Aurora Borealis

1

Some atmospheres can't be described. The waves of feelings sent out are catastrophically different from the simple feelings most humans can detect. The room immediately becomes uncomfortable when the atmosphere turns into something unreadable. I don't aim for awkward silences, but somehow, I constantly find myself in those situations. I try to avoid any places that may result in me getting wound up in one of those situations. That's why I've been standing outside this door for five minutes.

I've been saying the same words over and over in my head; "Just ring the bell."

My fists are balled up and my breaths are harsh. It shouldn't be this difficult to make my presence known. The windows are alight with changing colours and I shake my head in frustration, shutting my eyes tightly. I don't even know whose party this is. I could be showing up without anyone I know already being there. I sigh heavily. If I do it now, it'll be over with. If none of my friends are inside I'll have a reason to go home. I breathe deeply and raise one of my fists and extending my pointer-finger. As I do, the door opens.

"Pidge!" A cheerful voice says. I look up and admire his bright smile. He has a drink in one hand, the door in the other and is wearing black jeans and a red shirt with the word 'rad' written on it in big, bold letters.

"Hey, Lance," I reply, grinning at his attire, relieved that my friend is already here.

Lance opens the door a little wider and gestures for me to come in. I peek into the hall and see crowds of people in bright outfits, streamers hanging loosely from the roof and lots of spilled drinks. This is the perfect place for something strange to happen.

Lance looks back at me, his face falling from an ecstatic smile to a sympathetic one. "Hey," he starts, the tone in his voice softer, "It'll be okay. It's just a party, alright?"

"Yeah," I say, burying my hands in my jumper pockets, "Just a party."

My feet move before I tell them to and I walk into the house. Lance closes the door behind me and comes to my side.

"Let's go to the kitchen. I'm feeling peckish." He announces, walking down the hall. I follow at his side. The hall has a cross-section in the middle where two doorways are situated. One of them has light and music pouring out of it, and the other is closed. The lights from the room to the right pump out different colours at a high speed and the song that is playing makes my whole chest vibrate as we pass it. People are laughing and yelling over the loudspeakers. It's chaos; not necessarily a bad chaos, but chaos, nonetheless.

At the end of the hall is another doorway which leads to a more open space. A living room is straight ahead, an outdoor area slightly to the left and a kitchen more to the left.

"Lance, you're not here to steal more cake, are you?" A voice says sceptically. I turn towards the voice and see a very familiar, warm face.

"Pfft," Lance starts, "Hunk, my good man, when have I ever done something like that?"

Hunk narrows his eyes at Lance as he slides a tray into the oven, then he looks away. His eyes catch mine and his mouth stretches into a smile.

"Pidge! Hey!" He greets me, excitedly. I wave at him. Before I can get a word out of me, Hunk looks back at Lance and asks, "How did you coax her into coming?"

"Honestly, man, I have no idea. It must have been my pure awesomeness." Lance replies, putting his hands on his hips.

Hunk rolls his eyes and laughs. "Yeah, because your 'awesomeness' is definitely effective on Pidge."

Lance leans forward and asks, "Are you doubting my awesome powers?"

"I never said that!" Hunk replies, throwing his hands in the air.

"But you thought it!" Lance shoots back.

I chuckle at the two of them as they continue to argue and look at the place around me. It doesn't look like anyone is using the outside space even though there are decorations scattered everywhere. I wonder if the crowd might move outside later, or if it stays empty, I could use it as an emergency getaway in case things get too intense. The living room just outside of the kitchen is spacious and has two couches on adjacent walls, one of them facing a TV. The walls are empty but there is a fluffy rug on the floor, a coffee table sitting on top of it. Whoever lives here seems to be more of the comfortable type, rather than an interior designer. I imagine two people cuddled up on one of the couches, one holding a cup of tea, a cup of coffee on the table, an arm each around each other on a cold, winter day. A warmth spreads through my chest and brings a light smile to my cheeks. As I stare and dream longer, splotches of colour begin to appear around the furniture. Pastel pinks, blues and lighter browns overpower the dark shadows of the room. The colours make the room seem safe and homely. Although halfway transparent, the colours grow and bleed together like watercolour. The blending colours are entrancing, and I can't pull myself away from them until they form a very distinct violet colour around every piece of furniture in my vision. The violet colour becomes darker and less transparent and grows so large that it begins to eat away at my sight. A sharp pain that comes from the back of my head erupts through my brain. The violet pulses once and becomes a lighter colour, like a purple that seeps from blueberries, then it goes back to the dark, dangerous violet. I breathe in sharply, feeling as if the colour is swallowing me, blink, and the colour is gone, the pain is no longer, and the room is shadowed over again.

I blink a few more times, not sure what to make of the situations, then shut my eyes tightly, rip my glasses from my face and turn to my two friends.

"Can one of you please clean these?" I ask blindly. Their bickering stops all at once. After a moment, one of them takes the glasses from my hands.

"Yeah, of course." Hunk says softly. My hands fall to my sides, my eyes still shut.

"Did it happen again?" asks Lance. I nod silently. I here Lance sigh.

"Aren't these supposed to stop those colours, or whatever?" Hunk questions, the squeak of fabric rubbing glass entering my ears. "Is there an off switch that you pressed accidentally? Or, maybe they ran out of juice?"

I laugh a little, then explain, "They don't run on any current – electricity or juice. It's a special kind of glass that I melded myself. Sometimes it's not enough to keep them all out, I guess."

"Hold out your hand," Hunk says softly. As soon as I do, my glasses are placed in my palm and a large hand closes over my own, locking the glasses in my hand.

"Do you need to go home? I can drive!" Lance offers, sounding worried.

I know that I should go home. That's what my doctors recommend, anyway. Waves of this kind of thing some for about 12 hours after the first occurrence. The pains get worse and last longer and the colours show themselves more frequently, even with my glasses on. The doctors have put it down to migraines or eyestrain, but I'm sure that it's something more. Either way, it scares me to death, but I didn't come all the way out to this random person's house just to leave in the first minute of being in the door.

"Nah," I decline casually, placing my glasses back on my face. I open my eyes and crack a grin. "I'll get back to the drawing board tomorrow."