[9] Quest In The Realms – an interactive Bananafish production!

• Here’s where the adventure begins;

• This is how you can win 30 STEEM and 30 @steembasicincome shares.

9

Vickie smiles.

“That’s awfully nice of you, Mendo.”

You grimace as she leans in closer. You squirm away, uselessly reaching for its handle.

The corpse of Vickie straddles your lap. Your hand touches the door handle. Just open the door, open the door, open the door.

Escape is impossible.

“You know. We never did it. The others? They were okay. Tio was a bore. But you and me? We never had any fun.”

The stench of rot attacks your senses. You fight the urge to vomit. She leans close, takes your hand off the door handle and places it on her head.

“Party time,” she whispers in your ear. Her breath smells like rotten meat.

Terrified, you obey and rub her hair. You pull off a tuft of rotten flesh making you heave. Vickie leans in close, kissing you with putrefied lips. You pass out.

When you wake up, you’re alone in the guitar shop. You glance down and see red hair attached to a square of rotten flesh in your hand.

“Eweweweweweweew!”

You jump with disgust, smacking the rotten flesh from your hands and launching it down the haunted aisles. You race out of the guitar shop, back to the city alleys. When you reach a main street you take a moment to catch your breath and smoke a cigarette.

The whole thing was a bad dream, you think as you take a drag. A bad dream.

Yeah, Vickie’s voice replies. A bad dream. That’s all.

“Jesus-fucking-christ,” you scream out loud. Two people walk by, staring at you like you’re a crazed homeless person.

Let’s go back to the band. I’ve got some ideas for new songs, Vickie says in your mind.

You grasp your skull, screaming into the night.

In time, the band notices that you are changed a bit, but they believe it’s the consequence of a badly cured sexually transmitted disease. They struggle to fit your new tunes and song ideas to the repertoire. After constant trial and error and the near-exodus of Tres, you all end up writing a hit single when, in anger, you bellow a blood-curdling scream into the microphone at practice. It’s feminine, full of pain and darkness.

Your adventure ends here.