Trippy

The steps were almost as hot as the tar, but it's hard to notice that when you're running down them seeking out the most horrifying smell of your life. He expected his nostrils to be filled with dread, and all he could detect was the hint of methane that always hung over the beach. The pit was even covered with sand. This made absolutely no sense, so he did what anyone in that situation would do. He dug.

The charred remains he expected to find under a thin layer of sand never appeared. This was fucking crazy. Echoes of the stench still rattled around in his nose, but nothing in a ten foot radius showed any signs of a fire. Visions of the charred logs accompanied the flies and decomposition of the other hallucination. Sand stuck to his hands, sticky from the salt breeze his lungs heaved in and out.

He'd had little fantasies detailed enough to be accompanied by visuals before. This seriously took the crazy cake, though. One memory he knew from the beginning was completely hallucinated still stuck with him, and another he was sure actually happened was just wiped out without a trace. This was worse than his acid trip in college.