Rave

By Justin Mynheir

I don’t usually enjoy parties. But a rave? I had to experience one of those.

Hannah dragged me down the coast to a cozy little beachside town removed from society. Cars and RVs were packed into a giant parking lot on the outskirts. People from all over came for the rave. Clothes thieved their colors straight from the rainbow, and hair-styles crashed every which way like the ocean, matching the careless dispositions of the owners. We all just wanted to be free from normal for one night.

You get that, right?

The coastal land slipped down to sea cliffs, and a staircase led into a long cave pointing straight at the ocean like a trumpet carved by something ancient. We waited until night fell pitch black before packing inside, and a DJ set up a little station with huge speakers to the right of the entrance. His hooded crew passed around glowsticks while some loving souls shared a new type of pill with everyone. I was adventurous, but like, not that adventurous. Hannah took one. I should’ve stopped her.

Within minutes, the DJ’s bass shook the cave walls and echoed out into the ocean. We danced and jumped as bright white lamps flashed on us like search-lights.

The pills soon did their job, and a cave full of youthful countenances devolved into numb laughter. They hugged their own bodies as if cradling newborns while dancing. One girl’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she twisted to the beats rippling out from the speakers.

We cracked our glowsticks, summoning the beauty of the cosmos all for a small rave. In response, the DJ and his crew drew up their hoods and chanted while chucking even more colorful sticks into the euphoric crowd. Intoxicated confusion reigning in the cave, I stayed close to Hannah. Someone had to watch her.

I thought most people were genuinely good, but I knew better than to say all of us were. She was one of the few red glowsticks in a circle of greens and blues, which made it easy for anybody to keep an eye on her.

You know, my eyes still burn even now from all the staring.

Suddenly, the white lamps shut off, and the crowd screamed in excitement and went wild. Thumping music blared louder than before. Clothes painted in phosphorescent stripes and swirls bounced in the darkness like a ghostly mosh pit. We shook the Earth.

The beat changed, and a track with resounding African tribal chants blended into the trap music. Those freed from the bondage of daily life cried their hearts out at the aural beauty tearing into our eardrums. I almost joined, but my head hurt. I hated the way the DJ tested the limits of his sound system with that night’s tracks.

Soon after, I heard splashing, which was odd because the ocean and the seaside mouth of the cave had been pretty far apart. But hey, I didn’t know much about tides.

Hannah and I were in the middle of the crowd by that point, but whenever I would look back toward the eerie beach, invisible on that moonless night, the number of people behind us seemed fewer than when we started. I tried counting, but between the music and the bodies pushing and gyrating against each other in the dark, I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight. I still can’t.

The acrid smell of mold and dead fish assailed my nose. Trying to find a respite from the maelstrom of activity, I gripped Hannah’s arm and asked her to move closer to the entrance. She agreed, so we ended up next to the DJ booth. I could barely see a glow from the lights on his soundboard.

I glanced back again and held Hannah’s arm tight as she giggled. My heart rate raced against the speed of the beats, my chest shook, and my legs struggled to hold me up. How can I explain what happened? Glowsticks, radiant attire, what little color was marking people in the dark all slid back through the cave. Some people floated, and others whipped back and forth as they flew through the air. Something pulled them toward the ocean. The splashing sounds grew, and saltwater rushed up against my shoes. At least, god, I hope it was water, but I swear slime oozed into my sandals.

The chanting grew louder. So loud. It’s in my head—I can still hear it now. The sound fills your ears, and your heart goes out of its way to beat to that rhythm. Your bones feel the reverberations in the marrow. In your soul.

Before I knew it, Hannah pulled away from my arm and danced into the writhing colors of the mob. I wished I had a match, a light… something to see. Nearly blind and speechless, I pushed through several glowing bodies too enraptured in their own sensations to notice their friends disappearing and searched for red glowsticks. The entire rave, unaware of the terror at their backs, succumbed to dizzying music.

And when the last red glowstick disappeared, I knew I was alone. A man next to me screamed as he flew into the air, and water, I think, splashed against me as some unmentionable thing slithered away with another innocent life.

I screamed for people to get out, to escape, but the drugs distorted their minds so that the creature could take them. Without Hannah and scared for my life, I ran past the chanting DJ and up the stairs to the cars. A horrifying, bubbling groan followed after me.

I drove half the night. I couldn’t go back. Not to the overwhelming beats and chants. I don’t remember making it home. I woke up here to everybody asking questions. Please, someone, help me find my friend.

Not a word from anyone after all I said… Could you please at least take this jacket off? It’s tight.

Can you guess which song from the 1980's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When Justin Mynheir is not editing his Military Science Fiction trilogy or writing an Urban Fantasy one, he attends college, outlines new ideas, writes short stories, studies any number of statistically violent topics, and defends his distracted daydreaming by calling it “creative practice.”

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