a flash story by David G Shrock

The building is alive, music pounding into the stone walls its beating heart, the vibrating steel its rumbling stomach, the buzzing neon sign its voice singing into the night. Doors open swallowing patrons feeding its hunger.

Searching for the music, Mike descends the steel staircase feeling like a feather floating on a current. Lights zip through the haze splashing the sea of dancers. Purple rods lining stone columns, black light, illuminate the waving neon bracelets and flowing white shirts breaking between the storming mass of dark clothing. Stepping onto the dance floor, Mike soaks in the music and begins bouncing to the beat.

Atop the stage, a banshee with blue hair screams into the microphone, her voice switching between demonic thunder and angelic cries. A crash of drums rolls into a new song, the banshee wails about pain and anger.

Goth girls move aside turning their gazes on Mike like predators sizing up their prey. Some of their eyes glow, special lenses catching the black light. Others snarl exposing sharp teeth. They wear costumes celebrating the creatures of the night. The goth girls, even some boys, swarm around Mike, their lulling dance pulling him deeper into the horde.

The pack opens up into a ring, a sinuous wall grooving to the music. Howls and laughter cry out. Electric guitars grind into a chant, the beat met by stomping feet and nodding heads. Fists pump into the air. The banshee screams.

Dispatching from the ring, a woman dances into the center, gyrating hips sending her into a grooving spin. She runs her fingers through her pink hair. Her palms run down her sides hugging herself.

Mike dances close, his steps complimenting hers. Her eyes blaze, a blue simmer in the black light flashing to deep crimson in the shadows. Arms wrapping around each other, hips meeting, they grind to the beat. He breathes in her sweat, tastes her licorice lips. His insides burn like fire. Peering into her intense gaze, he asks for her name, but his voice is lost to the music.

She smiles revealing her fangs. Closing in, her cheek grazes his. Her breath tickles his ear. “Candy,” she says. Squeezing against him, she licks his lips and closes in on his other ear. “Sweet as candy.” She licks his ear.

The sounds of the club fade, the howling voices growing distant. The music is a distant thunder. Mike dances, his cheek against hers, moving in a swirling wave to the music of their own feet tapping the wood floor. They dance into the shadow world.

The club takes a breath, a cool breeze.

Mike finds his arms empty. Glancing around, he finds the dance floor empty. The club is dark. Silence rings shattering thought. Peering down, he finds his shirt covered in blood. No pain. He tastes licorice lipstick on his lips.

Movement catches his eye.

Like moonlight reflecting off the rolling sea, shapes move about the dance floor becoming hazy forms. Apparitions dance in slow motion. As their features become more discernible, their movements increase in speed.

Mike hears the music, slow and quiet at first. Watching the others, noticing their vibrant faces, their sweat, he realizes he is the ghost gazing back at the world. Touching his throat, he finds torn flesh, cold and dry.

The music explodes into Mike’s thoughts, and he dances. The others barely notice him, if at all. This is Club Necropolis where the dead never dance alone.

a flash story by David G Shrock

Bobby’s older brother, Daniel, set the telescope on the driveway. Bobby watched him scan the sky looking over the first few stars awakening in the fading light. He knew the major constellations, but not much more. Hunched over, Daniel lifted the tube aiming at the southern sky.

Watching his brother, Bobby waited.

Daniel nudged the scope and turned a knob at the base of the eyepiece.

Looking at the sky, Bobby saw a bright gleam floating in deep azure. He asked Daniel about the star. Head bobbing, Daniel switched between peering down the length of the tube and into the eyepiece. He adjusted a knob. Rising up, he stepped back.

Slinking up to the instrument, Bobby followed directions. He stood as tall as the telescope and had to stand on his toes to peer into the tiny eyepiece. A shining blob caught his eye. It wiggled within the view as he wobbled on his feet.

“It’s Saturn,” said Daniel.

Bobby had seen photographs of Saturn in a magazine. The blob inside the telescope appeared nothing like the planet on the glossy pages. He gazed at something shaped more like a squished ball. Holding breath, keeping still, he gazed into the eyepiece. The slender oval drifted sideways. Then he saw it. The tips on either side of the round center were rings. Details emerged. Nearly lost in a blur, two specks of darkness marked the space between the rings on either side of the planet. Peering up, he looked at the bright gem in the sky.

“Saturn,” said Bobby.

Realizing destinations filled the sky, the world expanded before Bobby’s eyes.

He had to know more. Pouring over books at the library, he absorbed it all. But never too much at a time. After each section, each small bite, he thought it over. The numbers and other data became images in his mind, but everything seemed so big. The schoolyard became a scale model: a basketball at one end and a marble resting on a paper cup at the other. Walking from the basketball to a blue bead planet, he imagined the trip to Earth. Eight minutes for light, a few less for his feet. Looking back at the basketball, he saw the sun. Peering the other way, at the other end of the football field, he spotted the marble on the cup. He saw Saturn. His eyes opened and questions poured in. What kept everything together?

“It’s gravity,” said Daniel. Explaining the force holding feet to the ground, he claimed that the same force kept the planets in orbit. Bobby argued that a force is physical like pulling a wagon. “An invisible force,” said Daniel. It sounded like a magical story.

The force story had never sat well with Newton, according to a book. The mathematics worked out, but what caused the force? Spinning a bucket overhead, Bobby watched the water stay inside. The arm and bucket were real, a physical force. The book pointed out that Mercury did not play by the rules of the invisible force story. Predictions of positions lost accuracy over time. The problem simmered in his head for years while he scoured books and thought about other problems. He took small bites, imagined the meanings, asked questions. His skills improved as each answer revealed tougher questions. Sitting in the car while picturing planetary orbits, the answer leaped into his thoughts.

Daniel listened quietly.

Bobby explained how everything followed natural pathways within the fabric of space warped by massive objects. Newton’s mathematics relating gravity to a force was only an approximation. Gravity was not like twirling a bucket of water.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” said Daniel.

Bobby questioned everything, taking small bites.

A book on Relativity, requiring small doses of reading and long hours of imagining, confirmed his suspicion. This different story and its mathematics predicted Mercury with high accuracy. He never shared this with Daniel. His brother had a new family on his mind. They talked about comet hunting and viewing planets. Problems twirled through Bobby’s head as he worked them out on my his own. Everyone has their own pace, their own hunger.

In a park after sunset, Bobby set up his new telescope. The heavy instrument whirred on its motors tracking the sky, revealing Saturn in clear detail. No longer a squished ball, the object in the eyepiece appeared much like the photographs in the magazine. Within the rings, Cassini’s Division carved a black line. Above the rings, two hazy stripes—cloud belts—crossed the planet. A young couple walked up and asked what he was looking at.

“It’s Saturn,” said Bobby.

Sometimes folks asked more questions, and he answered them. Knowledge was best served a bite at a time. The couple asked few question. Bobby didn’t explain gravity. He instructed on peering into the eyepiece. The couple marveled at the details, their small bite, and went on their way.

Peering into the eyepiece, watching Saturn float in the sky, Bobby recalled his first view, his first bite. He savored the delight.