Lines

Night

"Hey boss, I'm outside"

He put his phone in his pocket before slipping on his jacket.

Before long, he was in his friend's car and on the way to this new dive.

A club with a peculiar name, "Dawn" or something to that effect.

Or was it "Night" perhaps?

They arrived. In bright neon he saw the confirmation of the latter.

"Isn't it redundant to have a nightclub called Night?"

His friend looked at him, for a moment his eyes were painfully solemn.

Turning back, the doors pushed open and waited. So they followed suit.

They descended into the center, he felt the gravity here was deeper than normal.

Like the pit of his stomach was being pulled harshly down.

Down.

Down.

To the depths of some acropolis beneath.

"Hey, you good?" the words snapped him back to reality.

"Yeah, what song is this?"

Again, the solemn look. It's then he realized there wasn't a song playing.

With a bang, the DJ barked a chanting ritual into the space.

And the blaring noise took over.

Movement, discordant notes bashed against the walls.

Limbs beat to chest, legs stomped and folded.

The entire club was ablaze in dance.

And he joined too, he never moved like this before. He never danced like this.

And before long, the pit of his stomach dropped away. He was a feather in the breeze.

A slave to the element.

But untouched by influence beyond the wind and the world.

As he once was, in primordial youth.

But suddenly the sounds dropped away harshly. 

The lights all went out save for one.

Pointed straight down from the center of the ceiling to the back.

Inside the cone of light; his friend.

"Josh?" It echoed awkwardly in the silence

"What's going on-" the entire club roared, and his voice faded from his very throat.

"I'm sorry" he tried to croak out.

The roar swallowed everything.

That solemn look, one last time.

Josh extended his arms out and began to ascend into the air.

He could only look in horror as his friend rose.

Josh went higher and higher before passing through the light and the ceiling alike.

Or what he thought was ceiling; the light was so harsh and bright.

It obfuscated everything.

Like a barrier his eyes could not pierce.

He looked down and saw the rest.

The rabble.

They all looked at him like ravenous dogs.

The light went out, and a low, red shade took its place.

It filled the club, illuminating silhouettes in crimson.

He could not see a single, solitary face.

With a yelp, he cried out.

And they descended on him.

He cried out once more, before they shed him of skin and pulled out his hair.