Strobe lights of green and blue shoot across the air as I stare, dark pupils absorbing colour from every refraction of light and sound, clashing in harmony around the room.

I will never leave this place. 

My mouth runs dry. My lips remember their place in the sand as the back of my throat dries up like a sponge left in front of the window on a hot summer's day. Bass is flowing from the sound system like Mediterranean waves on a cool night. 

I am alive.

Time slows down here. The dose of amnesia, administered to us through reverberated synths, prevents me from thinking about bills and insurance payments. There is no longer a trace of the pressure I feel from my parents to be better in life. To be successful.

I am accepted here.

Echoes of who I was before drift off into the crowd. Dancing shadows. My skin melts to its core, hugging my skeleton as sweat washes each follicle of its suffering. My mind is calm. No outside intrusions. No friends to take care of, no designated driver. 

Just me.

The DJ is my God. Speaking to me in convulsions, through the riptide of 808s. 

High-hat morse code telling me to live. Telling me to breathe. The lasers lift into the sky, leaving me cold and in darkness. The hissing smoke machines whisper to me. Telling me of forbidden fruit. A flute melody wisps throughout the air like a wyvern on Chinese New Year and wraps a blanket over my shoulders. A blanket of sound. It melts from the heat of my skin and pools onto the floor. I blink. I blink again. I stretch my eyelids open as far as they'll go, but all I see is smoke.


I close my eyes. I am visited by the ghosts of my mind. The child that was once me. The sister that I’ve neglected. A man. Who is that man? 

He stands among smoke, a void of human anatomy. I feel a presence behind me, rising. I open my eyes, the green and blue lasers have been joined by purple.

We are evolving.

A hand is on my shoulder, it's warm. I turn but no one is there. I take off my t-shirt, damp and stinking of my emissions. My regrets. I look to the sky, the lasers criss-crossing in a dance of the opera. I lift my t-shirt above my head and drain it onto my face. I am taking responsibility for my mistakes. I will not wash away my sins but instead take them back, return them to me, they are mine. I will overcome this monster that haunts me. No demon can defeat me, my soul grows with each chord of the piano that flies above the crowd.

I cannot die.

My mouth is open and my tongue collects each drop of problems once pushed to the back of my mind. Left to fend for themselves in cages. Forced to eat any sliver of brain matter they can claw at through the bars. Not anymore. These are mine. I open my eyes, spreading the issues across my lips so they seep into my bloodstream. I see the stars. Twinkles of other worlds. Aurora Borealis shimmers on the ceiling.

Everything is one. We are all the same.

I feel the hand on my shoulder again. I drop to my knees as the music slows into a break. My head is in my hands. I'm crying. Death is here to give me a message. I lift my head to face him. My choices led me here and I must accept that. He removes his hand from me, standing at my back. I take to one knee as it's all that I can muster. I reluctantly swivel, the shadow dancers becoming a blur as my eyes stiffen in my head. I feel the strain of my neck as I twist, so I drop to both knees, attempting to keep my anatomy intact. The man is a silhouette of smoke, curling into spirals of grey mist as he leans into me. My eyes sit dead centre under my brows, drops of sweat making it rain in my world alone. It’s a shaman. He puts his palm on my shoulder, arching his back, bringing his face closer to mine. So close I can feel his heart beating inside my head. He nods. I nod back. 

I am okay.

God has sent me an angel from the stage. I can no longer hear the music but the shadow dancers are standing with raised arms. The build up is over. It's time for the drop. I nod to the shaman again and drink from the holy water he presented. Water for the soul. My tongue unsticks from the bed of my mouth and pushes the sweet silvery syrup down the gully of my throat. Bringing with it dreams. Courage. Wisdom. 

I am alive.

I grab the bottle and take to my feet, bumping into shadow dancers as the defibrillator of bass pumps me back to full power. Power. POWER. 

