Wednesday, 4 July 2007

Dark Magic: Part 2

He looked at Jessie, and felt at ease. She was worried, though. What was she worried about? He looked down, and a broken glass lay sideways on the table; the remainder of its contents trickling their way down the table leg, and down his. It was cold. It was cold, but it was real, and somehow that reassured him. He wanted to grasp onto the table leg - it looked solid. Some instinct called him to be rooted to the ground, because for a fleeting moment he felt he might float away. But it passed, and then he felt something more startling. Her hand was gently grasping his wrist; the other on his shoulder. She was speaking to him, but though the words thundered in his ears, they could not compete with the decibel levels being emitted from nearby speakers. He glanced around at the other faces nearby, and all were looking at him, querulously. They were waiting for an explanation, but what was he to explain? What...Where...Questions flooded his brain, and only seemed to amplify the problem. He took a deep breath and sat down again, starting as he felt a sharp prick on his thigh. He brushed aside the offending piece of glass, and heard another voice in his ear; a male voice, again familiar, but somehow he was unable to place it.

"Are you alright? do you want to go outside?"

He looked at the speaker. He was...a friend. This, he could feel sure of. But whose friend? He looked towards the door, and his breathing quickened. An ephemeral feeling passed over him, and he recoiled from the somewhat distant doorway, unwilling to conceive of approaching it. But he did want to leave. This place was too constricted; the walls seemed to be closing in, threatening to suffocate him. He rose up, looking blankly at Jessie, wanting to convey something but unable to find the words. He stumbled past her, and feeling unsteady on his feet, ambled awkwardly towards a doorway marked 'exit'.

An indignant, irascible voice boomed behind him, as the doors burst open and plunged him into cool, night air. The voice was clearer now, behind him.

"Whaddaya think yer doin'?!"

He was in no doubt that this individual was demanding an explanation, also, but these were in short supply, and he didn't turn around. Instead, he remained, craning forwards and supporting himself by leaning his hands on his thighs. He was short of breath, and wasn't about to waste what little he had on this unidentified individual. The voice was addressing someone else, now.

"Is he with you?"
"Yeah, I don't think he's feeling well."
"Well, you go out an' yer not gettin' back in."

The doors shut loudly, and the music retreated to a muffled drone.

"What's wrong?"
Jessie. Her voice was clear, now, beyond the confines of the club.

He straightened up; his breathing steady now; his limbs following commands. Turning, he studied her closely, in the hopes it would provide some cue, some salient information to get his thoughts into some kind of order. She was wearing somewhat threadbare blue jeans and a close-fitting red top exposing her midriff, and emblazoned with the proud motto, "Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them", accompanied by a suitably illustrative stick-figure image. Her face reverberated in his mind, and every nuance of an expression seemed to trigger some key facet of his being, making him feel immediately at home, secure. He was glad she was here. Still, though, he struggled to come up with anything more meaningful. Her hair is a dusty blond; her skin white, and freckled in places, with a plumpness to the cheeks suggestive of youth, but a look in the eyes incongruent with such speculation. Her blue eyes were searching him, now, increasingly concerned, increasingly impatient.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG!?" She boomed, stamping her foot and throwing her hands towards him in exasperation.


aria said...

Quite gripping so far ..
waiting for the next part,
I like Jessie.

Equivocationalist said...

well thank you, my dear :)