Intro
Once a man is taken from his natural setting and thrown into the world of the unknown, strange things both to and around him start to happen. For most, this strange world of the unknown is called life. We, like most other beings on this planet have a purpose. Whatever that may be, it is key to the survival of the globe. The only question is when does man truly know his purpose? The answer may be hard to find, but it is never far away. Not for Van, anyway. He, like any other teenager of the twenty-first century, is always looking for that next best thing. That new high. Van found his new and final high.
Chapter 1: Present Tense
The crimson curtains couldn't keep the scorching heat of the sun from penetrating my eyelid. The thickness of a black satin comforter could, however. I yanked the majority of the silky blanket over my head leaving my feet uncovered. The continuous screeching of the now working alarm blared straight through the warm, dark fortress that I now hid the hunter green of my irises under. In one fail swoop, I shot the covers across the room and with the opposite hand slammed on the cheap plastic of the alarm clock the crack that I heard instantaneously informed me that the force I swung with was just a bit too much. Just after hearing the sheer split of the plastic, a sharp bite of pain seared up my arm. Looking at my hand assured me that I indeed had received quite the laceration from the five dollar clock. Slightly enraged, I threw the alarm across the room and proceeded to make myself decent. The walk to the dresser seemed longer than usual. My feet heavily under me as I gradually scraped to the drawers of the bureau.
"What the fuck was that?" I heard my roommate shout from the couch outside the door. "Jesus Christ, Van do you know what time it is? We're gonna get the cops called on us again!" Sam was obnoxious. I only put up with him because my job was just shy of being able to pay the rent in full.
"Mind your own goddamn business Sam!" I yelled back with as much contraction of my diaphragm as I could. He heard me. Not another word was heard from him as I pulled on my black denim jeans. As the pants went up my leg, I felt the sweet bulge of salvation in my right jean pocket. The pants zipped up with ease and I threw a semi-clean wife-beater on. I reached deep into my right pants pocket and pulled out the Zippo that was caught on a loose thread. On my dresser was just what I was looking for and quite possible the reason for my edginess. My pack of Camel's was lying on the hard wood of the bureau and was calling my name. I lifted my head to look in the mirror, only to see the tattered, beaten, bruised, scarred, and fucking amazing figure before me. The royal blue of my mohawk radiated in the room like a campfire in the woods. It brought a new aura to the room. An aura I fucking hated. Just before I slogged out the door, I shoveled one in my mouth, flipped o[en the Zippo and struck it. The sweet nectar of the tobacco surged into my mouth as the paper charred to perfection around the dried leaves, I walked out the door as I felt the relief of the smoke entering then exiting my lungs.
"Fuck, man, do you have to do that in here? Can't you open a window at least?" Sam never did like that I smoked in the apartment, but it's not like I gave a shit. I merely walked past him with a grin on my face and a finger in the air. "You're an asshole. I hope you know that." Sam got out just as my hand reached for the door on our refrigerator.
"Sue me." I remarked as my eyes scanned the items among our pathetic excise for nourishment. They caught onto a small glass bottle with a nice looking bronze liquid flowing back and for the in the decorated container. I unscrewed the cap, took a swig and screwed the cap back on. I grimaced as the fiery liquid seared its way down my throat and nestled itself in the acidic solution in my stomach. I glanced at the bottle and shortly admired the pirate looking back at me.