TheUndying  
Fri, Nov 26, 2010
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The Dance
Chaos. Flashing lights. Sweat and fragrance.

Anxious to indulge, he steps out onto the floor. He takes things slow at first, moving halfheartedly to the beat of the music. As he finds his comfort zone, he begins his long awaited escape; today's featured band providing him with the perfect medium to do so. A steady, consistent beat, yet loud and all-encompassing. Once attuned to the rhythm the passing of time becomes an evanescent concept to his mind. He closes his eyes. The sway of his body in respect to the beat gives him a familiar sense of serenity. Minutes pass, the song ends, he opens his eyes...

Released from her melodically induced trance, she opens her eyes. Reality re-coalesces quickly. She sees chaos, flashing lights. Smells sweat and fragrance. Her empty gaze sets upon him, gazing upon her.

Suddenly engaged, the strangers are simultaneously aware of each others' condition. An observation derived from their similar facial expressions. A mutual understanding common between musical escape artists. Frequencies have been matched; set upon the same wavelength, they are entangled. One momentarily bound to the other...

He approaches her. A new song begins. Simple at first, consisting of only a bass. Enter drums, enter guitar, add another. Then, enter vocals. Lucid, serene, feminine, a blend he prefers. Speakers emitting wave after wave, each vibration shaking reality into dissipation, they slip into a void. A synergistic soundscape replaces the darkness. Two perceptual bubbles placed within a shared visual panorama. One that only they can see. All senses igniting, she pulls him in. Minds meld, bare skin touches. Contact only they can feel. Passion reacts with physical attraction; a synthesis catalyzed by cologne, perfume, and perspiration. An aroma only they can smell. The music becomes the anthem of the now, a representation of every second that passes by, overwhelming and commanding each move they're about to make. A sound only they can hear. All senses cut off from the real world, they are suddenly alone and take part in a dance, both mental and physical in its synchronicity, like two planets dancing to the music of gravity.

Seconds pass and he feels his senses elevating further. Gradual bliss. He feels himself under her influence; clearly she's in control now. A succubus, methodical about her work. She's a drug, guiding the dopamine through his brain, like a child navigating a maze with her finger. Everything is electrical now, charged to its fullest capacity. And just when he thinks there's no plausible way this moment could get any better, she leans forward. Eyes closed and clear about her intentions, her lips travel across the mini universe that separates him from her to meet at their destination. Time slows to a near stand-still. One final breath, and then contact.

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Ecstasy. Oneness. Euphoria on a level never acquired before. Tasteless chapstick. Cinnamon breath, she had just recently chewed on a mint. Paralysis is the wrong word. Still able to move, but no longer in control of his dance. Like a puppet-master, she pulls on the strings of his every emotion, coaxing him into complete bliss. This, he thinks to himself, is transcendence.

The song ends, the kiss ends, he opens his eyes. As if released from a spell he looks around the room, realizing once again that there are others. Suddenly alive and filled with an ambitious fire coursing through his veins. She takes a step back, and then another, until she fades completely into the chaotic crowd of dancers behind her. An entire minute passes and he finally decides to pursues her, but cannot find her; a true escape artist. The concert is nearing its end. It's time to go home.

While getting ready for bed he reminisces on the dance. Unable to fully comprehend what had happened, and unable to accept that he'd lost her. Nothing less than a goddess, she had willing induced in him a psychedelic experience, she made him feel for the first time in what seemed like forever. After awhile he becomes complacent, accepting the experience as a gift, one that he was granted by some otherworldly entity attempting to fix him. It had been successful.

With a smile of satisfaction he's about to switch into something more comfortable. Emptying out his pockets he pulls out his concert ticket, his cell phone, a few coins, a piece of paper; symbols scribbled hastily upon it. A name. A number...


Fri, Nov 26, 2010  Permanent link

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