Two Weeks in Hell - pt 4

"You know, sometimes I think that you just brought me here to humiliate me." She said under her breath, ferociously chopping the carrot.
"What? Demi, do you hear yourself. Why would I do that!" Travis sighed, frustrated. "Whatever. I'll leave you to this then." He left the room in a hurry, leaving Demi alone in the large, dim kitchen. All that she could hear was the loud thump of the knife hitting the board each time and the sounds of her frantic breath coming from clenched teeth.

"Cooking while angry never ends well, trust me." said a voice behind her. She spun around, knife still in hand to see Brian at the door. Her anger left for a moment as she watched the poor man who was in the same situation as she was, but not even he could keep her from returning to those dark thoughts. She turned back around and began the chopping again.

"You're going to have to make a choice sometime. It's Travis or your own sanity. Can you really stand all this?" he asked her.
"How do you do it? How can you just stand there and deal with all the crap they throw at you?"
"I don't know really. I love Valerie. I don't know what I'd do without her. But I guess I just know that I only have to see them for a short time each year. Besides, now that you've come in, they've taken a little of the heat off me."
"Great." sighed Demi. Brian wasn't helping her much, so she turned back to her work, knowing that in a few seconds, Travis' mum was going to come through those doors and start yelling at her asking why the vegetables weren't cut up yet.
"Just...you need to calm down, I guess. I can see the anger, every time they talk to you. And they can see it too. They're loving that anger, Demi. Just ignore them. They're not worth ruining what you have with Travis." Demi smiled, know that he was right.
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd only say that to keep me here so that you can get out of the worst of it."
Brian was about to answer when the doors behind him swung open, hitting him in the back.
"Brian, get out of the way!" Yelled Travis' mum. "Didn't your mother ever teach you some decent manners.
"Sorry Mrs Parr. i don't know what I was thinking." answered Brian, rubbing his back and scurrying out of the room. She looked over Demi's work with her nose up in disgust.
"No, girl!. What are you doing! You don't cut the carrots lengths ways! Stupid girl! Let me do it!" She yelled, pushing Demi out of the way with her humongous body and taking over. Demi snapped. She was sick of getting thrown around like a rag doll.
"No, Mrs Parr. I've got it." She argued, pushing back hard, and taking the knife.
"Don't you push!"
"If you'd just let me-" They fought for the knife and control over the bench, when in one hasty movement, the large blade came down hard, slicing the tip of Mrs Parr's finger. There was no doubt about it, it was Demi's fault. No only had she caused the fight, but she had also forced the knife down, unintentionally bringing the woman to screams.
"What have you done you little brat!" She screamed. Demi, frantically looked around for a cloth and the woman wailed. Soon the whole family was crammed into the kitchen, trying to help. There was no time for blame and insults, other than from the woman who was howling them at Demi by the second. The woman was carried out of the house and into an ambulance, and members of the family jumped in cars to the hospital.
When all the hype was gone, there was only Demi, left in the kitchen. There was blood everywhere, covering the benches and the floor and all of the food lain out. It was as if the woman had purposely flailed her arms out everywhere, so that her blood covered every square inch of the kitchen, just so she could smite Demi even more for cutting her finger. Demi guessed that she was expected to clean up.
She stood for a moment, quiet and still. She barely breathed. All her senses had shut down except for her sight. And all she could see was the blood. The glorious blood. Blood of a horrible woman, but blood none the less. It was the substance which she most prominently discussed in her novel, and all of her writing since her first horror movie when she was twelve years old.
There was something different about her now, something different, yet oddly familiar.

