Post by High Tide on May 8, 2017 20:11:46 GMT -5
The first thing I realized about the room I knew nothing about was that it was darker than any sort of darkness I had ever seen. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I really don't have a better way of describing it. A darkness so thick and so black that I could feel it, as intangible as is it may be, in the palms of my hand. I could grasp it, push through it and feel resistance, I could taste the damn stuff. If I hadn't fully trusted the person who had brought me here into this place, I would have left immediately. Darkness does not scare me, I have been in some of the darkest, wettest, most grimy places you could not even imagine. None of them, not a single one them was like this. And I'll be honest, I was fucking scared to bits.
“You haven't screamed out, or fainted, or even so much as shivered. I'm impressed, you hold your fear inside you well,” the surprisingly soft voice floated out in the darkness and I shivered. Stan's voice seemed to have taken on a different cadence since we had entered his “Secret Room” in the basement of the basement (figure that one out) of The Golden Coin.
“Well you don't get to being a pirate by crying out everytime something wet and slimy touches your leg. How the hell can you even see whether I've done any of that anyways?” I asked him genuinely curious but still trying to hold my composure at the same time. I thought that I had been scared to face Whitey Ford in the next round of the tournament, but it appeared that I had never really known what true, almost paralyzing fear was, until right now.
“When you spend your life in the dark, you learn to see without the presence of light. I know you too well High Tide, you will come to learn what I mean when the gift of age is bestowed upon you. Now enough talk. You confided in me about your life, I have heard your fears and your dreams. I know what you wish to accomplish and as I have told you, I happen to have one and only one of a special drink that can help you along your quest to success. It is dangerous. It is beyond risky, and I will ask again, are you sure you wish to ingest this? The complications can be quite... serious,” Stan asked his voice barely above a whisper yet I could hear every word clear as day. It wasn't like my eyes were doing any work, that was for certain, and my ears were picking up the slack. Something was off in this place.
“With all due respect Stan, I don't know why you're bothering to ask me. I am a pirate. Not a “hang out at the mall and take photos with kids” man in a red suit. I am not a childrens performer that occasionally makes weird sounds and whose sword is made from a bird. No, I am a 100% damn authentic pirate. I do not shy from risk, not with great rewards in sight. Do you not understand? This applies to all aspects of life. Do you think it is not risky to step in the ring with Whitey Ford, a man who clearly outclasses me? Of course it is, I'm likely to leave the ring with every fucking part of my body aching. Yet the reward, it calls to me so, it calls to me with a call that I CANNOT resist. A sort of mating call, for treasure, if that makes sense. It feeds on my deepest desires and no matter how long I resist, I will always cave and take that risk. The REWARD is too GREAT. So I guess your answer is yes, yes I am sure I want to drink your bloody drink,” I replied and it felt strangely cathartic.
I heard Stan chuckle, though I couldn't see it, or even any of him for that matter. “I like your spirit High Tide. You've proven yourself worthy and besides you bring in more money both personally and due to your presence than any three of my top drinkers do on any night. This drink is called “The Drink” and it will open your might, your soul will fly free. Whether or not it comes back, that is where the risk comes in. The drink could be too strong for you, and kill you, instantly. It could leave you permanently stuck in your own head, unable to move. It could do a lot of nasty things. However it could open up a whole new world to you, and this would allow you to do great things,” Stan replied and for a second I faltered in my mind. These were serious risks, some of them irreversible. However, I realized who I was and I actually laughed.
“Too strong for me? Hah, I know you're speaking only out of concern but I don't think you understand. This body will not die of any drink. I will die one day, whether from old age, stupidity, a car accident, who knows. However, it will not be the drink that kills me. My pirate blood is too thick for the fire that runs through it to be doused by any drink, rare, ancient, or otherwise. No sir, if anything that drink will meet it's maker in me,” I laughed at the thought of an inanimate thing bowing to me and conceding defeat. Hell, I was really clutching at straws wasn't I? At least maybe a drink bowing to me would lessen the sting of the possible defeat I was to suffer at the hands of The Asshole.
“You will see High Tide, you will see. Open your mouth now, and I will pour it for you as you cannot see. It is a small bottle, a shot if you would, but to drink any more of it at once would be death in one way or another. Swallow it quickly or your body will reject it,” the old man said his voice taking on the a deadly serious tone now, and for a moment the fear came back. I had to be strong though, and so I braced myself and opened my mouth. Soon after, the liquid hit my tongue and throat and I swallowed it down.
The taste was goddamn awful and I hate to admit it, but I choked, spluttered and gagged. I nearly threw up even, but managed to keep it down through sheer willpower and a lot of fucking determination. I never ever coughed, choked, anything, it was just that strong.
