Halloween Ravers and Midnight Lasers

Caution: some videos linked below have strobing effects.

I designed this story for you to listen to the tracks as the story progresses.

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Good evening, it is nice to have you join me again. Oh, I see you have brought some friends with you as well! The more the merrier; ‘tis the season, after all. For those of you who are joining me for the first time tonight, my name is Narrator. Yes, yes - the Narrator. What, do you think someone as infamous as myself would spend Halloween behind closed doors? Ha! Of course not. I practically built the Halloween empire, so I shall enjoy the parties, tricks and treats thrown in my honour. 

It is on this fine holiday when I feel closest to my muse, dearest Russel. My boy hasn’t quite been the same since the last occasion we watched him. His panic attack on his first night alone in the library sure did a number on him. A therapist scrubbed the jittery paranoia and overactive imagination clean. It is a shame, really. Everything that makes Russel so enthralling to watch isn’t appreciated enough by others. Oh - I didn’t mean you! Tonight, we are all here to support Russel.

Why are you looking at me like that? Of course I am here to support him! He will read my finest graphic novels and watch my epic horror films that will have him hiding his face from the gore splattering on the victim’s faces… oooooh, I am excited just thinking about it! I love Halloween. Every naughty taboo is thrust into the open, and everyone’s wildest fantasies and crippling fears are mashed together into a twisted tale. Poor Russel won’t be able to resist my calling to him. He will sink into that couch, heart straining under the stress of the killer stalking the prey on screen, jumping with fright at every bump in the night. He really is a masochist and, if you ask me, it is one of his best qualities.

Hm? You don’t think Russel will celebrate Halloween this year? Dear readers, I assure you I know Russel like the back of my non-corporeal hand. Granted, he has been excruciatingly plain lately, but Halloween will force that brain of his into overdrive. 

His thirst for the macabre and horror has always been too much for his little heart and fragile mind to handle. His inner battle to refrain from grabbing a kitchen knife as he hears a possum run through the leaves outside his window is always the highlight of the night.

Look at him, putting on his cologne… combing his beard… wait, this doesn’t bode well at all. Can one of you go down there and scare him or something? Don’t tell me you don’t want to get involved! You can’t fool me into thinking you are some well-mannered, well-adjusted human being. Puh-lease!

Russel is leaving his house without a costume. No candy, no fake blood, no fear. How can this be? Russel, why have you forsaken me? Forsaken yourself, even! This is a tragedy. That filthy therapist destroyed him. 

Well, I am sorry to disappoint you all, but this show is cancelled. I will have to find someone new to follow around on Halloween. I am sure there are some terrific candidates, but none can compare to my boy Russel.

Sorry, what did you say? Russel is getting into a taxi? Don’t look at me expecting an explanation; this is very new behaviour. Yes, yes, I said I know him like the back of my hand, but I don’t even have a hand.

The taxi isn’t stopping at the movie theatre for the Friday 13th slasher marathon. It is going into the city centre, but why?

A night club. 

Russel has a confused look on his face, and his nervousness is making his hands clammy. He didn’t expect the address would lead to a club. His eyes are darting around at the people waiting in line for entry, looking for a particular face. He twitches nervously with every thump of the hard bass. The beat intensifies and Russel’s mouth turns dry as he hears the chanting voice hammering through the concrete: Join me, enter the realm. Join me, enter the realm.

See that? Russel’s clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth. Oh yes, I know this behaviour. My boy still lives! Notice him shifting his weight from side to side, his shoulders tight and hunched, and fists clenched like we caught him midway between a flight-or-fight response. This is anxiety. Delicious anxiety.

Finally, our Halloween entertainment begins! Russel, I should never have doubted you. That wretched therapist will never defeat you.

Despite popular perception, nightclubs are breeding grounds for horror: drugs, seizures, panic attacks, kidnappings, mind-bending experiences, drinks spiked with only I know what. While I prefer Russel to indulge in fictional horror and terror, I am not opposed to him exploring new things.

He finally enters the dark building, letting himself get swept through by the crowds into the middle of the dancefloor. Lights strobing across the crowd illuminates Russel’s expression of wonder and shock. The music is pulsing, like some kind of entity; alive, writhing, twisting through the mass of bodies. 

Are you bewitched, Russel? The DJ is playing Enter The Realm, by Sub Zero Project. The song is calling to you, drawing you into the mystique, luring you toward the bedazzled women and neon painted faces. Can you feel it, Russel, can you see it? They are there.

Join them, enter the realm. 

The way the ravers are dancing, it almost looks like a ritual. The bend and jump at the DJ’s will. Poor Russel, he is so out of place. That awkward bobbing isn’t quite cutting it. You think he is having fun? Hm, fun is a strong word. Don’t get me wrong, this is my kind of Halloween party. The Monster Mash is hardly a fear-inducing, exhilarating song. But this… THIS is a genuine party.

Do you hear that? What an odd tune, such a joy! This feels like a classic for the holiday, a song that knows how to have fun! I will have to remember Da Tweekaz' track Carnival for next Halloween. The DJ is a puppet master, pulling the strings behind a trap-filled dancefloor. The melody is eerie and turns the nightclub into a carnival of the dead! 

Shh! Why do you have to interrupt such a masterpiece? Sorry - Russel is at the bar? That’s my boy! Drink up! It will calm your nerves for a short while, but the room will spin and the strobing lasers will reflect off any shiny surface. Do you see a knife? Is that person looking at you?

