Reflections and Nightmares- Irene A Waters (writer and memoirist)

© irene waters 2015

I’m a wowser these days. I don’t drink and I don’t smoke, anything. I do have vices, chocolate probably being the worst of them. I’m this way for a reason —  I know the effects first hand and never wish to revisit. Life with my ex-husband was traumatic due to psychiatric problems caused by his use of marijuana.

People think that one drug will lead to another. I don’t think this always happens and am thankful that it didn’t in our situation. The offers were there. LSD, Heroin. Ice wasn’t invented in those days. My ex-husband didn’t take any of these offers up. He knew he was already paranoid. Goodness knows what he would have been like had he tried them.

My advice to anyone is – don’t do it. The amount it takes to cause irreversible damage differs from person to person. Why take the risk. There is a risk with all vices. Smoking causes no end of diseases, alcohol is probably the biggest cost to the community with families suffering, cost of not being able to work, liver disease and the number of accidents and incidents that are a result. Even coffee needs to be consumed in moderation.

Living with someone paranoid as a result of marijuana abuse is like living under a storm cloud, knowing that at any moment the thunder and lightning will strike. You did what you had to in order that a negative reaction was not triggered. Most of all you attempted to prevent the simultaneous use of alcohol and the drug.

She lit another cigarette, trying to calm her nerves. It’d been bad tonight. She shouldn’t have tried to do the housework. She should have just sat. Perhaps she should’ve had that coffee she’d been invited to after work. She always said no. She had to get home before he started to drink as well as smoke dope. She had. But she shouldn’t have tried to do the housework. She should’ve done what she normally did. Join him. It made him happy when she did and dulled her senses so she didn’t care. But tonight the gun had come out.

This week Charli  has asked us to write about vice.

April 22, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a vice. It can be part of a character or a part of the story. The vice can be the focus or it can be subtle. Think of ways to use a vice (or multiples, if you are so daring) to create a compelling flash fiction.

Respond by April 28, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation.Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

Finally a poem that although it is about heroin some of it could be about any drug.

Introducing Miss Heroin by G.B.Trudeau

So now little man you’ve grown tired of grass                                   Acid, cocaine and hash                                                                             And someone pretending that he is your friend                          Said “I’ll introduce you to Miss Heroin”                                     Well, honey, before you start fooling with me                               Just “let me ” inform you how it will be                                               for I will seduce you and make you my slave;                               I’ve sent men much stronger than you to their grave.                   You think you could never become a disgrace                                 And end up addicted to poppy seed waste                                           so you’ll start inhaling me one afternoon                                         And you’ll take me into your arms very soon.                                   Then once I have entered deep down in your veins                        The craving will drive you nearly insane                                     You’ll need lots of money as you have been told.                         For, darling I’m more expensive than gold.                                  You’ll swindle your mother, and just for a buck                      You’ll turn into something vile and corrupt.                                You’ll mug and you’ll steal for my narcotic charms                    And feel contentment only when I’m in your arms                        The day you realise the monster you’ve grown                            You’ll solemnly promise to leave me alone                                      But if you think you’ve got that mystical knack                           Then sweetie, just try getting me off your back.                              The vomit, the cramps, your gut tied in a knot,                              The jangling nerves screaming for just one more shot.               The hot chills, the cold sweat, the withdrawl pains                        Can only be saved by my little white grains.                            There’s no other way and there’s no need to look                           For deep down inside you, you know you are hooked.                   You’ll desperately run to the pusher and then                              You’ll welcome me back in your arms once again.                            So now you return (just as I foretold)                                                  I know you’ll give me your body and soul                                        You’ll give me your morals, your conscience, your heart                 And now you are mine until death us do part.