How High

By A. Tanner

The smell of marijuana waif through the air. It was a stale, repugnant smell that couldn't be hid once it was on you. She knew the moment the harsh THC chemical settled in her lungs, that it was a good hit. She could feel the high in her brain, sending off dopamine receptors that led her to a euphoric state of mind. It felt like nothing else. Even though she was sitting on the cold, hard ground, she felt like she was floating on a cloud. The flames from the fire looks like dancing fairies as the little sparks being sent off looked like the sun exploding. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong.

The pipe was passed around again. She took another hit, and let the smoke that she breathed out be all the negativity energy in her soul from the past week. She immediately felt better. Nothing could compare to this. The feeling that the thumping in her veins was the sound of drums beaten on by exotic men that made her want to get up and move. She swayed and swayed, the sound of blood rushing through her veins moving her on. Soon, everyone was moving, dancing along to their own music, the sound of nature and life surrounding them in their quest to reach a higher being.

A bowl was packed, and soon, everyone was hitting again. The smoke was so heavy you could barely see the stars above you. But soon, it cleared. People started reaching their arms above their heads, believing that stars would soon come down, and carry them away. The wind started blowing, and the people began swaying even more. The smoke in the sky mirrored the dancing bodies.

Soon, howling in the dark began, and the people responded in their own tune to nature. Shrieking, barking, singing, yelping, all forms of noises could be heard. They were just beginning to join nature. They matched the sounds of the howling creature with high pitched moans of their owns. Soon, many began crawling, arching their backs. To an onlooker, it would seem as if those shifting bodies were in a trance. All this time, a blunt was being passed around.

Soon, the bodies began morphing. It was a graceful transition. Everything was fluid, like flowing water. Legs sprouted roots, arms turned into leaves. The body became the stem, and the dancing masses turned into a massive circle. The petals were bright and vibrant, just like the flames of the flowers that had suddenly disappeared. Some were the color of the pipe, bright hues of blues, greens, and purples, blended together. The yellows of the daises were as bright as the flames that had once been giving warmth. The reds of the roses as deep as maple leaves turning in the autumn. The whites of the Chrysanthemum as virginal as the people who had morphed into them.

It was a strange sight. To be able to see all of these flowers not in season blooming as if it was the perfect time for them to. And it was, but no one knew it. All they knew was that it happened, and there was no way of explaining it. In trying to become one with nature, they truly reached their highest desire. Though, it would only last as long as the high did.

So soon, in a few hours, this magical experience would disappear. Everyone involved would come back next week just to experience it again. No one would forget. No one would leave. They stayed together as a group, when one withered, they all withered. When one thrived, they all thrived. Nothing could damage them. Not even the cold, unnatural ways of man in today's society.

She knew what it meant. Every time she took another hit, she could feel her body longing to change into her most beautiful form. Every time the dopamines were released, her body would start to slightly change on it's own. Her toes would turn into tiny, brown roots. Her feet and legs would start to meld together, turning into a vibrant green. Her chest soon began to join, turning into a stem. Her arms reached out like leaves towards the sky, reveling in the feeling of being able to change in the sun, instead of under the dark sky. Her hair began to grow, flowing out, turning in a beautiful, glossy red, and finally, forming petals. Her face and neck turned into a dark yellow, and tiny fiber-like strands began to appear, forming the stigma.

Finally, the transformation was over. How amazing it must feel to be in your true form! How amazing it must be to know who you are! To be able to be alive, to breathe, live, feel the earth, the ground, Mother Nature, being a part of you. It just felt right. Completely and totally right. Nothing was wrong, but then again, nothing was ever wrong.

Except, something started to feel wrong. She could feel the strands of her being unravel. She could feel her roots being dug up, ripped up from the earth. She could feel her beauty fading. She was falling back into what she never wanted to experience again. She couldn't move, couldn't make a sound, could only feel her legs untangle themselves, her torso being picked up from the ground. She could feel her head loll back, as she tried to regain control, and remain the same. But it wouldn't happen. She couldn't save herself. Slowly, infinitely slowly, she was becoming normal. She was not able to feel the earth as she once had. She felt like a puppet, being pushed, pulled, manipulated by her family. She couldn't reach the pipe, couldn't find her stash. Nothing could save her.

And then, she had fully come undone. She couldn't hear the blood creating a rhythm in her veins. She couldn't feel the wind blowing her, couldn't see the stars as she once had. She tried to scream, tried to fight, but nothing ever came out. And so, she gave up. She became blind to everything around her. She didn't even laugh when someone asked, "How high?"