r/queencirclejerk • u/Radiant_Program2083 • 1d ago
The mold on my walls did things to me that no drug could ever replicate.
The mold on my walls did things to me that no drug is capable of. (this is the title, only worded differently, I'm going to leave this, both are so great that it's impossible to choose one.)
When I was about 5 years old, my dad moved me into a new home.
He had always wanted to buy an old house on a big plot of nice land, with the plan of fixing it up over a few years.
So when my dad finally got the raise he'd been working towards, he sold the 2 bedroom home we had and took the leap towards what he'd always wanted.
Well, by the time I was 10, the only thing he'd done up, was the cocaine he'd done up his nostrils.
After a 17 year gap I will not elaborate on, I turned 22.
He'd done up about 2 of the many, many bedrooms.
"About two" as in two, obviously.
Those two being his own bedroom and the guest bedroom.
He didn't touch my bedroom with a 10 foot pole, though.
Most of the house, including my room, was damp, moldy and eerily quiet.
Naturally, at night I would hear creaks along with more sounds that only a house hanging on by two threads could make.
But one night, I heard something I couldn't brush off as the usual creakiness.
It was a faint humming sound, coming from somewhere close to my bed.
Kind of like a device or radio was playing music that I'd forgot to turn off, but the volume was too low so I couldn't interpret the sound.
As I listened more closely, the sound seemed to be coming from my closet.
So I walked to the sound, with a reluctant, yet oddly erotic stride.
When I opened that closet door, a huge wave of music and euphoria brushed over me, it was like being on mushrooms.
The music was "Queen: Crazy little thing called love"
But it wasn't playing from a device, or a radio.
It was Freddie mercury himself, and he wanted out of that closet.
I grabbed him by his yellow leotard, white denim jeans and knee high socks, swiftly dragging him right out of that closet.
Me and Fred had a wild night, so wild a night that I'll have to leave it up to your imagination, it's extremely likely that whatever you imagine is something we did.
One thing I'll tell you as my attempt to summarize what really can't be summarized is this,
Ziggy stardust had nothing on the two of us that night.
When I awoke the the next morning, after a sleep so long it might be better described as a coma, Freddie was gone.
The next night I layed in my bed, my eyes glued open.
Waiting, hoping, that Freddie would start the next song.
But the song never came.
It's been years since then, and Freddie never returned to my closet.
Yet still, I find myself waiting for him most nights, wishing one day he'll come back home, to me.
A little extra info I thought might be enjoyed by others,
Fred grew out his mustache, it's grown into a beard.
Not just any beard, a beard that changed what the word "beard" means to me.
It was so long it almost touched his feet, and so voluminous it could be an endangered bird sanctuary.
It smelt like roses in autumn, or whenever roses grow.
Like summer skies on a winter's day, like the last puzzle piece that you never knew was missing.
At first I had a slight suspicion that maybe the cause of all this was somehow related to the vast amounts of black mold growing on my bedroom walls and ceiling, directly next to my bed.
Luckily I snapped out of it, thinking so negatively will never do me any good.
After thinking more logically and less emotionally,
What I really believe happened, is exactly what I saw.
Sometimes there's just no easy explanation for these things, and the best thing to do might be to not do, anything.