A new, dark world

The grass is long and waxy beneath my feet and the strong wind whips it around my toes. My hair, like the grass is defenseless against the wild wind and threatens to escape from the hair tie. A baby howls in the distance and bells chime in the strong wind caused by the approaching hurricane. I studied the village homes from my place on the hill. The huts were basic, made from anything they could find; sheets of reinforced iron, stones, bricks, tree branches. They won’t be still standing in 48 hours. It was the image of a desperate shanty town, grasping for life in a world that didn’t care; but I knew better. These people had it good. They were safe and alive, and in the new world, that’s all you needed and that’s all that separated you from the victims of the disease. The village was surrounded by a barb-wire fence. It was tall and it was sturdy; it did a lot to hold back those who would risk the safety of the others. Not often would you come by a victim these days, but the villagers still didn’t feel safe.
But now nature was going to force them out of safety, to force them to find safer ground in the worlds of the unknown. This is their home and they were relying on me to help them. I had been alone for so long that seeing fresh faces that were living and safe was almost a shock. They were faces that were scared and intimidated by my arrival, but were still fighting strong for some sense of civilization.
I turned southbound, following the direction of the wind and gazed out over the fields of crops that the villagers continued to slave over. None of the people I had seen looked to have eaten anything for weeks. They looked like only skin and bone, imitating the thin wire that protected and supported them; feeble to the eye, but strong and hard working.
Out in the fields I watched children and a father clawing through the dirt, searching for potatoes. The children- as innocent as they were – had made a game from the search, laughing with their hollow voices and rolling in the dirt.
“Simon, stop that at once!” yelled the father at one particular boy who was throwing the fresh potatoes at a small girl. “Don’t you dare bruise them, or you won’t get dinner for a week! You’re old enough now to know that that potato is all we have!” The father had a young infant strapped to his back and as he searched desperately for his weekly meals, the child wailed and screamed for her mother. She flung her limbs all over the place, trying to resist the hold of the carrier, but the struggle was pointless effort and soon after being continually ignored, she calmed down and hung loosely, enjoying the ride and falling asleep.

Valentine's Poem

There once was a love,
a love so beautiful
that it shone brighter than the sun
and the stars combined.

There once was a love,
a love so strong
that it stood tall against every war and every hardship
until the ends of time.

There once was a love,
a love so perfect
that it was studied for centuries after love grew extinct
considered as complex as the Pyramids.

There once was a love,
a love so fantastic
that it brought the entire human civilization down on its knees
and a tear to the eye of the coldest soul.

There once was a love,
a love so craved by others
that they poked and prodded, wanting it desperately to fall,
so that they might not feel so destroyed under its light.

There once was a love,
a love so united
that they were bound by blood, soul and mind
that couldn't ever be destroyed.

There once was a love,
a love so hard to find
that people spend their lives searching for it
an endless and hopeless journey for this one desire.

There once was a love,
a love I wish for everyone.
You will find it one day, trust me.
Love is a fate that doesn't want to be searched for,
that doesn't want to be categorised,
that doesn't want to be forgotten.
Trust in fate, it knows what it's doing.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone :) <3

2 Weeks in Hell - pt 5

“I know they’re a pain, Demi, but what can I do?” asked Travis looking down on a tired Demi. She was crouched down behind the boat shed. The sand beneath her was dark and cool compared to the burning brightness it is during the day. She played with the sand between her fingers, tracing images on the surface. She much preferred the beach at night, much better than while the sun poured over the land with its harsh rays and heat. She didn’t much like burning each day. And she very much liked how the night was when everyone was finally quiet, the only time when she wasn’t criticised for being there or for doing something wrong.
Travis though was the total opposite. He stood there shivering, hoping that she’ll just get over it and come inside like a sane person.
“Did you just bring me here to hurt me?” she asked, not looking at him.
“What? No, Demi, I would never do that.” He answered, crouching down to her level. “Trust me, it’ll all get better in time. You just have to be strong.”
“No, Travis! It won’t ever get better! Brian told me that. He said he’d been criticized and hurt by them every time he sees them. That’s why you barely ever see Valerie, because he never lets her come home.” She cried. She could see the shock register in his face, and instantly regretted her words. “Travis, I know that sounds awful, but I could never do that. I don’t want to ever separate you from your family, but I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Well what do you want me to do?” He asked standing up again. Any sympathy was gone from his voice, and Demi knew she had said the wrong thing.
“I…I don’t know. Anything… I just feel so angry, but I can’t do anything about it. And it’s killing me inside!” her frustration was getting the better of her and she was beginning to shout.
“Demi, I’m just getting so sick of you complaining all the time. You’ve got to get used to all types of people! I know you haven’t had the best of family lives, but you can’t expect to meet all loving people all the time. You can’t kill off people like you can in your books!” he yelled back. She didn’t look up at him, she didn’t want to see him angry. His words were enough to cut deep.
When she didn’t speak again he turned and started to head back to the house, deciding he was sick of the cold.
“Anastasia could…” she whispered. She intended to keep that to herself, but her words were carried on the cool sea breeze.
"What did you say?" asked Travis.
"Nothing." she quickly countered.
"No, you said Anastasia... Demi, don't do this."
"Travis, what am I doing!" she shouted, her rage boiling up inside. Her eyes burned and her throat tightened. Quicker than Demi had expected, he got down on his knees and grabbed her shoulders so that she would look at him.
"Do not say that Demi! Anastasia is a character! A cruel, cold-blooded character!" He began shaking her shoulders lightly, hoping that she realised how serious he was.
"But she could." Demi replied darkly.
"Yeah, and do you know what happened to her? Of course you do, because you wrote it! She was caught and was killed!" He stared desperately into her dark green eyes, but he didn't see any changes. She still wore her brutal determination on her face.
"Kill them all, Demi. Do it." he told her flatly, seriousness in his voice.
"W-what?" she asked in utter disbelief.
"I said, please come inside with me." he repeated. Travis didn't see the confusion Demi was experiencing, and with those words in her mind, she got up subconsciously and followed him in.

