Microfiction Monday: “A Night Like This”

Umm…this one got some inspiration from a song — as usual — but it came also from my own life.  Err … umm … did I forget to mention that I may just happen to have attended a few raves in my younger days?  Ahem.

“A Night Like This”

The music was deafening, the room chaos.  The bodies were sweaty and heaving, pressed into intimacy on every side.  Blue hair, brown eyes, barely clad in just the right ways, the girl in his arms was a beautiful stranger.

He had no business with her, not in any world he understood.  Not on any night…except this night, this carnival of light and sound and lust.  On a night like this, outside lives — normal lives — died with barely a whimper, and many sins were born.

Dances and kisses, that was their language.  Words, even whispered ones, were pointless.  Caresses and passion said more than words ever could, anyway.  More booze, even a few pills, as the night developed, and the carnival of light and sound turned into a full-blown riot.

He’d had far too many nights predictable and boring.  But not this night, he vowed.  On this night he would finally live.  This was one night that would not end like all the others.  A night like this would end only in fire.

In the restroom, then, packed tightly into a single stall.  For once his surroundings meant nothing.  For once — for this night, at least — he had life itself in his arms.  His life — his real life, his “wonderful” life — meant nothing in the fire of that embrace.  

“How was your weekend?” his friends asked, on Monday, in their cubicles grey and drab and oh-so-normal.

“Oh, you know,” he replied, “the usual.”

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