Horror on Your Street

The Smoker

"I've been smoking since I was twelve, it makes my troubles disappear with the smoke. I remember the first time I picked one up, I climbed up the tree in my backyard with some licorice to mask the smell of my smokey breath. It was miraculous, the head rush, the excitement from doing something bad. I wouldn't trade that for the world." A woman with yellow stained teeth boasted.

It was her twenty-seventh birthday, her friends gathered around with party supplies as they waved the smoke from their faces, she kept going on about never wanting to quit and that she couldn't. As her best friend made a toast in her honor she lit another cigarette a grin hugged her lips.

"Those things will be the death of you someday." A friend called out.

She glared at him with disgusted eyes and said, "I don't know why any of you are here. You're not my friends, I don't need any of you all I need is my cigarettes." Her raspy voice crushed the few friends she had.

They grabbed their things and left without a fight, their clothes wreaked of smoke, she laughed hysterically as her front door quickly closed. She drank alone, shot after shot, cigarette after cigarette. The once white walls in her home were now a sticky yellow stained color, her fingertips and nails were discolored as well almost as yellow as her walls. She fell asleep on her recliner with her cigarette tucked in her fingers, her vodka in her other hand. She woke up when her drink spilled on her lap, she was still drunk as she fumbled for her lighter and a new cigarette. She stood as she lit up, noticing all of the decorations her friends placed in her honor,she began to tear the paper steamers from the ceiling and walls. As the pile grew she spun around in a drunken glee, she felt free. She grabbed the bottle of vodka and began to drink from it, some spilled down her chin onto her chest, she grabbed another cigarette and lit it. She stumbled towards her kitchen and fell backwards into the pile of steamers. She started laughing, so hard tears popped from her eyes. Her cigarette had fallen from her fingers onto the pile of steamers. It ignited quickly setting the home ablaze including the woman she tried to roll to kill the flames that chewed at her flesh without prevail. The bottle of vodka exploded from the heat causing the flames to grow, her body became charred as she screamed in pain. The fire department burst through the door, quickly scanning the room they found her attempting to crawl towards them, they grabbed her and escaped just as the house collapsed. Eighty-five percent of her body was mangled from the fire, as they got her into the ambulance she said,

"Where's my cigarettes?....I need my...loves."