WIP Purgatory story
The crowd undulated. Faces devoid of any emotion. As as dark as pools of ink, empty as a cradle in a war zone.
The music poured from the walls, seeming to permeate the very essence of his being. Faster and more intense with every minute, the crowd matched it, beat for beat.
The air was filled with a fine red mist. Or so it seemed, for he was looking through his eyes, not truely seeing with them. And for all he knew, his eyes were red.
The music was uninteresting, and yet compelling, seductive. He danced and did not know why. Everyone danced. Except for a few, eyes not dark like everyone elses, sitting languidly on impossibly small bar stools, sipping some sort of cloudy beverage. They glared at the crowd with a sort of quiet contempt.
God was he thirsty.
Dance, just join in, his subconcious throbbed. And he danced. People were bumping into him, jostling him, trying to get somehwere not immediately obvious to him. How long had he been dancing? Hours? days? Weeks? Centuries? Did it matter? Bodies everywhere, people jammed together, twirlng hair, gyrating hips, vacant faces. Impossible to get through, thought the part of him not occupied with dancing.
As though responding to his emotions, the music slowed, despairing.
They no longer danced. Liev shut his eyes, clasped his hands over his ears and knelt, trying to escape deep within himself. Eventually, no one was knocking against him, and...
The music had stopped.
"What is this?" His mind groped for a term to define the lack of music. Silence, he remembered that one, that was it. It was foreign, and he feared it. The emptiness menaced Liev.
Slowly, haltingly, the hands rose off his ears, his eyelids peeled open, his legs stiffened and unfurled. He blinked. The air was clear.
He blinked again. There was no one within ten feet of him. A split, uniform on both sides, had rent the now still crowd in half. A path.
The path stretched from what appeared to be a man at his turntables, to, he could not tell, it was so far away.
Liev struggled to reconcile this strange, still world with what he had been a part of but a few moments ago. "Why do you not dance?" he wanted to scream. But no words came forth. A slight wave of panic hit him. A second exlamation was attempted, but to no avail. Panic gripped him, and icy hand on his conciousness.
Striving to maintain his calm, Liev took several deep breaths and contemplated his situation. His mind fell immediately upon conforming with the crowd. Trying to slip into one of the sides was met only with a resistance fromt the crowd that he felt unjustified, but when he tried to protest their unyeilding behavior, he was once again unabl to vocalize.
This appeared to be a fruitless endeavor, and he now decided to roam the path, going towards the one conrete anchor he had. The man at the turn-tables. He walked, and the man appeared to be no closer. At first he wrote this off as an illusion, but the more he walked, the more convinced he became. The man was not getting any closer.
Confusion. He felt it, and he stopped.
The crowd seemed to be thinner back here he observed. He once again tried to move into the crowd, this time meeting succes, though the people were anything but concilliatory, unmoving statues. He had made his way to the people on the stools, and behind them was a rough stone bar, with an icy woman behind it. The people sipping their drinks, cloudy, milky substances, directed their eyes towards him. And he could feel their gazes, heavy and stifling, they weighed upon his soul.
"Why isn't this one with the rest?" Queried one of the pale eyed people, directing the question to no one in prticular.
"Mmbph," Liev tried to answer, progress.
"Ugh, he hasn't even got a voice, why is he over here?" Murmured another, obvioudly disgusted.
The one behind the counter spoke, "I tell you, this place has gone down since he left."
Who? What were they talking about? Liev tried to make a questioning motion with his shoulders and face.
"I do beleive he is trying to get our attention," One pointed out, "Gneve, grant him a voice will you, he interests me."
Another, obviously Gneve, sighed and walked over to Liev. Or, rather, glided over, and placed her hands, cold as ice, over Liev's throat, and he felt a rush of euphoria, a warmths that couldn't possibly have originated in those icy hands, spreading throughout his body.
"There, speak, and don't waste it, you've got three minutes." Gneve glided away, leaving a stunned Liev behind.
"But," Liev marveled at his voice, or more accurately, the voice he had been given, "Who, what? Wh.."
The one who had first spoken interrupted him, "Stop, I already know what you're going to ask, we hear this often, You want to know where you are, and how long you have been dancing, right?"
A bit sheepishly, Liev admitted those were his intentions.
"Well, first, I must tell you, you are here because of a few basic reasons. You are not one of the righteous. But you are virtuous. You are worthy of neither heaven nor hell, this, is Purgatory." Intoned the man, as though he had said that oranges were neither better than pears, nor worse than apples, and therefore made a splendid juice.
"But, ah, this, doesn't.." He stammered.
"Make sense?" The man said knowingly. "Only because you do not yet understand. Purgatory is as much a state of mind as a place. This place is for the middle of the roaders, ones who do not belong, and are therefore condemned to mediocrity. You will become bored, and since you are unable to talk, at least, for now, you will be isolated. But, there are better ways to spend eternity, even in... This place. I, once was like you, a peon, undeserving of even a drink, parched, bored, and confused. But, spend enough time here, and you may be granted, priveledges. There is a social structure here, as there must be everywhere."
"How did you get to be..." Said an utterly bewildered Liev.
"Here? Righteous non-beleiver. If you look hard enough, you might find some of the worlds greatest minds here, still, eventually, we've all become the fool, haven't we?" Said the man, smiling bitterly. "Do you see that door?"
Looking around, Liev saw only stone. But on closer inspectin, with urging from the people seated there, the outline became clear, a large, ornate door, hewn from the living stone. "Yes."
"Behind there, the next stage, the private club, We all work to get there, who knows? Maybe you'll be there someday."
More confidant now, Liev asked, "Why, did the people split before?" Looking behind him to make sure they were still frozen, they were.
"Oh, shit, they made the pathway? Damnation, he's coming! Quick, Into the crowd." Hissed the man, as he pushed Liev into the crowd.
Defensively, Liev froze as all the others had done. He had a narrow view of the pathway, and he waited, with his eyes trained upon the empty space, like everyone else. Hours passed, but, still he watched. Eventually, he heard in the distance, a footsteps, heavy and purposeful. Waiting a little longer, Liev caught a glimpse of a figure passing. It was of a man, Dark haired, with chiseled features, powerfully built, He walked powerfully, and as he went by, two lumps were visible on the back of his cloak. Hours passed, and the crowd softened a bit, and Liev shrank back the sitting people.
Background on this story WIP
This story was inspired by something which occured in spanish class. We were listening to the song 'Asereje' by the daughters of the tomato or something to that effect. Into my head sprang a fully formed music video featuring the Initial club scene.
I am not entiely satisfied with it from the point at which he first speaks to the people at the bar. It gives me a bit of bad taste, 'levels' in purgatory and so on, but prior to this, I was writing atmosphere and that was it. This was all written with no plan at all, stream of conciousness.