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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9
Timothy Erwin trudged through the forest underbrush cursing himself for wearing flip flop sandals in such terrain. He was relieved to get away from his parents for a while and finally smoke some pot. Timothy was fourteen years old; an age he did not enjoy. His parents did not think him old enough to stay home unsupervised. So he was forced to come out to the lake and spend the weekend listening to their childish bickering. He had discovered weed just six months ago and found that it made dealing with his parents much easier. Unfortunately his mother had kept him busy all weekend with stupid activities and trips on the boat. He had not had a chance to partake since Thursday night. The lack of pot in his bloodstream made Timothy think that he was experiencing withdrawals. He was cranky and uninterested in spending time with his parents. This morning he had finally convinced them to take the boat out without him. He had feigned sleep when they tried to rouse him and mumbled that he was feeling sick from the sun. Concerned, his mother wanted to head home early but his father said that she was babying Timothy. They argued of course, but eventually left him alone as he pretended to sleep. Once he heard the boat pull away he grabbed his pipe and headed out to find a place to smoke.
One has to be careful when trying to get high. Timothy knew that the other campers could smell the distinctive waft of the Ganja, so he would have to find a secret place. Smoking pot, or rather finding a place to smoke it was always an adventure. Back home he had devised complex rituals to hide his habit from his parents. He used incense in his room to hide the smoke that he blew out his window with the pretense of an interest in eastern philosophy. He even pretended to take up the hobby of jogging so that he could run around the corner and hide behind a liquor store to smoke. He left the house running, but always came home walking. His mother marveled at how his jogging had never failed to work up his appetite.
Timothy found a good place in the trees that he thought was far enough from the public. He leaned on a tree and fished his pipe and lighter out of his pocket. The bowl was already packed with some green bud from Oregon that had been floating around his high school. The senior he bought the pot from called it Medford Muffin Tops. Supposedly, the buds looked like puffy mushrooms filled with crystal red goodness. It was so good that a dime bag cost twenty five dollars each. Timothy tried some for the first time on Thursday night and was stoned for five hours. It was what the kids called creeper bud; it took effect slowly, creeping up on you. He lifted the pipe to his lips in anticipation, not noticing that he was salivating, lit it and took a long draw. The hot vapor expanded in his lungs. He held the hit as long as he could stand not wishing to waste any of the effect, and then let it out with a long relieved sigh.
“Fuck Yeah,” he said as a dry cloud rippled from his mouth.
Three more similar hits passed over Timothy’s lungs in the next half hour. He was developing a malignant case of cottonmouth. The pot began to work on his senses. Crimson spider webs of inflamed capillaries crept over his eyes. He knew his parents would get back soon and he could hide his dry eyes behind a pair of sunglasses. He would go out with them and hit some stoned water skiing. Then he could have lunch. Roast beef, potato salad and two fucking Cokes, he thought. But not until later, eating might kill his high. The pot was good and should last a while but he did not want to loose his buzz prematurely.
Six months experience smoking pot had given Timothy an amateur standing as a drug user. He knew how to smoke but he had yet learned how to deal with strange events while stoned. The corpse of Gary Jones approaching through the trees startled him but he did not run nor recognize a threat. The dirt encrusted form seemed unreal to Timothy’s highly intoxicated senses. The creature paused and seemed to have a problem. It grunted as a terrible loud flatulence escaped the monster. A blob of unidentified black matter slipped out the bottom of the thing’s shorts, plopping on the ground. Timothy laughed at what he perceived to be a hallucination. In the back of his mind he thought that he must have gotten hold of some laced pot. Maybe the senior who sold him the bud had wanted to trip Timothy out with some high powered shit. Perhaps it was laced with angel dust or dipped in opium. There was no way he could go back to his parents if he was seeing things. He would get busted for sure. No, he thought, I’ll stay here with my new friend Dirty McShittypants and hang out until I can get my head together. Actually, the dirty man seemed quite funny to Timothy’s stoned mind. The young man put away his pipe and began to laugh. The level of detail to what he thought was a hallucination was amazing. Timothy thought that he was going to enjoy the company of his new buddy.
The creature moved closer to the laughing boy. Timothy put his arms up like a person afraid of being tickled as he giggled uncontrollably. Monstrous jaws snapped shut, removing two of the boy’s fingers. Laughter turned to screams as Timothy’s trip spiraled into hellish torment. He tried to roll off the tree and back peddle but slipped in his flip flops. He hit the ground in agony, falling on a dried branch that punctured deep into his lower back. Timothy’s life force flowed from his back, collecting on the slippery leaves beneath. The wretched beast fell to all fours and crawled slowly over the helpless boy. Timothy shuttered with shock as the putrid ghoul seemed to inspect his defenseless body with inhuman interest. The thing’s gaze stopped at the boy’s throat. Cold drool fell from its opening mouth, splattering on Timothy’s cheek. Monstrous teeth grasped roughly at his neck, tearing ghastly chunks free with a hot spray of blood.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9
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