Zodiac Twenty Eighteen
-Coming Soon & Intro-
You couldn't describe the heat of cold air on your face. A walk-in tomb of smooth red iron walls plastered with light gray cement. Outside of it were four open structural columns, no more than seven feet tall with a base width of four feet, holding dense wet concrete in their belly. A twenty-four by twenty-four flat white canvas hung just beside the tombs fireproof door which was weighted shut. This was the large basement under construction. Tight transparent plastic sheets were spread over the floors, stapled with bronze tacks at the end of every corner. There were no space in between the wall and the plastic, its measurement and placement was perfect. The room was near air tight, you could only smell the scent of hesitation and cigarette smoke. The trailing smoke swirled patches in the air, mimicking dissipating clouds. They floated throughout the room, staying near the convulsing throat sucking and pumping out the exhaust.
A tall glass table was at the center of the room, steps from the red iron wall and a concrete box, this table passed no judgment. Small light blue porcelain bowls crowded the right section of the untouched glass table, the quality was clear, untouched, not one blemish of imperfection. The porcelain bowls contained a different narcotic in each, accompanied by a designated applicator of the drug. An empty easel was placed off center in the room, out of place. I stood next to the empty canvas staring at the glass table. I could feel its eyes on me walking over; the steps were soft, only making a pinched noise on the plastic with each step. A heavy hand leaned my shoulder down with weight and pressure. Its voice had no distinct tone, it was smooth and fluid. “You are the first.” He said. I felt weightless, glaring at the table full of drugs. “How much time do I have?” I said. His other hand evened out my other shoulder, both hands now pressing me down with ease. “You have two hours, let’s begin.” He said.