Bad Trip Diaries

by The Boorywooch

Chapter 1, or Tis Begins Now...

A small paperback journal lies in front of me, filled with some most wretched and horrendous events I've had to survive through. The ink somewhere is smudged with water, blobs and specks of it reminding some crazy cheetah hide.

What it all begun with? Nothing. Just a plain ol' day at the open, me pickin' some herbs and plants for yet another project, and then... Sometime, refreshing the happened in my memory, I still can't make out if what I've seen and sensed was just a prolonged intoxication with some sidekick of the reactions – or was it really true?..

If so, I'm so fucked.

April, 14th

Today I'm going to pick some fresh specimen of lily-of-the-valley. I need berries, and I need stems to complete the extraction so that the convallatoxin might be purified for usage.

Knowing the exact place to pick the best specimen, I am moving right on.

There it is – them hiding, but I see 'em – small white bell-like flowers, red ripe berries. I wonder what caused them to ripe so early – usually it is until May they won't even appear.

Who cares. Testing the concentration of juice, I feel it tingle my fingertips, which means it is more then enough. Good.

Picking took little time, so, with a bag full of plants, I've took off, lighting a cigarette and wiping the blade of my cutter, already premising the result – pure form of glycosides, purified and filtered for further use.

Said means done, usually – so, crushing the green mass into a fine pulp, I've loaded a percolation battery.

The technical process, refined through times and times of repeating, ran smoothly – until there was something unpredicted. The reactor column I've patched up not so long ago through some dubious origin, yet practical schematics, seemed to have a problem with the sealing of refinery gas vents – and, when I've loaded the extraction for a further purification and distillation with aether, the gas began sipping through the splits in vents. Even though I was wearing a gas mask, the concentration soon grew enough to apply an intoxication.

The first faint smell under the gas mask said me nothing – it was a normal side effect when it comes to rectification of the biomass. But when my head started spinning around – I've tried to shake it off, thinking that the oxygen from the filter was not quite enough, so I'd soon have to change the filters and go get some air.

It was too late, though. My avarice for a pure formula – and I simply cannot take it another way – forced me to control the falling of the last drop of the extraction and recycling of the remnants.

Only then, with my vision going all blurry, I've stumbled out of the lab, choking in the gas mask, ripping it off my head and tugging at the collar of both the chem suit and my shirt, trying to get more air.

The soil rushed towards me and hit me hard in the face, making everything just jet black.

No idea how long I've been blacked out – but the awakening was much unpleasant.

First I've heard was a strange clopping sound, as if a horse of sort was trotting near me. Then – some faint blubbering, almost incoherent – must be the drawbacks of intoxication. Lifting a head and trying to open eyes, I've grumbled and, with an exerting effort, succeeded in doing so – and was met with a cold, taut jet of water, presumably from the gardening hose.

All the symptoms of weakness were instantly washed away – I've jumped, hissing and chortling, spitting away the water and trying to wiggle away from the evil liquid, that seemed to be everywhere. The only good thing was that it actually cleansed my glasses from whatever mess was sticking to them, so I could see clearly again. What I've seen startled me, making me freeze in my tracks.

The hose, now limp and weak, dripping the water, looking so innocent now, was held by a small equine creature – as tall as my waist, big eyes, pale orange coat. The first reaction was to protect myself – and I've landed onto all four, swayed my back and hissed loudly, baring my teeth, intentionally bulging my shoulder blades up to form some kind of a hunch – to look visually bigger.

The reaction was that I've never expected. I've been expecting a neigh, rearing and a fore hooves flailing at me – but all I've got was a feminine scream and a hightailed gallop away from me, still screaming wildly in fear.

Well, at least the first of the threats was diminished, and I've moved to the nearby cover – the fence – to take a look around. Luckily the place I've found myself at – which looked terribly like some cottage in the farmland – was not far from some kind of a park zone, or a forest edge – whatever it was, but there were trees and it was promising me some cover.

Jumping over the fence, I've kept a low profile and crawled over to the forest, keeping my head low in the high grass and freezing every time I've heard a noise.