Curse of the Loveless

The candles did little to brighten the room, but she didn’t need any light to know what was about to happen. He threw his robe casually over his shoulders and whispered in her ear, “I’m just going to get us some drinks.” The fire on the left side of the room roared on evenly, and heated the room thoroughly, adding to the sweat collecting on her forehead from the nerves she felt. She stopped him just before he left her side.
“Wait,” she whispered. She stroked his warm cheek and looked at his innocent face. “Please, wait. I need to tell you something.”
“Anything.”
“I’m not going to be here much longer.” He looked at her confused, not understanding the curse that had held her down for centuries. “But I want you to know… that I love you.” The last few words came to her lips as easy as she could breathe, but she had to force them out, force them to be heard. And they were heard by the boy leaning on her bed. He understood them and ate them up like they were as common as a greeting.
“I love you too.” he told her, but she didn’t know if she could really believe him. But it didn’t matter what he believed. It was only the fact that she had finally felt love, and she knew she had, and that she had said the words before she was taken away. She could feel it coming.
By falling in love she had broken the one rule of the contract, and now she would have to pay for it in the depths of Hell.
A pain began to swell in the centre of her back. She reached back as far as she could to feel what was happening to her. Her back was bare and the skin was warm and smooth, but there was something wrong. Where the pain was accumulating she could feel a bone protruding out and pressing against the skin. She heard a snap and felt the new pain radiate through her body as another bone shattered out of place. And another and another. She didn’t cry or scream; she knew this was her fate now and she didn’t want to bring her love rushing in just to see her taken away in her worst.
She let a breath and a squeak escape from her mouth as she felt the skin break. She realized then that he bones were not the cause of the tear; they were simply making room for the something coming through.
She could feel something moving up her back and over her shoulder, a creeping sensation and yet oddly familiar. She didn’t want to see it; she wanted her execution to move as fast as possible. Though she knew she didn’t have that luxury. Her breath became more rapid as she forgot the pain and waited for what was about to happen next. She took a cautious glance at the hanging mirror in front of her, instantly regretting her decision, because crawling over her shoulder was a bloody arm, its fingers stretched out as if to grab her. It stood out strong against the bright flame behind her as it reached down and cover her mouth tight to stop her from screaming the breath she just inhaled. It clamped down hard on her face, too strong for her to release. She pried at it with all her strength, but fighting back was useless. Another arm reached over her shoulder and began pulling her shoulder down, back where it came from. Same was done to her other shoulder, and arms and legs. Bones were broken as easily as twigs and blood was left dripping on the floor.
The tears ran down her face in an endless stream of desperation and she was yet to let out a single noise. The boy down stairs in the kitchen would be left alone, wondering where she had gotten to. He would miss her, search for her. But then he would get over her and move on. She was forgettable to him, like most things in his short life. But he would stay burned into her mind for the rest of eternity as the one who sent her to Hell, all because she loved him.
Her limbs had been completely sucked into the black hole that had formed in her back as a gateway to Hell. All was left was her head really, and like with the rest of her, an arm reached out and pulled her back. At some point, after having her head dragged back to the point of her neck snapping completely, she lost her vision and all she could see was the blackness, but she wasn’t dead yet, and she didn’t expect to die.
Her love entered the room only a few moments before she was gone altogether to find only a puddle of blood where he expected to see a beautiful girl…

