain...

[Ash]

Pieces of something lay scattered in the vast space of nothing. Not shards because they weren’t sharp enough, not puzzle pieces because they didn’t have interlocking shapes, but not quit playdough coming together in the tub as much as the pieces resembled moldable substance the color of flesh.

More like paper. A picture that had been cut into small pieces and scattered to the wind. Now the wind has stopped and it was just litter in the astral verse.

Amongst the scattered pages appeared the ghost of a man.

An intelligent mind, a strong heart, and a tough soul.

A man who still existed but not as he did before.

’Big brother… When are mommy and daddy coming back?’ A phantom’s voice came piercing the nothingness.

’...They aren’t…’ Jakob’s voice sounded clear and defeated.

The pieces of paper that make up a man lost to everyone including himself begin to scatter again...

[Ash]

The world around him went from white to black, then to red, to pink, to purple, to black again. The colors began to taste sweet and bitter at the same time. But the sound of them all were still muffled.  Jakob's senses were all out of wack and he felt like a candle melting under the harsh heat of the sun. Like he was fulfilling his task but was missing his purpose. Like he achieved the long run, but didn't get the chance to start the race, yet.

Somewhere mentally, even he knew what the effects of long term use of Bliss did. Dulled the senses to everything, pain was the enemy and the painkiller was his friend. The only friend that remained.

Without existing personally, the memory of that night echoed outwardly. Machine gun bullets pelted the shield around his consciousness, pierced through and disintegrated into fiery red flowers. There were four different voices screaming in agony, fear, disbelief, and desperation. He knew each of these voices; the charismatic one, the angry one, the piercing female tone, and his own. They all mingled in a chorus of the past and tried to plead with him to stop this, but never was it explained what 'this' was. No words could be made of the voices at all, but he understood every whimper, scream, and sob. A shotgun thundered across the plane that was the dreamer, he felt it splinter in his hands, he could see dotted debris of something not tangible but still was.

His mind shuddered and squeezed, convulsed and he felt nothing but pain.

Pain. It was his alarm clock now. Wake up, stick a needle in, pop a pill.

Pain. It was his drive, his ambition. Put them in as much hurt as possible, death was their only relief.

Pain. It was his only bridge back to reality, and it was burning away.

Pain... It was the only thing Jakob Volkov feared. It was his nightmare. It was his ghostly past looking at him with sad eyes, tears flowing down her face. It was a girl turned to ashes before his eyes, scattered to the wind. It was a deep coldness in his chest, and an iron grip around his very vulnerable heart.

...Pain.










Fuck. He could feel actual pain!!