I'm sure you may have at one point or another heard of the widely used allergy medicine known as Benadryl. If you have, I'm certain you also know of the abusive abilities it possesses. However if you have never before come across this devious drug, let me enlighten you a bit.

Benadryl has a myriad of uses, and though it's a non-prescription low potency pill, several teens revere it for its hallucinogenic qualities in high doses. When a junkie is in search for a night of fun, but their pockets are empty, and they've used up the last few tabs of crack they've had, Benadryl serves as a viable solution. A hefty dosage of fifty can be cheaply bought for nothing more than five dollars.

Of course being so lowly priced and having no dearth in availability, Benadryl obviously is just as plentiful in negatives as it is with benefits. Unfortunately my experiences with Benadryl have provided me with darker and more abhorrent trips than they have with pleasant euphoria.

School was out for about three to four weeks into the summer after my junior year, and my vacation couldn't have been more mundane to say the least. My dour father was depriving me of enjoyment by forcing me to relentlessly clean around the house, robbing me of my game consoles, and trapping me in his eternal lectures. In addition to this abject like treatment, most of my friends had left town to carouse about in warmer places, leaving me alone in this desolate hell.

My closest mates and I had a tradition in the past where every summer we would go out for a night of amusement in the downtown area on The Fourth of July. We were rather aloof from the big town, about an hour and a half away to be exact. Because of this going downtown was always reserved for big occasions. This routine began in our middle school years, around the same time we started experimenting with substances. I wouldn't say we were druggies or anything, all of us were bright and we genuinely did it in hopes major elucidation, and unparalleled experiences. Most teens did drugs for a high or to abscond their issues, but my group believed many of these meds as gateways and eye-openers.

Unfortunately, as high school impeded its way into our realm, the strength between us gradually abated. Some of my pals got into relationships, and spent more time pleasing their attention-seeking girls than hanging out with us. Others went another route and saw drugs as an inhibitor to performing well in school. Swiftly we dwindled from ten to two. Ironically, the only friend I had left had also been the newest member of this click. He didn't move into town until freshman year, but had ever since been my closest bud. He saw the world the same way I did, and saw drugs as enhancers rather than inhibitors. Others still from time to time joined us, but for the most part we were the only two from the original party remaining.

He in fact had just purchased some Bromo-Dragonfly (a drug similar to LSD) about a week into summer and was planning on sharing it with me. However, his dad planned a surprise trip a couple weeks in, and he took the bromo with him. This brings me to where I was left in that miserable summer.

With my best friend gone and my world currently bereft of psychedelics, I decided to do something even I considered a bit egregious. I was at the time depressed, anxious and in need of an escape, but still that was no viable excuse. Overcome with cupidity for a high I went on a search for drugs.

I began by trying to go on the deep web, but found little success as my strict father had put up tons of strains on our servers. My next option was several attempts to contact friends of friends, but this only made me come across as some desperate junkie and didn't provide me a solution. I walked the streets, asked sketchy looking people, and even went to a couple parties, but none could give me the kind of trip I was looking for. I pretty much had given up on my voyage for a high, after sneaking out and returning from an exhausting party, I noticed something on my walk in.

From across the kitchen was a cabinet with a lock on it. I had of course seen this every day, but I never gave it the recognition I was now. I thought to myself that there could have been a collection of all sorts of narcotics behind the cabinet door. I took a glance at the lock on the door, and noted the simplicity of it. I grabbed a small paperclip and fashioned it into a pick. My father locked many things and I had become adroit at lock picking. This cabinet was no aberration. It popped open with ease in a matter of minutes.

After flinging the door open, I was greeted with a pleasant reality. A plethora of bottles and prescriptions lay beneath. My younger brother was diagnosed with an uncountable amount of syndromes, such as ADHD, allergies, and many other harmless illnesses that provided him with many substances. My father with high anxiety took his fair share of stress relievers.

I felt as if I were at the market and shopping for the perfect trip. I continued looking through things, I saw Xanax, Ambien, even oxycodone, but none gave me what I was looking for. I desired a true trip, something that provided a journey. I was on the verge of popping a few oxycodone and calling it a euphoric night. It was then I saw my answer.

