Chad's Shindig

There was a dead bird on the sidewalk.  Her sneakers were almost touching it.  She snapped a shot with her expensive camera, huge lens adjusted perfectly so as to focus just enough on the animal while maintaining an erie fade effect on the edges.  She'd f**k around with effects on the computer later.  Continuing down the street to Chad's house, Stasia Benedict could make out the dull thrum of an amplifier blasting music in the distance.  The sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the horizon.  Cumulus clouds were pink and fluffy, and purple streaks jetted through the atmosphere making the sky a candy-coated sheet of pure bright delight.  She didn't think to take a photo of it, as it was uninteresting to her.  She strolled slowly along, scoping the area through her magnificent camera.

        A man stood in the distance, in the middle of the street, his head directly surrounded by the glow of the orange globe setting in the sky.  Leather jacket, white tee, blue jeans, black boots.  Zooming in, she couldn't place his features as the sun silhouetted his face.  Her finger acted of its own accord, pushing the button that captured a picture.  *Click*  Any other person, sans paparazzo, may have been embarrassed, should the stranger have noticed, but she simply checked the screen to see the aftereffect of the photo. 

        He was missing.  It was just the street and sky, the sun causing streaks in a color-burst, as is the norm when light hits lens head-on.  Interesting.  Stasia looked up, a little confused, whereas another person would be shocked and enthralled.  The stranger had disappeared from the open empty perimeter.  She simply wondered inwardly for a second, then continued on to Chad's party house.

       

        A few drinks in, the girl was feeling pretty good, and not wanting to waste this buzz, she searched the house for her friends, running into plenty of odd characters on the journey there.  Refilling her red plastic cup in the kitchen, she was introduced to three chatty blond girls.  At first she expected their talk to be of makeup, hair products and other frilly things, but she was surprised.

"And then I felt like I was outside of my body, floating up to the ceiling," girl #1 expressed.  "It was an incredible feeling, and so strange, so new."  Gazing at nothing in particular, mouth agape and hands to heart, #1 was altogether enchanted.  Shroom trip, Stasia mused.

"That, of course, has happened to me as you all know." #2 whipped her hair out of her face, around her shoulder, as if to exemplify her beauty.  Stasia caught the pretension in that body language.  "I have even ventured into higher planes of existence, other astral realms, different consciousness levels..." she drifted, lost in thought.  Riiiight.

"That's so awesome."  Girl #3 tossed back a dark liquor, coughed, and shared her input on the subject.  "I've never really had any crazy experiences like that, but I have communicated with my spirit guides.  Sometimes I can't make out what they're saying, but most of the time I can at least sense their presence, and maybe catch a glimpse beyond the veil.  It's a gift that runs in the family."

        Three heads shifted in Stasia's direction, prompting her to speak.  Not knowing how to respond, she pursed her lips crookedly and opened her eyes super wide.  The result was quite humorous.  Then she gulped the rest of her drink, belched, and smacked her lips.

"I can totally talk to the dead," long-haired girl #2 stated matter-of-factly.  Stasia saw that this blondie felt she had something to prove.  It was an objective analysis, empty of emotion.

"Oh my gosh, that is spectacular!  You are far ahead of me in skill."  #1 refilled Stay's cup with a concoction that could be specifically described as disgusting.  Two parts 100 proof one part stale tepid pineapple juice.  Daunting.  "But, I mean, just seeing myself from the view of the ceiling was the most incredible feeling of my life."  #1's voice had that croaky valley girl drawl which ended statements like questions, a bit lispy in a faux-high-class way.

        Stasia had no opinion on the subject whatsoever.  She didn't know what an 'astral realm' was, or if her consciousness could even venture off into so-called alternate dimensions and whatnot.  And spirit guides?  Yeah f*****g right, she thought, non-judgementally, a simple brush-off.  Her thoughts turned to death, dark nothingness... and she was lost in that mindset.  The pretty girls continued chatting, and Stasia edged her way outside of their circle, searching for familiar faces.  She discovered an old pal, Mikey, smoking a conspicuously skunk-smelling herb out of a tall blue glass water pipe.  Yes, this would do just fine.

        Plopping down on the couch next to him, 'Yo!', she communicated with a wink.  Then she simply smiled, head cocked to the side.  He blew a long stream of cloudy smoke in her face and passed her the bong.  Nothing needed to be said, as both seemed comfortable with silence.  Stasia's sight was soon blurred, and her eyes were bloodshot.  She took a shot from her drink, which then spilled down her shirt as the cushion shifted when someone sat down next to her.

"Hey, what's up, Mikey-boy?" said a petite girl with thick geek-chic glasses and a floppy cloth hat.  Stasia stared at the blotch on her otherwise clean shirt.  Shrug.

"Not much, babe, just hanging out.  How you doin'?" replied Mike, giving his patchy beard a scratch.

"I'm great!  I'm getting toasted!  Pass me that thing," where it could have been a question, it was a demand, obviously.  Stasia didn't skip a beat.  In two swift motions the device was in new hands and the little sprite of a girl lit the herb ablaze and took a pull that seemed to last forever.  She blew a ring of smoke.  What a pro.  French inhale.  Nice.  The girl elegantly blew the smoke out, but began coughing when she made eye contact with Stasia.  Her face took on a decidedly frightened expression.

