Terpsichore's Dance

The room slowly settled in silence, only the cloyingly sweet miasma of sweat and steam filled the room as the gyrating finally came to a stand still. A single figure, near the edge of the dance floor started to applaud, offering his praise to the DJ whom had just finished playing for the night. The night had just come to an end of sorts, or at least for most of the people it had. Around the sides of the room on the various seats and benches people began to stretch languidly and then stood and made their way to the clock room to collect their various discarded items of clothing. On the floor lay the remains of the night, the normal detritus of empty bottles, broken plastic "glasses", burnt out glow-sticks and the occasional puddle of vomit where someone's excess abuse of the body had taken a rather dramatic toll. The DJ slowly gathered his records together, placing the individual slabs of black vinyl with loving care back into the case, and then slowly made his way down the steps from the pulpit where he preached his music and out the back to the waiting car. Slowly, stillness overcame the club, and eventually the security guards and the bar-staff made one last sweep of the building, checking it was empty before finally locking the doors of this modern day church to the outside world.

Compared to the throbbing life of just a few hours previous, the silence was stifling. There was no movement, and the feeble light filtered in through dirty windows to light the floor in dull grey patches. Lazy columns of dust span and danced to their own rhythm in the pale sunlight. In one corner of the main dance floor, a single figure unfolds himself from behind one of the speakers. Tall and gaunt he stands, his face, once painted with make-up is now a multi-colour smear caused by the sweat and tears of the night before. His body glistens slightly in what little light there is, and he yawns and stretches, looking around the floor at the wreckage of what once was. A second figure rises from the pulpit and nods briefly at the ravaged figure down on the dance floor, and with the flick of a switch, the main lights blaze into life.

Single beams of green and red lance down to the dance-floor like the weapons of some alien spaceship, circling left and right before coming briefly to rest and then spinning off again. The lone man on the dance-floor watches intently as the beams of illumination light the various images on the wall. The dancing female, painted in silver and ultraviolet paints reflects the light seductively, and for one brief second, the beams of light linger on her body, and slowly she steps out from the painting and treads lightly and delicately across the floor to the man. With a brief nod of her head she acknowledges him, not once speaking or making any sound as she steps onto the dance-floor. She turns and looks towards the DJ and nods slightly, and with a stutter the music starts to life.

Gradually she begins to dance, slow, carefully measured movements to the music whilst around her the beams of light strike other shadowy figures painted onto the walls. With each figure illuminated, they step out from their paintings and make their way onto the dance floor, dancing in their own little world to the music as only they can hear it. The tall man looks around, gazing in silence at the dancing illusions, watching the way the individual characters dancers moved to the music. Standing there, alone with his thoughts, a single silvery teardrop rolls slowly down his face, blurring the makeup further. Gradually the painted female walks over to him, and gently brushes the teardrop away, then kisses him lightly on the cheek.

Like a sudden crash the room is silent again, and nothing moves. The emptiness matches the man's soul as he turns and walks away from the dance-floor, having once again dedicated himself and his life to the dance to the dreams of Terpsichore.