I hold the rest of the water overhead and tip it out onto my body, absorbing all its qualities through each pore of my being. My hair crystallises as I run my hand through it, leaving my forehead open to awakening. 

I shall not sleep.

This is our time. I jump as sound comes back into my ears, growing and growing in volume. My eardrums burst, a shield I no longer need. A shield injected into us to keep us from attaining knowledge. Obtaining truth. I know the truth.

The truth will set us free.

Shadow dancers fade and bounce above the ground. My feet are rising. Hovering above the mist. Lasers flash and I realise they are emanating from the dancers, we are being transported to another realm. The real realm. A dimension of truth and harmony. A place where all of this is known. A neverending dance in tranquillity. 

Society is a mask.

Men and women are one. Shamans of life. Angels of the DJ. God is real. The universe is infinite. I am infinite. My skin is hardening. I tilt my head back and stick my tongue into the air, raising my arms to the clouds that disperse, fleeing from the music. Music is life, I get it now. 

The silver syrup is crawling up my skin, my feet have become solid, locked inside my shoes. 

I must break free.

My fingers are tingling. The syrup is in my bones. I cannot untie my laces, I tug and pull at the arch. The syrup has reached my knees, I must do it now. I wrap my palm around the heel of my shoe and with all newfound courage, I harness the music. Melting both my shoes from my feet.

I am free.

I rise before my knees lock into place. The syrup crawls up to my groin. I am new. Spirits leave me. I take one last look at the stage. God is pointing to me. To us. To all of us. All of the lasers are green now. It's time to go. We are one. The shadow dancers know it, revealing skin to the angels. The shaman is with me. He puts his hand on my back and presents holy water for the journey. But I do not need it.

I am ready.

A piercing jolt of electric sound pulses through the room. The pulse of the new Earth. Mother nature's beat. The frequency of the universe entering my mind, no longer shielded. We are about to be free. All of us.

I push the shamans hand away and the water spills to the floor. A stream of life, snaking its way into the crowd. I smile at the shaman, thanking him for his guidance. I raise my arms once again as the syrup is reaching my shoulders. My body is silver. 

Take me.

I breathe through iron lungs, within a ribcage of stiff muscle tissue and cartilage. The shadow dancers light up one by one. I feel my feet, bare, floating above the misty floor, steaming from the bodies of awakened humans. We are worthy of this. We earned this through dance. Who would have known? You can dance your way to heaven. I know. 

I feel it’s getting close now. The syrup is crawling up my neck and I stiffen my arms, tensing each of my muscles to the joy of what music brings us. A heavy drum beat builds in intensity, synths weave themselves through the rim and bodies of the dancers. It calms to a floaty bridge.

A bridge to the new world.

The lasers point to the sky, straight up, a line of green arrows. We are being lifted. One by one we go. The syrup is halfway up my face, my lips are sealed. But I've given away my secrets. I take one last breath through my nose, pulling earthly wonder into my nostrils before they are sealed-in by silver. I close my eyes. Reverberating horns pierce and echo through the sky with harmony only known to the ancestors. Take me now. I am ready. 

The music crosses the bridge and a chorus prepares to carry us to the other side. Shadow dancers' spirits are rising, I feel it in my gut. They are all around me. And I am among them. 

Take us. 

Kick drums kick and the walls of the room move away from us. 808s jump and pull the floor down into the earth. We are rising on sound. My arms stiffen and I feel the syrup reach my wrist. 

I make one last stance against society. 

I lift my middle fingers. Fighting the syrup as it crawls over my knuckles. I stretch them until they are completely open, standing in salute. To the ones who could not accept the music. The ones who tried but could not see the truth behind it. 

I am whole now, new. I am silver. I feel my soul burn to an orb and imagine my laser is shooting into the stars above me. My soul is green and aimed for heaven.

God is a DJ.

May 25, 2023 11:03

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RBE | Illustration — We made a writing app for you | 2023-02

We made a writing app for you

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