Serial Vlogger: Part Fifty-One

A horror story in tiny slices!

The club was still rather empty, but it would no doubt be full by midnight. Alice wore a black leather catsuit, melting into the shadows as she perched at a corner table at the side of the dance floor. She had to keep shifting around as her back still hurt. Quite a lot, in fact. She probably shouldn’t have come out, but she was going crazy at home. She wanted to be with her people. She needed to be with her people.

The club was decked out in modern goth. Rich burgundy and black swirls of velvet wallpaper mingled with gauzy swatches along the walls. Spiderweb lace dripped along the dance floor and framed the stage. Tall curvy glasses of cranberry, vodka, tiny cups of absinthe, and several glasses of red wine were perched on the waitress’ tray as she approached Alice.

Alice looked over the waitress’s outfit. It was so cute. The crowning piece was the waist cincher with three bright black and silver buckles. A lacy top hugged her breasts, which were pushed up and out. A leather mini-skirt and thigh-high multi-buckled boots completed the look.

The waitress smiled with black lip, her eyes glistening with sudden tears as she stared at Alice.

“Absinthe, please, Nellie,” Alice said. Nellie smiled, blinking back her tears, as she plucked one of the larger of the tiny crystal cups of absinthe from her tray. “On the house, Alice. Welcome back. I’m so glad you made it back. So glad.”

Alice grinned. “Thank you.” She raised her glass at Nellie. “I like your outfit.”

“Thanks, hon,” Nellie winked. “You’re looking hot yourself.”

Nellie left to drop the rest of her order around the room.

As it was still early, no one was dancing yet. Low, booming bass metal thumped in the background, the dance floor lights swooped, splashing slashes of lights across the smattering of goths who sat at the tables. The music still soft enough that no one had to scream over it yet.

Alice enjoyed being early to a club. She liked to watch as people filtered in throughout the night, feeling the electric vibration of anticipation rise as the night went on. She marveled at how one minute the club would be empty and then it seemed like it was full at its peak with people dancing and drinking.

Right now, the club was still rather empty. This was her first night back since…the incident. Though it was dark already.

In some ways, she wished that Quincy didn’t have to work tonight. She wanted to talk, to explore her feelings, about being back…here.

It hadn’t actually happened here. It happened at the streetcar stop a block down. Yet, she kept referring to it happening here.

Maybe it was because of the other guy. The man she watched…

She wondered what else had happened that night. Had anyone coming in or out of the many clubs seen anything? Were there others missing? Did attacks happen after her? Maybe even while she was in the hospital?

But she didn’t know how or who to ask.

Even though it had been a month, she’d never really talked about it to anyone.

Fear?

Maybe talking about it would conjure it up again?

What was It?

Quincy would have been good to talk to tonight now that the absinthe had hit. Quincy never wanted to talk about it. They just wanted to be with Alice but not talk about anything to do with the hospital or how she got there. Quincy avoided the topics, never wanting to know more than the very surface idea that Alice was healing.

To further ruffle her feathers, Quincy was always busy these past few weeks. Sure, there were a few other friends, more peripheral friends, she could have confided in, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. She had to figure out more on her own.

There was still too much missing. Time to fill in the blanks.

Alice was in the scene, had been part of the scene for years, even when she was underage strutting on the dance floor, but besides dancing with herself for decades, she pretty much kept to herself. There was smoking room chit chat, waiting in the bathroom line chit chat, waiting for a drink chit chat, waiting for the streetcar…

She recognized her fellow goth tribe as they no doubt recognized her. They had all been to after-hours parties and booze cans together, yet didn’t know each other’s names. It was a thrilling anonymity she liked about her goth persona.

The ones that followed her on Instagram knew what had happened.

Despite much armchair sleuthing and speculation, no one could connect the clues to find the bigger picture.

No one had seen anything but her. Even the streetcar driver didn’t see what she might have seen. Or so the limited news coverage would reveal. Alice was pretty sure the streetcar driver saw plenty. That night and likely others.

But who wants to admit a nightmare has come to life? That the shadows have come alive.

If only someone had been wandering down the street, observing what had happened to the other guy or her, that could help put pieces of the puzzle together. If they only knew to tell her.

But was she at a point where she could ask about a monster?

Alice looked deep into the corners of the club. What if the monster was hiding in there?

What if he followed her home again?

Her dark thoughts of contemplation led her to a second drink, her eyes amused by the people beginning to dance, her mind racing, flitting from thought to thought.

She finished her second drink. She knew if she got up, she’d be forfeiting her table. No matter, it was time for the liquid courage to begin its trick. She headed out towards the front door and onto the sidewalk, where people stood and smoked.

Alice pulled a vape pen out of her purse and took a hit. She watched the small clumps of people talking around her. She pretended to stare at the moon while pacing, eavesdropping in case anyone was talking about the monster or even her.

It took two more trips to the smoking sidewalk and an hour of dancing, but finally, Alice heard what she had come to hear.

“I was hoping that maybe this week he’d show up. So not like him to miss so much when the weather’s been mild.”

“I’ve been asking around. No one’s seen him. Heard, he hasn’t shown up to work, either.”

“Wow. I mean, it’s possible he left town or something but you’d think he would have mentioned it.”

“It’s been a while now, weeks, people are noticing.”

“Something bad happened to him, didn’t you…”

“And that girl.”

“Shh. That’s her there.”

Alice walked on by, pretending not to hear their whispers or see their stares as she held her phone up for a short video.

“I’m here at the club. Where I had gone that night.” She walked three squares and then returned. A nice glow was spreading through her. The absinthe had been great and the weed was the perfect glaze on the cake. Alice walked back towards them. They were still gossiping but about something else.

Alice stood beside the two goths, puffing on her vape, staring up at the moon. Maybe what she saw wasn’t real. Maybe it had been but a dream.

The girls looked at her. She looked back,

But her back still stung, still throbbed as scabs formed and broke on the path toward healing. She wondered how many scabs she broke tonight and would break, dancing. She wore a black leather cat suit with a layer of gauze and tape where the staples held her together.

A sharp pain ran down her back, a throbbing split as another scab tore open. It was a sign. A warning.

She went back inside and headed to the dance floor. She would dance the rest of the night away, thoughts swirling as she watched her peers.

The man from the streetcar stop was really missing.