2 weeks in Hell - 3

Demi ran up the stairs sobbing, hoping that no one could hear her. She had always felt so weak and vulnerable when people saw her cry. She thought it was wretched how people could cry in public. But she just couldn’t hold it in. When she closed the door behind her she didn’t hold back and all the tears flooded out. Though it was an impulse to cry after such a horrific embarrassment it didn’t help to ease the pain. Actually it worsened it. Her eyes burned like fire and her throat ached, eager to scream and to swear. She watched her makeup flow down her face with the tears like thick black ooze. She rubbed her face hard, trying to wipe away the gunk from her face, but her skin just reddened far more from the irritation.
In the bathroom she soaked her face with a wet cloth, trying to calm herself down. Her face was an uneven red and her eyes were puffy and blood shot. She looked up into the mirror. She felt utterly pathetic. Her face was clean of makeup, and the redness had softened, but she felt so ugly. She would breathe a deep breath and reapply the makeup. She would brush back her hair from her face into a neat ponytail. And she would go back down stairs and pretend that nothing had ever happened, that she wasn’t just called worthless. She would pretend that they were all friends, and that no body hated her. She would go on and ignore all the stares she got from Travis’ family and all the rude remarks saying how he could do better. No, she was going to play good.
But she didn’t want to.
She looked at herself in the mirror, deep into her eyes and she began believing what they said. She was worthless and pathetic. She was just another fling for Travis. It ate at her, deep deep down until in burrowed itself into her brain.
“I am nothing.” She said to her reflection. But no, she realised then that she was more than that.
“I am Anastasia.” She said after a moment’s pause.


(The 2 weeks in hell shorts are not in order for anyone who is confused. They are just random exerts from the story.)

2 weeks in Hell - pt2

He had the knife to her throat in seconds. Desperation and determination flowed through his eyes and she knew him well enough to know that he couldn’t kill her, especially since he still loved her. But there was the force he used when pressing the sharp blade against her skin and the fierceness in his voice that scared her a bit; an intimidating note that screamed he would do it. And he would – he was dead serious. But there was a voice in Demi’s head that kept telling her that somewhere in Travis, she was the only person that he thought about, that over all he would protect her and her only. A selfish thought, yes, but she couldn’t help it. She loved him more than anything and she would push him to the limit and further until he bent into her fairytale character. But it didn’t look to be going that way just yet.
She stopped fighting back and let him handcuff her to the broken glass covered window pane. It was fairly weak, but he was sure that it was all he needed to get away, and for the police to find her. She didn’t look scared and she didn’t look defeated, though she felt that way. She didn’t want him to realize that he had won just yet.
“Is this seriously all you’ve got? You think this is going to hold me back from finishing them off?” She was starting to tire, but she wasn’t about to let her tough façade wear off just yet. Travis didn’t answer her questions, just stared her dead in the eye with a deathly look that made Demi’s heart break the slightest bit.
Her smile faded to a scold as he left the room. She was running out of ideas.
Travis sprinted down the stairs and out the door. Molly was still unconscious in the front seat and he exhaled knowing that she was at least safe from Demi. He could feel Demi’s eyes on his back, a feeling he knew quite well now. He turned and looked up at the window. It was swinging back and forth in the strong, stormy wind, but Demi was no where to be seen. The window panel seemed to be unbroken, but the handcuffs were also gone.
“How the hell?” But he could still feel her watching him. She was somewhere – somewhere close, but he didn’t have time to find her. He didn’t want to find her. There was nothing separating him from the car, but he still ran; sprinting as if his life depended on it.
No sooner after starting the car engine smoothly, did the screen crack right in front of him, sending waves of scraggly, thin arms reaching out to the end. The glass then shattered into thousands of pieces and sprayed onto them. A large smooth rock lay on the floor at his feet. Through the shattered glass he tried to see where it had come from.

Demi stood in a doorway, second floor of the house shaking and cradling her left arm in the other. She did what most people would consider crazy, but she couldn't let her love escape her just yet. To get out of the handcuffs she did the only thing she knew would work. As Travis was running down the stairs to the car Demi pushed down on her left thumb as hard as she could. Tears began to flood to her eyes as she realize the pain and severity of what she was trying to do. But she didn’t stop. In one swift movement she fell back against the couch below the window, crushing her hands under her body weight. Her right hand was still pushing hard on her left thumb and she heard a solid crack which sent shivers through her body before waves of excruciating pain. She carefully slipped the handcuff off her broken hand and released herself from the hold of the window. She brought her hand to her face and looked upon the mutilated thumb. The small joint at the bottom of her thumb which usually jutted outwards now faced in and she could no longer move the thumb at all! Her breathing became rapid and she felt dizzy as shock set in. She could barely see straight, but she could hear the engine outside start. Without looking, she grabbed the closest solid object she could reach and flung it out the window with her right hand, much against the distress her body was under. She heard the screen smash and knew she had done something right.

