DITCH

Episode 8

"In Which Reality is a Wild Pony Ride"

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"We all have that one song that awakens the strippers in us."

-

Rebel Circus

11:50 PM 

Vie Nuit, Downtown Square

My head is pounding. Blood rushes to my ears. The strobe lights are stark, pointing left, right, front and back. 

I look around me, feeling like a stranger outside an invisible wall of sound-proof glass.

Everyone was dancing, gyrating their bodies to every tempo and beat of the fast-paced music. They were lost in their own world, stuck in a sea of frenzied bodies.

The lights dim down, getting vivid now, as they break in multi-colored rays. They float around the open space, glowing like fireflies and alighting ever so briefly on us.

My skin shivers at the thought as they come in contact with mine, while the tiny hairs stiffen and stand straight.

I brush my hand on my neck, feeling it warm up even further. It was oddly slicked with sweat, just like every part of me, despite the cool air blasting from every corner of the club.

I fan myself, the air around me getting thicker and heavier. My head continues to throb, my eyes twitchy as the lights I have admired earlier draw eerily near me.

Watching the way those lights move is like looking through broken glass, slowly dispersing into tiny fragments while the warm and cool hues are suspended in a colloidal state. They envelop me in a swirling motion, isolating my vision from what was actually happening around me.

I clutch at my head, willing the lights to go away.

I rub my eyes with the back of my wrists. My throat is dry, my lips threatening to chap. I couldn't hear anything above the music and the sound of my beating heart. 

Somebody brushes past me. And then, another one. And, another.

I shudder at each contact.

Why did I do this?

What am I doing here?

Why am I so alone? 

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