The Rooftop Rock

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Relationships can be confusing and emotionally distorted, but for this couple, they seems to know exactly what dance is their favorite. This story is a very short read, though a deep meaning behind the disturbing tango.

Submitted: November 12, 2019

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Submitted: November 12, 2019

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Her hair was a brassy shade of brown. I loathed the color. It made me sick to my stomach. I can’t seem to grasp as to why it affected me so much. Her loud style was earblood to my metaphorical ears. Her true mid length hair always uplifted by frizz and puffiness.  My eyes screamed to look the other way as I gazed at her knee high, bright green socks. We smiled at each other until our faces hurt. The roof edge we were sitting on was rough and scratchy to touch. The sunrise was tinted pink and blacks. Her slightly colored skin glistened and demanded to be appreciated. Our pearly yellows stared at each other. The dark circles under our eyes flirted back and forth in a tango of exhaustion. The upbeat rhythm of old vintage drum and cymbal tunes invaded our moment. It was always only heard by us, and us only. Our grinning continued on, the muscles in our faces aching. Delicate chuckles escaped through my teeth. She sensed the mood, and broke out into giggles. Our sounds escalated into manic laughter. The breeze from up high was chilling, and as it flew by it tickled our skin. The city sirens were roaring throughout the streets, and the helicopter lights played a sick game of hide and seek with their mouse. She began to rise from our sitting position and swayed her head along with the appropriate song we listened to. Her arms followed along her angelic movements. The legs, not far behind, joined her dance of sensation. Eventually I tagged along, as we still held our mad grins, and I allowed my body to move along with the music. This stars hid behind cloud and the dominant lights up the city.  It felt like we had been dancing for moments on end. This sensational dancing was implied to be never ending, and our laughter also refusing to falter. The drawn out moment was debilitating to say the least. Though we just continued on. Her pale yellow shirt was torn and dirty, her faded jean shorts were ripped a hole in the thigh. The sneakers she wore, now demolished with mud and blood on them. The slamming on the roof door began. It seemed the mice lost the petty game. Her laughter grew louder and more intense. Her dancing took a more fierce harmony. They screamed for us to open the door. She had always gotten to this level of extreme in her independent waltz. It’s true I mimicked her dance, although mine was the alto part of her soprano solo. Her powerful dance had no competition to my less energetic one. The neon lights underneath our rooftop twinkled into our situation. We decided to pursue the route of ignoring their thundering commands. The door was held shut with a tire iron in the handle. Our energy was radiating into each others souls. This was us. We would dance our dance in tiredness. The bodies we hosted dragging along to what little consciousness we had. I noticed in all the chaos, her cheekbones grew ugly bruises, yellow and purples. Her beautiful dark skin was contaminated with scratches and welts along her moving arms. This all was deja vu to my naive mind, yet I could not place where I had seen this before. Her dance shifted to a sweaty, less vibrant, pathetic flow. Her grin just now starting to fall. The corners of her lips slipping to a frown. The music held on to the upbeat rhythm despite her failing to keep along. I kept my dance to the steady motions. My smile was now mirrored to her face, my lips even with hers. Her hazel eyes were now occupied by wetness. Her tears fell in increments of heavy and light trickles. God this song was just on repeat, playing over and over again. The band must have practised with cardio and paced practices to keep up with how long it had been playing. A crowd gathered under our rooftop. The bars were filled with people spilling out of them to watch our scene. They looked as though they were waiting for us to jump the edge of the building. Gasps were heard left and right. Why were they shocked? Have they never seen a man and woman sharing company with one another. We were merely dancing to a joyous and lively song. Surely people have seen others dancing and laughing...laughing...no she wasn’t laughing anymore. Her laughter was gone, and replaced with a silence on her end. How could I not notice her laughter being gone? It was all I could hear before, along with the repeating melody. I turned away from the people below, and I met her now angry eyes. She lunged at me with full force. She tackled me with a strength that only bulls had. Now that I think about it, she always would result to this. I managed to push her off of my body. The once rough and dingy rooftop was replaced with a low budget living room. The sofa was a sad shade of pink, the floor a depressing black carpet that showed it years with stains and torn material. The walls were patterned with classic patterns only found in what was decades ago. She sobbed and sobbed, and her screaming was hoarse. Had she been yelling before? Her rampage progressed and moved into the kitchen where she scavenged a dull, yet still dangerous knife. She swung at me with feeble arms. I was able to control her movements and grabbed her forcefully. We heard the warnings behind our locked wooden front door. Bright lights shone through the plastic curtains. None of the house bulbs were on, and still the light from outside was able to light up the whole house. She began kicking and screaming in my face. Ah yes, now I recognized this serenade of hers. How could I right? How dare I. I’m a piece of shit, never going anywhere with my life. I launched her petite body across the room into the side table. The impact was never enough for her to just give it a rest. She ran to me, flailing those arms again. The next seconds all happened so fast. The door was kicked down, men in those blue uniforms poured into the room. Why so many of them? They dragged me out of the house first. People lined the sidewalk, robes and slippers still on. Their faces read fear and curiosity. I looked back at her. Our faces locked, eyes met and all. It appears that we had danced our last dance. 

 


© Copyright 2020 Savanna AnnLarae. All rights reserved.

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