The party

The dust was rising in the West.  Enhancing the reds in the sky from the setting sun.   Light being striped of all blue.  The car with a beat, the beat of the snakes on the pavement made after covering countless cracks in the parched asphalt.  The house was on the horizon.  ‘Finally’ the male occupant blurted.  She came back with a mere ‘Yes’ said through a throat long since silenced.  The blur of the lines now dashed from the reduction in speed.  

“Where are we going?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She replied
“Yes”

The distance between them and the house.  How he knew his destination but not his destiny we wont know.  But here they were pulling into the driveway of a somewhere in America colonial home.  Two stories, a wrap around front porch.  All a little run down.  A lot of cars, probably 60 or more.  ‘It looks like a party’

There are some people on the patio all never before been seen.  All wearing clothes better suited for a club then this dusty setting.  The sun is still above the horizon, but just barely.  Inside the house is dirtier than out.  There is people everywhere still just faces no personality.  She is gone, trickled off into the crowd.  Never saw her leave his side.  
A place to sit that’s all he needs.  Then a drink appears in his hand.  It’s source completely unknown.  If I am going to sit I may as well do it drunk.  So he downs the icy burn.  Another drink.  Or was the last refilled.  Again no apparent force.  A mattress, why he chose this he will never know but on it he sits.  A thin woman leans over, was she there before?  ‘Let’s get out of here.’

“Who are you?”
“Does it matter?” the skeleton breaths.
“Of course it does.”

Next the sun is gone it is dark, though the light has been replaced somewhat by Christmas strings and brown lighted bulbs.  The skinny girl over his shoulder, but she is straight as a board, not unlike a tree bound in twine.  Into my car.  The drivers seat?  Why does she need to drive.  Drunk. That must be it.  

The road again.  Was I there all night?  The sun is rising.  And where is she?  I miss her.  His neighborhood comes into view.  The trip maybe a tenth of the one before it.  Was it magic or some unknown route that had not been taken?  Or was it simply that familiar feeling of coming and going and their apparent time differences.

“Why are we here?”
“Quiet…”
“No I want to go back, my girl is back there.”
“Don’t worry I will bring her home when they are done.”

“Who…” but before the question could escape there was a rapid flash of the memories before.  He saw her; she was talking to a man.  A man with arms like a walrus, holsters but no gun.  Did she know him?  ‘I did not’

“Take me back.”
“No, you see Derek is my brother, he knew he would never get anywhere with you there.”  
“Get anywhere?”
“I am helping him out see.”

The conversation was surely over.  No debate.  So He flung himself from the car.  To fast.  Never saw it coming.  Death is strange.   The trip back to the party was even shorter this time.  Seconds.  

There she is, she is struggling against his hold.  But she continues to kiss him.  On the mouth, hers open his almost buried in hers.  She is like heroin, nobody that tastes he menstrum can defend themselves against it.  They become her slaves, even in their attempts to enslave and restrain.  She continues to struggle.  The soul floating above was invisible to her.  She is alone now.  It is up to her.  She finally breaks free and flees for a car.  Any car.  A bright red car.  And into the dust she tears.  

Safe now.  I can rest.

Fade to black with an echo of “My twin did not get in before I closed the door.”


despair.