I Wrote Something
The room is overcrowded. There is hardly an inch of floor space to stand in, that is not filled with bustling dancing feet. Everywhere voices are raised over still more voices. Everybody wants to be heard. Everybody has to impart that vital piece of information, ask that all important question, or simply receive that drink that they have been calling for since the doors first opened.
Somewhere in the crowded hall somebody laughs the sound soon joined by other voices in the throng of happy party goers. A cork is ejected explosively from it’s brightly coloured bottle. The sound greeted by ever louder and more excited voices. The cacophony of noise is wonderful, Incredible and for one individual, terrifying.
A stereo in one corner blasts out the latest chart hits at such a volume that the entire building reverberates. Each crash of drums is felt as much as heard, The words of the current single incomprehensible at this volume as were the tracks before it and somewhere in a relatively shadowed corner a clink. A small sound, lost in the roar of the party. Heard only by the one who made it. Two small pale hands clasp a liquid filled glass between rigid fingers. Two slim arms that tremble uncontrollably, partially hidden by the protective shadows. The small gold band on the little finger of the right hand made brief contact with the glass, producing a small almost musical sound.
White hands, pale face, little makeup adorning that small face. Just enough to highlight it’s best features. Skilfully applied by caring hands. But not her hands. Not her hands and not her idea either. The softest brown eyes squinting in the constant glare of the ever changing lights.
Small and fragile looking. The girl sits apart from the crowd. Wanting to be noticed, Needing to be noticed, But too afraid to call attention to herself for fear of rejection and ridicule.
She is a pretty thing, Not what most people would call beautiful, but none the less attractive in a feminine and girlish way. Her long blonde hair falls soft and straight to either side of her oval face and cascades over her slim shoulders. The pleasing fullness of her figure is concealed beneath the loose fitting dress chosen especially for the occasion. Her shoes, her one concession to fashion are without doubt, a mistake.
She sits because sitting she is less visible and because she does not trust herself not to stumble in the unfamiliar high heels should she have the courage to stand.
Apart from her trembling hands, she is quite still. Only her darting, then hiding eyes betray the quite intelligence behind the heavy curtain of her almost debilitating shyness. It was a mistake. She knows that now. She should not have listened to her mother, should not have come. To late the realisation dawns. She is here now. Boxed into this one tiny space with no hope of escape. Strangers everywhere, No way out but to go through them. An intolerable thought.
That boy, Oh God, he is watching her. She can feel his gaze. Wanting, predatory. Why Oh why would any boy as good looking as him want to stare at her. There is nobody behind her, The sofa on which she huddles is against the wall, No other girls to take his interest. He is looking at her.
In her mind she begs, implores, screams at him to turn away. Look at somebody else, but still his dark eyes follow her trembling hands as she raises the glass to her full lips. She does not want the drink but seeks merely the distraction that it brings. Perhaps he will give up if she shows no interest.
Her plan fails. Her traitorous hands allow the glass to slip through her rigid fingers. She watches it fall as if in slow motion, turning over and over as it tumbles slowly toward the floor. Now her own mind is screaming at her. Grab it, catch it. Don’t let it fall, But her limbs will not do as commanded and the glass shatters on the hard wooden floor. The sound louder than anything she has heard in her entire life. Ear shattering. She gasps, A small sound, and stares quickly around the hall, sure that everybody must have heard it and was now staring intently at her. Her clumsiness had set her up for a fall once again and this time it will be a big one. The room seems to be getting darker and she is thankful for that. The darkness hides her embarrassment and shame. She knows that they have turned down the lights so that the spectacle she has made of herself will not be a distraction to the beautiful people around her and she is grateful. The darkness hides her from all those cold prying eyes that seem to sense all her innermost thoughts with just a glance. They burn into her heart and then right through her. Cold and without pity for her helpless plight.
The darkness is growing and the lights fading. A tinge of fear stabs cold fingers at her heart but she does not comprehend what the encroaching darkness means, only that it will hide her too thin, too plain form. She welcomes it.
Suddenly he is coming. The boy. The one who had stared at her from across the hall. He is coming fast and she is powerless to stop him.
‘Oh no. Not you. Leave me alone. I don’t belong here. Please, Please Go away’. Her voice screams out the words that her ears do not hear. It is in her. In her mind. Nobody else will hear her terrified plea.
The lights dim even further. Almost imperceptibly at first and then faster. More and more noticeable as the light fades to be replaced by impenetrable blackness. A nothingness that hides all shame.
The darkness is almost complete. If he would only slow his pace a little more then perhaps the darkness would hide her completely and he would forget her and move on to some other girl more worthy of his attentions.
No good. He still sees her and the encroaching darkness can not match the speed of his approach. She must get away. She tries to stand but her useless legs refuse to support her. She tries to turn away but finds her fear riddled eyes locked on his. Her terror grows and the darkness falls more swiftly than ever, Almost matching his pace. Almost . . . .
The room is gone, The sound of the music quietened so that it is hardly heard anymore though the reverberations are still felt. The other party goers are distant and alien things. Blurred and out of focus they fade still further into the darkness until eventually they are swallowed up completely in it’s all encompassing cloak.