"What are you doing here?  How...?"  Her wide, imploring eyes searched deep, came up with nothing.  The girl was riddled with confusion, and The Girl Who Gave-Not-A-F**k, well, just sat there enjoying herself.  Upon observation, the pixie chick looked lost in thought.  Stasia glanced at Mikey who proceeded to guffaw as only a stoner can.

        From then on, Stasia hazily floundered through the party, dancing at one point to a bass explosion akin to dubstep and any techno-laden rhythm buster.  Laser lights, black lights, a darkened room with ceaseless movement, colliding bodies.  Her short, shaggy black hair had become knotted and windblown from her mindless exercise.  Needing a breather, she traipsed to the backyard, where many people were scattered and gathered in groups, some lying in the soft grass while others crowded a grill or sat on patio furniture.  She wiped her hairline with the back of her hand and blinked (first left, then right eye; she was that messed up).  Something waved in her general direction, beaconing.  Unsure, she checked behind her... no one really there.  Okay.  Plenty of seconds passed as she steadily made her steps, not wanting to fall down.  She did of course, at the very end, plummeting into the person who'd signaled for her.

"How ya doin'?" It was Dawn, fully clothed this time.

"Boo," stated Stasia Benedict.  Her roommate's long strawberry hair fell over her shoulders and surrounded the drunken one's face, creating a private curtain, wherein whispered secrets were shared:

"Who are all these people?"

"As far as I've seen, uptown new age hipster party conquerers," slurred.

"Have you seen Chad?"

"Not in the slightest."

"I love you," giggles ensued.  They sat there languidly, then, in companionable silence; Dawn humming under her breath, leaning back on her hands while gazing at the light-polluted night sky, Stasia drifting in the comfort of Dawn's folded legs like a pillow, the soft grass cushioning her body.

        There were many nights like these, where the girls found themselves enjoying a grand get-together, an outing of friends, bar hopping and other such adventures.  It may not have been a fulfilling pursuit of happiness, but the fun that encompassed their lives created a mirage of contentedness.

"Hey, friend," the sprite-ish girl with the glasses skipped over to them.  "How's it goin'?"

"Mmm drunk," was the reply.  A s**t-eating grin spread from cheek to flushed cheek.  Stasia chuckled for no particular reason.

"Chad told me to tell you that he noticed your camera is being passed around right now.  You'll find some crazy pictures on that tomorrow," she smiled.  "I'm Fay, by the way."  She dropped to her knees and offered a hand to shake, which was received with a slide-five and fist-bump.  The lovely Dawn threw in a half-hug.   

"I'm Dawn, and this is Stasia," the roommate gleamed.

"Stasia..." Fay contemplated the name.  Static and unchanging, insinuated by the sound, but she recalled the root meaning, resurrection, to be reborn.  "Nice to meet you, Dawn."  New beginnings, enlightenment.

"You too, cutie."  They began having a shallow, needless conversation about the party, seemingly to fill the air.  All the while, Stasia found herself resting her eyes, hardly listening.

"Would you mind," came Dawn's musical voice, piercing the drunken haze.

"Not at all."  A bit of squirming and Stasia's head was passed to a skinnier lap.  "Will you fill me up?"

"For sure."

        A few moments passed before Stasia opened her brilliant eyes, which in this light looked to be an illuminated brown.  Fay gazed back, a melancholy expression on her otherwise cheerful face.  She displayed a sad, quiet smile.

"How are you," Fay whispered, gently brushing back a strand of hair from Stay's forehead.

        Not knowing how to respond, she took a cleansing breath and sighed an answer.  Most of the time, Stasia found words superfluous and communicated in a learned silent way.

"Do you feel..." Fay cleared her throat, uneasy, "normal?"

        A disconcerted frown appeared for a brief second, followed by a squinty glance.

"Well, I mean," she gulped "Stasia, do you ever feel different, set apart, almost as if you didn't belong?" Her eyes actually teared up a bit.  "Do you experience an overwhelming sense of separation, from something you cannot explain?"

        Golden umber eyes wandered, glazed over, and again she held her reply, having no words to express the solid emptiness emoting from her core, a triggered release of a trapped feeling nigh understandable.  Miss Benedict noticed its presence as if for the first time.  An epiphany actualizing a raw, unfelt emotion set to motion a needed change.  To assist, this Fay person was there.

"I recognize you.  I know who you are," she placed her hands on Stay's face and leaned closer.  "I may know things even you wouldn't know about yourself."

        Stasia was calm and looked at Fay evenly with the scarcest amount of curiosity.  She chewed on her lips, steadily absorbing the moment.  The little sprite leaned forward the tiniest bit more and kissed the center of Stasia's brow.  Then she began rubbing her temples.  It was relaxing, so Stasia once again closed her almond shaped eyes, un-furrowing the slight frown.

        Delicately, Fay placed her thumbs on the place she'd kissed and applied a slight pressure.  She massaged upwardly, then began a gentle tapotement.  It was strange at first, yet became stranger still.  On the backs of her eyelids, Stasia could see a neon, sparkling eye opening.  Visually, it was located directly where Fay's fingers were.  It was stimulating.  This was a trip.  Was she hallucinating?

        Millions of ultra bright speckles of light danced behind her eyelids, exploding in an effervescent array of luminosity.  She fell into her mind's eye, physically sensationalized.  The rational part of her personality clouded the experience, brought her down, dulled the colors.  When she became vaguely aware of her surroundings, she found that Fay had gone.

        Stasia soon passed out, echos of the party flitting through the shroud of sleep.