The Entheogenic Excursion

“Driving ninety-five in a thirty-five, and not giving a damn since about five minutes ago. Got laid off from a place I’ve been working at for seven months. They simply told me I was unqualified and they needed someone with more “experience." Like that’s believable. I couldn’t get anymore out of them as my supervisor and her superintendent stared me down with cow-like expressions, chewing monotonously on spearmint gum. As I looked over the two fools, who had traded reason for success, I came to realize that they had been shafting me like a marshmallow held too long over an open flame. Both showed signs of aging, poorly concealing it with heavy amounts of makeup and eyeliner, trying their hardest to gain back the years they had burned off at the end of a lit cigarette. Lacking any luster of life, they glared me out of the office with eyes as sharp as daggers. I grabbed my shit, shut off my computer, and gave my over-friendly male coworker the tall finger as I left.
As I neared the double doors, I stopped with my hand pressed on the glass, looking over the front office one last time. Suddenly, I felt something strange enter into my vascular system, like venom pumping through the heart. I felt a sudden twitch, a stinging sensation overcome my limbs. I had felt this for quite some time, often pushing it away; but it had resurfaced as something anew. Some deep and dark desire arose from within my primordial genes. It had been hibernating since ages past and it finally reared its beautiful head in front of me. It whispered soothing words I could no longer neglect or ignore, and it was ultimately right. The intrusive thoughts I welcomed.
The structure of my mental framework bent under the weight of new ideologies. No more fake smiles, no more lies. No more “yes sirs” or “no sirs”. No more bending over backwards, no more overtime, no more annoying clients that wanted to change “this” or “that” or “wanted something entirely new.” These people around me, I can’t come to call them humans, because they seem to lack the basic behaviors of healthy, functioning adults. They lack compassion or understanding, thoughts or feelings. I’d rather call them skin-suited, bipedal automations than humans–for that’s who they strive to be.
Not once have I disobeyed, not once I have argued against my manager’s words. I followed and fell in line, yet still I had lost my job I had worked so hard for. No longer will I appear weak before her, no longer will I bow at her whim; she will see a side of me that has yet to have been revealed to even I. I was afraid, but willing to let my emotions control me now. Whether right or wrong, I will obey only myself.
I turned slightly upon seeing the ghastly image of my elderly supervisor watching me from behind. Arms crossed and foot tapping, she was eagerly waiting for me to leave. I took my hand off of the glass and turned to face the enemy, meeting eyes with Satan herself. Her foot stopped tapping when my attention diverted to her alone; her dark eyes widened with concern. I slowly stepped towards her, my shoulders relaxed while hers tensed. I blinked for a long moment and formed a simple, stupid grin across my face. I held my lefty out for a hand shake in the open air between us.
She looked down and back up into my eyes, she was so uncertain of my behaviors. Would the animal trip the snare? Her own hand made its way up to mine and was quickly, but delicately slipped into my palm. She did not apply any pressure, but only allowed it to rest in mine. No shaking from either of us, just glaring stares and awkward silence. I had her right where I wanted her.
I squeezed her hand as tight as I could, she panicked immediately. My mind then raced at a hundred miles a second with no chance of slowing down. My right arm swung wide around my side, I couldn’t stop now even if I tried. With my fist clenched, it came into contact with the side of her cheekbone. I felt the structure of her skull and jaw bend under pressure as my hand dug into her face. Her other hand loosened as I let loose of my lefty. A quick jab to the gut and she toppled backwards. I fell over her and began wildly swinging, possessed by spirits of justice and madness. I had boiled over, the dam was released, I felt like a god as I tainted my knuckles with her crimson fluids. My eyes gleamed with bloodlust, her’s with horror. Licking my lips, I gluttonously craved for me. Coworkers swooped around me like buzzards, unable to comprehend an elderly patron to their company being pulverized by a young, headstrong female.
When I could no longer take her obnoxious screaming, I fastened my red-painted fingers around her turkey neck. Adrenaline pumped through me, giving me strength that could lift an automobile. Her bulging, black eyes stared in disbelief into my frigid, but spry pupils. She was astonished, to say the least. Not many wake up thinking that they would be strangled to death by an overpowered and psychotic woman, though few wished they did. As the last bit of pathetic life exited her maw, I released her from a grip that could bend metal. I threw my arms up and screamed victoriously before my dumbfounded coworkers. I had won, I was victorious.
My hand remained on the glass still, lost in dreamy thought and beyond reality. My former supervisor walked up beside me and promptly opened the door for me to exit. I wouldn’t dare do something as vile and insane as that in reality–I was too scared to live that way. Without words, I looked over at her in silence. I only saw the battered remains of what you might call a face, which I had conjured from within my mind moments ago. I blatantly laughed aloud before her. Her expression turned to confusion, then promptly to disgust. I walked backwards towards my trashy Nineteen-Eighty Four 300D Mercedes Benz, pointing towards her while laughing like the maniac I was. She simply watched from the confines of her own prison, staring off like an Easter Island head. As I left the gerbil cage and into the real world, I entered my ride and ignited the silver beast. It thumped and churned as I threw it into reverse, then into drive.
I pressed back the tears that came quite suddenly. I reached for the glove box and pulled a thin paper, rolled with the good green. I held it in my lips and then grabbed the lighter in the cup holder. I no longer gave a damn, driving ninety-five in a thirty-five.”

