A Tale of the Cosmos

The room was brown and the milieu matched the hue. Dust hugged the walls in thin wafers of filth. Cobwebs hung in various corners and the drapes were stained with yellow smoke stains. A single television lived in the far-right corner of the room, resting on a chair instead of a table or hanging on the wall. Besides the drab grey couch, he was seated on and the small twin bed in the bedroom, those were the only other furnishings in Theo’s apartment. Tom crashed on the floor of the living with a noisy, but comfy looking sleeping bag. He’d have let his friend sleep on his blow-up mattress, but Theo dropped on a needle on it and the thing would no longer inflate.

                Jack’s stuff was great. Not the cider, that stuff gave him nightmares. No, it was the heroin that Theo was impressed with. His high was steady, smooth, and above all, ecstatic. Nothing like sinking into the abyss of your own mind, surrounded by warmth and tingles. But the cider, contrary to what Jack said, that shit was nasty. It tasted of moldy toes and tart granny smith apples.

                When he woke up from his high, he was cold and shaking in a thick, sweat soaked grey hoodie. He remembered very little that time, save for the creature that stood over him in his stupor. The room was dark then, shaded out from the afternoon sun with huge, thick, blackout drapes. The corners of the room radiated a peculiar purple-silver light that reminded Theo of Christmas lights, if those lights were also black-lights.

                He’d never really had nightmares. Even as a child he slept soundly, without interruption. Maybe that’s what disturbed him most about the cider. It wasn’t its taste, the creepy ass men Jack was hanging with, or the even the heroin. No, it was that Theo knew the cider caused his nightmare. It called the hulking creature to him. It must have. It wailed in its ears with a low-pitched hum, like the rumbling of a cat purring on a thick wooden table. It told him to look at it, to consume its visage.

                Now Theo couldn’t get its skull out of his head. Theo might have thought the creature was a man, what with its massive shoulders and thick legs. But the skull wasn’t a hat or something to obscure a face. It was it’s head.

                It was sun bleached and a perfect, blinding white. Thick antlers lurched from the brow and spidered out into 14 separate points in a crown as wide as the thing’s shoulders. A deep, unknowable, bizarre light radiated from its eye sockets. Pale human skin rippled like an oil slick with the colors of the rainbow. Small dots, or holes, peppered its skin. They weren’t freckles or blemishes, but something deeper and… intentional. Theo laid there, trapped on his couch for hours, staring at the creature, wondering when it would kill him.

                That was two weeks ago and Theo hadn’t dreamt since. “That shit’s soooo good.” Tom said, slurring his words.

                “Yeah.” Theo managed through his own fatigue. “We out though.” He glanced over to corner where they kept their stuff. The unwrapped wad of plastic sat like a beacon of failure. “Should get s’more.”

                “Heh,” Tom breathed, “I could go for s’more.” He raised his arm and cuffed his face with it, resting his eyes in the crook of his elbow. “Jack said he got more work.”

                “Call ‘em.” Theo said without hesitating. Wasn’t often you could get that high with so little work.

                Tom sat up and smirked at Theo, “Already been talkin’ with ‘em.” His face was smeared with sweat and his eyes were bleary, but they glittered with excitement.

                “Watchu mean?” Theo asked, more than a little curious. When Tom pointed to the pile of Last Stop Cidery bottles hanging out beneath the television Theo couldn’t help but giggle a bit. “Dude that shit gave me nightmares.”

                “Naw man,” Tom shook his head then licked his chapped lips, “shit makes the high so much better man. I’m tellin’ ya, try it again.”

                “Yeah?” Theo yawned while he turned his back to Tom to stare at the brown back of his couch, “what’s so great, man?”

                He could hear Tom sit up in the rustling sleeping bag, “Dude, its tha best. Its like… its like…” Tom struggled with his limited vocabulary for a second, “Its like looking up at the sky when you’re a kid and jes… jes knowin’ there’s more, man.” Theo let silence fill the room as Tom sorted through his thoughts, “And I ain’t felt like that in forever man. Like… It ain’t like sittin’ here getting’ high by itself y’know? It’s like I know that I ain’t alone.”

                Theo sat up and locked eyes with Tom. “Dude, you ain’t alone.” For whatever reason Theo felt his eyes moisten and Tom was a bit blurrier than he was before. “Right now its you an’ me man.”

                Tom looked ashamed, but Theo saw the cogs in his head turning, “Yeh, I get that, bro. I do. But you ain’t get it. It makes me feel like there’s a point to getting’ high y’know? Like there’s more for me to see and like… get, y’know?” he paused and looked down at the dirty carpet, “like… understand.”

                Theo rubbed his eyes and slouched a bit in his seat, “Sound’s like you jes got super high, dude. We all been there.”

                Tom looked hurt, like he’d just opened up to Theo and Theo let him down. “Whatever man.” He stood up and started putting on his shoes.

                Theo wanted to say something, wanted to tell his friend that he was sorry, but something stopped him. Something shouted inside of his brain that something was wrong. “Jesus dude, it sounds like ya found God or somethin’ man.” Theo didn’t regret what he said, but he did regret how it sounded. His own voice dripped with condescension and he was surprised at the vitriol hid under there.

                Tom put his back between Theo and the door. “Yeah man, maybe.” He said before opening the door. Theo had to squint to see past his silhouette. “I’m goin’ to see Jack, see what he’s got for us.”