A Series of Short Stories: Summer

The coming of fall

The air was refreshing. Charging at her tender skin were millions of sunrays. They travelled a great distance, carrying their warmth against the terrors in the autumn winds that produced the violet sky. They powered her will to go on as she contemplated her recent performance. A few remaining clouds of rage streaked the skyline.  Their milky white counterparts just barely covered the sleeping sun as it made its final plea with the day before descending to its own realm. The storm had passed and its effects were fading. Only the winds that brought them had chosen to stay. She was sitting atop a section of hill that rolled gracefully towards the earth until it was caught in the arms of the valley below. A curving road, separated from her by a railing,  hugged the far, more steeper, side of the hill. The city glowed below her. From her view, she could even see the beach in the distance as the waves, urged by the chanting of the howling winds, continued and intensified their sparring match with the sands. Several sight seers sat, stood, and watched in awe. Most came in pairs. She was alone. Free to let her mind wander and explore the scene before her. Free to be comfortable and not troubled by the possible thoughts of another. Free to look foolishly in awe and not try. This was what she wanted. Not the tireless dances she kept finding herself thrown into. Some, she had brought onto herself as she searched for those who had skills matching her own. Others had a tendency of finding her. And as she grew to know them, she grew to love their rhythm and their pace. She grew to become comfortable with the steps and pattern. Of course, this never lasted. Soon enough, she would grow tired of the song and lose interest in the fray. They were the vibrant leaves of the fall that whither and die with the passage of time; the very essence of that which made her whole would eventually be funneled from her as audiences applauded the gracefulness of her counterpart. To bring this about, there were times when her need to be lead became nearly toxic so long as the tree that was her partner stayed firm in the promise to resurrect her once again in the spring. At first she would be ok with this. Her love for the art was enough of an excuse to allow it to happen. Most were skillful but whether her partner was coordinated or not was no issue so long as they were present when her song began. But now, she had made a promise to herself that could end all of it. One she couldn't run from as it was the reason for her current situation. Despite her life's horrors, she couldn't help but bask in her liberation. The sun had now fallen into a deep slumber and the enigmatic moon took its place. The sight seers had all but remained, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Thoughts that contained dreams of another art. One that she had known for some time was her true calling. But, as she began to hear it more clearly, sirens suddenly approached her and her mind took off as if on cue. They were distant at first. Trying to ignore them, she began thinking of the future and, for whatever reason, felt an impulse to reach her hands out and upwards....First slowly and shakingly...The sirens were a few seconds away...couldn't beat out their wail...very shaky...they were close now...sweat beads mixed with blood on her cheeks...her thoughts caught in a death race....streaming lights... red and blue illuminated the hill side...more certain and urgent in her reach.... they were upon her now…she stood up and tears streamed down her face...fire trucks and ambulances came screaming from behind the hill...she was on the tips of her toes and felt so close to her goal...they billowed past her...It was as if she could grab the moon in her fist. And for all she knew, she very well could. The sirens faded in the distance. A smile crossed her face as the realization that her life belonged to her now. By this point the moon had gone as high as it dared and would soon begin it's graceful descent. She looked back down at the sleeping city again and noted that the only blemish was a single pillar of smoke.

