Dead Dance, pt. 2

Soon the semi-circle reached a critical mass. I was standing behind depths of people just waiting, waiting for something, for anything. I considered jockeying for a closer look and decided against it. The deejay had gone missing – so where was the music coming from? Alas, in an area designated as a stage a new duo were in charge. They had brought their own equipment. A strobe light blasted green light relentlessly from behind them making it hard to fixate my eyes on them. One of the musicians began began warming up his electronic keyboard. The other seemed to move about aimlessly, checking this, checking that, but never looking up to check out the crowd. A woman appeared with a large camera and started taking pictures of everybody and everything. She even took a picture of me. I lightened up. Then the musicians began.

What could I say about the music? If there was an anthem leading to hell, this was it. Organ notes punctuated by crashing sounds and moderated by a steady synthesized drum beat. Two Goth gals moved to an open spot on the dance floor and started dancing in a way familiar only to themselves. Meanwhile, the drum beat increased its speed. In response the girls danced faster. The music pace got faster. When it reached the speed of dance house music and I found myself bouncing to it. But the music kept accelerating, going past my ability to move, eventually reaching the pace of electromagnetic energy. The dancers somehow kept pace, moving about in their own circle like atoms.

The once aimless musician morphed into a singer. Dark lyrics rang out. I couldn’t understand him at first. It sounded like a foreign language. My mind was not yet trained to operate on that level. But I did catch this –

“There’s nowhere to go…..”

“There’s nowhere to go….”

“We’re all gonna dieeee….!!!”

“There’s nowhere to go…”

This guy was obviously the devil of this procession, with a voice rhythm and fluctuations reminiscent of a Nazi’s.

Okay, now I was spooked. I cast my eyes around looking for comfort. My eyes met those of the girl standing next to me. She looked straight at me, dark eyeliner stained under her eyes. Her eyes were emotionless. I was spooked further.

The band played a few songs. When they were finished, there were the typical blood-curdling screams and howls of delight from the crowd, then the Goths started filing out, looking refreshed. I stayed long enough to get a picture of the woman who had taken my picture earlier, (the mistress of the night) then I fled.