Night Sky
1/1
Mainly whores and dangerous-looking men surround me, but I don’t feel any fear. There’s some sort of incredible, crushing, all-powerful emotion embedded deep in my chest; I can’t quite identify what it is. The room is filled with what many consider the dirty underbelly of society, the disgusting scum. It’s mostly dark in the room, the only light from a singular bare, yellow light bulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying, casting its ephemeral glow on tattooed bodies. The stench of alcohol and sweat weighs the air down, pushing in on my body like the girl beside me, the one with the sequined bra and the belly-button ring that I can see because of her mesh top, nearly suffocating me. Somewhere, someone has a cigar, the ashy smoke wafting up and up to the ceiling, and the scent invades my lungs. But I don’t cough; I’m used to it. There’s a man standing upright on a table a few feet in front of me, his shoulders pushed proudly back; he looks too old to be in a place like this, too mature, too worldly. He calls for attention and the room falls instantly silent, the intrinsic power and charisma of his tone commanding his willing audience. The only sound is the faint buzzing of the swaying light. He begins to speak, the light shining off of his sweaty face. His hair is short and dark, and his beautiful features are twisted in anger and loathing. The crowd starts to get agitated, an automatic response to his words, and it eggs him on.
Then, we move the party out to the streets. It’s cold, and nighttime. The frosty air bites wickedly at my face and neck. Some people arbitrarily throw bottles of flaming alcohol into houses and businesses. And I’m proud to say I’m one of them. The last bottle weighs heavily in my hand, and I light it, tossing it at a building. I miss, but I hit a man cowering in terror on the streets. I watch, fascinated, as his body is engulfed in orange. His face is still visible, and it stares at me as he falls to the ground, twitching, rolling, and praying to stop the burn. I continue to march, keeping pace with the crowd. A mother makes an attempt to comfort her three children outside a flaming building, presumably their house. Vaguely, I wonder where their father is, my mind flashing to the burning man, and I try to look back to see him, but the crowd is too thick. I look back at the mother and her children, all sobbing, but now a blonde-haired man from the crowd has a baseball bat, and he’s hitting the mother in the head with it repeatedly. And there’s no more time to look; the crowd pushes on relentlessly. Sirens sound close by, but I’m not worried. They can’t take all of us.
I scream, the mad excitement of the riot fucking with my brain. Everything starts going by quickly. We march, more people have joined us. Buildings are aflame. The blue night glows orange with chaos. The town is ruined. Thousands lie trampled and dead under our feet; the rest have fled for safer ground. No matter: we’ll find them soon enough. And they will be punished severely for not simply accepting their fate or joining the rampage. We will sort the cowards from the courageous – separate those who joined so as not to die from those who joined for the cause. Crimson blood will stain the black soil; the innocents will not be spared. As the mob grows, passing through street after street, my scream gets louder; I can feel it in my eyes, my toes, and everywhere in between. Others’ screams build around mine into a frightening chorus of anger and bloodlust. Terrified shrieks piercing the night sky, my lips form a sadistic grin. My screams of ecstasy turn to howls of hysterical laughter. Tears stream endlessly down my face as the town whizzes by. Blood, fire, broken glass, smoke, screams, and the alcohol mix together into something absolutely intoxicating. And I can imagine nothing more beautiful.
Then, we move the party out to the streets. It’s cold, and nighttime. The frosty air bites wickedly at my face and neck. Some people arbitrarily throw bottles of flaming alcohol into houses and businesses. And I’m proud to say I’m one of them. The last bottle weighs heavily in my hand, and I light it, tossing it at a building. I miss, but I hit a man cowering in terror on the streets. I watch, fascinated, as his body is engulfed in orange. His face is still visible, and it stares at me as he falls to the ground, twitching, rolling, and praying to stop the burn. I continue to march, keeping pace with the crowd. A mother makes an attempt to comfort her three children outside a flaming building, presumably their house. Vaguely, I wonder where their father is, my mind flashing to the burning man, and I try to look back to see him, but the crowd is too thick. I look back at the mother and her children, all sobbing, but now a blonde-haired man from the crowd has a baseball bat, and he’s hitting the mother in the head with it repeatedly. And there’s no more time to look; the crowd pushes on relentlessly. Sirens sound close by, but I’m not worried. They can’t take all of us.
I scream, the mad excitement of the riot fucking with my brain. Everything starts going by quickly. We march, more people have joined us. Buildings are aflame. The blue night glows orange with chaos. The town is ruined. Thousands lie trampled and dead under our feet; the rest have fled for safer ground. No matter: we’ll find them soon enough. And they will be punished severely for not simply accepting their fate or joining the rampage. We will sort the cowards from the courageous – separate those who joined so as not to die from those who joined for the cause. Crimson blood will stain the black soil; the innocents will not be spared. As the mob grows, passing through street after street, my scream gets louder; I can feel it in my eyes, my toes, and everywhere in between. Others’ screams build around mine into a frightening chorus of anger and bloodlust. Terrified shrieks piercing the night sky, my lips form a sadistic grin. My screams of ecstasy turn to howls of hysterical laughter. Tears stream endlessly down my face as the town whizzes by. Blood, fire, broken glass, smoke, screams, and the alcohol mix together into something absolutely intoxicating. And I can imagine nothing more beautiful.