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I was so damned tired. It had been a long day. Week. Month. ..months

One of those warm days that come out of nowhere in November, the sun beaming off the snow into my eyes and heating up the day in a way most un-Novemberlike.

I tossed my jacket over the handle of a shovel, and continued pulling at the dark purple berry covered stalks that twined their way through the fence. It was that, and the other greenery in the back yard that had prompted the visit from the city, that had spurred this frantic mowing down of nature. It was either that, or a significant fine levied on my boyfriend, at a time he could ill afford it.

Hours had passed, and the back yard showed the efforts that had been made thus far to bring things up to code. All that remained for me to do was the fence, but I was tired, and just wanted to be finished.

From exhaustion, came inspiration.

The weed wacker.
Yes. Oh yes.

In theory, this was a good idea.

As I revved the little engine, and the leaves started to fly, I had not even a twinge of foreboding. Splattered berries soon covered me with a sickly vaguely sweetish juice. I wiped my face on my arm, as another gout of stickiness sprayed my face.

I leaned against the fence, pleased at being halfway but starting to feel unbelievably tired. As I stood up to stretch, my vision started to blur a bit around the edges, and I felt my heart surge a bit.


I walked towards the house, and the world canted sharply 10 degrees in alarming ways. My heart pounded in my chest, and waves of nausea threw me towards the wall.

I spat, and spat again, as my mouth flooded with sickly bile.

Straightening, I looked in the mirror at my face, and was taken with the large black pits that had taken the place of my eyes.

From this point on, I can only remember bits and flashes, of being terribly sick, of waves of dizziness and my chest tightening and having trouble breathing. The plant that I had so blithely massacred in the back yard was Atropa Belladonna-also known as Deadly Nightshade.

In retrospect, I probably should’ve sought medical attention.  But I was insistent on “being fine” and convinced others that I truly was.

10 responses to “Intoximication”

  1. Will Will says:

    Wow, wonderful twist. I didn't see this one coming at all. Great piece!

  2. Avatar McKnight says:

    True story?
    Either way, it was believable. Nice writing.

  3. Jesse Star Jesse Star says:

    Thank you. My life tends to be full of these twists.
    Sometimes, art really does imitate life, a little too sharply. Thanks for the kudos.

  4. BB222 BB222 says:

    I love stories about these sinister deadly threats hiding in our suburban backyards. Sorry it happened to you, but the story is cool.

  5. Avatar Kate says:

    See, I knew I stayed away from the weed wacker for a reason. I'll have to bring this to my husband's attention. 😉

  6. Jesse Star Jesse Star says:

    Just wait until my rant about the dangers of celery. It's an eye opener!
    Face shield, possibly a rebreather.

  7. Avatar llxt says:

    this reminds me of the two times i've done dishes. both times i've gotten cut by a steak knife! damn dishes!!!

  8. Jesse Star Jesse Star says:

    ..and gauntlets. Don't forget the gauntlets.

  9. Avatar The Tailor says:

    Drunken weedwacking and nightshade? Nice. 🙂

  10. Jesse Star Jesse Star says:

    Perhaps if I'd had alcohol in my system, it would've cushioned it somewhat. The intox was all the Atropa.
    More "tox" then "intox" really.

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labtechgoddess About labtechgoddess

Life is an ever changing, flowing, chaotic river. I find myself carried along at some points, and fighting the current at others.

Read more by this author on 30POV .


December 2010
November 2010
On My Honor
October 2010
Witch Hunt
September 2010
If, Then.
May 2010
Small Crimes
April 2010
February 2010
"It's Complicated"
January 2010