Now only one remains. The boy. Still coming. He is tall, so tall. His short fair hair neatly trimmed as if he had only just stepped out of the hair dressers. His immaculate fashionable clothes put her to shame and the shine on his polished black dress shoes almost blinds her. She feels hot, too hot. ‘Oh why don’t they switch on the air conditioning in here’. Her mind screams at her. And now her pale face begins to show some colour. Red, bright red and getting brighter. She can feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment at his closeness. Incredibly the brightness of her cheeks even manages to push back the darkness. Just a little. Just enough to bear witness to the true extent of her shame.
She feels strange, almost detached. As if she is not really there at all, but instead is watching a screen play instead of partaking in the reality of the moment. The darkness reclaims it’s place and pushes in even further. She shrinks back into the shadows gratefully.
The darkness is almost complete. She can no longer see him clearly and assumes that he too is experiencing the same difficulties.
‘If he can’t see me he will have to give up’ She mouths to herself. And then.
Leave me alone! A little louder, almost wishing he could hear her. Almost . . .
But then, maybe . . . . A small voice inside her head. A voice she was not familiar with and did not recognise. Not her voice. Her voice, Her mind, would never entice her to . .
To do what? She wasn’t sure.
There is always a chance. The unknown voice again.
“No, No.” She heard herself answering the small voice through clenched teeth. “NO!”
The voice faded. Beaten back by her sudden and short lived fury.
The darkness was coming fast now. It was level with the boy, Moving forward, Moving in all around him, Enclosing him in it’s all encompassing velvet. He was just a shadow now, No real substance and yet her fear only heightened as his image faded. He was not going to make it and she was glad. But the quiet voice would not be blocked out.
“You want this. You need this. LET HIM IN!”
Her voice found. Her voice. The one she knows can belong to no other. Quite, Shy, retiring and inoffensive. Her lips move. Please just leave me alone. A mere whisper.
The dizziness hits like a freight train, stopping her breath in her throat. Huge hands enclose her fragile heart and squeeze. The pain is incredible, Unbearable. Now there is a new fear. A completely different terror. She knows this pain. Understands it without knowing how she understands it.
The small voice again. Not hers. Sulking now, and now mocking.
“Stupid girl”. It could have been good. So good. Trashed the only chance a stupid plain ***** like you will ever get. Stupid *****! Hope it hurts”
The girl cringes in the darkness, as much from the voice as from the pain that seeks to encompass her whole being, but there is no escape. Death is calling and she will answer. It was inevitable. Meant to be. Had to be. Was.
Darkness.
Somewhere in the crowded hall somebody laughs the sound soon joined by other voices in the throng of happy party goers. A cork is ejected explosively from it’s brightly coloured bottle. The sound greeted by ever louder and more excited voices. The cacophony of noise is wonderful, Incredible and for one individual, terrifying.
A stereo in one corner blasts out the latest chart hits at such a volume that the entire building reverberates. Each crash of drums is felt as much as heard, The words of the current single incomprehensible at this volume as were the tracks before it and somewhere in a relatively shadowed corner a clink. A small sound, lost in the roar of the party. Heard only by the one who made it. Two small pale hands clasp a liquid filled glass between rigid fingers. Two slim arms that tremble uncontrollably, partially hidden by the protective shadows. The small gold band on the little finger of the right hand made brief contact with the glass, producing a small almost musical sound.
White hands, pale face, little makeup adorning that small face. Just enough to highlight it’s best features. Skilfully applied by caring hands. But not her hands. Not her hands and not her idea either. The softest brown eyes squinting in the constant glare of the ever changing lights.
Small and fragile looking. The girl sits apart from the crowd. Wanting to be noticed, Needing to be noticed, But too afraid to call attention to herself for fear of rejection and ridicule.
She is a pretty thing, Not what most people would call beautiful, but none the less attractive in a feminine and girlish way. Her long blonde hair falls soft and straight to either side of her oval face and cascades over her slim shoulders. The pleasing fullness of her figure is concealed beneath the loose fitting dress chosen especially for the occasion. Her shoes, her one concession to fashion are without doubt, a mistake.
She sits because sitting she is less visible and because she does not trust herself not to stumble in the unfamiliar high heels should she have the courage to stand.
Apart from her trembling hands, she is quite still. Only her darting, then hiding eyes betray the quite intelligence behind the heavy curtain of her almost debilitating shyness. It was a mistake. She knows that now. She should not have listened to her mother, should not have come. To late the realisation dawns. She is here now. Boxed into this one tiny space with no hope of escape. Strangers everywhere, No way out but to go through them. An intolerable thought.
That boy, Oh God, he is watching her. She can feel his gaze. Wanting, predatory. Why Oh why would any boy as good looking as him want to stare at her. There is nobody behind her, The sofa on which she huddles is against the wall, No other girls to take his interest. He is looking at her.
