Festival

"Try one of these."

Her new festival friend held out his hand and so, she popped the pill and waited. She suppressed the knowledge that her mother would disapprove.

She, her friends and the newcomer were loitering near the main stage, laughing, drinking, just enjoying the ambiance. It was an experience like no other. The only thing that she didn't like was the toilets.

She was bursting. Indicating to her friends, off she went to the blue plastic containers of chemicals and human waste.

While she was hovering, she started to notice that she felt different. It was subtle, but her perception was off slightly. She could hear the muffled murmuring of the crowd, the clunk of doors being opened and closed, the thud of bass and random cheers and recognised them but they were enhanced and muted at the same time, like they were being beamed in. It was not a nice sensation.

She used the sanitiser and drew the bolt back. It stretched, leaving a trail and she wondered at it. She didn't like it.

When she stepped down, leaving the noxiousness behind her, she was disoriented, and was barged by someone eager to relieve themselves. She spun and lights collated and faces blurred.

She headed off in the direction of where she thought her friends were.

Nothing seemed familiar. She willed herself not to panic and doggedly walked the way she thought was right. Bright colours invaded her senses, like she had entered Technicolour Oz, and sounds boomed and receded. Wind chimes clanged and bass diminished to the purr of a cat. Generators throbbed and smells came at her, nauseating and tempting, a flux of sensual assaults.

She just wanted to lie down. She rang her friends. No answer.

Don't panic.

Find the tent, she thought. She remembered the landmarks, didn't she? Purple. It was purple.

The world was whirling.

Her torch found purple polyester. She fumbled the zip, entered and collapsed.

*

She woke. Her head was pounding. She was okay.

Gingerly, she opened her eyes. They hurt. A hairy arm was slung over her chest.

Pink dreadlocks and an angry unfamiliar face glared at her.

"Who the fuck are you?"

***

366 words

It's festival season and that sea of tents just looks so disorienting. How do you ever find your own tent again?

And, kids, don't take pills off strangers! Actually, maybe just don't take pills. I think the "strangers" bit is probably extraneous.

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.

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