A fever Dream part 1 -- (Author) Turk3y5h007

Stories recovered from adisc.org from September 7th 2025
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A fever Dream part 1 -- (Author) Turk3y5h007

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Author: Turk3y5h007
Timestamp: Apr 26, 2020 at 12:31 PM
Content: It's been a hard couple days for me, and this just kinda popped into my head during this time. I said I would type it out for someone so here it is. I'm sorry about grammar I haven't proof read it, this is the first draft out of my note book.

"Fuck, I should of just used my GPS" an exasperated 20 something commented, as the paved road turns to gravel. Before he can reach for his phone, the young man see's movement on the road ahead. He switches to his high beams in time to catch a person scurrying into the brush, dressed in what appeared to be a gorilla suit. The drivers heart rate increased, hairs began to stand on end, a shiver went up his back. Straining his eyes to see where into the night the stranger had vanished. His heart sinks, It isn't just one weirdo roaming the woods, it is a half a dozen, Not hiding, but approaching his vehicle. Blood, an adrenaline coarse through his body, as gasoline goes Through the car, accelerating, all while stones ping off the undercarriage of the car. He stairs in the rear view mirror trying to catch a glimpses of his pursuers in the haze of dust and, feint red glow of the tail lights.

His gaze reverts back to the path in front of him, only to realize it veers to the right. Stomping on the breaks, the ABS fights back to avoid locking up the wheels only to have the car pulled down the knee high embankment into a field, ripping the fender as the Honda comes to a rest. Quickly the youth puts the car in reverse. Rocking wildly, emitting a cloud of dirt. Tears of fear and snot dripping down his face. rocking back and fourth in his seat hopping that will be the magic that propels him out of the predicament. Unable to climb back onto the road, the young man puts the car in drive. Maneuvering the car deeper into the field in an attempt to gain momentum for the hill. He turns the vehicle around, and In the head lights he see's the gorillas blocking his path toward the road. He stomps on the fuel car and driver crying in unison. He runs over a gorilla, two thuds can be heard one under the car and one in the car as a jolt from the impact send his head against the side window. He hits the embankment hard sending dirt flying over the hood, crashing back onto the road. An explosion, as the driver takes a blow to the chest, he screams and pisses himself. The air bags obstructing his view slightly, the car pulling slightly to the left. The driver screaming and crying, bleeding, from his hand where his finger nails dug in, and where the air bag peeled his forearm. As he pulls away from the clearing shivers and tingling ripple through his body, ahead on the road is a boy, covered in blood waving his arms. A decision that will haunt him forever; he leaves the boy. Minutes that crawl like hours. The gravel pass arrives at a T junction unsure of which way to head the man pulls out his phone.
He opens the GPS every two seconds glancing back seeing the troop of gorillas, only for them to fade as realization that his mind is projecting what could be. A peculiar thing happens when he finally gets the GPS programed, a sweet voice alerts him to a very disputable fact, "there is no route available". Looking at the screen It shows no road for miles. He turns left, like many of his choices tonight he will learn to regret, and contemplate "what if".

He drives for a couple miles all the while the GPS showing a field. Ahead he sees a town, how is it possible that a town isn't on the map. As he arrives at the cities edge, the GPS shows no signal available. Like many small towns in the middle of the night everything is shut down. Except for the one small diner with its lights on. Thank god for small miracles he thinks to himself as he pulls into a parking spot. He steps out of his car and walks to the door, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection. Taking himself in, shock wearing off, he lets off a hardy laugh, which make he laugh harder when he pictures what a stranger must see. A grown man with a bruised face, bloody hands and arms, and piss stained pants. He enters the diner anyways to call the police, since his phone refuses to be anything more than an over priced paper weight. He calls out for someone, yet no one answers. Again he calls outs, still no one. He walks in the back and no ones. Thinking to himself maybe they're on a restroom break, he helps himself to the phone. Lifting up the phone he begins to dial only to realize there is no dial tone. In a fit of rage he hurls the phone against the wall and storms out. As he leaves the diner the his perspective swirls, it's day time. He's two feet off the ground. His arms hands and face no longer hurt. Yet his pants still feel wet.

