//------------------------------//
// The Drug 
// Story: The Red Eye 
// by HornetElder 
//------------------------------//

Sunday went by quickly, I enjoyed my time with my colleagues though they seemed to be preoccupied today, Flemingway chasing after a mare and Ernest taking care of his parents. I spent most of the day sitting in my apartment, trying to think and wonder though my mind still felt as empty despite the recent dreams I've had.  I hadn't eaten all day though oddly enough it didn't bother me; I just wasn't hungry at all for some reason. After a bit of sitting and staring, I spent some hours going through the "Krivbeknih" again, trying to make out some of the gibberish and instructions it gave. Any pony would see this book as something that should be either turned in or discarded, even I felt the dread emitting from it though I didn't have much care. I'm not sure if it was more natural curiosity, or if I had some emotional connection with it. I don't know, I just couldn't bear having to send it off, it felt too important. 

At times I began to hear voices, soft whispers in the distance speaking in such gibberish similar to the book. But as all whispers are I barely could make out exactly what they said, or if they really were there to begin with? I eventually checked the time, seeing as it was nearly past no one I figured I should get up and grab the daily newspaper before they're all gone. I grabbed my things, placed the book into my bag, and made my way to the door. Though as I reached the door, I saw a silhouette pass by the window, my floor is fairly abandoned with very rarely having any more than three tenants, including me. I opened the door and stepped out into the light, there stood Mictail against the railing smoking a cigar as he turned to look to me. "Ah, Picardy there you are." I froze up, staring him down as I made short glances around. The pony threw his cigar onto the ground, smushing it with his hoof. "I was just coming to check on you, you're pretty much all I have left of Jean." He spoke in an intimidating yet assuring way, as if he had a more ulterior motive behind his visit.

"Thank you, James, I'm doing alright." Mictail raised a brow, looking me dead in the eyes. "You don't seem pretty phased, even with the black eye you got from picking a fight with a Unicorn huh?" My head lifted a bit, I was somewhat shocked by him knowing of the fight, he doesn't even live around these parts. "How do you know about that?" I asked, my inquiry only seemed to annoy him. "That doesn't matter my boy. I was just making sure you're okay." He gave a smile, almost like a wolf in sheep's clothing. "Here I got something for you, I noticed you were very tense at the funeral and I'm sure that brawl didn't help." Mictail pulled out a small sack tied shut by a shoddy string, it made soft clanking noises like glass vials. "These usually help whenever I feel stressed, so it should help you." I took the sack, looking at him firmly as though not to let my guard down. Despite his friendly gesture I felt intimidated, continuing to stare as a muttered a soft "Thanks." Mictail obliged, turning around and walking off. I stood still for a few seconds, though slowly moving a few muscles before attempting to follow him, though he immediately was nowhere to be seen.

I looked at the small sack in my hands. The fabric was too thick for me to get a clear glimpse of what could be inside. I looked around for a bit, Mictail was still nowhere in sight, but I felt as if they could still be around just waiting for me to open it. I hesitated to do anything further, either go back into my apartment or go back to what I was doing. I took a few steps down the hall, still no sign. I felt unnerved by his visit, being a friend of mother, or at least used to be, he seemed to know me well even to know where I lived. As much as I wanted to shrug it off and continue on with my day, I could not forget the look on his face when he greeted me, it was as if his eyes were piercing into my very being, acting as if he knew me for ages, but we only met a few days ago, they know something I don't. I left my apartment building down the sidewalk, my eyes still looking around and behind though eventually I gave up on looking out, the only thing I'd have to worry about would be that Unicorn coming back for a second round. Being a Sunday morning there wasn't many ponies out, many were just walking or waiting to catch a bus or cab, thankfully the newspaper dispenser wasn't crowded yet.

I pulled out a coin and slipped it into the machine, a soft ding ringing out. I heard the soft click as the latches popped off the cover door. I grabbed a newspaper, the front drenched in paragraphs of the same usual stories. I took the paper to the nearest bench, sitting next to an elder pony sleeping with his hat cover his face and snout. I sighed under my breath, reading through the paper. It was the usual per se, weather predictions, news regarding the upcoming galloping galas and other events at Canterlot. It was nothing new, the missing people articles were still printed with their own special page. One of them was written by me, my style of writing had much to desire, but it got the message across. My language felt depressive though it was the reality, people went missing, some were found, some were not. The police doing everything they can to figure it out and bring the missing home. Behind the paper were the photos of the missing individuals and the ones that went missing but were found. I looked at the portraits, though something caught my eyes regarding one of the found.

