Wow, yet another 3am upload! I'm getting better and better at writing late into the night. I would like to point out that while the character uses a common pseudonym of mine, she does not represent me, my actions, or my ideals.

That said, enjoy the story. :)   

I’m dancing to music I can’t hear. The guy in my arms is awkward, stumbling over both his feet and his words. I remove my hand from his sweaty grasp, pointing to my ears to show him I can’t hear.

He hesitates, as if he wants to say something else. He goes so far as to open his mouth before he thinks better of it, allowing me to salvage what is left of the dance. My dress swirls around me as I spin away, and even though he misses my return, I save that too, pulling myself closer to him. Sequins glitter, and the song ends. It takes me a moment of standing there to recognize it, wrapped in the last step as if waiting for applause.

I pull myself away, stumbling backwards towards the punch, and he chases me.

“Hey, you’re a really good dancer,” he says breathlessly.

“Thanks,” I say, pouring myself a glass of the drink. At this point, I don’t care if it is spiked or not. I barely know where I am.

He shuffles his feet, and I look past him. The party is themed for the 1920s, reminiscent of the days of the gangsters. Adele sings “Rolling in the Deep” from somewhere to my left, and the wrong period globes shed multi-colored light across the stage.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

I’m wearing a Gatsby dress myself, I realize, looking down. The guy’s mumbling something else, but his words are lost as I throw the cup to my lips, and the mist settles around me.

~ ~ ~

The lights dim, and the world seems bathed in smoke, illuminated by purple lights somewhere behind it. I stand in the middle of an empty room, a black gown reaching to my ankles and spreading elegantly behind me.

Slow music plays, and I look around, peering past the smoke for the person I am sure will appear. A hand at my back, and I turn in surprise, but he presses a finger to my lips, silencing any protestation.

“I thought you weren’t going to come,” I murmur when he pulls away.

“I will always come for you,” he replies, and I smile despite myself as I step into his arms. We dance slowly in the middle of our empty room. The music swirls around us, and the mist starts to close in.

I look up, trying to make out his face, but it seems to blur when I focus too hard on any particular feature. “Why can’t I see you?” I ask, unconscious of how childish I sound.

“You haven’t met me yet, silly,” he laughs, pulling my arms close around him and sweeping me into a hug. I lean in, and I rest in his grasp. His chin settles onto the top of my head, and I tuck myself closer into him.

The entire world feels right when I’m with him.

“But how do I know you are really here?” I ask him.

“Who can look upon the face of God?” He replies, and when I stagger backward in surprise, all I can see is his hurt expression. “Please come back,” He adds as I race away from Him.

I’m running away from Him into the mist when I hear His words: “I’ll always be waiting here for you.”

~ ~ ~

Sunlight breaks through my daze, and I look up in wonder. Restless wisps of clouds drift across a baby blue sky, and the heat strikes me out of nowhere.

I’m younger now, wearing a checkered plaid dress, carrying a crown of wildflowers in my hand. My friend is over picking more, and I run over to her, plopping the crown on top of her head.

“Surprise!” I say, laughing and running away.

“Hey!” she cries, turning. She reaches for the flower crown, and I worry for a second that she is going to take it off, but instead she just secures it on her head, a devilish smile racing across her face again.

She chases after me, and she is faster despite my head-start. “Tag! You’re it!” she calls, body-checking me to the ground.

“That’s not tag!” I say, incredulous. “That’s football! You’re wearing a crown—you’re supposed to be a princess or something.”

“Well then my lovely servant—”

“Servant?!” I exclaim.

“Fellow princess then. Dance with me to prove your worthiness.”

I roll my eyes, but oblige, taking her hands and yanking her around in an undignified circle. To my surprise, I find us going faster and faster until I am so dizzy I can’t keep up, and we go stumbling off into the grass, laughing.

“That was fun,” I say once I’ve caught my breath.

“It’d have been cooler if it had fire,” she commented wryly. “You know, if we were princesses dancing through fire and flame!”

I nodded my adamant agreement.

