Stepping out of my comfort zone and wanting a little critique (800 words)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Jettica, 22 July 2010 Social URL.

  1. Jettica

    Jettica Shoot to thrill

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    I am posting this short piece for criticism - and hopefully a bit of praise - that makes me uncomfortable for two reasons.

    1) I never write like this, my writing is usually much more simplistic or is non-fiction SEO articles on flowers...

    2) I don't take critique well.

    Largely unedited, so please point out typos, grammar errors. I'm rubbish with first person so point out any tense errors too. Thanks in advance for this. I need to improve.

    Last time I posted just to showcase some work I was surprised (and a little horrified) to see the critique but I now know it's useful. Here's to improvement!

    The light bounced off the dancing mass throwing them into a world of colour, pink heads, green torsos and yellow legs. It was fascinating to watch, a perfect rainbow moving in time to the throb of the music. It might be the alcohol running through me that was making me think like this but I couldn't take my eyes off them. The trance like movements of everyone bouncing together just made me stare. It was like some magical force was pulling them all together and throwing them into this insane light orgy.

    My drink was empty and my mouth was dry, I probably could have done with rehydrating myself, a glass of water before the next wave of alcohol. I wouldn't. That wasn't me, I didn't stop to think about how the alcohol would feel the next morning. I didn't stop to think about being too hungover for school. I already knew I'd be taking the day off. I knew that I'd just phone in and pretend to be my mum. I'd done it often and I'd do it again.

    Standing in this club and feeling the beat vibrate through me was very much worth the time I'd miss. I was experiencing life and this life was much more exciting than education. Somewhere under the alcohol haze I wanted to do well at school. I wanted to qualifications and I wanted a high paying creative job. Maybe I could just own a club that would make me happy beyond belief.

    I suppose I could have renounced drink and clubbed without the fun intoxication. But would I still feel like this? Was the euphoria I was feeling down to the music or the alcohol? Or was it a combination of both? The latter probably. I wasn't going to stop, I had friends who did this every night, I couldn't miss out just because it was a Wednesday evening. Was it Wednesday or Thursday? It might be past midnight, the dance floor is busy, busier than I would have imagined for the middle of the week. Maybe there was a party.

    The massive moving music orgy slowed as the song changed only to begin bouncing as soon as the next thud of bass arrived. I looked down at my empty drink and sighed, I needed to get up and get to the bar. No table service here, no tables. I'd been sat on a leather sofa near the dance floor. This was the best vantage point to watch those people. Although none of them were individuals, I'd been seeing those dancers as one. I wasn't here to pick out people. I wasn't here to pull like most others. Although when I think about it I suppose most of the people in that group were hooking up with someone else next to them. Groping, feeling, touching, throbbing. It was fine because it was what music did to you.

    I wrapped my fingers around the cool glass and stood, I didn't know how long I'd been alone for but it didn't matter. I didn't need people to chat to. The music was too loud, anyway it was all the conversation I needed.

    The bar was crowded, there were people all along its length, it didn't take me long to squeeze myself into a gap that was probably too small for me. Those people moved, I don't know how long I stood there for but it was a while before I got served. I wasn't waving my money about frantically I was just watching the bar staff go through the motions of serving these people around me. I was also enjoying the heat of being squeezed between these people to feel their movements as they reached into their pockets for money or took their drink from the bar.

    When the pain in the ball of my feet from six inch heels was too much to bear I rested my elbow on the bar, tenner in hand. I wasn't here for my health, clearly, I was here for a drink. With a bit of a shouting and a bit of pointing I ordered a new glittering glass of rosé wine. A large one. I then slid away from the bar and back to my vantage point. It seemed I was no longer alone, I recognised one of those people, the person I was supposed to be out with in the first place. She was talking to people who appeared to be strangers to me.

    That didn't stop me from sitting down and taking the weight of my aching feet. I then just watched them, wasn't bothered by the lack of recognition. I didn't lean in to hear what they were talking about but instead decided to speculate on their conversation. Inappropriate parrots, dancing bears and Russian meerkats. My drunken mind took me into the realms of obscurity and I watched them, smiling when they smiled and laughing when it rippled through the group towards me.
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