Lying at the bottom of the cabinet, behind several bottles and containers, I saw a plastic top peeking out colored in a lightly tinted pink, and inscribed in a juxtaposing dark blue it read Benadryl. It was as if I had found a diamond in a rough, it was a cinematic moment, my duress would finally be lifted I thought.


I slammed the door shut, locked it, and skipped to my room in a jovial manner. Like a child unwrapping a gift, I popped open the bottle with great alacrity. I poured the entire thing out, and counted out my supply. I was pleased to find I had eighty-nine doses of the twenty five milligram variety. I did a bit of research to find the recommended dose for a good trip. Many sites varied, but I finally came to the conclusion that six hundred and fifty milligrams would be sufficient. After downing twenty-six pills with a can of monster I sat and waited eager for the effects to set in.

I watched the clock for what felt like eternity. Thirty minutes had passed and nothing, not even minor effects had set in. I recalled people saying that everyone had different tolerances, and decided a couple hundred more milligrams wouldn't do much harm. I grabbed about ten more pills and swallowed them. In another half hour, there was once again nothing. I actually got a bit angry at this point as my hype was met with disappointment, and decided to go all out pushing down the rest of what was left. I waited hours and hours, but still nothing happened. I fell asleep early in the morning filled with disappointment.

In the morning I felt oddly awake and alert as opposed to the standard sleepiness I experienced. I got up, showered as usual, and went down for breakfast. My mom cooked me some pancakes, nothing short of normal, and I did some chores around the house later. My day was rather standard and mundane as usual. I was pretty disappointed in Benadryl, and planned to try something new tonight.

I waited in bed listening to the footsteps of my parents, and waiting to hear their door shut before going on my run for the med cabinet. In the process of fake sleeping I also heard this quiet, almost silent humming. It wasn't a normal hum; it had an actual rhythm. It was higher for a bit then deeper. I ignored this tone, and snuck downstairs.

I approached the cabinet, and creaked the door open eager to pick my next pill. My heart sank when the door opened. I was filled with terror as the cabinet was empty, with only one bottle at the center; Benadryl. I was sure my father ad done this to instill fear as he had discovered my actions while he was dormant. I closed it up and went to bed.

The next day I worried the entire time he would confront me, but he didn't even seem the least bit suspicious. This only prolonged my worries as I knew he would strike at some point. He didn't say a thing though and I started to think that he had no idea.

I usually didn't spend much time around him, but it was odd that he hadn't called me into his room. This however soon became the least peculiar happening in my day. My mother asked me what kind of pancakes I wanted for breakfast. Two of the same breakfasts in a row, really? I thought it was strange, but I shrugged it off. I noticed that soon most of my day seemed pretty much the same. I guess again my summer was fairly mundane.

The day quickly came to a close and I once again found myself in bed ready to sleep. The humming slowly rose again, though this time it was clearer and more distinguished. It was less of a hum and sounded more like a struggled eerie breathing. This kind of crept me out, but it was so quiet that I was able to set it aside.

I was curious to see if the pills had returned so I waited for the footsteps to fade, though this time it seemed my parents stayed up much later. It was about an hour later when I heard them fade, and I went to go check the cabinet. Snooping down the steps I meandered my way over toward the drawer. After opening the door this time I found nothing. I realized my parents must've cleared the house of drugs.

Returning to my room the breathing was no longer echoing about. I cleaned up around and prepared to go to bed disappointed once again. However, once I turned my lights off the breathing returned, yet this time it was magnified and louder, before it sounded as if it was maybe a vent, but now it was distinct. I thought maybe someone was outside, but no one was there. I just plugged up my ears and forced myself to sleep.

When I woke up, I noted that my clock read the same time it had the previous two days, and my mother offered pancakes once again. I realized now that this wasn't reality; the Benadryl had kicked in long ago. I was unsure though how long I had been in delirium. Time was distorted and days could really just be hours. Unfortunately my reality was so delirious I couldn't have any way of knowing.

