(no subject)
hey peoples heres the finished version of one of my stories, hope u like it
The soul of the party
The door swung slowly open and there stood an array of people; all moving and interacting as if it was a dance, choreographed to the thumping music that rose out from the large speakers to encase the room in a cacophony of low bass beats and electronic pitches. A wave of salty sweat mixed with the pungent stench of beer and spirits hit the senses as I stepped through the door, my skin tingling with energy as if charged by the music.
All the people were situated in their own groups; some small, some large, but all were in a group as if each person who walked through the door was immediately swallowed to become part of the collective. Every so often, a person would break away from one group, attach themselves to another and once more become one with the crowd. Under the loud music, the murmur of conversations could be heard, every so often a laughter breaking the flow of the conversation.
Moving through the crowd I felt the occasional brush of another person’s body, the smooth, sweat-drenched skin rubbing against mine, transferring the energy that was abundant in the room.
As I made my way to where the beer was situated, I noticed that all were dressed in their own style, a bouquet of colours that bloomed in the lounge room garden. Some only wore blue jeans and a plain t-shirt, possibly with a logo or slogan down the front. Others wore a variety of styles. Goth, Metro, Retro, Indie; all were represented in their own respect. I was wearing flared blue jeans, writing scribed across the pant legs. I wore a black muscle top with a beige jacket over the top, stylishly ripped in places for greater effect. On my left wrist I wore a leather band, half-inch spikes protruding at all angles. My neck was adorned with a tight choker, criss-crossing in a thin band of plastic.
Reaching the keg I poured myself a large cup, swallowing half of it in one go, the bitter-sweet amber liquid quenching my thirst and lubricating my dry throat.
The song changed, from the electronic pitches to a slow, melodic waltz. As if in synch with the tempo, everything seemed to slow down; people started to move slower, as if time was stuck on half-speed. The tingling energy that danced upon my skin slowly started to disappear, until it was almost gone, a slight itch upon my forearms.
The song changed again, back to the deep bass and electronic highs. Time returned to normal. The bass was much more imminent this time, a loud thumping overtone that penetrated me to the core. It was the only thing around, the mass of bodies, irrelevant. My heart seemed to beat in synch with the waves of music, when it sped up my pulse quickened, when it slowed down, so did my heart, until the bass took over completely, moving the hot blood around my body, bringing life to my senses.
This was the soul of the party.
This was the very reason to exist.
This was the spark of life.
The soul of the party
The door swung slowly open and there stood an array of people; all moving and interacting as if it was a dance, choreographed to the thumping music that rose out from the large speakers to encase the room in a cacophony of low bass beats and electronic pitches. A wave of salty sweat mixed with the pungent stench of beer and spirits hit the senses as I stepped through the door, my skin tingling with energy as if charged by the music.
All the people were situated in their own groups; some small, some large, but all were in a group as if each person who walked through the door was immediately swallowed to become part of the collective. Every so often, a person would break away from one group, attach themselves to another and once more become one with the crowd. Under the loud music, the murmur of conversations could be heard, every so often a laughter breaking the flow of the conversation.
Moving through the crowd I felt the occasional brush of another person’s body, the smooth, sweat-drenched skin rubbing against mine, transferring the energy that was abundant in the room.
As I made my way to where the beer was situated, I noticed that all were dressed in their own style, a bouquet of colours that bloomed in the lounge room garden. Some only wore blue jeans and a plain t-shirt, possibly with a logo or slogan down the front. Others wore a variety of styles. Goth, Metro, Retro, Indie; all were represented in their own respect. I was wearing flared blue jeans, writing scribed across the pant legs. I wore a black muscle top with a beige jacket over the top, stylishly ripped in places for greater effect. On my left wrist I wore a leather band, half-inch spikes protruding at all angles. My neck was adorned with a tight choker, criss-crossing in a thin band of plastic.
Reaching the keg I poured myself a large cup, swallowing half of it in one go, the bitter-sweet amber liquid quenching my thirst and lubricating my dry throat.
The song changed, from the electronic pitches to a slow, melodic waltz. As if in synch with the tempo, everything seemed to slow down; people started to move slower, as if time was stuck on half-speed. The tingling energy that danced upon my skin slowly started to disappear, until it was almost gone, a slight itch upon my forearms.
The song changed again, back to the deep bass and electronic highs. Time returned to normal. The bass was much more imminent this time, a loud thumping overtone that penetrated me to the core. It was the only thing around, the mass of bodies, irrelevant. My heart seemed to beat in synch with the waves of music, when it sped up my pulse quickened, when it slowed down, so did my heart, until the bass took over completely, moving the hot blood around my body, bringing life to my senses.
This was the soul of the party.
This was the very reason to exist.
This was the spark of life.