Categories > Original > Horror
Cocaine.
That perfect white powder.
So pure and pretty, near crystalline, and so perfectly orderly when cut into lines with a straight edged razor.
To me, there's no sight more beautiful than seeing that white powder in a heap on a black, shiny surface. To me, the most calming thing is sitting there, dividing it into lines, some long and thin, other short and thick, all done with a clean, new, sharp, shiny, silver razor-blade. But not one from a utility knife. Never one like that.
That's what I was doing for the last hour or two, sitting and dividing up my cocaine. Only a sharp razor gives it that specific kick I'm looking for. I don't know why, it just does. Same with how you snort it. Through a crisp bill is fucking epic. Through anything else, it's just not as good.
But now that I'm through dividing, it's time to enjoy it to the fullest.
Out comes the bill, crisp and fresh from the bank, rolled up neatly into a tube. One end finds it's way to one nostril, the other at the end of a line of that powdery ecstasy. Then, the snorting starts.
Line after line disappears into my nose, stinging, but a little pain is nothing compared to the bliss I'm going to receive. But this time, there's more pain than usual. Maybe that's due to the fact that tonight I've got something of higher quality than what I normally get.
But even as the wave hits me, the stinging won't go away. I don't care though, because this high is even better than before. Then, my lips grow wet.
A tentative lick tastes like copper.
Blood.
A searching hand reveals that it's coming from my nose.
Sure, I'd hear that too much of my beautiful drug could mess with your nose and make you prone to nosebleeds. I might've dodged the bullet before, but looks like even I was going to get a cocaine nose eventually.
But as the night wears on, I keep doing lines, staining the bill and getting ruby droplets across the table. The pain keeps growing worse, and my shirt is bright red. So it looks like I'll give up and go sleep this off.
I never wake up.
That perfect white powder.
So pure and pretty, near crystalline, and so perfectly orderly when cut into lines with a straight edged razor.
To me, there's no sight more beautiful than seeing that white powder in a heap on a black, shiny surface. To me, the most calming thing is sitting there, dividing it into lines, some long and thin, other short and thick, all done with a clean, new, sharp, shiny, silver razor-blade. But not one from a utility knife. Never one like that.
That's what I was doing for the last hour or two, sitting and dividing up my cocaine. Only a sharp razor gives it that specific kick I'm looking for. I don't know why, it just does. Same with how you snort it. Through a crisp bill is fucking epic. Through anything else, it's just not as good.
But now that I'm through dividing, it's time to enjoy it to the fullest.
Out comes the bill, crisp and fresh from the bank, rolled up neatly into a tube. One end finds it's way to one nostril, the other at the end of a line of that powdery ecstasy. Then, the snorting starts.
Line after line disappears into my nose, stinging, but a little pain is nothing compared to the bliss I'm going to receive. But this time, there's more pain than usual. Maybe that's due to the fact that tonight I've got something of higher quality than what I normally get.
But even as the wave hits me, the stinging won't go away. I don't care though, because this high is even better than before. Then, my lips grow wet.
A tentative lick tastes like copper.
Blood.
A searching hand reveals that it's coming from my nose.
Sure, I'd hear that too much of my beautiful drug could mess with your nose and make you prone to nosebleeds. I might've dodged the bullet before, but looks like even I was going to get a cocaine nose eventually.
But as the night wears on, I keep doing lines, staining the bill and getting ruby droplets across the table. The pain keeps growing worse, and my shirt is bright red. So it looks like I'll give up and go sleep this off.
I never wake up.
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