The green eye

this is a story i just found that i had written years back, the idea came from zombie films and drug use. so i combined the 2 , what if people who were addicted to drugs turned to zombies?

The skies of the early morning were grey and dull, rain poured down from the heavens as the kettle started to hiss with the warmth of the water inside. The central heating always clocked on at seven so waiting another hour in jumpers, curled up on the sofa was the only way to keep my mind off the cold. As I sipped my tea and watched the TV, I could hear the other residents below leaving for work. Slamming of doors and raised voices was a common prospect to live with in this modern day, as well as the s**t weather. There was nothing spectacular on TV so I decided to have a shower. 2 years ago I had the bathroom refurbished but the paint was still peeling off, peeling off like my dried skin on my hands, had tried to get it sorted with various skin creams but in the end I guessed I just wasn’t drinking enough water, so with my weekly pay I would go down to the local off licence and get all the necessary healthy stuff. The shop was owned by a friend of mine who I had graduated collage with the previous year. He had set his ambition for something higher but seeming as the recession wasn’t going to go away any time soon, he stuck to what his uncle had taught him. Stacking shelves and selling moderately priced toothbrushes. He wasn’t a bad looking boy but I have a habit of slipping into the only friends category, mainly because I didn’t really believe I could be treated right by a guy or that I was going to f**k the relationship up in some way or another. 

So I had decided in my early collage days that I would focus on work, just work, and the sounds and situations around me.

I shut the bathroom door and went into my room which was opposite. Towel dried my hair then blow-dried.

 Looked in the mirror like every woman does in the world. Before she leaves for the day’s events. Like most of the percentage of English people my skin was a blank canvas, a pale blank canvas which the only way to perfect it would be to apply chemically made appliances which often were forced on animals. Imagine being an animal in that cage not knowing when you are going to die, or even if you are going to. 

But what the animal cruelty adverts do not understand is that here I am, an 18 year old girl, living in a single flat. And so therefor I have not the power of two thousand men to free all the animals that are subjected each day to harm. I tapped into my computer and turned on my music. 

The rhythm to my soul or any music lover to that matter, what was the time? Its 8 o clock now and my radiator is warming up which is good. Ok well now at least I looked a little more awake.

 I didn't have to peer out of my bedroom window to tell it was still chucking it down with rain, possibly hail. Think it would be a wise idea to wear my ugg boots, skinny jeans and my dark green jumper today. I’m the type of person who has to listen to a song for every mood I’m in during the course of the morning, or when I’m getting ready for work. It wasn't a bad job it was quite well paid but every night I would come home stinking of fish or vinegar which as you can imagine was popular with the inmates of the accommodation house.

As always the little bell which hung above the entrance of the shop rang as I entered, I was always greeted by the overwhelming smell of a variety of battered fish, and chips, which would be laid out on the work surface ready to be salted and wrapped up in crinkly brown paper and handed to the customer. The usual faint sound of a radio channel could be heard from above the counter and the sound of people walking by could clearly be heard. “Right what has to be done?” I asked Sam who was still humming along to a tune most ghastly. 

He pointed to the salt, pepper, vinegar bottles.” Fill them up please, then go down to the shops and get some newspapers, we’re running low of packaging.” I nodded, a sign that most common folk use to establish to the other person that they have understood. So I refilled the bottles put them back on the counter and went to the shop around the corner.

 The problem about winter is that everything turns colder and you don’t see your friends much because they are all staying at home keeping warm in their beds, while you’re out them slaving away for a little scrap of money, which let’s face it in time will be exchanged to the hands of a bar staff or a dealer.

 It was quite a harsh breeze that night, but there were still people tootling along with their Barbie doll dresses on or there business suits. It was much colder in the corner shop than it had been all week; I guess there heating had finally conked out.” Hey pill, you got any old papers for me tonight?” I asked the newsagent as he started to cough, I waited for a reply but he kept on coughing.

 “You really should get someone to help you run the shop you know, you’ll kill yourself doing all this work by yourself. And plus it isn't good for your health, your meant to be recovering not decreasing your health.” Finally he looked up at me and paid attention to my words, he looked so weak and tired it was hard to believe just a week ago he was in Spain living it up. He put out a hand out to me, “I’m fine stop worrying, I can look after myself darling.” I sigh at his stubbornness “still you should get some help….so have u got any papers?” he pointed to the back room behind the counter.

