Dying Colors | Teen Ink

Dying Colors

November 25, 2015
By haleylevan GOLD, New York, New York
haleylevan GOLD, New York, New York
13 articles 0 photos 4 comments

The flash of the disco bright lights pounded her head as he hair flung wildly, an auburn fire raging out of control. She swung around the dancer floor, parading across the black and white tiles tinted violet and zaffre by the lights.
"Oxy?" A man asked, his face just a silhouette in the swirling colors. She smiled and lowered her incandescent green eyes seductively, holding out a hand, pale and perfect as porcelain. She felt the satisfying touch of the pill, a delicious, shivery tingle spreading through her body. She swallowed it without missing a heartbeat, feeling the pill slide gradually down her throat. She plucked another pill from someone's outstretched hand.
The vibrant scarlet pulsed, letting out a hint of pink pepper and distilled rose. She smelled a tint of raspberry evaporating from the zaffr, bringing a scent of dramatic mystery and richness. The brown of the slick mahogany table extracted a scent of agar wood, distilled from the heartwood of the Aquileia tree, a hint of woodiness and rain on leaves evaporating from it. Passion tumbled from the royal fuchsia and the palatinate purple in waves, majestic, rolling, waves.
She twirled, watching the colors and scents fly by in a whirling swirl. Fireworks exploded across her vision, like sparklers dancing merrily. She giggled giddily and clapped her hands at the exotic performance. And then everything went black and the pain burned, large crimson scars crisscrossing across her mind. She writhed and howled in agony until the pain subsided, bit by bit, and she fell into a sleep in which she will never awake.

The author's comments:

I wrote this piece because I felt that teens should know the affects of taking too many drugs. Becoming addicted is easy. Breaking that addiction is hard, so don't get addicted in the first place. It won't help, only harm.

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