Amy Luty, 16, Coquitlam
“Christy, where are you?”
Lucy hissed into the spinning crowd.
The lurid strobe lights flashing around her served as a constant reminder of the precious time slipping through her fingers.
How could Christy, her well behaved, craven sister, ever go to a club like this? The smell of sweat swam through the air, curling around her as she shoved through the crowd. Each pair of eyes she met seemed cold, black and unfocused, as if the people surrounding her weren’t even awake.
Having found her way to a shining silver counter, Lucy slid onto a chair. “Excuse me?” she called to the bartender. “Have you seen a girl who looks exactly like me, but with blonde hair?”
“I do think I have,” a man with a long face, crooked yellow teeth and cat-like eyes responded with a purr that instantly made Lucy relax. His hypnotic green eyes were a stark contrast from the black eyes of the crowd.
“Great! Where did she go?” Lucy inquired. The next moment his tremulous hands grabbed hers, and, without another word, he led her through a large iron door behind the bar into a dark space. A cobweb loomed into view as she stumbled forward, but just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, and the darkness swallowed them again.
"Excuse me, where are we?”
Lucy frowned, swinging her head around to look for him, only to find he’d already gone.
A single florescent light flickered behind boxes that stacked up to the roof, and a pungent odour, like rotting food, climbed into Lucy’s nostrils.
She scooped up one of many papers littering the floor, only to find a sticky substance covered its yellowing pages. “Ew!” she squeaked and tossed it away.
Something red stained her fingertips; perhaps jello, or tomato sauce? She didn’t stop to think; after all, her sister needed her. Once she’d shimmed between several rows of boxes Lucy found herself in an open space with a pair of people on the couch.
“Christy?” Her sister didn’t move, but the figure next to her did. Its head twisted around like a screw, and it smiled. Red oozed down its charred lips, and in its mouth hung a beating, bloody organ.
Christy hung limp with a gaping hole in her chest that showed only the white of bones.
Her black eyes bored into Lucy’s soul as she stood and began to dance like the patrons in the club nearby, dripping red on the papers below.
A scream tore through Lucy’s throat, but no sound emerged as the humanoid creature slinked towards her. She weaved through the stacks of boxes, knocking them down behind her to slow it down.
Just as the door appeared before her, she felt a hand grab her leg.
Below her sat Christy, with a smile on her face. “Dance with us,” she sang, yanking Lucy back into the rows of boxes.
The singular light flickered out, and in the club the party continued.