Desert Night

Anyone who knows anything about video games will know who I'm alluding to here.

He smirked as he brought his favourite pipe to his lips, allowing the thick fumes to overcome him. It was an old friend he could always rely on. No one person could stop the smoke from entering his lungs, and no one person could stop the alcohol from entering his bloodstream. The more contamination the better.

He grinned as he felt the sting of vodka on his cracked lips and the soft warm burn as it trickled down into his stomach. Nothing else could compare to this feeling of total self destruction. His body tingled, he felt alive.

Smoke, sip, smoke, sip, he was laughing now. Laughing at the faces as they emerged from the pattern of his torn drapes. The faces laughed with him, louder than ever. He brought his pipe to his lips once more, the faces laughing behind him, cackling deviously. They were laughing at him; how had he not realized it before? 

His vision blurred, the room turned red, the mocking laughter pierced through his skull like ice picks. He threw his pipe to the floor and it shattered. He yanked on the curtains, almost tearing their fixture from the wall, demanding them to stop.

But the faces laughed on, keeping their pace, growing louder. In a blind rage he screamed profanities that could be heard throughout the entire trailer park. When the laughter still did not subside a maniacal smile arose on his face. He lightly ran his fingers against the drapes as he took a final swig from his vodka bottle. He launched it against the wall.

He laughed as he picked up more liquor bottles, empty, half-empty and full, it didn’t matter to him, he shattered them all. Tiny shards of glass rained down in his trailer; broken glass was his favourite kind of rain. He writhed with laugther as the bottles broke and envisioned himself as Gene Kelly as he twirled around the trailer.

Finally he pulled a stainless steel lighter from his pocket. Its flame was so insignificant, yet so powerful, he wanted to kiss it. Letting it go, flame alit, it fell to his dirty carpet.

Laughing, stumbling and slurring his swears he retreated to the font lawn and collapsed into sleep. His burning home kept him warm throughout the cold desert night.

Reviews

[ANTO]

Hi Jamie
A good exploration of someone losing it - perhaps through drink - perhaps through loneliness - perhaps both. The imagery is very good. I did feel I was in the place -
I liked the Gene Kelly reference - a nice touch.

I saw one typo
"He writhed with laug(t)her ..."

I got the video game reference from the off. It alludes to my favourite and the best video game ever made ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBr7EhL6Jpg