I should’ve tried for ‘cure disease’. One of my many redeeming qualities was a knack for learning things the hard way. My path took me southwards, shivering in the wind, walking across slippery wet rock, and finally into a dreadfully slow trudge between wedging mountainside. At least the Errant were thankfully absent here. A fight was sure to be the end of me right now.

  Hours passed with woefully little progress. Climbing and shuffling slowed me down, avoiding a steep drop into the valley below complicated things further as my steps became increasingly uneven. Only stopping for the occasional cigarette and sheer spite kept me going. The sun neared its zenith and something about the passage of time caught my attention. Unwilling to contemplate anything, the thought remained unexamined.

  My arm wasn’t doing any better and the increasing daytime warmth failed to dissipate the increasingly pervasive chill throughout my body. Everything was sore and sensitive, my throat ached and blisters no doubt formed on my feet by now. The sweat soaked my clothes, further adding to the chill. My only achievement had been relegated to eating my junk food on the road like a real outdoorsman. Every step counted. Unable to keep going even though dusk only reached its earliest stages, I found a cubby and settled in for what was likely to be my final rest.

  I woke up to the tell-tale migraine of being utterly shitfaced and wanted nothing more than to snooze a few dozen times but that wouldn’t help me get home. I’d passed out drunk in a dead-end alley for some reason. It didn’t seem likely that a drunk and disorderly would be warned away in my current state so reaching my own bed took priority no matter what. Calling a cab wasn’t an option - my phone hadn’t come along for the ride.

  This turned into the longest walk home ever. Did I move further from the city? I couldn’t remember, so nothing out of the ordinary there. The cops kept getting up close and personal but my glow stick waved them away. Man, they were out of shape. Had I been at a rave? Probably. My clothes certainly smelled like it. Hadn’t gone to one of those in a decade at the least.

  I stumbled and shuffled, then dragged myself onwards anyway - had to keep going. A mantra of one foot in front of the other played in my head. Momma didn’t raise no quitter, that’s why I kept smoking. I lost my grip on the glow stick a few times, we’d gotten close so I refused to leave it behind. It would be my talisman, a memento of this great spiritual journey.

  ‘Christ, I shouldn’t have moved. What idiot lives days away from the city? At least I had the presence of mind to keep getting some mc d’s to avoid waking up hungry. Should’ve bought some soberness but they weren’t selling any of that… I wondered what drugs caused me to end up like this. Whatever they were, they’d been worth the money. My phone had clearly chosen to elope, along with my wallet, probably to a random lost and found box. Thus the burgers went unpaid for. Ah well, it would be fine. Stealing was just a misdemeanor, right?

  The city had really gone to shit.. Roadwork never stopped around here but this bordered on the ridiculous. There wasn’t any flat pavement at all. An unfortunate stumble nearly hurt me, but luckily my beard cushioned the fall. Should lay off the drugs for a while, forever would do the trick. The water authority had been slacking too since the river was well out of bounds. The city had some plans to make it more nature-y. At least something went well on that front. The tundra look really wasn’t my style but no one asked for my opinion about such stuff anyway.

  At least the cops stopped bugging me, no idea what their problem was but they let it be. That was for the best since I racked up an impressive amount of potential assault charges on my homeward voyage. First thing in the morning should be getting my hands on a good lawyer, one capable of convincing a judge my glow stick wasn’t a real weapon no matter how much the five-o exaggerated. Then again, the argument might fall flat considering my pocket full of tooth chips. When or how that had happened seemed like unimportant pedantic detail, best forgotten.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Home finally appeared on the horizon. What the hell was I thinking? Trading my sweet apartment for a shitty tree house felt like a terrible idea now. At least it had a fence. Got to have a fence. When did I get roommates? I waved and committed their faces to memory. Fuzzy, blurry and beardy ran towards me and shouted some nonsense. My head cleared and left me stunned by the fact I’d reached civilization alive. Finally, I could die in peace.

  My sword dropped to the ground a few steps before total collapse. Reaching for it proved to be too much effort to sustain. Oh well, a little welcome present. Someone was about to lose a hand. A shame, it would make digging my grave somewhat more difficult. Reveling face down in the comfort of my dirt bed, I passed out.

  The big guy suffered a clerical error and put me up in heaven. Pretty sure my intended destination was the other place. Whatever angel headed the accounting department was getting sacked soon for incompetence. It was probably someone in management, mistakes like that were always management’s fault. Ultimately the afterlife didn’t live up to the hype. The stories made it out to be a fun place but I felt like shit. Hopefully this angel didn’t work in accounting. She was the prettiest person to ever grace my eyes.

  Beautiful stringy hair matted against her forehead. She carried the sweet scent particular to someone who didn’t believe in showers but still insisted on going to the gym three times a week. The delicious perfume of her breath caressed the inside of my nose and sparked memories of week old lasagna left to fester on the kitchen counter during a heat wave. An endearing look shone in her eyes, so intense it spoke to me, whispering “He’s not going to make it”. Heaven wasn’t so bad after all.

  Chef-angel needed to go as well. Top floor desperately needed some corporate restructuring. She fed me the blandest broth of my life. Some salt wouldn’t hurt, although this dish was well beyond redemption anyway. Coke didn’t make for a great aftertaste either, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and gluttony conquered pickiness. Plating had been all off too. What restaurant serves soup in paper cups? My mind cleared up slightly. I gathered all my strength and confessed my true love. The intended proclamation failed, coming out as a weak whisper.

  “Cigarette,” I declared.

  That didn’t come out quite right. I needed a lighter too.

  She graced me with a smile followed by a look of utter bewilderment as her budding unibrow scrunched up in a frown. The expression left me somewhat confused, it was hard to read. The beard got in the way. A grand gesture then, one worth at least a hundred words. Weakly sweeping my arm spawned half a dozen burger-coke combos near my generously allotted floor-bed. Certainty settled in. Definitely smiling. Confident my feelings had been sufficiently communicated to great effect, I passed out again.

  Dozing off alternated with coming to. The experience matched usual depictions of a particularly bad heroin addiction, minus the high. As they kept feeding me more tasteless broth, my health slowly improved to the point it stopped my faithful re-enactment of an asylum inmate.

  Still too weak to hold a conversation, I laid there and stared at the curved branchy ceiling while smoking cigarettes. I even shared one with my new buddy, Jack. Raj and Anne didn’t smoke. Their loss. The ciggies gave me strength. Anne appeared from the gap in the round wooden walls. Her disapproving frown warmed my heart. She told me to save my health and stop smoking indoors and then left. One more nap made me capable of exchanging small talk with Jack, who’d been assigned to watch over me.

  “So, what’s your class?” I asked.

  “Can’t say.” Jack was not a man of many words and not very forthcoming either from the looks of it.

  “Why not?”

  “Try tellin’ me ‘bout yours.”

  Never one to turn down an opportunity to talk someone’s head off, I proceeded to warble incoherently.

  “See?” he said.

  “What the everloving fuck?”

  “Can’t talk about your class, ability or skills. Most o’ the other stuff too. World’s gone to shit. Not even sure this is Earth anymore.”

  Okay, so he was a little forthcoming. “No way around it?”

  “A few, but you’d better focus on gettin’ better. Think you’ll be fine goin’ by that mouth o’ yers. Thanks for the smoke. Gotta do my rounds.”

  I wanted to scream ‘don’t go’, but my smoke was done. “Least I could do”

  We exchanged nods and left it at that. Swell guy. He didn’t give a shit about smoking inside which made him a-okay in my book. Slumber beckoned once more, causing me to slowly drift away.

  Never had such an easy time falling asleep.