This is how I described my first drink of Scotch. The biggest mistake I made in my life. It was my gateway into a path of self destructiveness that brought me close to death. But the story is about bullies. Alcohol is the biggest bully of them all.
The fire was so nice and warm. Dying out of course. A few embers poking through the ashes. I took a drink and poked the fire. Some sparks and little flames popped up. The red spots under the ashes were fading so I picked up a fire lighter and placed it on the coals. For a few seconds there was a strong smell of paraffin. Then pop. Blue flame casting shadows at the back of the fireplace and around the sitting room. Shapes dancing in silence with a beautiful warmth and strange excitement. I poured another drink and sat on the floor in front of the fire. Getting warmer. More comfortable. My worries dissipated. I liked the feeling. The absence of worry. And the blurry feeling in my head. I wanted to chase these shadows round and round the room as the excitement mounted. My mind was telling me everything’s all right now. You can do what you want. Anything. No restrictions. Nothing’s holding you back. Then I fell into a faultless sleep.