“Why do they call it The Drink anyways? It's not even that strong,” I asked Stan and it was at that exact moment I realized Stan was no longer there. The floor opened up into what I can only describe as a giant green void hole, fluorescent, vivid, and terrifying.
And then I dropped as there was no surface to steady my feet upon and began to fall.
And fall.
And fall.
When would it end?
“You haven't screamed out, or fainted, or even so much as shivered. I'm impressed, you hold your fear inside you well,” the surprisingly soft voice floated out in the darkness and I shivered. Stan's voice seemed to have taken on a different cadence since we had entered his “Secret Room” in the basement of the basement (figure that one out) of The Golden Coin.
“Well you don't get to being a pirate by crying out everytime something wet and slimy touches your leg. How the hell can you even see whether I've done any of that anyways?” I asked him genuinely curious but still trying to hold my composure at the same time. I thought that I had been scared to face Whitey Ford in the next round of the tournament, but it appeared that I had never really known what true, almost paralyzing fear was, until right now.
“When you spend your life in the dark, you learn to see without the presence of light. I know you too well High Tide, you will come to learn what I mean when the gift of age is bestowed upon you. Now enough talk. You confided in me about your life, I have heard your fears and your dreams. I know what you wish to accomplish and as I have told you, I happen to have one and only one of a special drink that can help you along your quest to success. It is dangerous. It is beyond risky, and I will ask again, are you sure you wish to ingest this? The complications can be quite... serious,” Stan asked his voice barely above a whisper yet I could hear every word clear as day. It wasn't like my eyes were doing any work, that was for certain, and my ears were picking up the slack. Something was off in this place.
“With all due respect Stan, I don't know why you're bothering to ask me. I am a pirate. Not a “hang out at the mall and take photos with kids” man in a red suit. I am not a childrens performer that occasionally makes weird sounds and whose sword is made from a bird. No, I am a 100% damn authentic pirate. I do not shy from risk, not with great rewards in sight. Do you not understand? This applies to all aspects of life. Do you think it is not risky to step in the ring with Whitey Ford, a man who clearly outclasses me? Of course it is, I'm likely to leave the ring with every fucking part of my body aching. Yet the reward, it calls to me so, it calls to me with a call that I CANNOT resist. A sort of mating call, for treasure, if that makes sense. It feeds on my deepest desires and no matter how long I resist, I will always cave and take that risk. The REWARD is too GREAT. So I guess your answer is yes, yes I am sure I want to drink your bloody drink,” I replied and it felt strangely cathartic.
I heard Stan chuckle, though I couldn't see it, or even any of him for that matter. “I like your spirit High Tide. You've proven yourself worthy and besides you bring in more money both personally and due to your presence than any three of my top drinkers do on any night. This drink is called “The Drink” and it will open your might, your soul will fly free. Whether or not it comes back, that is where the risk comes in. The drink could be too strong for you, and kill you, instantly. It could leave you permanently stuck in your own head, unable to move. It could do a lot of nasty things. However it could open up a whole new world to you, and this would allow you to do great things,” Stan replied and for a second I faltered in my mind. These were serious risks, some of them irreversible. However, I realized who I was and I actually laughed.
“Too strong for me? Hah, I know you're speaking only out of concern but I don't think you understand. This body will not die of any drink. I will die one day, whether from old age, stupidity, a car accident, who knows. However, it will not be the drink that kills me. My pirate blood is too thick for the fire that runs through it to be doused by any drink, rare, ancient, or otherwise. No sir, if anything that drink will meet it's maker in me,” I laughed at the thought of an inanimate thing bowing to me and conceding defeat. Hell, I was really clutching at straws wasn't I? At least maybe a drink bowing to me would lessen the sting of the possible defeat I was to suffer at the hands of The Asshole.
“You will see High Tide, you will see. Open your mouth now, and I will pour it for you as you cannot see. It is a small bottle, a shot if you would, but to drink any more of it at once would be death in one way or another. Swallow it quickly or your body will reject it,” the old man said his voice taking on the a deadly serious tone now, and for a moment the fear came back. I had to be strong though, and so I braced myself and opened my mouth. Soon after, the liquid hit my tongue and throat and I swallowed it down.
The taste was goddamn awful and I hate to admit it, but I choked, spluttered and gagged. I nearly threw up even, but managed to keep it down through sheer willpower and a lot of fucking determination. I never ever coughed, choked, anything, it was just that strong.
“Why do they call it The Drink anyways? It's not even that strong,” I asked Stan and it was at that exact moment I realized Stan was no longer there. The floor opened up into what I can only describe as a giant green void hole, fluorescent, vivid, and terrifying.
And then I dropped as there was no surface to steady my feet upon and began to fall.
And fall.
And fall.
When would it end?
