CREEPYPASTA'S

Black Hole Sun

Black Hole Sun
THE SPOONMAN
The irony of the song "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden playing on the radio was not lost on Anthony. He chuckled wryly as he looked out the car window at the sky. He assumed the irony was not intentional. The last thirty minutes, the radio had been playing randomized songs. He was pretty sure there wasn't anyone left who hadn't abandoned their posts at the radio station. Anthony took a deep drag from his cigarette and blew out smoke along with a wistful thought.

"The entire world is a sinking ship and we're all scurrying around like rats."

Getting out of the city had been the only hard part of his trip thus far. The people in the city had really lost it. Given their impending fate, a lot of people took to looting, getting wasted, and generally getting into mayhem in an effort to get in touch with their baser desires. Anthony didn't see the point of it. He wanted to face the end with a sober mind and a clear conscience. (With as clean a conscience as his last minute scrubbing could do anyways.) For once in his life, Anthony had decided to try and face something without slinking back behind the veil of a drug-induced stupor.

Anthony was five days sober and wasn't enjoying it at all. He knew most of the symptoms from his fair-weather friends who had tried to go cold turkey: sweating, aches, a runny nose, and insomnia. (Although the last one could be attributed to the unusual circumstances he found himself confronting.) One symptom that caught him off guard however was the priapism. He was harder than a dissertation on quantum relativity, which was hardly making his drive a pleasant one. He imagined how he looked, a sweating, shivering, and shaking shit-show with a substantial stiffie. As ridiculous as it might seem, he had somewhere he wanted to be before the end and nothing was going to stop him.

He turned off the paved road and onto a dirt road. The forest was on either side of the road and seemed to swallow him up as he drove deeper in. His destination was a run-down cabin that he used to go to with his friends so they could 'commune with nature.' What that really meant was shooting up in a different locale. The cabin belonged to one of his friends and chances were slim that Anthony would find him out here. The last he saw of him, he had just mainlined a syringe full of a mystery substance that another junkie convinced him was pure H. Anthony knew he wasn't going to see him ever again.

Anthony let himself drift into the hazy pleasant memories that surrounded the cabin. Most of those memories were blurry after being tinged and contaminated with so many illicit substances, but even if he couldn't remember everything exactly, he could remember that it was probably very fun. After five more minutes of driving, Anthony arrived at the cabin.

It was as run-down and dilapidated as he remembered. The door wasn't even on its hinges anymore. He stepped into the disarray. There were expended cigarette butts everywhere and the occasional needle littered the ground like landmines. Anthony moved carefully through the remains of what was once his life. He kicked a spoon with a burnt bottom. He had lived here for three months with two other friends and his dog. He smiled at the memory of his dog. Tracker was a good dog. He was a big dumb black lab, but he was loyal and affectionate.

Anthony wiped at a tear and left the disheveled cabin behind him. What he wanted was in the back. The woods butted up against the cabin like a wave preparing to wash over a coastal city. Anthony took a deep breath to steel himself and ventured deeper into the woods. He remembered that there was a clearing one hundred yards up ahead and that's where he wanted to be.

He stood in the clearing and let himself drown in the pleasant memories. He remembered riding in the back of his friend's pickup truck to the cabin. Tracker had been so excited and enticed by the smells around him that he hopped out of the truck before it even came to a stop. He vanished into the woods for a few moments before returning panting. Anthony scratched him behind the ears and they went inside.