She wouldn't answer him. “Are you sure we'll be fine? I'm not good at these kinds of things”. She kept walking and gave him a sideways glance. “What, dancing? I thought you said you were practically a pro?” The sarcasm was painful but he held face. “Not the dancing part, the acting part”. “Oh right, that. Trust me, just look like you know what you're doing and we'll be fine.” “That's not very reassuring, what if-”  “that's just your problem, don't worry about ‘what ifs’ and we'll be fine. Like I said, if you overthink it, you'll get caught. This place is high class so they assume that most people who go there belong there. As long as you look like you belong, no one will question it. Just follow my lead”  she took his hand and smiled.
Now she didn't actually believe that herself but this place reflected everything she could only wish to one day aspire to being and had been calling her name since the moment she saw it. “I guess that makes sense. But if that's the plan, then why the hell am I dressed like this?” He was wearing a fur coat that seemed very lavish and, if it was real, way out of her tax bracket. But his problem was more with the rest of the outfit. He was dressed in a pair of tights that rolled at the ankles, exposing them and the fact that he wasn't wearing socks. A loose V neck so low he might as well have not worn a shirt, was partially hidden by the fur coat. “You can't tell me this is how the rich dress.”
“Well that's all I have in my closet and tonight is ladies night. So I thought, if worst comes to worst, I could pull of my greatest performance ever, get in for free and say you're my gay best friend” He stopped walking. “”Are you serious?” now it was her turn to hold face. She looked at him again, squeezed his hand and said in exasperation “should things come to worst. But it won't, I promise” There was an awkward silence followed by several fidgeting movements as he considered how comfortable he was with this. “Ok, maybe it doesn't make much sense now, but you'll see when we get there. Trust me, it'll be fun and if you don't like it, we can just go to any one of these cheesy stores and explore the city.” This, he liked. The city seemed to speak to him. It glowed like a beacon and boasted of an infinite number of experiences, lives, loves, and unperturbed ails. As if sparked by the gods, it was alive with an outward happiness. One that could fool any passerby who, without closer examination, would miss all manners of grim defeat buried by the shadows, also, as if sparked by the gods. Such an odd combination of joy and depression was certain to hold unique adventures. “okay but we're going where I choose then.”
“deal”.
“So then can I ask you something?:
“shoot”
“is it fair to say that this is a date...:” She hesitated, unsure of what to say and he knew it. They had talked so intensely the night before, she felt as though she had known him for years. The answer was most certainly a yes but anxiety has a tendency of clamping shut the throats of its victims. Back to not answering. He immediately regretted asking such a stupid question and resorted to changing the conversation entirely. “Do you see that?” He had noticed a woman staring at them as they passed. She was fadingly beautiful and followed them with her eyes as a single finger protruded from her long draping outfit and followed them in concurrence. “What's up with her?” He said nodding in the woman's direction. “I have no idea but she's creepy as dick”

  It's walls of prestige, built upon the bones of those scurrying in alleyways, shone bright with achievement. “This looks like a bank. You brought us to a bank. What the hell are we going to do here?” “ Will you shut up and just walk. You're drawing so much attention to us already.” They approached the entrance which looked like several entrances stacked upon one another. There were no people but large trash bags were littered all along the side streets and took away from the beauty of the building. Oddly enough, there was no real security besides a skinny doorman who seemed to act as both a navigator for newcomers and a makeshift guard. His instinct was to avoid the man. Her instinct was to charge right up to him. “Excuse me fine sir, do you know where it is we might find Le Palais Incroyable?” He looked at them and stroked his hairless chin. He stared at them as if trying to break their will.“Oh pardon my dear friend here, she has no manners at all. Let me introduce myself. My name is Creont, and this is the icon herself, Jufab. We' were looking for a ravishing time in this marvelous city when we caught the dollar's wind of your impressive establishment.” Creont then went on to lean over the man and gently touch his chest, “Which, by the way, isn't the only impressive thing here I see”. The man immediately jumped back and cleared his throat. Without a word he began escorting them to the main hall. But rather than going through the ridiculously huge doors, he lead them to a side entrance that was so unnoticeable due to it being over shadowed by the main doors, that it was practically invisible. The moment they stepped over the threshold and the guard closed the doors behind them, Jufab, who had been forcing her face into a contorted scowl this whole time, broke out in uncontrollable laughter. “I swear, if you ever hold out like that again Ima kill you! That was fucking awesome! How did you come up with those names?!” Creont was actually shocked that it had worked himself. “I just went with the flow you started really.” He said smiling, “now get up, let's go befor some ass hole comes by again”. They were in a small, dimly lit hallway that went on forever, and, as if he could foresee the future, two people were approaching them from the infinitely distant end of the hall. One was singing something in gibberish and the other was holding them up by having their arm slung over his shoulder. They're drunk, was the first thought in both Creont and Jufab’s minds. “Let's just walk past them and hope they don't do anything”  The closer they got, the more clearly they could hear the drunk. It wasn't english, and it wasn't like any language either of them recognised. The two pairs were close to each other now. Every step taken in their direction felt more heavier than the last. A single light dangling in the middle of their path illuminated the two figures. “It's her!” Yelling like that was a mistake, but Creonte couldn't hide his confusion. The woman from the streets climbed down from the shoulders of a man who could very well have been her son and shuffled directly in front of them. So much for this trip, let's go. Was the look Creont gave Jufab but, once again, she was not responding. The woman stared fiercely at Jufab, who seemed entranced and unwilling to back down. Now the woman reached that same skinny finger up toward Jufab’s face and plucked her forehead before grabbing her hand and tracing symbols into it. Her voice seemed to come, not from her body, but from somewhere distant. Somewhere it is not of much use. “A session with death will prove that strokes of the best kind come with the most vibrant of colors”. She dropped Jufab’s hand and shuffled past the both of them with the man following in her wake. Off into the direction of the door, where escape awaited.