Dance of Ciprahn

Chapter Seven

Gentle whisperings stir her. Her alarm clock is set to start playing the radio when she has to get up. Crap. Work. Another day, another dollar. She would oft stare at the ceiling debating whether she could call in and if she really needs this job. Alas, she does. She has bills, and they are multiplying. She has ninety-nine problems and most of them were bills. She pops in her headphones to play her favorite music to help calm herself down. She gets the jitters sometimes and when she is really stressed out she would dry-heave and sometimes throw up. Not today Satan. 

Cass likes to mush her hair down with a beanie as she slept to keep it somewhat neat and not as much of a God-awful trainwreck. It also keeps her warm since the nights could be cold. She likes to build a semi-fort of pillows around herself like a cocoon and chooses one pillow to embrace and snuggle with. In lieu of cuddling with her one true love (who remains absent from her despite her best efforts), it was all she has. She gets up and shambles about like a zombie, getting ready for work. She starts her car to melt the frost and goes back inside the house to finish up getting ready. She does enjoy the beauty and serenity of the morning, the auburn majesty of the sunrise and sublime serenity of quietness. 

But she is also really freaking tired and downright cantankerous without her morning caffeine. She turns on the radio. It's on the fritz and she's only getting AM. The only clear channel seems to be some radio preacher. He has a grizzly Billy Graham voice and talks in a soothing drawl. "Are yuh weary and heavy burdened? Are yuh sad, stressed and depressed? No hope for tomorrowah? Come tah Jesus and find rest for yuh soul..." She changes the channel. She would listen to the quiet morning sounds. Her day passes by without anything interesting happening. Then it is the next day. Dawn. Cass is reading an article about the Humilde Pasta Bandit. Some crazy mofo is out there breaking into houses in the suburban part of Humilde; and along with electronics and other valuables, left them bereft of all the pasta they owned. Huh. 

Cass doesn't know what to think about that. She snorts suppressed laughter and tries to think of that line from Brave New World. What was it? "Oh brave new world, that has such people in't!" She can't remember exactly. Too much drinking in college had kind of fried her brain. She's on the plane to New York with her besties Gloria and Jo – who are currently bickering. Gloria has won some sort of sweepstakes that includes hotel and travel and elected to bring Cass and Jo along. They're exuberant about the trip. Jo found out about a posh masquerade ball that the fancy-pants rich urban New Yorker elite was attending. Rumor was there might even be a few celebrities as well. Alas they weren't on the invite list. "Leave that to me," said Jo smiling widely. After getting ready for the evening Jo somehow sneaks them inside. 

Cass isn't quite sure how she had manages that but she has seen her flirting with one of the busboys – who probably knew of another way in. Cass is so excited! This is such a huge reprieve from her boring day-to-day life. They find masquerade masks at a local thrift shop, and with enough spunk and grace the girls blended in well with the bourgeoisie crowd. The gentlemen look so handsome in their immaculate suits and ties and the women look gorgeous and supernatural in their long elaborate dresses and hairstyles. The air itself positively brims with electricity and otherworldly warmth. Laughter abounds and the soft undefinable chatter of dozens of simultaneous conversations permeate the ether. POP! A $300 bottle of champagne opens in a spray of foam and ecstasy. Ancient old-money chandeliers hang from the ceiling and old luxurious style walls, tables and chairs populate the room. It is almost too much to take in and Cass is momentarily overwhelmed. She glances over to the bar and gasps at her reflection in the mirror. She is absolutely stunning she didn't even recognize herself at first. 

She hasn't really had a chance to get a good look at herself before they took off since they were running late. She has never been very good at doing her makeup but Jo is a pro and offered to help. Jo also did her hair. Cass thought she looks sort of like a movie star and still can't believe that it is actually her in the mirror. The lights start to dim a little and Jo takes Cass by the arm saying "Hey I think they're starting the dance." Gloria, silent but clearly enjoying herself scurries after them. Jo shoves them through a few people to get in a better position. "Wow look at him." Jo's eyes lit up as she spies a boy from across the room. "Oh my god." He's tall and has a certain je nes se quois magnetism and charisma about him. He's wearing a loud crimson mask and has shimmering blonde hair that glows when the light hits it just right. Cass smirks. 

Just like Jo. Gloria is staring at the floor, a little out of her element. She is unaware a nice man with long flowing hair and a verdant green mask keeps looking at her and is trying to get her attention. That he wants to dance with her is clear, he refuses eye contact with any other woman. Cass quickly looks around to see if anyone is looking at her. There isn't. Dammit. Why did I come here? Cass is a little peeved but decides to make the best of things. Suddenly the music begins. Something sounding like a violin or bandoneon begins playing slow solemn beautiful sounds. The percussion and bass kicks in with flowing effortless grace, tempo unfurling and raw electrical aural sense releasing into the world. 

The echo of the reverb rebounds through the hall creating a surreal ambiance. The music stirs the soul, caresses the spirit, gets in real deep — to the bone. A hauntingly catchy siren song that embeds itself into your brain. It soaks through the skin, wraps around your psychic manifestations and sense of self and makes you want to dance and boogie. It has the sad solemn nature of a tango and yet offers up a glimpse of hope and of what could be. A music of dichotomy — dark and light, hope and helplessness. A sensual crawling devil music that is also at once sublime and divine.