Russel has noticed some of their blank expressions. Are they hypnotised? Is there something more malicious at work than a simple party? You can see the panicked thoughts spinning behind his wild eyes. That friend he came here to meet isn’t here. The music is moving too fast for him. It feels like an assault on his senses, but when it slows down the deep, threatening voice accompanying the song seems to bring a bad omen, a foreboding, an unsettling promise.

You are alone, Russel. Besides us, of course, your loyal fans.

The high intensity music drifts and is replaced by a lullaby tune. The crowd ground their feet and sway back and forth, sets of vacant eyes and slack jaws turned toward the stage. Russel is stiff, refusing to sway. He still thinks he may have accidentally walked into a ritual hosted by a mob of satanic worshippers. I love how his mind jumps to wild conclusions. Ghost Stories by D-Block & S-Te-Fan is hardly a cult classic... or is it?

Do you feel empty, Russel? Is that why you came tonight? Do you feel like a part of you died after all that therapy? It doesn’t have to be gone forever. You still feel it, don’t you? Look around. The people have glassy stares, yet their bodies are dancing energetically and punching the air. They lost their minds before they arrived. The ghost of them is all that’s left. You can feel the bass pressing on your eardrums, and the crowd pushing you around, forcing you to dance with them. Do you feel the desperation in Rebelion's track Ghost of Us?

Dear readers, do you see that expression? He won’t let himself relax. It is impossible for him to let go of his suspicions and enjoy the party. The hollow eyes of the sleep-deprived, drug-ridden dancers are haunting him. He isn’t sure, but underneath the coloured lights, their skin looks pale. I can guarantee you my boy Russel is now considering if he has wandered into a lair of vampires. Russel won’t abide the ghost of them.

There is a ghost inside of you, too, Russel. I bet the horrible thought creeps into your head at night.

The walls are closing in around you, Russel. 

My boy is naturally paranoid, so he can see this nightclub for what it is: a trap. The pretty lights and cheering do not fool him. The woman's scream in the opening of Haunted by Bass Modulators and Sub Sonik grates on Russel, like nails on a chalkboard.

The ceiling is shifting. He had too much to drink. He isn’t used to the swaying. The mob is pushing him so much, he can barely stay upright. Hands grip his forearm. 

They are coming for you, Russel. You have walked into a trap, Russel. Your heart is about to burst, my boy. Embrace the fear! Embrace or DIE! Dance, don’t you dare run! No matter where you run, you will always be haunted, if not by your worries then by me.

This nightclub is your domain. Let your inhibitions go. Join the cult!

It is sleeping within you, Russel. The intention of your mind is powerful, and a curse. The power of the mind is greater than yourself, and it rules you. It is why you couldn’t survive a trip to the library at night alone. Explore the power of your mind, Russel. It is dark in there, and it often overwhelms you, but you must harness it and let it bring you to greatness! The Power of the Mind by Headhunterz rings true for you.

Do you think my speech was good enough to encourage him, my faithful readers? You finally admit that I really am not Russel’s antagonist. His true enemy lies in that head of his. I love an entertaining villain, though! Therapy isn’t the way to handle his overactive imagination. He can’t ignore who he is. He must embrace it!

Tick tock, my boy.

He is barely even dancing now. He is frozen, wide-eyed. No - I appreciate your input but I don’t think he is in shock; there is too much happening in his eyes. The intro of D-Block and S-Te-Fan and Sub Zero Project have Russel trapped in the creepy opening of their track Darkest Hour (The Clock).

Tick tock, my boy. 

It is the darkest hour of the clock: midnight. His heart rate is increasing with the beat of the music. Finally, his feet turn and he pushes through the sea of ravers. Russel is trying to move against the crowd, which pushes forward toward the stage. He makes little progress. His lungs are tight and his stomach is churning. He can’t afford to throw up, else the vampires will know for sure he is human. He can’t draw attention, or the cult members will snatch him to sacrifice him to their demon lord.

Quickly, tick tock!

Russel desperately launches himself out the back of the mob as Rest in Peace by Zatox rumbles through the club. The young man, now covered in sweat, forces the vomit back down and stumbles outside before crumbling to his knees on the sidewalk.

For a moment, he feels sweet relief, but then a large shadow cast by the streetlight looms over him. Will he dare to turn around? He can’t. His muscles are locked, the air is trapped in his chest. It is Halloween, there is no better night to die! Face your fears and go out with a bang, my boy!

Ugh, you lot can stop judging. As readers, you should really trust your Narrator. I am infallible. I don’t reeaaallly want him to die, I just want him to think he is going to die. It is more fun that way! 

Without turning around, he bolts. He runs until his lungs are burning and legs shaking, tears streaming down his face. If only he looked behind him, he would have found the bouncer was about to offer to call him a taxi. His paranoia and overactive imagination are not only his antagonists but also the entertaining heroes of the night. 

Russel will never lose that part of himself, and will always hold a place in my non-existent heart.

I will see you on the other side one day, Russel. Tonight is not your night.

The ravers and midnight capers know it is going to be a fine night tonight, and it is going to be a fine day tomorrow. Russel could really learn a thing or two from the fearful vampires and cultists.

It is a shame he didn't stick around to hear Fine Day by Coone and Brennan Heart, it might have made him feel better.

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To read Russel's first story, see below!