Two weeks in Hell - Intro

The train flew fast through the land, leaving no time for the passengers to gaze outside at the coast. Demi didn’t mind though. She was consumed in the novel in her hands. The small, compact book was battered and old, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from the griping story of murder and scandal. She was completely gone from the world around her and trapped within the walls of the book, holding her breath as the character ran for her life, seeking refuge from a blood thirsty man with an axe.
“Your eyes look like they’re about to pop out of your head.” Laughed Travis, they only voice that could break Demi away from the story. He handed her a cup of coffee in a paper cup. She looked up at her boyfriend and noticed how good he looked with the bright orange glow of the sunset behind him. His jet black hair glowed a fiery red and his smile looked brighter than ever.
“I just got a text from my publisher.” She told him after she stole a quick kiss from him.
“Yeah? What did she say?” Demi had been writing for as long as she could remember, and finally she been able to finish a story that she could call a novel, but the next process was excruciatingly slow for her, and she realised that her life’s work might be for nothing. Much because of her love of gripping murder stories, her finished novel went something along the lines of a murder, but she was feeling doubts from many that had read it so far; all except for Travis who sang praise for it to everyone he talk to. He was her cheer squad, and at the moment her only support for how her chosen career was going. As a freshly graduated high school student, she decided to take a year of before university to take a break to work on the novel, despite what her friends and family suggested. She had high hopes, and she wanted nothing more than to just get this novel published.
“She asked me why the character killed the family.” Demi said, slightly disappointed that she didn’t get the text she was wishing for that would have went on about how fantastic the story was.
“That’s easy!” exclaimed Travis, stretching an arm over Demi’s seat. “Because she hated them. Because they were such arseholes to her. I mean, that’d be enough to make me snap.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that when you get caught for murdering a whole family!” laughed Demi.
“Well, it’d be the truth, whether or not I admit it…”
Travis gulped down his scalding hot coffee as easily as he would water, while Demi went over the text a few more times, waiting for hers to cool. Each time she read that words, it ate away at her, making her feel as though publishing this book was some impossible task that could never be cracked by someone as simple and plain as her. She wouldn’t know where to start to modify the story to make it better; to make her publisher absolutely love it as much as Travis did. Or at least half as much.
“Give me that!” said Travis, taking the phone away from her and erasing the message after about the fifth time she had read it. She sighed, realising that the message wasn’t the only thing that was bugging her at the time.
“Do you think they’ll like me?” Demi asked, leaning against Travis to look out the window at the images of the ocean rushing past. She was talking about his family. Demi and Travis had been dating for almost a year now, and Travis thought that Easter break was the perfect time for her to meet them, as they’d all be there for a little while to celebrate. Demi came from a completely anti-religious family, one that had members spread all out across the country, so she either spent holidays like these with friends in similar situations or alone. And that’s what made her especially nervous to meet Travis’s family, as she’s never been to anything resembling a big family gathering in her life.
“Trust me, they’ll love you.” He said, wrapping his arm around her. But there was something in his voice that she just didn’t believe. She looked at him suspiciously. “Ok, they might attack you a bit with the whole interrogation deal, but honestly, what family doesn’t do that when their son brings home his girlfriend.” Demi’s cheeks flushed and she smiled when he called her his girlfriend. She’d never get used to that title. “Besides, when they see you like I do, they will take you in as though you’ve been part of the family for years. I’ve seen it with Valerie and Brian when she brought him home for the first time. If you can get through their first line of attack, it’ll be all yours.” Demi sighed a breath of relief, trusting in Travis’s words.
The water view rushed past in a blur, and Demi wished she could stop and just slow down. She imagined lounging on the beach, just her and Travis. They were heading up the coast, away from the city, to where Travis’s grandparents owned a huge house close to the ocean where the whole family stayed for holidays and events like this. Demi could see some romantic getaway; a little hide out where they could sneak away from the harsh realities of real life. But knowing her luck, it wouldn’t be as grand as she would want it, and with as many family members as Travis had described, she wondered how any of the family members ever got a moments peace.
“Don’t think about it too much. Just be yourself, OK?” she nodded in agreement at his flawless logic, and hoped that being herself was all she needed to impress these people.
Demi sipped her coffee, which was now cool, letting the bitter taste sit on her tongue. Often in times like these, when she was granted a moment to think, a brutal and gruesome scene that occupied the novels that she was so fascinated in would accumulate within her mind; but now all she could think of was how this week could end up as her own personal murder, one not done with a knife or a gun, or even an axe as it is often depicted in more conventional murder stories, but more one executed with her complete and utter embarrassment and rejection by her boyfriend’s family. She wasn’t looking forward to this week if even her mind was going to torture her with the horrors of reality.

