☢︎︎𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟱☢︎︎

I don't know why I bother caking on so much make up when the goal is to have such a gnarly night out that it all disappears anyways.

I just adore the way the electric eyeshadow pigments seem to make my hazel eyes radiate like a jack-o-lantern under the flashing strobes and mirror ball of the dance club.

I apply Foxy Brown lipstick over my puckered, freshly moisturized lips and check myself out in my vanity mirror. Flashing a smile at my own reflection, I examine each tooth and razor-sharp canine for stray lipstick. How embarrassing it is to have lipstick on your teeth.

Lastly, I apply this evening's eye makeup. Electric purple shadow and thick, jet-black liner in the waterline. I'm briefly distracted by the television in the background and pause mid- mascara to listen.

"We're live here tonight outside of Moonlight Roller way, where it is now being reported to us that many of the skaters have been brutally attacking the other roller skaters. Police are currently inside of the establishment trying to evacuate and deescalate-" I shut the television off before it completely kills the mood.

Taking one last glance around at my bedroom, I can't help but let out a hesitant sigh.

Leaving the comfort of my room with all of its plush stuffed animals, fuzzy rugs, glowing T.V. and video games is a difficult endeavor for me. We live in a daunting decade.

I've tried to explain to my girlfriends how important it is to be alert at all times, especially with a murderer on the loose. The night stalker runs the streets rampantly, searching for his next kill, urgently trying to find a psychopathic adrenaline rush.

I spray the remaining drops of the aqua net on my raven hair and tease the strands until it's the perfect combination of lovely and disheveled.

I can hear my girls hollering from the driveway, still waiting for me to come out of my house. They sing along to the car stereo blasting Madonna's Material girl.

Realizing that they are just loud enough to receive a noise complaint from my grumpy elderly neighbor, Ms. Dulin, I add the finishing touches to my makeup and lock up the house. As usual, I triple check that each window is locked firmly in place.

Upon our arrival at the club, the dance floor is alive and breathing. The crowd sways in unison like the heartbeat of a monster. The mirror ball overhead works its magic, seeming to cast a hypnotic spell over everyone it touches.

We down a few shots of whiskey at the door and head straight to the dance floor eagerly. Tainted love by soft cell is playing and my movements start to feel light and effortless. My inhibitions vanish and I feel nothing but freedom and bliss.

This is where I belong, on the dance floor. Looking up at the disco ball, I can almost mistake it for the moon.

I feel gentle, yet eager hands being placed on my hips. The physical contact sends electricity up my spine, and I turn to see who the culprit is.

A strikingly handsome man with icy blue eyes stares back at me and winks when he notices me looking. Judging by a few gray hairs, he must be at least 30.

I decide to entertain him, leaning my hips into his as we move our bodies to the music.

"Should I buy you another drink?" He calls out above the buzz surrounding us. I nod in approval, and he heads over to the bar to grab our refreshments.

I squint my eyes in the dark and observe him closely as he grabs my drink. So quickly, I almost miss it, he pulls a small bag out of his jacket pocket and drops something into the glass.

When he reappears behind me it takes everything in my power to resist the urge to throw both of his drinks in his dipstick creepy face.

Instead, I feign being naive and clueless. I take the roofied drink and continue dancing as if nothing has changed.

"I think I want to have a seat at the bar, come with?" I ask him flirtatiously, tugging on his collar. He nods hesitantly before following me to the bar.

The plan in my head is easy to enact.  I distract him by planting a passionate kiss on his lips. He closes his eyes, leaning into me, and this is when I switch our drinks.

I watch in fascinating horror as he downs the laced drink in one fervent gulp. Uno reverse, jackass. We stumble back to the dance floor and resume our swaying to the beat.

I begin to urgently search for my friends for an excuse to get away from him. While scanning the room for the girls, I notice something peculiar and off about the people around me.

Their skin is sickly pale, almost transparent. Dark circles rim their bloodshot red eyes. They look like aliens stumbling around under the mirror ball moon.

Their movements are jerky and unnatural, they're no longer dancing but twitching and convulsing. saliva dribbles from their mouths like raccoons with rabies, and I begin to back away from the crowd.

I have to find my friends so we can leave this club, the people in here are on some hard substances that I want no part of.

The man I was previously dancing with falls to his knees, eyes glazing over. His own roofie has finally hit his blood stream.

He lets out a confused gurgle when realization dawns on him that I had switched our glasses. He begins hurling every insult at me that he can manage with his now slurred voice.

At this point, I'm near the bar, but I can see him fall to the dance floor and begin crawling his way towards me, still wailing and causing a scene.

The people around him swivel their attention towards him, their mouths gaping open, eyes glaring at him in a feral sort of way.

How had I not noticed that their features had changed so drastically over the past couple of hours? The skin on their faces seem to droop, their cheeks hollower than humanly possible.

What happens next, stops me dead in my tracks. Like a rabbit, I'm frozen in place as the crowd lunges towards the man, ripping the flesh right off of his movie star face, leaving a sticky, gaping hole where his mouth and nose were.

They're all on their hands and knees digging through his intestines, shoveling organs and tendons into their cracked, foaming mouths.

They're eating this man alive, his blood-curdling screams coming to a disturbingly sudden halt.

I run behind the drink counter to find one of my friends, Lacey, huddled in a fetal position, inky mascara tears streaming down her darling face.

"Where are the rest of the girls?" I question, hoping there were more of us who didn't turn into one of those things.

She shakes her head urgently, and that's when I know they're all gone.

I shake her by the shoulders and whisper to her insistently.

"You and I, we're getting out of here. Right now."