Legitimate research into the benefits of LSD in treating PTSD is currently in the mainstream. The lesser known fact is that this kind of research has been conducted since the 1950s.
So maybe this short story in response to the prompt “Devolving” will strike a chord with you. Maybe not, but I can vouch for the hallucinations, and hey, the realizations sure felt profound. More than that, they’ve stayed with me all this time.
But if you don’t identify with this story, try one of the others over at Writers Co-op. (I am particularly fond of Curtis Bausse’s My Brother’s Keeper.)
We would love for you to join us. The next prompt is “Entitled”. (See Writers Co-op for the very easy submission guidelines.)
From the Highest Heights
by S.T. Ranscht
“Blotter acid?” Damon asked. “What’s blotter acid?”
Robert fidgeted and rolled his eyes waiting for his tab.
Stephanie drew a card and moved her piece to the next yellow square. “It’s just a different delivery system,” she said. “Blotter paper gives you extra fiber with none of the empty calories of a sugar cube. Even diabetics could take blotter acid.”
“Okay, okay,” Robert leaned across the board with his hand out. “Nobody here is diabetic are they?”
“Check your attitude, Bob. If you have a bad trip, it’s gonna ruin it for all of us, and Mom and Dad will find out.” She gave a little square of soft paper to each of the boys and placed one on her tongue. Zipping the rest up in the baggie, she smacked Robert’s hand away when he reached for it.
“Hey!” He looked offended. “You’ve got plenty. I just want one more. What’s your problem?”
“I’m not the one with a problem. Don’t be an idiot. You don’t know how strong this stuff is yet.”
Damon held his square between his thumb and forefinger, studying one side and then the other. “How long till we feel it? How will we know if it works?”
“If it’s good stuff,” Damon said, mashing his between his molars, “15 or 20 minutes, maybe less. And you’ll know, believe me.”
“It’s not always the same for everybody, even from the same batch. But Robert’s right — you’ll know,” Stephanie assured him. “Just don’t start laughing.”
“You won’t be able to stop. Whose turn is it?”
Robert snatched a card. “Mine! Cool, double blue.” He hopped his piece from the next blue to the one after that.
With a doubtful look on a face anticipating disaster, Damon squeezed his eyes shut as he slowly brought the tab to his mouth. Stephanie and Robert watched him chew and swallow.
“Take your turn,” Robert urged.
Damon drew Plumpy. “Crap!” He moved his piece all the way from Princess Lolly to the bottom of the board.
“You’re going the wrong way, man,” Robert said with glee, jumping to his feet. “I’m gonna go get something to drink. You guys want anything?”
“Do you have Dr. Pepper?” Damon asked without much hope.
“Dr. Pepper?! Who drinks Dr. Pepper?” Robert wanted to know.
“There’s some out in the garage,” Stephanie said. “If you want it cold, I can put it in a glass with ice.”
“That’d be great,” Damon said. “Thanks.”
Robert and Stephanie left the room.
When Stephanie and Robert returned, Damon was bent over the board, staring intently at the Peppermint Forest.
“Look at this, you guys,” he commanded. “The trees. Are waving. In the wind.”
Stephanie started to laugh and clapped her hand over her mouth instead.
“It’s woooorkiiing!” Robert sang.
Stephanie handed Damon his drink. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Dr. Pepper,” she reminded him.
He took a sip. “Wow. It tastes like… being buried alive. But in a good way.” His other hand swept past his eyes. He looked worried. “What’s wrong with my hand?”
“Nothing,” Robert said. “It’s just trails.”
“Let’s go outside,” Stephanie suggested.
They got as far as the front porch. Robert shut his eyes and leaned back against the house. Damon stood at the rail scanning the sky. Stephanie sat in the rocker but didn’t rock.
“If I don’t move,” she announced, “this is just a chair. I have the power to define my surroundings.” She watched Robert for… ever. “What are you doing, Bob?”
Without moving or opening his eyes, he answered, “I’m”
Fifteen minutes passed.
Fifteen more minutes passed.
“What do you see?” she asked.
After several minutes, he said, “The temperatures are coming off me in different colors.”
“Cool,” she said. “Let’s take a walk.”
“I don’t think I can,” Robert objected.
“Yes, you can,” she told him.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“It doesn’t matter. They know what to do.”
Damon whimpered, “I can’t stop them.”
“Who?” Stephanie asked. “What are they doing?”
“The words,” he answered. “They’re marching in my head.”
“What words?” Robert asked.
“Mary had a little lamb its fleece was white as snow twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder what you are ABCDEFG HIJK elemenopee Marry had a little lamb—”
She took Damon by the hand and led him down the steps.
“Whoa,” Robert said. “You just went through me and I disappeared.”
“Can you walk now?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Damon looked closely at his hand holding Stephanie’s. “There’s so much energy.” He looked at Stephanie’s face. “Can you feel it?”
Stephanie looked surprised. “Yes. It feels good.”
Robert tripped over something as he passed them. He stopped to investigate. “Look. It’s a rock. But feel it.” He held it out to his sister. He whispered conspiratorially, “It’s not solid.”
“Neither is your foot,” Damon offered.
“That’s right,” Robert remembered. “So my foot should have gone right through it.” He stopped. “Oh, no. I’m in the wrong universe.”
“You know the story about the infinite number of monkeys typing on an infinite number of typewriters for all eternity?” his sister asked him.
“Typewriters?” he countered.
“Eventually, they will type the complete works of Shakespeare.”
Damon’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Can they read?”
“No. Monkeys can’t read.” Robert sounded indignantly certain.
“They don’t have to read,” Stephanie clarified. “Their typing is totally random. But if they type forever, they’ll type everything that ever was, and everything that will ever be. In every universe.”
“And a shit-ton of complete nonsense,” Robert added.
They stood silent for no one knew how long.
Looking up, Damon declared, “The sky. Oh my God. I just realized the sky goes all the way to the ground.”
Robert followed Damon’s gaze. “Does it go all the way up?”
Stephanie joined them. “No.”
“Why not?” Damon asked.
“Because of Space,” she said.
Damon’s jaw dropped. “Wow. That’s real.”
Robert turned to look at her. “Is that where the monkeys are?”
She cocked her head and scrutinized him. She started laughing a gasping, unstoppable tsunami of absurd laughter. So did they.
She dragged them back into the house to collapse on the living room floor, briefly aware — but not really caring — that they had lost control. Only Stephanie noticed how grungy the walls looked. Like they were covered with cobwebs. It would take hours to clean them off.
This trip was definitely over.