Jeweled streams of warm sunlight danced across a worn roadway. A vibrant star, tilted far in the western sky above, washed its rays over the tumbling hills. The old mountains, twisting between and around each other, were clad in amber and golden coats. Jasmine skies–as yellow as tulips–graced the frigid air without a puff of white from horizon to horizon. Rusted, ruby leaves danced across the roads and bridges from their arboreal kin. The same roads hugged the mountains’ bosoms, weaving in and out like the intricacy of a master seamstress. In that late afternoon, during the beauty and serenity of autumn, the roar of a diesel engine tore through the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Up and down, over and under, through tunnel and open air, the german automobile heaved heavily like the growls of a terrible creature. It glided and bounced every so often, back down to earth, or so its driver thought as she took another long drag. Till ash, she savored it until it was nothing more than flakes flying off of her fingertips and through the side window. She smiled as she closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head dangerously out the window. The pale horse she rode on continued to tear a new valley through Tennessee.

In the cockpit sat the buzzed occupant, who dabbled in the sweetest of sweet releases. She was young–about as young as you might imagine her to be–and acting responsibly reckless. Her hair–as dark as night–uncurled in the mountain air, sailing in smooth torrents. She threw her head back into the car upon going into a narrow and steep turn. She bent her body with the roadway, rolling down the mountain’s lush hips. With each bloody and flaxen leaf that fell in her sight, her eyes darted to the falling spotlights. They gleamed out, beckoning her attention so much so that she almost forgot that she was driving. A second mindset had taken place; the deep, systematic function to continue operating the sedan while thinking entirely on another subject. She grinned with pride upon knowing this talent of hers. She echoed in her mind, “Do not try this at home, kids.”

Home was just around the bend for her. Two right exits and then a left; right through Cedar Tunnel and over Breakneck Creek. Once riding over the bridge, there you are: Mountville. The unemployed woman, who stood five-foot five and sat even smaller, abhorred the name of her home town as she drove into it. This known knowledge didn’t upset her elated spirits, even though she was out of job. She was up, up and away now. She was at a height that made her worries and problems look so small.

Mountville was small as well, not as small as her problems, but small nonetheless. She imagined that at some point in the eighteenth century, the settlers couldn’t decide on an appropriate name. Whether to name it after one of the many mountains that cradled the village, or name it with a common ‘somethings’-ville. So in a joint effort, they all decided to name the place an incredibly stupid name. Besides this, it was a lovely little mountain town; and like all little lovely mountain towns, it was quite lovely to the driver in the steel wagon. She didn’t leave it for too long, she had never even been thirty miles away from it. This was her home–she never wanted to leave, ever. Climbing up a winding hill that made up Main Street, she turned left up the scenic street named simply (and ironically), Chance.

The road winded around another mountain, and from there she would arrive at her apartment. She couldn’t wait to throw open the doors to her abode, stripe to nothing and enjoy the vibrations of the universe around her. She was already numb with excitement as her hands clenched comfortably on the firm steering wheel. Her mind rotated faster than the wheels on her machine, making time seem unbearably slow to her. With every detail she noticed and took in, the more she wanted to stop and think on it. With every desire to stop, the clock seemed to tick a little slower. With every click and clack of the clock, it all added up to a longer, more leisurely coast to her destination. She kept thinking on and on, trailing off and then remembering that she had forgotten what she wanted to remember.

A sudden jolt in front of her spurred her out of her euphoria. A slam from a front end turned to a crash from her back end. The entranced woman hit the brake pedal and halted her sliding steed. She didn’t see what she hit, and didn’t know if she had hit anything at all. Her mind was where the clouds roamed freely, aloft and gone; she hadn’t prepared to fall back to earth so soon. She gently, but promptly, stumbled out of her car into the cold, mountain air. She was scared and curious; though she didn’t know why she was curious, she accepted the emotion and began to move around the car. In a quick glimpse she spotted what she struck. It was on its side, a white little thing she took as a dog for a moment. She slid closer, and in the back of her mind wondered why she hadn’t seen any cars pass by yet.

The details of this thing became more vivid as she stepped closer to it. Strong cobalts and radiant cyans washed over its hair and draped down its neck. The tail was of the same unnatural colors as well; both were long and lush, almost reaching down to the ends of its dull-white legs. Its features and edges were soft and rounded, but its hair and tail were jagged enough to pop a balloon with. It lay away from her as she crept even closer, issuing silence with every footfall. The driver had no clear reason not to be quiet, but she did so anyways.

As she started to bend and reach over to touch it, the creature bolted upward. The two were locked in each other’s hushed gaze, and for a moment that felt like eternity they noticed one another. With eyes glowing like embers, they pierced her green iris’ with a ferocity that almost sent her straight over the road’s edge and down the mountain. The four-legged mutant animal clamored up onto its rounded legs and jolted off into the forest with a strange ‘clop’ to every step. The driver stood frozen for a moment in the bitter breeze. She tried to take in what she had just seen–something that seemed strangely familiar, yet very foreign. Trying to remember its features, she recalled something that she didn’t pick up on at first, and that something was the creature’s horn. A single, protruding horn right smack-dab in the middle of her forehead. Her eyes widened with false enlightenment as she thought that she had missed out on capturing a live unicorn.

“Dammit,” was the only words that steamed out of her lips and into the raw air. She made her way back to the beast’s bridle, cranked him up and away they went. She thought nothing of it as she neared her small one-bedroom shack. She had almost forgotten about the event as she turned and drove up the rocky driveway through the hall of trees. Right as she unlocked the front door, the strange creature she struck was nothing more than a memory–a memory that anxiously watched her from the far off woods.