Lights
Mardi Gras parties are not for the weak-hearted, the pro-prohibitionists, or the epileptic. I knew something was wrong when the room started to pirouette like a ballerina.
"Too much to drink?" My flamboyantly dressed acquaintance, Kristen, yells in my ear. I lean across the edge of a wine cooler/beer can infested bar to steady the whirling walls. The overwhelming urge to keel over makes no sense, I avoided alcohol like the plague.
"No. I'm fine." I scream back, the lie barely audible over the blaring music. A euphoric Kristen giggles and wanders back into the crowd. My next cohesive thought is that someone roofied me. As an actual phobia of mine, it qualified as yet another reason to avoid the over-zealously spiked punch bowl in the rooms's center. I try to ignore the quickly blurring storm of noise and lights beating against my consciousness. The lights! My mind puts two and two together and I realize it’s the strobe light. My obnoxious epilepsy hadn't gotten in my way for years. But then again, I'm not usually staring straight into the world's flashiest strobe light. At this point, it's a miracle I'm not on the floor writhing around like a snake on steroids. I stumble back, knocking over empty cans on the bar behind me. I have to get out. The room descends on me in a swirling mass of color and sound as I push desperately through the thick crowd of drunken teenagers.Without realizing it, I am by the door. I don’t think as I flee out of the house of flashing death and into the dark streets.
* * *
Disoriented, I continue running away from the copious amounts of alcohol and over bearing music. I slow down about a block away from the house feeling like I'm going the throw up, alcohol or not. The world around me is strangely silent, with the exception of the distant music drifting from the house. I wonder why the younger generation seems to be the only one with life in this town. In the dark, I can just make out the neighborhood watch sign, it's squinting man staring eerily back at me. This is when I hear them. Coming from about a stone's throw away from me, the light plodding of footsteps on the sidewalk. It takes a minute for my head to stop spinning and my thoughts to catch up.I begin to walk casually away from the steps. I find myself speeding up as each step becomes louder and more distinct. Look, I don’t know all the details of girls being cornered alone in pitch black streets, but I know enough to run.
“Hello?” the owner of the footsteps calls out. I don’t stop.
“Hey, wait up!” the person calls, the voice obviously male. It is much closer this time. I glance behind me and see a hooded shape gaining on me.
“You sure you don’t need some help? Can I do something for you?” He tries again.
“Go to hell.” I try to sound defiant and intimidating but I am positive he can hear my thundering heart beat.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
I speed up to a near jog.
“Seriously, I’d stop.” I freeze as a cold hand grips my shoulder.
"I'm not going to hurt you." I don't respond, too busy shaking in my heels to reply.
"Seriously, are you okay?" I venture a glance towards the boy and a pair enormous brown pupils, almost like those little chocolate truffle candies you get on Valentine's Day, staring at me with nothing but concern.
"Oh right, sorry." He says as he lets go of my shoulder. He pulls down his hoodie and steps away, holding up his palms in the universal 'I'm innocent' sign.
“It’s interesting that you ran. Most people don’t do that…” the boy rambles on. I find my voice again to defend myself.
“Wouldn’t you if the equivalent of a rave party in heaven were shining in your epileptic eyes?”
