Portrait of an Alcoholic: John
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: May 2013
Posts: 919
Portrait of an Alcoholic: John
*John is not Kinzoku. He is a fictional and narrative construction. He may resemble Kinzoku, but his exploits are his own.
Part One:
September 5th 2010
John is at his first college party. A cute girl is pouring him shots. He is feeling something new: confidence. A friend puts a hand on his shoulder "Sure you can handle another?". John nods.
How many had he had? The world was spinning. It did not matter. Smiles, laughter, energy. A world he had been locked out of for quite sometime.
Memories begin to twinkle and fade like stars. He is running down the street, foamy liquid is pouring down his neck, he is falling. Laughter, cheers, blackness.
-
John breathes deeply, coughs, splutters, turns over. he is naked. Everything hurts? He checks where he is and finds a small comfort. His own bed. But where are his clothes? His hand grazes his hair and temple and he winces, there is a large bruise. As he struggles to his feet he catches sight of himself in the mirror: red eyes, bruised forehead, unknown marks, stains, pains.
John feels panic rip through him. What had he done?
-
John will learn that he had forced his way into a house party and erupted chaotically everywhere. Profanity, violence, vomit. The end was the pavement outside. Falling and falling. Friends, how lucky to have friends. To pick him up, to tell the cops it was ok, they could take him. To drive him home. To strip him down, out of puke stained clothes, out of possibly soiled underwear- John never asked for details- and put him to bed.
John would learn many things about that night, and many things would remain a terrifying mystery.
And John would go to a party the very next week with a new story in his back pocket. College. No big deal. So thought John.
Part One:
September 5th 2010
John is at his first college party. A cute girl is pouring him shots. He is feeling something new: confidence. A friend puts a hand on his shoulder "Sure you can handle another?". John nods.
How many had he had? The world was spinning. It did not matter. Smiles, laughter, energy. A world he had been locked out of for quite sometime.
Memories begin to twinkle and fade like stars. He is running down the street, foamy liquid is pouring down his neck, he is falling. Laughter, cheers, blackness.
-
John breathes deeply, coughs, splutters, turns over. he is naked. Everything hurts? He checks where he is and finds a small comfort. His own bed. But where are his clothes? His hand grazes his hair and temple and he winces, there is a large bruise. As he struggles to his feet he catches sight of himself in the mirror: red eyes, bruised forehead, unknown marks, stains, pains.
John feels panic rip through him. What had he done?
-
John will learn that he had forced his way into a house party and erupted chaotically everywhere. Profanity, violence, vomit. The end was the pavement outside. Falling and falling. Friends, how lucky to have friends. To pick him up, to tell the cops it was ok, they could take him. To drive him home. To strip him down, out of puke stained clothes, out of possibly soiled underwear- John never asked for details- and put him to bed.
John would learn many things about that night, and many things would remain a terrifying mystery.
And John would go to a party the very next week with a new story in his back pocket. College. No big deal. So thought John.
Currently Active Users Viewing this Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
