I wake up in a cold sweat.
That sentence haunted me all night, drifting in and out from my dreams. Nocturnal ruminations on the nature of unassisted flight and fancy were frequently interrupted by a whispered notion, a hushed muttering echoing through the canals of my mind:
"It's Innervate for Druid."
I steady my shaking hands. I fumble towards the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. Bags had developed under my eyes, which were cracked red like a stained-glass window. I have to go to work, but all the weight had shifted from my body up to my shoulders. My bones are hollow; the sensation of ants crawling through them are unceasing.
"It's Innervate for Druid."
I cover my mouth. The words had just spilled out of my mouth. Why? "Why?" I repeat. I step towards the kitchen and grab a plate. Food. I need food. Something, anything, to get my mind off of those strange, cursed words. The fridge creaks open and the light within flickers, revealing a bowl of flowers. It was said that flowers were rich in vitamin C. Like having a bolt of lightning trapped in a thin, red skin. I flop on down on the couch and dig a spoon into the flower, pushing through with the edge of the spade, pulling up with the exhaustion of a gravedigger.
A flash of red and green streaks across its petals.
I pause to catch my breath. "It's Innervate," I mutter. "For Shaman." I shovel the flower into my mouth. I couldn't pay attention to the bits of bitter skin that I have swallowed in my haste; I couldn't afford to.
Like a bolt of lightning my phone vibrates. I hurriedly pull it out of my pocket. Are you okay? a text message from my sister read. The police called us, they found you passed out in a parking lot. What happened?
What happened? I check my clothes. They certainly aren't my pajamas. The hem of my jeans are caked in vomit. I don't know, I reply. I'm fine though. I'd be in the hospital if I weren't. After all, it's innervate for Druid.
What about Innervate? my sister writes back. You mean the distribution of nerves within an organ?
I stare at my phone. My thumb had moved on its own. Hastily I write, Sorry autocorrect, and then throw my phone into a corner.
My phone vibrates again.
It rumbles, angrily, like a beast.
I reach out towards it. It's just the reddit app talking about trends. I thought I turned off these notifications? Without pretense, my thumb slips again, moving autonomously, a prison warden with no need to hide from its prisoner: it scrolls through my subreddits and slams on the one based around Hearthstone.
Horror grips my chest. Air is choked out of my lungs.
An image of a red and green flower, undulating within its brown and blue borders, loads on my screen.
Lightning Bloom. 0 Mana. Gain 2 Mana Crystals this turn only. Overload: (2).
Thunder rumbles. Winds howl. A storm rages, even though the weather outside is perfectly clear. I fall to my knees. "It's Innervate for Druid", I whisper. As the screams of the storm rises to a deafening crescendo I raise my voice to yell above the ceaseless pounding in my ears. " It's Innervate for Druid! It's a damn Innervate for Shaman! You animals! You buffed it! Damn you! God damn you all to hell!"
The storm crashes down on my body. I lay there, on the floor, twitching, drooling.
Once again I wake. My memory is hazy, save for a single phrase unraveling through the scorched remains of my conscious:
It's Innervate for Druid…
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