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The Night Club

short stories

By Amethyst ChampagnePublished 3 years ago 5 min read
3
The Night Club
Photo by Antoine Julien on Unsplash

Green lights flashed around us as the music vibrated the floor, tinting everything inside.

Lifting my hands in the air, I allowed the beat to flow through me. It guided me across the dance floor, and I ignored the other people dancing around me.

It was the new club in town, and everybody had lined up to see what was inside. And I was no different. I loved going to new places, seeing how I liked them, posting my reviews on my blog.

It had been my job for the past three years, after quitting my office job. And I earned quite a bit from it, which allowed me to go to more places and continue the cycle.

The music changing to something slower and smoother, I decided to go to the bar, my throat parched from the dancing and body heat.

Sliding into an empty spot, I ordered a glass of water and continued watching the others have a good time, taking notes on my phone.

"I've noticed you've been on your phone a lot," the bartender busied herself with orders.

I shrugged, "Just recording my thoughts."

"Uh-huh," She handed me a tall glass of water. "Well, enjoy."

"Thanks." Grabbing my glass, I meandered to the lounging area, allowing my feet to rest as I sipped the cold water.

After a few minutes of scanning the crowd, it was pretty obvious I was the oldest clubber there, being twenty-six and the others ranging from eighteen to twenty-one.

It didn't bother me, writing down more notes on my phone.

Many of the places I visited catered to certain age groups. I did mention it in my posts, though, my audience ranging from teens to middle-aged adults.

I wanted people to find the right places for them to go to.

It also didn't bug me that no one besides the bartender noticed my existence. It usually worked better for my blog if I acted as the outsider observing.

I continued taking notes.

However, the later I stayed, the more I watched the types of people attend. The new crowd was definitely more hardcore than the young adults I'd mingled with earlier.

People rubbed against each other and kept sprinkling a silver powder over themselves, having the time of their lives. I also noticed the staff change. These people didn't seem all that friendly.

My skin crawled, and I knew something wasn't right. I had to get out of the club now.

I went to leave, only for a couple of muscular guys to stop me. "Can I help you?"

"We were just wondering where you're going."

"Home." I held my ground. "Now, please let me pass."

"But you'll miss all the fun."

"Oh, I've already had plenty of fun." I bolted to the door, but they apprehended me. "Let me go!"

"No."

Being picked up without anyone paying attention, they took me to a room in the back. I tried hitting and kicking them, but they seemed unfazed by my attempts.

My heart began racing as they roughly dropped me into a chair, my hands shaking slightly. I groaned, my tail bone aching a little.

"Shut up."

I stilled, resisting the urge to reply with snark.

Then I felt a weight in my clothing. My phone. It was still in my pocket! All I had to do was dial 911.

But how? They bore their gazes into my skull, and they didn't seem keen on leaving me alone, standing by the door with their arms crossed.

So, I remained still, staring at my shoes.

The door creaked open, and I heard heels clicking toward me. I lifted my head, finding a woman in a black dress standing over me.

She was gorgeous, her hair and makeup done perfectly, her perfume a delightful scent, but I sensed something dark lurking beneath the beauty.

I made sure I kept my cool around her.

"Why is this girl here?" The woman turned to the men.

"She kept taking notes."

"I think she's a cop."

I blinked, "No, I'm not."

"Then why were you writing things down?"

"It's for my blog," I held my chin high. "I like to write down things as they happen." I leaned back. "I don't wanna forget, after all."

She turned and tilted her head. "Why?"

"It's my job. I'm a blogger, and I go to different places and write about my experiences."

"All of them?"

"Well, I wouldn't write about being kidnapped or the drugs."

"Hmm, so you weren't writing anything damaging?"

I shook my head. "Just my visit and general stuff, like what the place is and does, atmosphere, and who the place is best suited for. That kind of stuff."

The woman, who I assumed was the owner, rested her hands on her hips, "I don't think she's gonna report anything."

I wanted to relax, but my instincts and love of crime shows told me not to trust the situation.

"Let her go."

The guys appeared unsure.

"What? This woman isn't a threat." She pressed a knife to my throat. "Isn't that right?"

My heart thumped against my ribcage, "Right."

She withdrew the knife. "See, we can let her go."

I rubbed my throat, making sure no blood dripped down.

They nodded.

As soon as the door opened, I bolted out of there like a bat out of hell, fighting my way through the drugged crowd. Luckily, I wore a long-sleeve, so none of the powder directly touched me.

The cold night air slapped me when I burst through the mains doors, goosebumps coating my skin. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves.

Not counting on the woman's word, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911, reporting what just happened. The dispatcher assured me the police were on their way.

Putting my phone away and grabbing my keys, I quickly spotted my car and began walking toward it. It would be a safe place for me to collect myself.

But before I could open the driver's side door, I heard a gunshot from behind, and everything went black.

Short Story
3

About the Creator

Amethyst Champagne

I create anything from fiction to personal stories, poetry, and more.

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