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Author: Turk3y5h007
Timestamp: Apr 27, 2020 at 8:17 PM
Content: I'm unsure about etiquette, am I supposed to continue the same thread or make a new post for every update?
I see someone else making a new thread for every installment. If this was short, and I had a reasonable timeline I might finish I might do the same, but unfortunately I don't have it maped out at all, it might go another 30 or 5. The 5 chapters might take me forever to bridge the ending due to writers block, If someone wants to jump into the story I would rather they not have to search for the starting point, or a current reader miss an update and have to try and find the part(s) they missed. If I'm doing it wrong let me know.

Staring out to the road, a single arm held out gripping a ledge of the building for balance. A female voice behind him informs an older lady at the edge of his vision it will be five minutes for a table. Confused and panicked as to why he can’t move his own head or why his point of view is so low. Given no time to contemplate the current situation his body suddenly without prompting turns toward the young giant of a woman. His body stretches out its arms, taking a few wobbly steps in an eager sprint to reach her before his jelly legs fail him. The giant scooped him up under the arms lifting him into the air and resting an arm underneath his butt. “I think someone has a soggy bottom” as she bounces her son up and down. Drawing giggles and smiles from the body, as she walks him to an early eighties Buick estate wagon, white with with faux wood paneling, white stripe tires, and red interior. Balancing her son in one arm, and opening the window and tailgate. She lays him in the rear of the vehicle. Pulling down his pants and undoing the diaper. Reaching for the bright blue bag, with the word Pampers written across it in blue bubble letters, a horrifying realization enters into his mind; he's trapped in a toddler's body. Wanting to scream, cry, and run away but unable to do any of it, he has a mental panic attack while his body screams in delight from this mother blowing raspberries on his stomach. Pulling up his pants' locking the car, the three enter the diner for breakfast.

A hostess with a bubbly attitude asks if "the cutie" needs a booster, or a highchair.
"This is hell, I've died in my shity 97 civic". "I smashed my head as I drove off the road and I'm dead". A smile would have grown across his face if he had any control. The thought of Which made him laugh in hysteria, as he got placed in the highchair. "oh Satan, did I figure it out, do I have to sit in the punishment chair away from the adults". The young man continues having the soliloquy, not paying attention to his body eating pancakes, not that it would have done any good but the shock of having sticky fingers, hands, and hair. "My god the hair too, who gives a damn baby syrup". His mother pinches and pulls his everything in order to get the child clean enough for the trip home. Both body and mind in distress it lets out a cry in an attempt to dissuade the assault of the ice water napkin. Lifting the boy out of his throne, she asks her mother to pay while she takes him to the car.

As he gets buckled into the car seat, his sugar high begins to wear off. Shortly later the grandmother arrives along with the drone of the v6 to take him away to dreamland. The last thing he saw before sleep overcame the toddler was the fueling station advertising 87 and nine tenths for a gallon of fuel. Quickly he learned sleep for the body did not mean rest for his mind. If being in an awake body was prison, this had to be solitary. The lack of stimulus was maddening. Only darkness. An arm going to sleep, and a bladder voiding itself, to keep his mind off the ladies in the front recounting in detail the preachers sermon.

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Author: Turk3y5h007
Timestamp: Jun 1, 2020 at 8:13 PM
Content: Long time no writing, but here's a short chapter. Sorry for the wait.

His body itchy from the suit, throat and eyes dry from running through the dust. Overheated, sweaty, exhausted, and the unyielding laughter from the voice in his head making it impossible to think. This was supposed to be easy, there were six of us. It would have been easy if the others could put down the molly, and just do the job at hand. Now we have to scour the woods looking for the little brat.

Pursuing the car to, ensure the brat and this stranger don’t rendezvous, wrapping up the series of cascading failures. Becky lets loose a scream “ NO LUKE” . his voice chimes in “it was Luke I got? Maybe I’m your guardian angel if I got Luke”.
Biting his lip he mutters “shut up I wouldn't even be out here if it wasn’t for you”.
“You're right, you’d be at home smoking weed alone begging for the world to notice you” the voice rebuts. Sprinting after the vehicle trying to suppress what's inside of himself. When by miracle the kid is standing in the dust cloud, tail lights fading off into dusk. “Fuck” the voice in his head solemnly mutters.
“Maybe you are my guardian angel” smirking at the reversal of fortunes that befell him. Snagging the boy by the hair. He drags him back to the group in the clearing. “Looky what I found” hurling the kid to the ground “now we all get to make our requests”. Steven hand over the knife finishing what started hours ago.