Red Falls

         Prom night, and nobody to dance with. Except, of course, Pammy. Pammy, who dressed like a giraffe and had a neck almost as long. Ugh.

         Across the dance floor spread out among the gymnasium bleachers, cheery-ass revelers twirled and leapt, or in Pammy's case, spun and jiggled with a ferocity that would make even a mountain lion nauseous.

         I stared down my shoddy clothes in disgust, wishing I had never come. Obviously, loners like me weren't cut out for this kind of crap.

         A trio of drunk party-animals giggled nearby. As I made to stand, one laughed, spilling punch all over her fancy dress. Her laughter came to a halt, a look of bewilderment crossing her face. I snorted, "Idiots."

         As I elbowed my way through the jungle of tangled limbs, someone waltzed straight into my shoulder, sending me reeling. I gracefully executed a 360-degree pirouette before collapsing onto the cold tiles. Ouch. I winced, prodding the back of my head.

         Today was not my day.

         A sigh escaped my lips. At least the view from the floor was nice. The giant chandelier suspended above the crowd sent sparkles into my eyes, but I resisted the impulse to blink. Once more, laughter floated over from the dancing trio. Frowning, my concentration broken, I steeled myself to give the mother-of-all-glares, before catching site of the fancy young woman, who happened to be mopping rather sloppily at her punch-soaked breasts with a handkerchief.

         "Mmmm," I nodded to myself appreciatively, wincing as my wounded skull rubbed along the unyielding tiles. It could've been worse, I suppose.

         The sparkling lights were making me dizzy, but I resisted the urge to close my eyes. I may have been a lonely virgin, but you didn't have to be an artist to appreciate those curves.

         A familiar pair of polka-dotted stilettos came close to decapitating me, but I refused to budge. Voices blended together and the woman's laughter echoed as I let my mind wander, taking in the rounded cheekbones, soft lips...eyes creased with humor... Her pale skin practically glowed with vigor, and her sparkling satin dress perfectly matched her ruby lips. Succulent, crimson lips. Lips parted daintily in an "oh" of surprise. The light grew blinding, and my eyes closed of their own will. There was a tinkle, a faint crunch,and all went dark.

         I was lucky to have survived that day. Everyone said so. The cable holding the chandelier was frayed, supposedly from the strain. The glass bulbs exploded mid-fall, killing everyone instantly. Except me, of course. I was too low to be impaled by the splintered glass. I escaped with no more than a tiny cut just short of my eye. I'm a miracle, really. Shit, even Jesus himself didn't have that kind of luck.

         But I saw it. The red lips, coated in blood before the chandelier crushed them.

         I heard them scream my name.

         The doctors don't understand what's wrong with me. Why I don't want to leave.
         And dammit all, I'm not sure either.

         I've gotten to know the staff pretty well, though. Most of us are on a first-name basis. Hell, I bet I've made more friends in my few years here than most Pammy made in her lifetime, short as it was.

         Sometimes I'll have nightmares, though. That I was the one who rigged the chandelier to fall, coating the cold, tile floor in a spray of red.

         And then I realize that I, miraculously, survived. I was alive!

That's when I begin to scream.