One portrait had fangs, though before when we saw it in the office it didn't. Overtime as I stared it seemed as if the portrait transformed in front of my eyes, degrading into a bug like creature. I rubbed my eyes with my hoofs, blinking repeatedly. The portrait was normal afterwards, back to being a normal pony on the paper. I shook my head a bit before rubbing my eyes and gripping at my head. My eyes felt strained, and I felt as if I was getting a migraine. The sun was more intense today, or at least it was to me, it glared into my eyes causing me to squint. I never hated the sun before; I just wanted it to go away.  It was such a confusing feeling I've been experiencing since mothers' death; I couldn't explain it and it irritated me. I ripped the paper in half out of frustration, pushing it into the trash before heading back to my apartment. I got some looks from some onlookers, but I didn't care enough to acknowledge any of them, I just wanted to be alone.

I had a busy morning in the office the next day, a Monday. My boss was in a good mood which he rarely is. He even inquired if I wasn’t too tired and followed it up by asking what Mother’s age was. I thought a bit, then answered, “I believe around about sixty,” as I didn’t want to make a blunder. At which he looked relieved. Why, I can’t imagine, and seemed to think that closed the matter. Ernest sat at his desk in the same focused spirit as ever with his eyes focused on his work, though he didn't seem to be enjoying it and I couldn't blame him. The series of stories coming through kept tying into the cases of missing people, only a few had some good news though they were often very bleak. There was a pile of bills waiting on my desk, and I had to go through them all one by one. I washed my hoofs just before lunch, I always enjoyed this at midday. In the evening it was less pleasant, as the roller towel, after being used by so many people, was sopping wet. I once brought this to my boss' attention. It was regrettable, he agreed. 

Our building overlooks the sea, just near the harbor, the floor I looked on has a pretty swell view of the ocean and all the folk playing out there. However, I didn't have the privilege of working near the window. Our boss sat in his office surrounded by thin glass panes as we worked, smoking on a fat Mareland cigar while we all typed away. A few young ponies from our Circulation department stopped by to deliver the usual news, spoke to our boss before promptly being shouted at called lazy and incompetent before being sent on their way. We worked under a hard ass for sure, but our boss knew how to get things done. Ernest came up to me for a bit, asked me to proofread his paragraph before he sent it off to editorial. I shrugged and took it anyways, he leaned against my desk as I went over it, striking some lines and making some notes, I didn't want to look up by I knew Ernest was rolling his eyes.

Shortly after our boss sent away the circulation ponies, a policeman stepped through the door, being let in by the office secretary and deskmare. The police pony gave a polite bow of the head with his helmet in hand, heading to our boss office. The presence of the officer grabbed everyone's attention as some even stood from their desk to look over the cubicles to see what was happening. Our boss stood with a smile and greeted the police, though as the officer began to talk his smile began to disappear, they both glanced at us before their conversation was cut short by the police man turning the other way, walking out of the office. We watched as he left, he gave no glance back or acknowledged us staring, though whatever he had to deliver made neither him nor our boss so happy to show. Ernest kept leaning against my desk, Flemingway appearing into view as he just got done with his break, gently nudging Ernest to ask what was going on.

Our boss walked out of his office, shaking his head as he moved to speak to all of us. "Zoe was found dead last night." He scoffed under his breath. Surprised muttering filled the room, I was also too surprised as were Ernest and Flemingway, we both watched on as it seemed our boss wasn't just done yet. "They assume it was an overdose of that shit I found her with last Friday, they found some vials of it." I made a quick glance down to my satchel. "But they aren't done investigating but all they know is that she's gone." Ernest spoke up once our boss got done talking. "What's going to happen now sir?" He turned to look at Ernest, shaking his head and giving off a small shrug. "All I know is it'll give us yet another story to write so get back to work. Police might come around again to ask some questions, but it shouldn't be a big deal." 

We all took his advice and went back to our work. I barely had interacted with Zoe but according to some of my coworkers, her doing drugs seemed completely out of character. But it made me wonder, the soft clinking of glass I heard when Mictail gave me the small sack felt like vials of something though I can't be sure for certain. Did he give me the same thing Zoe took? If so, why? He said it helped with stress, though he either was describing a recreational drug or a medication, though hearing the news about Zoe sure didn't help.  I got back to proofreading, finishing up shortly after pondering a bit. Ernest and Flemingway were talking next to my desk, I guess they knew Zoe more than me, so they definitely had some questions. I cleared my throat, quickly gaining Ernests attention as I returned his paper. "It just needed some revision, but it should be good now." Ernest thanked me though he seemed less peppy than he was a few minutes ago, I don't know his relationship with Zoe, but her death seems to be hitting hard. 