Maybe a hundred yards away I've finally reached the trees, dashing right into the shade, trying to find cover. My head was still misted, and the overcoming weakness was seeping treacherously into my limbs. I've ran as long as I could, jumping over the bushes and trenches, stumbling at the stumps and dodging the trees, until all the strength was just drained from me – like a water from the tub, when you pull the plug. I've fallen onto the soft fungus – and fell dead asleep momentarily.

When I've woken up again, it was dark already. Knowing that under the tree crones it is always dusky, especially when the forest is as dense as this one, I've tried climbing a tree – with little success. The chem suit boots just didn't caught that friction with the slippery smooth bark, enough to let me move on, so I've had to disrobe myself. The chill and humidity hit me hard, so I've had to unroll the sleeves.

The treetop, which appeared to be surprisingly high, shuffled and shook violently by the wind, trying to drop me, but I've clenched with the maximum of available limbs, snickering to myself 'There's only your dick left, but unfortunately, it's no tail, so it just won't roll around to hold ye'. Sniding at myself this way, I've quickly scanned the surroundings.

If one would look at the Sun – to the left, going down – means I'm looking westward. Therefore... southward are mountains... eastward is some kind of a small town, if presume the spire seen from here above the treetops as of some bell tower. The approximate distance was somewhat a mile and a half from my current location, so I wondered if I could survey around.

Though there was one problem. The forest. It was all around me, as far as the eye could reach, and what's more, I could hardly recall the way I've gotten here, while getting lost was completely not in my plans. My plan was to find out where am I, and to get the hell out of here.

But it was getting dark, I was cold and hungry, with nothing more but a lighter and an almost empty pack of cigarettes in my pockets. I reached for the bag, which usually held an 'emergency kit' – a number of useful tools for every occasion and a small medikit – that was usually safely fastened behind my back on a belt – and found none!

That was a sucker punch. Without the tools, I've been much more vulnerable, and the cuts and wounds, that I've not mentioned earlier due to the shock, have now seriously diminished my ability to protect myself and get safe. The only place I could've lost it was...

...all the way in the forest. So, with a flickering flame of the lighter, I've crawled all over the path, almost burying my nose into the ground, looking for it.

The nightfall was early, and almost impossible to tell from the dusk under the trees – it's just that the shadows had gone much darker. I've almost lost hope, and the sprained ankle was soring merciless – sometimes I've thought that I even hear the sound of bones grinding one against another, and a paroxysms of sheer pain almost made me black out.

At last! - a bit of luck – I've found my 'dressing case' - a small flat leather bag, little larger than an average tobacco pouch – but I've clenched at it as if it was a life-saving circle.

With him at hand, everything else was much easier. Lighting a cigarette, I've patched up a splint so that I could've at least walk without stopping for rest every now and again, kept making my way towards the spire I've seen – or at least, as I've thought. My chem suit, that I've rolled up and fastened behind the back, could become a sleeping bag in emergency, but I've hoped to find anything like the sound shelter for a night – maybe, a cellar or an attic somewhere on the outskirts of anything called 'town' – and at least, I've hoped that the equine aberration I've met first was no the denizen of the area.

The Moon was already halfway to the zenith, as I was crawling carefully across the dimly lit streets, behind the rear walls of a small houses, looking for something – trap door, window, even just a hole to squirm in and hide. Nothing met me eye, and when I was close to the decision of just finding a hole under the tree and sleep there, I've ran into something resembling a tree house – a great old oak, fancied with some round windows and a door – I could've easily get through it, if crouch a bit – like a hobbit's hole, but above the ground.

Having little trust to my luck, I've went all round the oak, finding a hatch, leading to what I presumed was a cellar. Pulling the ring, I've found out it was open – what a luck! Quickly jumping inside, I've closed the door behind me and felt my way through to the furthermost corner, where I've curled into a ball, using a chem suit instead of a pillow and fell soundly asleep.

Comments

[Boop-Happy Lass]

This is by far, interesting...
I have no complaints, on to the next chapter!