I decided I should act normal so I wouldn't alert my parents of my trip, I continued about my day intrigued by the lack of oddities. Everything happened as normal, my father remained the same, my dogs were acting nothing short of standard, and my mom didn't question me. In fact I would say it was boring.

When I got to my room at night, I was prepared for another dull evening. I turned my lights off and jumped in bed. This is when that eerie breathing once again crept in. This time it wasn't outside, but I heard it in my room, as if someone were standing feet away from me. It was miserable it gasped for air and produced a rattling hiss. I couldn't bear it and had to leave my room.

At this point it was midnight, which shocked me, because as I checked my watch I heard my parents footsteps resounding throughout the house. They normally slept at ten, why would they be up!? I sat in the hallway and tried my best to discern their movements. It took me a couple of minutes, but it wasn't long until I noticed; these weren't my parents’ footsteps.

Soon after I discovered this the footsteps grew louder, they were banging and violent. However the increase in volume wasn't because they were stepping harder it was solely due to the fact that they were getting nearer. I heard the intense steps approach me as they climbed each step. I hastily made a decision to hide in a nearby closet.

I quietly shut the door and peered through the small cracks in the door. The light in the hallway flicked on, and though I couldn't see anybody I could sense this person was in search of something. They walked down and came closer to the closet. They deliberately slammed each foot into the floor as they approached.

When they finally passed the door I made out a lanky extremely thin and scrawny women whose face was covered entirely by her long stretched black hair. Her exposed arms revealed her palely white skin to the air, and she appeared almost emaciated. I found trouble in trying to breath as she stopped at the door.

I could tell she was sniffing as she moved her head about and I heard each breath. Her head covered the area in search of a scent. Her movement soon froze, and her head face the door of the closet completely motionless yet still covered in her hair. Her hand gradually rose and edged its way toward the door. She was turning the knob in an eerie fashion, when I heard the sound of my dog barking interrupt her action.

Her head darted in the direction of my dog and she dashed off in that direction. Shrieks from the poor animal echoed through the hallway, but soon abated. These noises were replaced by scrunching, ripping, and popping sounds. They were spine tingling, and made me cringe. I thought in hope of escape I should open the closet and run, but I was quickly sidetracked.

When I opened the closet right away I saw a disturbing image. On the ground was my dead dog, and above him was that unsettling women, with his innards in her hand, as she clawed through his insides. She turned her head and now revealed her face. Flesh from my puppy hung from her jagged and tainted teeth, blood covered her pale wrinkly skin, and her dilated eyes gazed directly at me.

She made a rasping cry from her lungs in the process of getting up. I could tell she wanted to make me into what she had to my dog. I bolted for the nearest room and slammed the door shut. I turned the lock in the midst of her vehement and relentless banging on the door. I heard her clawing nails rip into the wood of the thin barrier separating us. Thinking quickly, I caught sight of a door on the other end of the room. I remembered now that this would lead outside.

I glanced back, and she had almost entirely ripped through as her hands reached towards me. I opened the door and locked it behind me. I was startled with the brightest sunlight I had ever witnessed. I took a look back at my watch, and it still read three in the morning. I thought my watch may have been broken, but all of the houses around the neighborhood were acting as if it were night.

In fact, raccoons filled the streets and even bats were covering the sky, but the sunlight contradicted this. I found myself in such confusion, I had entirely forgotten of the lady in chase of me. I was reminded by a violent yelp and turned back just in time to see her stride towards me. I avoided her thrust and ran off.

Too focused on her I was clueless of where I ran. As a scanned my surroundings I found myself in a deep forest. Thick trees encompassed me and shrouded any bits of light. It once again felt like night. I thought it would be best if I backtracked. My walk back was a bit short of pleasant.

Fish eye lens 06

My vision started to trick me; my depth of field was distorted, my peripherals were deceiving, and everything was blurred. I would start to see people in my peripherals, but when I turned it was merely a plant or tree. This kept me paranoid for a while. I was nearly back home when I saw another person in my peripheral. I was sure it was another trick, but I had to check. This time there was no tree or plant, instead there was a short young boy with a tiny hat on.

