Wait! What the fuck is this? Where is this god damn voice coming from? It couldn't have been any more than 10 minutes ago since I took those... Oh, I see. Well... I apologize for the commercial interruption now, back to our regularly scheduled program.
The alien texture of the bed I lied in rubbed against rubber-tinged meat (in my old life, I used to call this skin but that didn't really seem like the best term for it given my present circumstances). Subdued visions flowed like polistirex to the slow, song-like tone of whatever disembodied voice narrated the tale of the witch.
"... burnt at the stake and what little remained of her corpse, buried."
I felt my heart race and felt the air grow thick as I clumsily moved my hands around taking breath after breath, batting away at the unwashed blanket that covered my naked body. The darkness of my sensory spots illuminated the clogged neuro-pathways of whatever was left of my fucked up brain.
"Though burnt, the witch's heart still beat bellow the earth. Turning the small patch of land it was entombed within to poison. Wanderers privy to the ancient lore have learned to steer clear of this spot for those who venture there never return the same... if at all."
Empty bottles of Walgreen's gel-caps, cigarette butts and a half pint of Black Velvet decorated my floor. Others, casualties of my hedonism had rolled under the bed weeks ago (though some had yet to fall from the nightstand). Sharing the same fate a so many forgotten soldiers. They were buried just like the witch. Just like me.