I'll Tell My Story
Chapter One
I think it started when the attention stopped.
I think it started on that day I flied.
I think it started the day the door was locked
I think it started when he first cried.
I think it started when my performance dropped...
I think it stopped when he had died.
You may not know this, but he was my best friend. My very best friend.
When we were younger we used to spend weekends at his house or my house, sitting on the floor in the living room, curled up together in a blanket, eating ice-cream in front of the television. It was magical.
When we grew older we started to experiment. Not with each other as people, that would have been wrong, but with alcohol and smoking and drugs. We kept it legal for the first few years, and even near the end we still returned to some things, like Spice and Pondies. Especially me, I love those Pondies, they're snazzy little drops. I'm not too keen on Spice though, they make me such a greedy missus.
We had a large group of friends, friends with brothers and sisters and cousins with connetions. So we were sorted. We had the freedom to try whatever we wanted, as long as we could pay for it. Not really a problem, my parents doted on me. Still do if I am honest.
"So, any of you saints drink?" We were fifteen when I posed this question to our new group of high school friends.
"This one certainly does." Tony pulled a small hip flask from the pocket of his jacket. Of course. He was the one who was ahead of the times. I mean, he tried weed last month for Christs sake! We had tried it last year, but wouldn't tell him. He needed to be first for his ego to survive, and he needed to be first to be a womaniser, and to get Michelle. I don't know why they won't just go out already.
Tony passed the hip flask around and as I took a swig I grinned. "This is kids stuff stupid. Peach Schnapps?! You want Jagermeister mister."
We looked at each other and grinned. One shot and he'd be drunk, two, off his face... Three? Lets not go there. Tony can't hold his drink, not one bit. He'll be pissed from his shared hip flask.
Who do you think this is about? This is my first actual piece of prose for Skins, I've only done poetry so far.