I had the unfortunate honor of typing up Zoe's article later that day. Ernest was pretty quiet the rest of the shift though I couldn't blame him. I inquired about what was wrong with Flemingway, he too didn't know but threw a guess that he and Zoe were lovers which seemed likely at this point. As I worked, I had small flashes of memories from the book I read, the "Krivbeknih" or whatever, small excerpts popping into mind. I still didn't understand what they meant though I kept thinking about them like a song stuck in my head. The words got louder in my head, narrated by my own voice, I felt disorientated, leaning back from my typewriter with a soft grunt following. The sun gleamed through the window and despite being further from the window the rays hit my face, striking my eyes as I squinted in a recoil, baring my teeth. I tried to stay still in my chair as my breathing quickened, I felt my heart pound, my hands twitching a bit as I felt as if I had itches all over my body. My pupils shrank as my whole body felt as if I was experiencing a withdraw. I quickly made an excuse to my boss and made by way outside the office, straight into the bathroom right next to the one Zoe was caught in.

I tried washing my face, scrubbing hard at my coat as nothing worked. My hair was a mess and my eyes twitched as I felt my mind degrade, my beating hard grew louder to a point where it was all I could hear along with the repeating words from the book going over and over through my head. I paced around the bathroom, the sun still beaming through a small rectangular window at the corner of the bathroom wall, still hitting my body. I growled loudly like a rabid animal, moving into a stall as I pulled off my coat and shirt. My hoofs felt like they were burning so I kicked off my shoes, still didn't help. The voices reading the texts of the Krivbeknih got louder and louder. My satchel fell onto the ground along with my shirt and coat, then there it was. A soft ding and clink sounded out in the stall as my bag fell to the ground. I remembered the sack Mictail gave me, even though I hadn't known what it was I felt an urge to open it up.

I quickly grabbed my satchel, pulling it up to me as I opened it up, pouring everything out onto my coat on the bathroom floor, the book, some papers and of course the small clinking sack. I yanked it off the ground out of pure desperation, pulling the thin string off the bottleneck of the sack causing to unfold before my eyes revealing three vials of a glowing purple substance, and a few syringe parts. Mictail seemed to have thought of mostly everything. I didn't waste much time however, hastily assembling the small syringe before pumping it full of the purple substance in the vial. I jammed it into my arm, causing me to nearly screech before I covered my mouth with my free hoof. The stinging pain burnt through my arm up to my shoulder though overtime as I emptied it into my body the pain turned into a small bliss. The irritation I felt went away and my breathing and heart rated slowed back to normal. I sat in the bathroom for a good thirty minutes. 

The bliss was a weird experience, I saw flashes of memory, not just of the book but of a lot of things from mothers' funeral to my time at the beach. Though soon many things started to appear, memories of people, locations, creatures all I haven't seen before. I saw the same creature I've been supposedly been seeing in my own dreams and small hallucinations since the funeral, I don't know why. At first it felt horrifying to see such a creature in my own reflection, but I felt more and more familiar with the sight. It felt much darker in the bathroom since the injection, though obviously the sun hadn't gone down a bit since I entered, I felt more comfortable, more like a whole new creature though the feeling felt like pure nostalgia, I don't know how to further explain it. 

The bliss soon ended; I sat staring up at the ceiling. I slowly got up, feeling my body and looking at my arm, the syringe still sticking in with the needle bit all the way in. A small bit of blood oozing from the where the syringe was injected but I didn't feel any pain. I removed the syringe, cleaning it off with some toilet paper before redressing again, grabbing my things and rewrapping the vials in the cloth and string, putting everything back into my bag. I promptly left the bathroom, thankfully no one else had the need to go at that hour but when I returned, I was met with some pretty predictable questions. First was my boss asking what took me so long, though I just gave a pretty plain excuse. "Just had to relieve myself, s-sir." I noticed my own stutter, though to them I probably look like I'm high. He gave me a suspicious look though I never was able to get on his bad side just yet. He gave me a soft shove and told me to get back to work. Next was Flemingway asking why I looked stoned though I didn't give a response. Ernest was still quietly at his desk, seemingly not paying much attention to his own work. 

Shift ended on time, everyone packed their things and left the building while some stayed to talk or make plans for a night out. I didn't bother asking Ernest how he was, after all I wouldn't have wanted someone to do the same to me when mother died. My boss still gave me a few stares but by then I looked less high, more so just drowsy. My mind felt more clear, I felt as if I just had a nice warm shower. I was half expecting my boss to want to talk to me, but he surprisingly let me go with a clearly irritated "Good night". I left the office, usually afterwards Ernest would invite me to hang out by the harbor though he left without saying anything, though it probably was for the best he didn't. I went home at the same time I usually do, I felt, more so I had a gut feeling, that tomorrow was going to be much more peculiar than the last few days have been.