Dark Side of The Moon

Chapter One

Life as we know it is in fact just that. How we see life and the world is dependent on our experiences in it, or lack thereof. Therefore for one person, mythical creatures is just a part of their everyday ritual; for another, "reality" or without conjured fictional beings, is the norm. For myself, I was once apart of the normalcy most are comfortable in. Yet really I had a feeling there was something out there, lingering just out of arms reach.
I woke up from a night terror, just as any other morning- this casually playing it of was common. Although this one was more difficult for some reason, the intensity of it was extreme; the real-ness of this dream in particular, was eery. Battery acid in an open wound if you ask me... Pity really, I honestly started to believe that I drowned those demons permanently; conscience says otherwise. 'Come on get up, get some tea- you'll feel better when you are out of this room.' Is what I tell myself every morning although I rarely do in fact feel better- the dream just kind of waits for me to return to that damn bedroom, with the same memories and scents.
Nevertheless, I got up and strolled my sleepy ass to the kitchen and made coffee, instead of tea. I just wasn't quite feeling tea, something- I felt- you'd drink when you were sort of sad; coffee on the other hand was a beverage someone drank to get rid of a hangover or looming clouds that screamed 'nightmare!' Regardless, this day I was going to drink coffee for whatever reason or excuse I could come up with because dammit I just wanted some coffee. After the coffee pot was full, I poured the hot liquid into a cup and walked outside onto the balcony.
Oh how I don't miss the mid-western, dry heat; the constant need for lotion. Just humidity and heat... Which is never fun, at least not for a desert rat. Having to buy expensive products to keep your hair from becoming an Afro, or putting it in a hair band; if you had short hair, you'd make through the majority of the day with minor fly aways or stray hairs. Thus why I had short hair- easier to care for and maintain, laziness rather.
After one cup of coffee, two cigarettes, and a shower the looming clouds receded to the confines of the darkest corner in my mind. Leaving me to get dressed and move on with my day, or so that's what I thought...
•••

It was dark when I woke, my head was raging with pains I didn't even know existed- the taste of blood caked the left side of my mouth. As my consciousness returned, I realized four things: A) I wasn't in my home. B) I wasn't alone. C) I was clothed in pajamas. Lastly, and the saddest one, D) I missed work. Damn my adult conscience for thinking of the most ridiculous problems in my current circumstances- and pathetically enough it was work. My eyes finally escaped the film of grogginess and adjusted, as best as they could, to the lack of light; only to find that this room I was in is bare. The scent? Oh guess what? There wasn't one! Sounds? Cars on a highway or water, a river or ocean? Psht, nope- I was stuck in a dead zone, a damn zone where potentially I'd die and no one could hear me scream or smell the bleach or find a body. Lovely, and I was concerned about work.
"You're awake?" Male, unfamiliar (no shit), Irish accent.
"Yes, I am lucky-charms..." I mocked.
The sound of a metal chair scraping across the concrete floor makes for an eardrum bleeding symphony, God, make it stop; then foot steps, boots- combat? Maybe, but they got closer. A scent, finally! Pine, mint, maybe a little liquor?
For a second I waited... Then bam! On the right side of my face, the lights I began to see weren't real; cartoon stars, like the ones over the idiotic cat's head who just got his ass beat (again!) by the damn mouse. But the pain comes, and this pain isn't anything compared to that cat's... Oh goodness no. Did this son of a bitch, leprechaun dick, hit me with a sludge hammer or his fist? I couldn't tell you; all I knew is that when I got free, I was going to kick his ass and run.
"Are you done mockin' me?" His lips were up to my ear.
"Depends." I growled.
"Oh really, on what?" He sounded amused.
"If you stop hitting me." I glared, not that he could see me do so or that it would have really mattered.
I was the one tied to chair.
I barely saw him walk to the wall in front of me and flip a switch. But oh man what I did see, was the bright light you see when you die- except it was just a normal light turning on. After the shock of the light faded, I realized there was only two chairs (of which I was tied to one of them) and no windows. 'I really hope they don't fire me.' My adult conscience kicks in, again.
"Damn, you clocked her pretty good didn't ya'." Another male voice, English accent, origins came from behind me.
"Fuck, seriously 'in one corner we have lucky-charms and in the other corner we have the new version of James bond'." I announced as if I were the WWE announcer, my man voice sucked.
The man behind me thumped the back of my skull, much nicer then his Irish counterpart.
"I like this one, she's sorta cocky and funny." James Bond chuckled.
The Englishman stepped out from behind me. These two nimrods weren't wearing ski masks or stockings, but why they weren't doesn't hit me until an hour later. So Lucky, we'll call him that because well he hit me, was a tall man. Easily six foot four, thin but not anorexic, black hair cut nice and neat in a fo-hawk, and green eyes. James, he was about six foot two, a little more built than Lucky, blue eyes and brown shaggy- dog like hair.
How the hell did these too Jack-wagons meet? More importantly, why am I caught up in their 'trying to find the pot of gold with explosions and sex with random women' bullshit?
"Alright Burt and Erne, I don't have any money for a ransom or anything really, so what do you want?" That's when I realized, this entire time I haven't had anxiety or screamed or... Anything a normal kidnap (soon to be murder) victim would do. High-five myself for that really.
"... You're one of us, or you soon will be." Dammit, I missed the important part of Lucky's short speech.
"What?" I looked at the two of them with a blank stare.
James strolled right up to me like the cocky son of a bitch he was, then grabbed whatever hair he could. Short hair bonus. He wasn't playing nicely now.
"Shit! If you're going to pull my hair at least ride my ass but buy me dinner first... Ow!" My voice raised slightly as he yanked on my hair to pull my head to the right side.
Lucky walked casually over whilst producing a rather small syringe from his flannel shirt pocket; this thing had a black liquid in it. What the hell? Soon Lucky was behind me, touching my shoulder waiting for me to start kicking and screaming. I felt a very small prick, then.... Nothing. James let go of my hair and Lucky retrieved the needle from my skin.
"Uh...? Is that supposed to make me fart skittles so you can smell the rainbow?" I asked with a venomous tone.
That's when Lucky lurched at me but I could tell James wouldn't have that, so he grabbed him. I could hear the tackle, and someone's head hitting the concrete. I was more concerned about whose, rather for my safety then their well being. I began to think the worse, James took a nose dive straight to the pavement; yet the one that loosened the straps on my wrists and ankles was James.
"Get up." He instructed, and I did as such.
My back was hurting as well as my wrists, tight ass restraints and a rather uncomfortable wooden chair.
"I'm going to have to pick splinters out of my ass cheeks for months." I muttered as I looked at the both of them, thus I realized why they weren't wearing things to conceal their identity.
Only because... They let me go, put a bag over my head and dropped me back off at my home. Those assholes.