So I went into the backroom, it felt damp and the strip light was on the blink.it stank of tobacco pill’s Favorite past time. There were so many boxes it was hard to tell which one the papers were in, but I found them right at the back of the room. I called out to pill saying that he should really get some heat as it was a very draftee shop, and it wasn't good for his health. But he just responded with silence, maybe he was pissed off with me for nagging him about his health, but I couldn't help it, 

I had known him for years and I had been there through all the troubles that life brought him, and I didn't like to see him ill it just wasn't him. Picking up a load of folded papers I went back into the front bit of the shop, Pill was rolling a cigarette for himself. His nimble hands were shaking as he did so

. I frowned as I noticed it was no ordinary cigarette.” What the hell dude? Thought u had quit that stuff?” Pill smiled and gave a little chuckle which turned into a cough. I know that he was upset about his wife dying but this was not the way to go about it, seeming as he had no relatives anymore I was his only port of call. Couldn't be asked to waste my words on him, when they will fall on his deaf ears. So I said goodbye and went back to work.

That night dragged on, sometimes I swear time enjoys watching me work at every second, not resting just working, the usual routine set into my mind serving up the chips and fish, asking them what topping on it they would like, then finally wrapping up the fish in a blanket of paper.

 Sometimes I felt like a robotic doll being ordered around by everyone, even my coursework which takes its form as a pile of papers on my bedside table did it. Asking me questions that I did not know the meaning of and testing my brain power through an hour squat of revising. After I had finished my shift I walked along the cobbled alleyways of the town to get home. I tightened my coat around me as it was getting colder by the second,

 I could see the oxygen flowing out of my mouth into the nippy air above. It was a cloudless starless night dark night, and I couldn't wait to be back into my warm cosy room. I had bad circulation anyway so this weather did not help, that’s one of the reasons why I hated winter. The Christmas decorations had been taken down well in advance before the town’s council had put the banner up advertising about the town’s funfair night.

The council insisted on subjecting the town folk with a one night a year proposition which would take place at the end of winter, to mark the new year or something along those lines, personally I didn't really care much for it, sure I would help out but that’s about as far as I indulged in it. Mostly old people would just turn up to it or they would bring their grandchildren to it, to spend quality time with them before they popped there clogs. Don’t get me wrong the decorations were beautiful, twinkly lights etc. looked like something out of a fairy tale book. But I was a young adult; I saw things for what they really were, a mask,

 a mask to hide the fake truth which lurked behind it, the twinkly lights hid the drunken people who put them all around the towns lamp-posts and who didn't really give a toss about people having a nice time, 

they were just interested in the pay check that they would get afterwards so that they could go out and drink some more. The stage had been built by out of work actors who were trying to make it big in the world, they were the nicest people out of the whole council, they didn't care about money they liked bringing joy to others and helping out, Like many of the towns which people live in it was flat, this was because it had apparently been a roman village at some point.

The hallway smelled of new carpet as I trudged along to my room, fumbling around in my coat pocket I pulled out my house keys and unlocked my door. Flicked on the music channel and made a cup of tea before settling down for the night. That week this routine was a daily one without anything out of the ordinary happening to me. Before I knew it the weekend of the town fair had arrived and everyone around me was getting hyped up about it.

 To steer clear of the over excitement I decided to pay a visit that night to Pill who I hadn't seen since I got the newspapers from him. The town was crowded with children and various others, laughing drinking going on the “oh so scary rides” it was quite a mild night but I still wrapped up warm as I couldn't trust my body heat.

I pushed open the door to the off license, 

I had warned him about the lights and how they would turn themselves on and off and how he should get some new ones. I called out as I couldn't see half of the shop as it was swamped in darkness and shadows. Suddenly I heard coughing coming from the back room,

 so I quickly went in to see what the matter was this time with him. The tobacco smell had been replaced strongly by the smell of cannabis, the strip light also was half dead, and so it only gave out a little bit of light. As I made my way past the boxes and to the other end of the backroom,

 I saw an outline of a being hunched over as swirls of smoke floated upwards. “Hey” I said as I knew it would be Pill who was in a state like this. But there came no answer only shuffling and heavy breathing. “Pill it’s me, why are you sat in the dark?” something wasn't right I could feel it in the atmosphere; I didn't know what else to say so I just stood there before him in the dark waiting for an answer.

 A couple of minutes passed before I was requested to turn on the lamp which was on the right side of where he was crouched. I fumbled around in the shadows as I tried to find it. “Would be a lot easier if you got lights here, can’t see a f*****g thing.” I grumbled as my hands felt a plastic wire which tracing my fingers around I discovered it was the lamp. Flick. Mild light shone out through the tacky cheap light bulb.

