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Getting Through : Creative Writing

The Dance - A Game

from Sir Rantalot - Friday, September 09, 2005
accessed 1025 times

And then the music starts..

One of the few things I'm passionate about nowadays is dancing. Anything with a good, driving, hypnotic beat gets me going. From underground raves I'm the habit of dancing facing the speakers, and I've developed a relationship with the speakers, they're like an old friend to me. The seasoned bartender who listens gravely and sympathetically to the life story of a drunk customer, but with this grave, dark bartender no words are spoken. We exchange knowing glances, grave and ancient looks. And then the music starts..

The beat pulls me close to the box, hips cringe rhythmically, sensually, towards the source, my arms and body follow behind, my head slants upward, as it would during a flight takeoff. This urge comes from my loins alone. I have no choice, I could not move this way without hearing a bass line. The impulse is to enter the music, become one with the giant woofers. Finally I resist no more, I hug the source, caress the black wooden casing, yet always the beat rules supreme, defining my loss of control, urging my forward, pushing me away at whim.

I gain control for just enough to remember rebellion, a wild gleam comes across my face, now you've played with me enough, you can't control me anymore. I dance angrily now, a march, a pre-battle ritual. I taunt and sneer at you; I challenge you to cross the line, to confront me. I love the confrontation, I want so much to fight you, I want you angry, enraged at my advances. Come on, if you dare! Catch me if you can! You can't get me though, I dance dangerously close to you then jump away, the rhythm is on my side now, I know the bar scheme well now. No more surprises from you, I play with the angry beat like Rubik’s cube, twisting and turning it how I will, while silently operating in the unwritten rules of the bar.

The song goes up a key and I switch flowingly between taunting and longing unity with you. With you I can let go, I can use more than just words to express myself, I can use my whole body to express anger, pain, rebellion, euphoria, lust and child-like playfulness. It’s a game only you know how to respond to, only you know how to take me seriously and play along. I just want to play with you, and I’m dead serious about it.

You are a woman to be courted, a man to confront, a jester full of riddles and a child to play with. You are law, structure and authority to rebel against, I dance on to your rules, jump from one to the next, I break your rules, I create new ones. You are all in one, you alone allow me the greatest freedom of expression, of creation, of energy, of force. You beat away all sadness and emptiness, I reach annihilation my mind with you, you destroy me and make me complete, just for a moment. When I realize this I bow my head to your steel and wooden face, to this magnetic holy sanctuary, I adore and worship you with my body, and in so doing I worship myself. I love you eternally in this moment. We become one for an instant.

Then the Breakdown comes you allow me to stop for a rest, and we exchange knowing looks again, and a slight smile plays across my face, only you've noticed it, my old, silent friend. No else in the crowded dance floor was present for that eternal moment. You always understand me so well.

Oops, I come to and wonder, have I been acting up, have I startled those around me with my desperate, frenetic dance? Only you and I know of our little game, grave and playful at the same time, it's our little secret, keep it safe.

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