This piece is my response to today’s Flashback Track, A Whiter Shade of Pale. Join me in penning a piece that brings out a new shade.
The heaviness of CJ’s outfit matches the darkness of her soul. Jet black bangs hang too far in front of her face. Her rants shine brighter in pitch blackness. On the cracked asphalt of the bike path, sitting in a circle. We’re serious friends surrounding just one candle with no smiles.
We talk in rings of self-denial. About how the sun’s too bright, in-between another cigarette light. Leaning back into laps. Dark limbs combining like forest trees, all anticipating midnight.
“If there’s a god, he would’ve eaten us all by now.” CJ tells us, her hands animated, shoving imaginary souls into her mouth.
“Why so?” I ask.
“Because no one spends that kinda time in the kitchen cooking up dishes they ain’t gonna try.”
Maybe he’s a vegetarian, I think, but I don’t dare say this aloud. That’s not the kind of thing one says to someone like CJ, so I slip my hand into the dark crevice of her shirt, instead, and she sits still. A little dead inside for only fifteen.
“Hey, turn up that track.”
“Black, Black, Black, Black, Number #1.” We stay in the dead of the forest until the inky night outweighs our lust.
“Loving you, was like loving the dead,” CJ says as the candle burns out, the bottle’s long since ran out, and we are left to live in a darker shade of black.