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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #1197111
Short story surrounding the shadowed history of a closed down disco.


Rhea sipped a half-empty can of pop while she sat on a rusty bar stool. She sat at a metallic bar whos counter was covered with grime and dried-up rings of delcious spilled drinks that once were served there. She assumed by the looks of the place that it was an old, shut-down disco bar, probably built after the hippy movement. She felt oddly comfortable with the tacky wall decorations and the damaged carpeting. Looking up, she could see a once-magnificent disco ball, surprisingly intact, hanging above the platform where all those groovy people showed off their skills.

As she gulped down her drink, she decided to take a closer look around. The place was dark due to the closed windows, and Rhea couldn't find a light switch anywhere. She decided the dark would make the place seem more surreal, so she continued browsing. It was surprising that this place wasn't kept up, it could have been a popular hang-out today. That is, if the disco ball was taken down.

"Wow, preserved furniture! How come this place looks like it was just closed down?" She asked herself as she touched a large leather couch, which could still be worth a couple thousand even with all the stains and worn spots. She gazed upon the several paintings that filled the narrow lobby. All were filled with florescent color, and were painful to look at. Most were just splashes of paint thrown on, while a couple portrayed scenes that confused Rhea.

As she continued looking around, she noted that there was one unisex bathroom that consisted of a overflowing once-porcelin toilet, a peg where a mirror once hung, a broken sink, and another frightening picture on the wall. Rhea rushed out of there just as soon as she opened the rusty door. There was the decent sized dancing room, and then the small bar was placed on the far end of that room. There wasn't much else other than that, except for the lobby.

Rhea felt oddly dizzy after looking carefully at a large mural that hung in the back of the dark and dusty dancefloor room. She saw several figures, all looking intently at the far end of the room. They all looked so calm and peaceful, making Rhea think that sort of art didn't belong in a place like this. But she shrugged it off and tried to walk away without falling over. The room was spinning a little.

She decided she had done enough exploring and now was her time to return to the real world, back to the 20th century where there were mp3s and other large stereo system, and where clubs like these didn't exist any more. As she left through the large door in the entryway, she felt something was pulling her back. She shrugged it off, probably some air pressure thing. She walked out into the glaring sun, looking back a couple times to see if the disco was just a dream in her head.

(to be continued...)
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