Lost For Words - Part 2 (Short Story)

This is a story I'm writing as part of NaNoWriMo, which is a month-long event where writers from around the world focus on writing each day of the month of November in order to finish, or create a piece of fiction.

I did start this story before November but decided to use this month to try and get this one finished, or at least get a good bit of it written.

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A Night In The Western Wastes

Chapter 1

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 1

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 2

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 3

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 4

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 5

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 6

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 7

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Sin

Chapter 2

Sin - Part 1

Sin - Part 2

Sin - Part 3

Sin - Part 4

Sin - Part 5

Sin - Part 6

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Lost For Words

Chapter 3

Lost For Words - Part 1

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Source

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       The echoes became too powerful to bare. Each laugh bounced off the walls from different directions, and for a brief moment, it was as if Andron could see them as they jumped from surface to surface, barraging him relentlessly in the process.
       Pushing, and shoving against the tall streaks of fabric he made his way out of the bathroom and beyond the crowd of onlookers. He could barely look at any of them, as concentrating on any one creature could most definitely send him over the edge.
       The air was slightly cooler, but not enough that he felt completely at ease and relaxed. Tongue clicking still, and a bad aftertaste of cleaning products left him gasping for air. Looking around, he couldn't make sense of the place. People stood, talking in small pockets around the immediate area, and between some of them were tall tables, about waist height. Sitting pretty on top of the tables were a large assortment of drinks, in all shapes and sizes. Colourful vibrant greens, dull blues, dark, and even clear. Measurements in the glasses varied a lot, but all he needed was one sip, so it didn't matter.

       Two Humans stood talking over the intrusive music, and each of them was smoking. Andron would give anything for a Mist-Stick. The smell was sickening, as he battled plumes of it while edging his way closer to them. It called to him and made his fingertips itch. One shambled step after another saw him within arms reach of the table, staring like a wild animal. A parched wild animal at that.
       "Alright?" One of them asked, before taking another drag. Their white teeth lit up as they grinned. Their friend stared but didn't make any effort to speak.
       Andron's target was chosen. It was an ornate brown bubble, with a lid, and poking from the lid on four corners were lips. It was heavy in his hand, and he felt an unstill swish of liquid trapped within, waiting to be freed.
       "I just need a sip," he slurred as he raised it to his lips.
       The first thing he noticed was a slight dusting on his lips, and then the drink within slithered into his mouth slowly; as if it had a life of its own. The overpowering taste of the sanitary products was all he could taste, and he needed to get rid of it. He wrapped his lips around one of the openings of the glass and sucked as hard as he could to hurry it along. Bits came out in the water. Chunks, both hard with slimy bits too. It danced around his mouth, battling his tongue and teeth.
       Opening his eyes, he saw the look of both horror and laughter in the two men's faces. Then the taste hit him. Toxic, putrid, far more powerful than the taste of cleaning products. Mist-Sticks.
       "You're insane!" One of them shouted as they started to gag. Closing their eyes tightly after a slight heave. "That's disgusting."
       "If you're that desperate for a drink I would have bought you one." The others joked with a shocked look on their face.
       Andron dropped the glass instantly, and felt a thud as it crashed to the floor. "Water," he said, as dust and bits of soggy paper sprayed from his mouth.
       The one who had been heaving turned back to his table, and Andron could see his stomach wrench as he started heaving. "I don't feel," he said in a guttural tone. Before spraying puke.
       Andron felt his arm get covered, but that didn't bother him. Not with the sting of the contents of the ashtray coating his tongue. The closest drink to him was a relatively full green glass of whatever it was.
       Ignoring the chaos at the table, and started chugging. Stopping occasionally to swish the liquid - to clear his mouth of the horrific taste - before spitting it out. More chunks, but with each spit they were gone. Until another swish revealed more, that were most likely hiding in between his teeth. No matter, he would quickly dispose of them too.
       The image of these chunks hiding out in his mouth like criminals took over. He saw the liquid as the men and woman of the TPD, and the swishes as the heavies coming in to back them up in getting rid of them.

       "What is this?! Some kind of messed up show, get out of here you sicko!" One of the men said, reeling in horror at the sight of Andron swishing his mouth out.
       "What?" He said, after spitting.
       "You're drinking his vomit!" The man said as he stepped forward. "Get away from us!" He shouted, eyes of disdain as he pushed him.
       Andron slipped on the wet floor, landed on his back and felt the glass shatter in his hand.

       He couldn't be sure if the shattered glass had hurt him or not. The lights made it extremely hard to judge colours. He knew that the drink seemed a lot more brown than the green it seemed to be before he started drinking it.