Yellow and Green lights swam across the stage, twisting and turning frantically upon the band. The Fog had swallowed Evil Slime completely leaving only their sneakers visible as the haze ascended towards the ceiling. Cymbals crashed and pics scraped violently against their guitar strings. My eyelids grew heavy as I listened to their screeching guitars and I closed them completely.
With my eyes shut a vision crept into my mind. I saw a women’s face much like the women who sold me my ticket earlier in the night. I saw her dark hair blowing recklessly in the wind. I saw her pale white skin turn pink as blood rushed to the surface. I saw her body tied to a stake while she screamed in agony.
“Witch! Witch!” A small medieval crowd shouted from their cobbled streets.
“Burn Her.”
“Kill her.”
“May she rot forever!”
A man with a black hat, dark clothing and heavy beard walked towards the pyre, which stood below the woman. He looked into her eyes and said nothing as he lowered a flaming torch into the heap of dry brush.
Orange flames danced upon the wooden stake and slowly crawled up the women’s body. Her legs, her arms, her breasts had all completely vanished within the flame.
Black smoke filled the sky above her head and the roar of the fire soon silenced her screams. The onlookers drooled with excitement as they watched their witch burn.
“Foul Women! This is what you get when play with Satan”, a man screamed as he tightly held his young daughter by the hand.
The woman’s black hair was now glowing with fire, the orange flames burned brightly upon her scalp. The blue sky of day had now vanished under the black smoke of night and the woman’s face retreated into the colorful shadows of the fire.
I opened my eyes and looked upon the stage. The burning flames of my vision transformed into the yellowish green haze of the fog. I could still see traces of her face descending back into the shadows as she opened her mouth for a final breath.
“Ugghhhhhhhh” gargled the PA system.
A head slowly emerged through the fog. Long, curly black hair fell from both sides as the man’s features came into view. The Fog radiated and flowed like liquid around his face. He pulled the microphone before his lips and tilted his head to the ceiling.
“Ahhhhh……We are Evil Slime. Until next time, keep oozing, you sick fucks, and remember to stick around for Open Grave, they’re up next!
I stood in the now empty mosh pit. My shirt was torn at the neck and drenched in other people’s sweat. With both hands I reached behind my head and pulled the wet rag over my shoulders and off my body. Scratches appeared all over my skin along with tooth marks and fresh bruising. I rubbed the soiled t-shirt against my eyes and tried to make sense of the vision.
I kept seeing the dark women from the ticket booth tied to the stake while the town screamed for her death. She was alone with no one to help. There was no one to listen to her cries, no one to save her from the mob as they burned her alive.
“Vie Future” had grown quiet as the band tore down their gear. Most of my fellow mosh pitters stared blankly at the empty stage, waiting for the next onslaught of music-induced insanity.
“That’s right, my brothers”, I thought to myself. “This is who we are, this is where we want to be.” “We don’t want to be part of their blissful society. We don’t want to take part in their witch burnings”
My shirtless body made its way across the hollow building, to the corner of the room where stood a small line of misanthropes all wanting merchandise. As I stood in line, my long blond hair in tangles, I pondered the meaning of my vision. I could not believe that it was merely a fantasy of my sick adolescent mind. I could not believe that it was hallucination caused by a perversion that festered deep within me. No, it was none of those things. It was much too foreign and much too real.
It seemed like an omen that was passed to me by some kind of psychic force. It was trying to tell me something, trying to warn me. An uneasy feeling overcame my body as I felt my nerves begin to rattle. Something would happen, here in “Vie Future”, but what I did not know.
I reached the front of the line where two members of Evil Slime sat. They each held a 24-ounce can and rummaged through a small brown box looking for a sticker that a young man requested.
“Shit, where the fuck is it?” The bassist asked
“I don’t know man, Tommy packed this shit.” responded the guitarist.
“Ah, here it is. Here kid."
"Thanks, man”
The bassist took a chug from his beer and sat back down in his seat.
I looked at the t-shirts that were pinned to wall behind Evil Slime. I took my time until my eyes settled on one and said, “that one, right there”, as I pointed to a shirt with a man’s brain exploding through a nuclear reactor.
The bassist took a moment, gulped his beer and stared at the bites and scratches that covered my skin. He slowly lifted his eyes towards my face and put his beer down.
He fumbled for a moment, going through boxes of t-shirts, shifting his gaze from the shirts to me and back to the shirts. He pulled out a black shirt from what seemed like an endless pit of black cotton and held it out in front him.
“Here you are, man.” The bassist said as he passed me the shirt.
I took the shirt and pulled it over my head and onto my body. It fit perfectly. Must be Blue Grape I thought to myself admiring the shirts shape.
“I’ve fuckin seen you here before, man. You’re fuckin wicked “, the bassist told me as he poured beer down his throat.
I nodded my head in appreciation and handed him a crumpled ten dollar bill.
“Oh, no man. It’s cool. It’s on me. Just fuckin wear that Shit! Yeah Man!” He shouted as he shook my hand and pulled me in for a heavy hug.
I walked away from the merch table feeling like some dark siren had breathed fresh life into my dying lungs. I felt free, strong, and wicked. The thoughts of my vision had seemed to pass as I no longer dwelled on its meaning. My fellow comrades, dressed in black, marched up to the stage for another round of bashing their guts against one another and I was eager to join.
Open Grave Started smashing their cymbals and thrashing the strings of their B.C Richs. I started towards the floor. My grin although sinister, reached from ear to ear with excitement. I was just getting ready to dive back into the mania when Miller came running up to me.
“Crap, man.” Miller said as he bounced around and repeatedly looked over his shoulders.
I looked at him, did not say anything but offered him an expression of concern.
"I got to go the bathroom", He said.
"OK", I responded and began to head towards the floor.
Miller blocked my movement, placing his hand on my chest. Sweat dripped from his brow as he struggled to breath
“No you don't understand," Miller exclaimed as his eyes settled on the stairs above. "I got to take a shit, man!”
I watched the mosh pit as it erupted with insanity, devouring all those who came near it like a black hole. I wanted to jump in but knew I would have to wait, as I could not let Miller go up alone.
I looked to the stairs above and said, “let’s go”, and with that we headed to where no one wants to venture, a place we called “The Stalls of Hell”.
To be continued…….Next Week……..for real this time.
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