community
horrors & dread #40 - Went to see PVA last night. They were amazing. Some of the people were not. Here's some thoughts on that...
There’s some joy to be embraced from the silence that follows. Specifically, between the range of 165hz to 255hz. The range of the human voice. Shrill and hysterical and that’s before you did what you did.
The gig is phenomenal. The crowd compacted like meat Lego into a backroom in Glasgow. You feel energised knowing you’re one of the pieces, a cog in the process. Harsh strobe lights flash dully through the phantasmic clouds of smoke that hang in the air. The band are getting into their stride three songs in, and the crowd move as one as we fall into sync. The mood hypnotising those of us longing for escape while pushing away those whose wavelengths are different tonight; the unchosen slip away like phlegm sliding through a plughole grating.
There is beauty in the world, you epiphanise as the music runs through you like an electrical current. A tender and fragile hope blossoms in your soul.
“Eeee I got a Sailor Jerry and I never drink rum but its good do you want to try some I got it with coke not that type of coke I wish do you like this type of music I don[t know this band but Jay said they were good but not sure I like this so far—”
An abomination infects the community. Pushing their way into the centre of the audience, they squirm unchallenged and unwanted like a cancer in children. A malady of selfish putridness; their only goal to entertain themselves and the small circle of double-barrel named diseases that swim with them.
You feel the temporary utopia decay as its members look towards these newcomers with loathing. Disgust playing across their faces as they turn away in a hopeless attempt to filter out the chattering squeals that increase in volume as they attempt to talk louder than the music.
The blade is bloody before they realise their tongue has been carved out. Their gurgle buried satisfactorily at a lower hertz and obfuscated under the music. As they clutch at their mouth you slip the sharp tip into the nape of their neck. A gentle left to right twist to sever the spinal cord whereupon they drop to the floor like clothes falling off a coat hanger. You smuggle them to the ground and lay their head sidewards to quicken their drowning on their own blood.
When you stand back up the friend is looking around for them. Your eyes meet and you gesture to the back of the room. Your friend left, you mouth. The easiest lie you’ve ever told. They mouth thanks and turn to leave.
In the absence, the community rebinds itself like scar tissue.
This is how things should be.
A woman behind you uses the human wreckage below as a booster step so she can see the band better. She smiles and holds your warm, wet hand.
Photo by Samuel Regan-Asante on Unsplash