The Deadly Master
- Submitted by: nicolemahx
- Views: 539
- Category: English: Creative Writing
- Date Submitted: 03/08/2011 11:56 PM
- Pages: 2
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Once, I was used merely as a pain-reliever, cough suppressant, and to even control diarrhea. Now, I still make people feel “better”, but with a price. Every time I get to work, to exercise my full potential, I bring people one step closer to death. Yes, that’s me. The bringer of death. The deadly master.
I go by many names- White, Smack, Junk, Powder, Putih, Medicine, Ubat. But whatever my identity, the result is the same. I kill, and with a vengeance. Perhaps, it would be less cruel, if my victims died quickly. But that’s not the way I work. Insomnia, watery eyes, runny noses, irritable, jittery feelings, tremors, bodily cramps, chills, sweating, diarrhea, vomiting- my victims die a slow death. Once I become their friend, they will never be able to get rid of me. Not now, not ever. As they realise their folly, and try to turn their backs on me, my components turn them into snivelling, grovelling beggars. One more, one more, they say, it is less than what I usually take. Surely, I will kick this revolting habit. But no. It never gets easier. Slowly, I watch, as they suffer, and suffer, and suffer. And when they die, another takes their place. Haven’t they learnt enough to stay away?
Am I cheap? No way. Stuff like me, “premiums”, come at a much higher price. On the streets, I am mixed with impurities, making me more vile, and useless, and disgusting. But I am still loved, just like a young child loves his parents. Wholeheartedly, never holding back. They can never get away; they love me too much. It is almost as though we are getting married- and we say, “till death do us part”. And as everyone knows, you never break a vow. Not now, not ever. We shall stick together. Forever.
I have killed. I am killing. And I will keep on killing, until you no longer breathe the same air of those who do not contaminate it. Just like you. That’s right. Get away, as far as you can. Because I. Am. Death.
[349 words]
I go by many names- White, Smack, Junk, Powder, Putih, Medicine, Ubat. But whatever my identity, the result is the same. I kill, and with a vengeance. Perhaps, it would be less cruel, if my victims died quickly. But that’s not the way I work. Insomnia, watery eyes, runny noses, irritable, jittery feelings, tremors, bodily cramps, chills, sweating, diarrhea, vomiting- my victims die a slow death. Once I become their friend, they will never be able to get rid of me. Not now, not ever. As they realise their folly, and try to turn their backs on me, my components turn them into snivelling, grovelling beggars. One more, one more, they say, it is less than what I usually take. Surely, I will kick this revolting habit. But no. It never gets easier. Slowly, I watch, as they suffer, and suffer, and suffer. And when they die, another takes their place. Haven’t they learnt enough to stay away?
Am I cheap? No way. Stuff like me, “premiums”, come at a much higher price. On the streets, I am mixed with impurities, making me more vile, and useless, and disgusting. But I am still loved, just like a young child loves his parents. Wholeheartedly, never holding back. They can never get away; they love me too much. It is almost as though we are getting married- and we say, “till death do us part”. And as everyone knows, you never break a vow. Not now, not ever. We shall stick together. Forever.
I have killed. I am killing. And I will keep on killing, until you no longer breathe the same air of those who do not contaminate it. Just like you. That’s right. Get away, as far as you can. Because I. Am. Death.
[349 words]