A Cliche That Is Also a Truth

Written a couple of months ago

 I'm in a place of complete happiness. Joy welling from every crevice in this room of impossible whiteness. It's so sparkling clean, so perfect that I don't even wonder how I arrived. I was so sure I had fallen short of the glory of God, yet here I am with a loving warm force that envelops me like hard liquor.
 That reminds me...another drink is what I need. And in this place of perfection, maybe this shot will something extra...a strawberry smoothie with a vitaenergy boost, a shot of Jack with extra speed.
 But, they were right about heaven. Bleached white and sparkling linoleum, a kitchen holy with the right amount of hallucinogens and booze. I can feel my heartbeat way too fast, a runner's high? The next shot with grit in the amber liquid. There's a rumbling sound in heaven...where is their god? The brilliant white is piercing my eyes, and it's far too bright. Tiles start to crumble, and I realize there's a Hell below me. The linoleum squares begin to  fall one by one into nothingness, making the heat and horror of Hell almost real enough to penetrate through my drug induced euphoria.
 A square next to me falls into the black- I don't care, heaven isn't worth the threat of Hell. Soon, I'm standing on an island, a solitary white tile with kitchen appliances  swirling dizzily into a vortex below me. There's screaming, so much screaming...a falling sensation...maybe I drank too much? Maybe I drank too much.

Reviews

[Rain]

lol. I liked this. I don't think there's anything worse than driving that porcelain bus. " God, make it stop, and I'll never drink,again." Rain..

[Zak]

The description of the alcahol goes well with the story. And, though this may seem petty, but you might want to change the paragraph and sentence ordering. It gets kind of confusing as you describe the alcahol and "heaven". The tiles falling around him, the screams of hell are very well put.

[Plexiglass]

this is good but I don't think its as crisp as I thought it could be. I just think there are moments where the language isn't as tight as it could be and in a piece this short every word and line should be there because it has to be. It is written well though and I would like some more of the images heaven and maybe even a few of hell seen through the cracks in the tile. Is it just black down there or is there some more? I have to say I love the subject and the tone and it's really interesting. The voice is really cool too, like this nonchalant sense of terror is building through the second half. Good work with the ending and I wish though that the "maybe" wasn't there on the last sentence. Anyway very good work.