I looked at the floor, it was scattered with rizzlers.ripped rizzler.small bag. And filters. I sigh my unimpressed sigh, but yet I wondered what it would feel like to be high. But worst of all my friends face was not his own, not the one I recognized. His joyful cheeks had been white washed with spots, and an infected scar. His eyes well I guess you can guess what his eyes were like, big black eyes like a wolfs,

 his pupils were non-existent and the stench. The stench that he gave off was rotten, like he hadn't washed in days. Cannabis controlled his voice as he spoke, and it’s only fair to say that he struggled to murmur out some sentence. I looked at the joint which shook as he tried to relight it. I just sat there in front of him watching him take toke after toke. Closing his eyes he rested his head against the wall,

 and exhaled a lot of smoke.” Sam what’s wrong?” I whispered as my eyes were fixated on the joint. Suddenly he looked up at me I quickly looked back at him so he wouldn’t know I was wondering what he was going through.  He grinned an awful unfamiliar grin. He stared at me continually for a while, so much so that it made me feel uncomftable. “What!” I questioned him, I never had questioned him before but this behaviour was frankly scaring me. “Hahahaa. 

You want to know what it’s like. You want to know how it feels in your veins. You want to be familiar with this thing that we call illegal, when you take it all your troubles melt away into another world, when you’re in the next. Imagine, close your eyes.” He growled. This thing before me wasn’t the friend I have had for the past 3 years. “Here your thinking of leaving so here, take this. Go on. Take it” he snuffed out his joint with his fingers, and gave it to me. 

Repulsed by this I stood up and started to walk out the door. Within a flash I felt something gripping around my hand, and pulling me backwards. “What the f**k is wrong with you!!!” I shouted. But there came no answer only laughing. This was sick what he was doing was sick. He trusted the joint into my hands and then leaned in closer to my face. I could feel his breath of my cheeks as he leaned in to whisper something. “Now you r a good person so im going to make this easy for you” his hand was now hurting my wrist. I tried to struggle free but it was too tight. My heart was pounding fast because I didn’t know who this person was anymore.

“Let me go you creep! You need freaking help.” He let go. I ran out the shop not looking back, making my way past the crowds of cheerful people. I shoved the joint in my coat pocket. I didn’t care if he lived or died anymore I had seen enough of his other side for a lifetime.

 All those years laughing and hanging out together had now faded away into a blank memory. A memory that would never relive, relive the walking pattern those nights when we were going to the pub or the laughter that gargled out of our mouths as we guzzled down beers. I felt cold and hurt by Pills actions that night. I was so ready to sit on the sofa with a cup of tea with the music channel blaring.

Switching the kettle on, turning lamps on me slumped down chucking my coat on the sofa next to me. What would you do if something fell out of your pocket and you were all alone? What would you do if you saw what affect it has on the human brain and had taken away your friend? I stared at the bulked up rizzler.

 I looked at the music channel; the band that was on was heavy metal but had an essence of relaxation about it. The kettle was hissing streaming out steam which rose in the air and subsidised into the air. That’s what I heard happened to your brain when you took such substances like cannabis. It feels good at first but then as the years go by you realise time means nothing, anything that was once important is nothing, you feel emotionally detached. How could people become so addictive to such a little thing? As I sat there and sipped my tea my mind kept reminding me what Pill had said about how tempted I was by it. How did he know? I didn’t even know who he f*****g was anymore. 

Half an hour passed I looked at the clock it was coming up to nine pm. I turned off the TV I needed space from sounds. I turned on my low battery phone which needed to be charged but I couldn't find the charger. Only messages that graced my phone were Facebook notifications.  Notifications which I didn't care to read, I didn't care who had poked me or who had posted on my timeline, I turned it off and sigh. That joint was really getting to me. It was still there on the floor beside me. I re positioned my coffee table to hide it so that I could not see it.

I sunk even more into the sofa as the rain started to hail outside, sounding like bony fingertips tapping against my window.  Just tapping like it would never stop, my flat was quite warm but there was a bit of a draft coming front the front door. Wonder what the people in town would be doing at the moment. Running into bus shelters to hide from the hail, young adults trying to be hard-core by still going on the rides despite the rain. Time passed all I could hear was the beating of the warmth in the pipes and the clock and music channel. Sounded like the house had gone to bed, all except me. This was stupid I cant believe I was such an idiot. It was just one joint not the end of the world. A flick of a spark flaming up from the orange lighter in my hand, lighting the spliff as I smoked it. From then on the sounds of