He looked harmless to say the least, yet he had a smirk on his face and ran in another direction. I felt an urge to follow him so I did, and stopped when he reached his destination. He ran into a house that looked to be his, and seemed to belong to rather wealthy parents. I peered through the windows and watched him run upstairs. He darted through the halls laughing, and then began to slowly tip toe for some reason. I looked through the window of his parents’ bedroom where he seemed headed.

They lay resting in bed, and couldn't hear a sound. On the other end of their door was the young boy, who gave me an odd gaze. He remain staring at me as he slowly slipped an elongated sharpened blade from his pocket. His grin grew larger and motioned no to him, but he merely just put his finger up to his mouth and uttered "Shhhhh".

The tranquility of the room was disrupted, as the door brusquely broke open. The little boy raced onto his parents’ bed and jutted the knife in and out of his father quickly. His father was doused in blood. His mother was about to shriek when he muffled her mouth by firmly pressing his hand over her mouth. Her eyes were filled with fear and she nodded no. He only seemed to be more determined. He gazed down at her pregnant belly, and she began to let out tears.

He raised his blade high, and let it off straight into he protruded belly. She screamed and cried, but he showed no remorse. He began to shred away at her stomach, and ripped through her skin. The open wound expelled great amounts of plasma. Her crying dissipated as she faded, and the boy now looked at me. I turned my head and ran off in fear.

As I was eluding him voices crept into my head. I couldn't discern what was being said initially, but soon it was clear. "No witnesses" over and over again I heard. It slowly grew louder, but I also noticed my house was coming closer on my trek.

I burst through my front door crying and in dismay. Once I entered everything appeared normal. My breathing slowed and I felt calmer. I made my way up to my room, eager to see my dog okay. I lay in bed too filled with adrenaline to sleep, but felt much safer and relieved. Finally after rolling around for hours I fell asleep.

When I awoke in the morning, more than ever I was elated to see my mother cooking something other than pancakes. It seemed it was all over, "thank god" I thought. I decided never again would I do Benadryl, and still can't understand the joy of it.

That evening footsteps were present only until ten and there were no signs of that disturbing breathing. I quickly fell asleep with little anxiety. I awoke brusquely to a rather unpleasant environment.

The breathing now was louder than ever, but it sounded different, as if it were coming from my own lungs, yet I was unable to stop it. I heard a crying baby mixed in. Its shrieking was so horribly displeasing that I had to find the source and put an end to it. I followed the noise down the stairs and came to the same cabinet I had gotten my Benadryl from.

The crying had grown intense and unbearable. I flung the door open, and froze in shock. Continuously yelling was the fetus of the young child murdered by the juvenile boy with a hat. A note lay next to the fetus that read "finish the deed". By the note was the very same blade he had used on his parents.

I of course was revolted and refused to commit this horrid act. The cries grew louder and louder through the night as did the breathing, I was virtually unable to sleep. I noticed soon my clocks had stopped, and it seemed as though everything but the child and me had froze as well. It was at this point I realized killing this infant was my only way to exit this extreme delirium. I knew what I was killing wasn't real, but still it seemed so detailed that doing it was unthinkable.

After pondering and debating I was determined that this was my only option. I crept back downstairs and made my way to the crying child. I slipped the knife over his chest and in an effort, after closing my eyes; I jutted it through the poor fetus's heart. Everything returned to normal from hear, time returned, the breathing stopped, and the horrible crying had stopped. I was sure now the delirium was over.

I tried sleeping, but just couldn't stand the paranoia of not knowing whether or not my current realm was actually reality. What if the bed I was in was really the ground in the middle of forest? What if all I saw was a hallucination? I finally overcame this fear and fell into slumber.

I awoke just knowing for some reason and feeling that it was all over. Rejoiced, I jumped from bed got dressed hastily and had a positive outlook. With high hopes I bounced down the stairs and budged into the kitchen. I asked my mother how she was doing and she responded "Good, would you like some pancakes?"

Written by Pacersnation16
Content is available under CC BY-SA