Wozwald is a song vocalized by Miyashita Yuu which can be found on YouTube. It follows our protagonist, who in this story will be named Mallory Schrader.
Fruit is the essence of all joy. These purple balls of happiness are what gets Mallory through...
The muffler's carbon dioxide adds to the atmosphere's pollution. The sky gray, Oz's mood unchanging. "So, are we really going back there?" It comments, throwing its hands into the air. Mallory doesn't respond.
"Aww come on! You and your stupid ?????! It's so nasty! You'll never find a girlfriend being addicted to that, ya know!" Mallory's eyes remain on the road, even though his face is stoic, his mind ponders.
Love?
They arrive at a bar named "Dreams", no bouncer is present at its entrance. Mallory turns off the moped, shoves his keys in his pockets, and counts his money.
200 dites, perfect.
As they enter the door frame, stairs greet them. Trudge, drop, plop, each step makes Mallory feel heavier and heavier. His mind a newly inflated balloon and his feet blocks of cement. He knows. Mallory understands what he's doing. He understands that what he is doing will only hurt him in the end, but it doesn't matter. His legs keep pushing forward, ignoring the apparant contradiction in his head.
Music blares, some sound can be seen. Blue, pink, orange, such gracious colors in such a sinful place. Mallory finds an empty table to sit.
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"What would you like sir?" A waiter approaches Mallory and Oz, though completely ignoring the latter. "Um-could I get a-...-beer please?" He stutters. The waiter chuckles slightly and nods.
Where is he?
Looking around the bar, men wearing bizzare clothing, conversating amongst each in strange tongue and jargon. All of this is foreign to Mallory, of course, it's not that he's never been her before, he has. This is simply a place where comfort can't live. A feminine figure catches his attention.
Red lipstick, she drinks from a glass cup. A few bills are slid towards her as she grins. She danes a red dress with dark high heels. With her voluptious figure, she approaches and reaches for the man who had given her the money. Hands plant themselves on the stranger's thigh. One of the hands slowly trails up. Mallory's eyes can't help but observe. He hasn't even noticed the waiter handing him his drink.
The music becomes louder and louder. Oz is seen dancing on the ground, trash littered around it. Mallory takes a sip from whatever the waiter gave him.
The color radiating from the jukebox increasing and spreading as Mallory's mind becomes more and more intoxicated. Brain rot.
Where, where?!
Mallory frantically looks for someone. Fingers pealing at skin sided by nails. He spots a person wearing a hazmat suit.
There!
He quickly jolts up and approaches them.
The person in the suit lounges on a couch, next to a dog. The suit is seen to be decrepit and ruined. The mask itself is held together by a few strings carelessly sewn down its middle.
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The Suit notices Mallory. A bag a fruit in his pocket. "Hey, do you still have any, fruit?" Mallory asks casually, attempting to hide his desperation. The dog chuckles, amused. Sounds blare as his ears become deafened. "Yes yes, of course Schrader. Just 200 dollars and it'll be yours." The man speaks in a voice muffled by the mask.
Mallory hastily pulls the bills in his pockets and hands it to the suited man. In return he takes the bag out if a pocket in the suit and gives it to Mallory, "Pleasure doing business with you."
Mallory looks at the bag, eyes fastened on it. A black bag of purple delights. Small, purple, delights.
Quickly leaving the establishment, he gets on his bike. Mallory shoves his hand into the bag and picks a few fruit out. One by one he eats those selected.
As he finishes, he feels weightless. The air feels calm, the sound of cars is peaceful. He pulls keys out of his pocket and turns on the moped. He drives back to his abode.
Ah, nice, very nice.
Unlocking his front door, the atmosphere is completely different compared to before. The atmosphere is comforting. This feeling is why Mallory buys fruit. That, and-
A robed figure sits on the couch. He notices the door was opened and turns.
Almost insantly a smile plasters on the person's face. "Hey Mallory! How are you!" He chimes as he stands. Mallory's apartment clean; empty walls, a fresh scent, noOz. All is great. Mallory begins tearing up, euphoria fills him. "I'm good Dad. Just went to the store to get something. Thanks for cleaning up for me." He responds, a soft smile on his face. "It's no biggie, just a little dirty was all. You should get to bed, you seem tired!" Mallory chuckles. "No worries Dad, I will." Mallory approaches his father, and gives him a hug. "You mean a lot to me Dad, really. Good night." Disconnecting the hug he goes to his room. Mallory's parent smiles.
A tear escapes both their eyes, of joy and happiness. One of the tears dissipate as it touches the floor.
The night consumes this part of the world. Gray rags and blood stains. The bedsheets putrid in his room. It seems that in this place, truth is a permanent resident.
Immediately tearing up, he lets himself fall onto his bed, face first. Losing oxygen. He continues shoving his face into the dirty sheets. He forces himself to pass out. After all, spendingthenightwithyourownthoughtscanbeterrifying.
