The dance floor lights in the club were pulsating through the full spectrum in perfect synchronization with the music. The rest of the club was dimly lit with red lights in some places and blacklight in others. The music was an ethereal thrum of tribal drums and otherworldly synthetic strings. The décor made it look like Vlad Tepes Dracul himself had been the interior decorator. Small clusters of “goth kids” dressed in dark clothing inspired by various styles: Victorian, Industrial, and Punk, to name a few; were assembled in various locations. There was a rough semi-circle of people gathered around the dance floor as well as a few individuals actually dancing. There was one woman, entranced by the music, dancing for no one but herself.
Naamah saw nothing around her, she heard nothing but the music, felt nothing but the pulse. Charles felt the pulse too, as he watched Naamah from a small cluster near the dance floor. He saw nothing but Naamah. He didn’t even hear the music, but he did feel the pulse.
Charles thought about Acey briefly. He missed her. This woman enthralled him in a way that only Acey had ever been able to.
He watched her all night, in a daze, as she tirelessly oscillated with serpentine grace to music that he didn’t hear. He only heard the pulse.
The next thing he was aware of was the lights being snapped on followed by the fact that she was gone. He began to wander around the club, looking for her, but the staff was trying to usher him out the door. By the time he was outside, he had forgotten Naamah almost entirely. He thought of Acey again. He checked his phone and noticed that it was already after 2 am.
On his drive home, Charles felt keenly aware of two things, that he was being followed and that he was forgetting something. However, every time he checked his mirrors there were no other cars on the lonely road.
Though the evening was hazy and blurry in his memory, he was glad he found the Goth Club.