In her mind she begs, implores, screams at him to turn away. Look at somebody else, but still his dark eyes follow her trembling hands as she raises the glass to her full lips. She does not want the drink but seeks merely the distraction that it brings. Perhaps he will give up if she shows no interest.
Her plan fails. Her traitorous hands allow the glass to slip through her rigid fingers. She watches it fall as if in slow motion, turning over and over as it tumbles slowly toward the floor. Now her own mind is screaming at her. Grab it, catch it. Don’t let it fall, But her limbs will not do as commanded and the glass shatters on the hard wooden floor. The sound louder than anything she has heard in her entire life. Ear shattering. She gasps, A small sound, and stares quickly around the hall, sure that everybody must have heard it and was now staring intently at her. Her clumsiness had set her up for a fall once again and this time it will be a big one. The room seems to be getting darker and she is thankful for that. The darkness hides her embarrassment and shame. She knows that they have turned down the lights so that the spectacle she has made of herself will not be a distraction to the beautiful people around her and she is grateful. The darkness hides her from all those cold prying eyes that seem to sense all her innermost thoughts with just a glance. They burn into her heart and then right through her. Cold and without pity for her helpless plight.
The darkness is growing and the lights fading. A tinge of fear stabs cold fingers at her heart but she does not comprehend what the encroaching darkness means, only that it will hide her too thin, too plain form. She welcomes it.
Suddenly he is coming. The boy. The one who had stared at her from across the hall. He is coming fast and she is powerless to stop him.
‘Oh no. Not you. Leave me alone. I don’t belong here. Please, Please Go away’. Her voice screams out the words that her ears do not hear. It is in her. In her mind. Nobody else will hear her terrified plea.
The lights dim even further. Almost imperceptibly at first and then faster. More and more noticeable as the light fades to be replaced by impenetrable blackness. A nothingness that hides all shame.
The darkness is almost complete. If he would only slow his pace a little more then perhaps the darkness would hide her completely and he would forget her and move on to some other girl more worthy of his attentions.
No good. He still sees her and the encroaching darkness can not match the speed of his approach. She must get away. She tries to stand but her useless legs refuse to support her. She tries to turn away but finds her fear riddled eyes locked on his. Her terror grows and the darkness falls more swiftly than ever, Almost matching his pace. Almost . . . .
The room is gone, The sound of the music quietened so that it is hardly heard anymore though the reverberations are still felt. The other party goers are distant and alien things. Blurred and out of focus they fade still further into the darkness until eventually they are swallowed up completely in it’s all encompassing cloak.
Now only one remains. The boy. Still coming. He is tall, so tall. His short fair hair neatly trimmed as if he had only just stepped out of the hair dressers. His immaculate fashionable clothes put her to shame and the shine on his polished black dress shoes almost blinds her. She feels hot, too hot. ‘Oh why don’t they switch on the air conditioning in here’. Her mind screams at her. And now her pale face begins to show some colour. Red, bright red and getting brighter. She can feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment at his closeness. Incredibly the brightness of her cheeks even manages to push back the darkness. Just a little. Just enough to bear witness to the true extent of her shame.
She feels strange, almost detached. As if she is not really there at all, but instead is watching a screen play instead of partaking in the reality of the moment. The darkness reclaims it’s place and pushes in even further. She shrinks back into the shadows gratefully.
The darkness is almost complete. She can no longer see him clearly and assumes that he too is experiencing the same difficulties.
‘If he can’t see me he will have to give up’ She mouths to herself. And then.
Leave me alone! A little louder, almost wishing he could hear her. Almost . . .
But then, maybe . . . . A small voice inside her head. A voice she was not familiar with and did not recognise. Not her voice. Her voice, Her mind, would never entice her to . .
To do what? She wasn’t sure.
There is always a chance. The unknown voice again.
“No, No.” She heard herself answering the small voice through clenched teeth. “NO!”
The voice faded. Beaten back by her sudden and short lived fury.
The darkness was coming fast now. It was level with the boy, Moving forward, Moving in all around him, Enclosing him in it’s all encompassing velvet. He was just a shadow now, No real substance and yet her fear only heightened as his image faded. He was not going to make it and she was glad. But the quiet voice would not be blocked out.
“You want this. You need this. LET HIM IN!”
Her voice found. Her voice. The one she knows can belong to no other. Quite, Shy, retiring and inoffensive. Her lips move. Please just leave me alone. A mere whisper.
The dizziness hits like a freight train, stopping her breath in her throat. Huge hands enclose her fragile heart and squeeze. The pain is incredible, Unbearable. Now there is a new fear. A completely different terror. She knows this pain. Understands it without knowing how she understands it.
The small voice again. Not hers. Sulking now, and now mocking.
“Stupid girl”. It could have been good. So good. Trashed the only chance a stupid plain ***** like you will ever get. Stupid *****! Hope it hurts”
The girl cringes in the darkness, as much from the voice as from the pain that seeks to encompass her whole being, but there is no escape. Death is calling and she will answer. It was inevitable. Meant to be. Had to be. Was.
Darkness.
By:
ghost1806
Age:
46-50
,
Male