Forgive and Forget

The feeling burned within me. It was sickening and overwhelming. I wanted to scream and yell at anyone in my reach, to hit or kick some of the rage out of me. But I knew this feeling would never go away, no matter how hard I tried to get over it. I poured myself a drink – straight whisky of course – with shaking hands, just barely getting the drink into the glass. The drink soothed me only slightly. The thick alcohol burned down my throat, taking away from the heart ache and pooled in my head, disfiguring my mind and distracted me from my cruel imagination that wanted to torment me until I pulled each hair from my head – which I wasn’t far away from doing.
I sunk to the ground, wrapping my arms around my long legs. I still wore the dress from last night and I regretted wearing such a tight and uncomfortable dress when it wasn’t worth it anyway. I shook and wept, no doubt ruining my make up. I might have sat in that state for hours, sinking in my own depression that was as thick as mud. The only time I broke away from staring blankly at the floor was to pour myself another drink until there wasn’t a drop left. I couldn’t believe that I was crying over a boy of all things. I wanted to walk right up to him and scream into his smug little face that he wasn’t worth the effort, and that he’s an immature little boy with the fat body of an old man and that he was going to die alone. But when I realized that I could barely motivate myself to stand up I knew that confronting the jerk wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
I didn’t believe in love until I met this selfish boy – his love was like honey; beautiful and golden and can make anything, even the darkest moments taste delicious and feel fantastic. It might be hard to make and collect, but it’s worth it, and it never runs out. But I don’t want his love; I’m incapable in fact. I thought he loved me, this boy I was crying over now. I loved him – well I thought I did.
A cold and hard though struck me hard in the back of my head, and I grasped it, realizing that this would be the only chance I got, and this would be the only way to set my life straight. I pulled my mobile from my coat pocket and started typing. I was going to fix this. I can love again.
Forgive and forget? I texted him. Terribly cold way to talk, but if I spoke I would have screamed.

You would forgive me? I thought you hated me?

Love overpowers hate – you said that. Come over?

You won’t try to kill me? haha

Never xx

People use that phrase too loosely I thought as I sifted through my kitchen looking for my carving knife…

In the city that never sleeps

Lights flickered down on the thousands of people below, and cast a full spectrum of colour on the dancers, distorting the eyes of all who looked up, making reality and fantasy a blur; a colourful cloud. Muscles tensed and relaxed, moved and stretched along with the heavy thump of the music, programmed by the sound god who seemed so little, so far up above the crowds in his booth. He controlled the energy of the house and his followers were never disappointed. He looked over his subjects, a smile playing on his face at his creation, that he can make thousands of people move in unison by his hand.
Drinks mixed, cash exchanged, silent words made, but sound meshed with the music. Red lips and gleaming teeth make their way to the bar. She doesn’t try to speak, she knows words are useless when deafening sounds triumph the room. Fluro nails tapped on the counter top table as she waited for a drink. Folds of fabric clung to her sides, and her dark hair glued down to her face in clumps by layers of water and sweat. She couldn’t help but move side to side along with the rhythmic sounds. She played with the many beaded necklaces wrapped around her neck while she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander with the ever changing music. Her exhaustion was taking over her senses, and the tiny voice inside her head, telling her to go to sleep was starting to reach the surface. But she wouldn’t let the insane nose of her everlasting sensibility to take control. This night wasn’t over yet, and she was going to make it last a life time. She downed the sweet bright pink drink and let the alcohol pick up her energy. The buzz traveled through her veins like a shot of adrenalin and she was back on the dance floor, lost in the thousands jumping in the air, trying to reach the unreachable. Her head flicked back and fourth, long hair following its movements, regardless of the heavy weight of sweat. Glitter fell from the heavens and the beautiful fantasy world settled on the woman as her reality. She had lost sense of time, and though the sound god had done his job for the night, her night was far from over.
Another few drinks down, all different colours to match her nails. Old faces lost in the hundreds of bodies moving in all directions, new faces met and lost as quickly as they came. Night rolled on and the dawn was making its approach. The world was a haze for the woman now, but she didn’t want to let it go. The fantasy was making its escape, and real life would be forced.
Sunlight burned through her eye lids and the heat of the summer was too heavy for comfort. Mascara caked eyelashes fluttered open, and sleepily, blood red eyes glanced across the hotel room; she had some how found a way home. Memories were scarce, but good times were never without a mild case of amnesia. Lost thoughts would be replaced with photos and another all nighter was just around the corner. Just another night the city that never sleeps.