# The One Pill



## Riptide (Oct 21, 2015)

It didn't hurt, not at first. There was a dull throb. An almost lulling quality to how the throb rippled through my body, to my limbs, prying into my mind. The pill slid down my throat, and I relaxed into my chair. I accepted it. What did I have to lose? My life? Ha, contrary to what many believed, breathing and reacting to stimuli did not equate to living. So I accepted it. The curbing peace. The numbing relief. 

Then it changed. Little pricks at first. Like kisses from tacks sprinkled on my skin. I smiled, nodded, continued sitting in my chair-- which had become scratchy. Itchy. An ugly brown. Blood mated brown. My breathing hitched, my fingers spreading over the arm rest, but my mind was numb. My mind cold. My life swirling away. -- Then the kisses turned into slaps. Hard, sharp, painful. A thousand mad woman with claws for nails digging in, pulling back my flesh, my skin, to muscle, to bone.

Was my cat always so ugly? When did I get a cat anyway? "Milo," my voice wheezed out. Old, broken. How? It was one trip. One silly trip to escape my life. My job, my wife, the kids-- who were away at college, if I remembered correctly.

Then the jabs. Swords in and out, in and out, slicing and dicing. No, my kids were young. Did I have kids? And that cat. Red, like a tiger. Where was he? "Milo," I repeated.

My mind raced. Sweat formulated on my brow. Drip, drip, drip, down my face onto my neck. Onto that ugly brown chair. With blood spots. The pill. The pill, how long had it been since I took it? 

The thoughts riled. The mind turned blank. Blood. Flashing lights. The pill. Haze cleared. Fading, fading, stings on my cheeks, my arms, where was I? In my chair, I remembered.

"Milo?" said a man.

I watched him; I waited. The room spun, but the trip had left. The haze receded. "Yes?" I said.

He raised a gun. "Dad."

I blinked into the barrel. Now I remembered. The pill, the long nights sitting in my chair. Family came in, family shuffled to bed, and I'd still be there, in my chair. 

"My son."

His stare remained unwavering on mine. He went off to college when I snapped. The knife. The blood. They fought back. He wasn't there. And now they were all dead. All but him. I kept his glare beyond the barrel. 

"How long has it been?" I muttered before I too vanished with the dead.


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## 20oz (Oct 27, 2015)

The story is not for everyone because of its unconventional storytelling and pseudo-imagery. It's not going to attract a lot of readers--heck, might even do the opposite.

Nonetheless, I liked it. Pretty basic underneath, but I liked it.

P.S. I read Deadlock. I can tell you've made some progress. Glad to see you're improving.


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## Harper J. Cole (Oct 31, 2015)

Interesting story, I'll admit to being unsure as to why he was taking this pill, but there was some strong imagery there, so good work.



> There was a dull *throb*. An almost lulling quality to how the *throb* rippled through my body, to my limbs, prying into my mind.



Try to avoid repeated words; if you use a synonym for 'throb' the second time around, it will make for smoother reading.




> A thousand mad *woman* with claws for nails digging in



A typo: 'women'.



> Sweat *formulated* on my brow.



This should simply be 'formed'. Using 'formulated' suggests an intelligent process, e.g. 'he formulated a mathematical proof'.

HC


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## ned (Nov 7, 2015)

interesting style - drifting in and of reality - but I enjoyed it.
the psychodelia was put over well, and you did well to tell the story in a relatively short space.

 He went off to college when I snapped. The knife. The blood. They  fought back. He wasn't there. And now they were all dead. All but him.

this sentence is important to the story, but comes across a bit clunky, compared to the rest - try to make it clearer from the start -
say where the son definitely was (not at home) before 'when I snapped' - so the awkward 'He wasn't there' can be dropped - maybe.

thanks for sharing
Ned


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## Mariana (Nov 9, 2015)

At first I felt on edge and alarmed because I thought it was a story about suicide but as the story became more trippy I started feeling as though I were tripping along-side it so… overall it definitely stirred some strong reactions in me. The ending also left me wanting more and wishing I could understand what had really gone on (NOT that you should actually explain it, the mystery is part of the fun  ).


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## Save.Face. (Nov 10, 2015)

"Like kisses from tacks sprinkled on my skin."
This line is delicious. It fits perfectly. 

The line about the son being away at college seems to wham and bam, and the story has moved on before I can thank the ma'am.  The imagery is what carries this piece, however.  Is this an isolated bit, or a piece of a larger story?


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## Nym P. Seudo (Nov 13, 2015)

Pretty experimental piece here. It's fun, but I'm not sure who the target audience is. You have a few instances of repetition. I wasn't sure if that was intentional or not. Also, I'm not sure if "formulated" is the best verb for the sweat. Either way, I appreciate your intent. Good on ya'.


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## Furia (Jan 5, 2016)

I like the style of it, though it's slightly hard to follow. But it makes me want to know more.


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