Chilling tales for the restless night

The devil's nightclub

Los Angeles, 1987. The city was alive with neon lights, pulsating music, and a nightlife scene so exclusive, only the chosen few could taste it. For months, Sonya and Yolanda, two best friends with big dreams and small wallets, had tried everything to get into *Club Inferno*, the hottest nightclub in the city. It was the kind of place you only heard rumors about. Celebrities, rock stars, and the elite flocked there, disappearing behind velvet ropes and guarded doors.

They'd dressed their best, stood in line for hours, and still, the bouncers wouldn't even look at them. The rejection stung each time, but the allure of the club grew stronger. They had heard whispers of what happened inside: nights that turned to mornings without anyone realizing, parties so wild they seemed otherworldly.

And then, one fateful Friday night, just as the club was about to reach capacity, Sonya and Yolanda tried one last time. They ran, heels clacking on the pavement, hoping to slip past the velvet rope before the bouncer called it. But as they approached the entrance, the line was already too long, and the enormous bouncer motioned for them to stop.

Just as they were about to turn away in defeat, a voice from behind them said, "Let them in." They turned to see a man lounging against a nearby wall. His sharp suit shimmered under the dim streetlights, and his face was obscured by large, dark sunglasses, even though it was nighttime. He smiled, flashing a gold card between his fingers.

"You two," he said, looking them up and down, "You look like you could use a night inside. Take this."

He handed them each a golden card, its surface gleaming in the dim light. It was cold to the touch, and heavier than expected. Both girls stared in disbelief.

"Go on," he urged, his smile widening. "It's your lucky night."

Sonya and Yolanda barely had time to thank him before he slipped back into the shadows. The bouncer, seeing the golden cards, waved them in without a word. For the first time, they crossed the threshold into the club they had only dreamed of.

For days, the girls couldn't stop talking about it. They imagined what the man with the dark glasses must be like, wondered what kind of life he lived to have such power over the club. They even bought new clothes to impress him when they returned. It felt like fate had finally smiled upon them.

Finally, Saturday night came. Too eager to wait, they arrived early, only to find the doors still closed, the street quiet. Feeling slightly foolish, they wandered the nearby streets, shopping windows and grabbing a quick bite to eat. But by midnight, the line had already formed, snaking around the building. This time, they confidently flashed their golden cards and were immediately ushered inside.

The interior of Club Inferno was unlike anything they had ever seen. The music thumped through their bodies, and the dance floor was a living, breathing mass of people. Lights flashed, casting strange shadows across the walls. Some people were dancing wildly, others were draped over the bar, sipping colorful cocktails. The air smelled of perfume, sweat, and something sweet—something unfamiliar.

They spotted him from across the room, the man with the dark glasses, sitting at a private booth, a glass of something dark in his hand. They hesitated for a moment before approaching him, but he smiled as they drew near.

"Ah, my favorite girls," he greeted them. "Having a good time?"

They gushed their thanks, explaining how excited they were to finally be inside. The man chuckled softly, sipping his drink.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But trust me, this is just the beginning."

Sonya glanced at Yolanda, laughing nervously. It was already 1 a.m. How could this be just the beginning? The club was packed, the energy was electric, and everyone seemed to be in the midst of a wild, endless party.