“Hey Ash?” she said a couple seconds later.

“Yeah?”

“Promise you’ll always be my best friend?”

“Forever and ever,” I respond. “I will never leave you alone.”

~ ~ ~

The sky cries out as if in response to my unwitting lie, howling and sweeping the mist around us again. The pain echoes in the antechambers of my heart, reverberating again and again from the stupid things I said, and the pain of decades comes back. I wish to go back to that happy time where we were best friends and nothing could ever change that, but it’s too late, because I ruined it.

I lift a trembling hand to my lips and stumble backward away from my actions, tripping over high heels. A mirror appears before me, and I step towards it, examining a face dripping with mascara. A red evening dress hugs my body to the knees, and I am holding a glass of red wine. Red has never been my color.  

“Hello?” I call. “Did someone want to dance?”

A horribly disfigured man steps from the shadows, walking towards me. I step backward, unnerved, but he keeps coming. When I turn around, I see another, also walking towards me.

More and more begin to creep from the shadows, and I panic, attempting and failing to fight back these demons that paralyze me. They swarm over me, and all I can do is scream for mercy, although not once do I scream for my Creator to save me.

~ ~ ~

The music changes again, and I’m crouched against the table at an old cafeteria I visited once. Flags of the world hang from the ceiling, and the aging man in the middle of the room is teaching us how to dance. I climb to my feet; I’m wearing a basic floral dress.

The man I’m in love with stands on the other side of the room, leaning against the doorjamb. I approach and offer my hand, which he refuses.

“What, are you hoping to make up for the dances we never got to have?” he responds.

My heart shatters, and I pick up the pieces and put it back together again. “No,” I lie. “Just a dance. As friends.”

He takes my hand, and we stare at our feet the entire time, picking our steps out as the instructor calls out what we should be doing. Halfway through, he seems to change his mind and push me back, turning and storming away without a word.

“Wait, come back!” I call.

“I can’t do this, Ash,” he replies, turning around. “I can’t keep playing this game with you. Either you love me or you don’t, and according to you, that still wouldn’t change anything.”

I stutter for my words, but I can’t find the right ones, so he leaves too.

 ~ ~ ~

The mist is black, and I am dancing by myself. I am alone. I know that beyond a doubt. Music plays in the distance, but it only serves to further discourage me.

“I walk a lonely road /The only one that I have ever known /Don't know where it goes/ but it's home to me, and I walk alone.”

“Hello?” I cry. The words tumble from me, reverberating throughout the room. “Is there anyone there?”

I'm spinning in circles, but I don't stop. I keep spinning and spinning and spinning, and suddenly-

The pounding in my chest increases, and  I find myself in a large group of people, laughing and smiling. Yet, the loneliness is crushing me, burying me beneath its proverbial weight. I smile and exchange small talk, being careful not to ruin this professional suit dress, but the ache is almost enough for me to forget everything I have. I want to run back to the God I served. I want to find my best friend again. I want to find out what could happen with the man I love.

But I am alone.

            Alone.

                        Alone.

A l o n e

~ ~ ~

“Hello? Did you hear a thing I said?” I snap back into focus, fixating on the young man’s face. I’m wearing my flapper dress again, and the light from the 70s era globes gives me epilepsy.

“No, I’m sorry,” I respond, regretting that the punch cup is empty. “Will you repeat it?”

He looks disgusted for a moment, and I smile grimly to myself, documenting and storing his expression to torture myself with later. However, he shrugs and refills my cup.

“Name’s Eric. I work as an IT specialist at a local agency...Hey, are you okay? You look a little shaken.” He reaches out a hand to steady me, but I shrug it off, knowing I’m swaying on my feet.

I don't think before I speak, but strangely I don't regret my comments. "Eric—it’s a nice name. Why are all the good names wasted on the poor men?” Finishing the drink, I flip the cup upside down on the table and make my staggered way towards the exit.

“Excuse me?” he calls, bewildered and likely angry, but I choose not to hear him.

Instead, I’m dancing to a rhythm only I can hear:

alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone