Carnival Nights: Carnival #2 Read Online Free
Author: K.B. Nelson
of that film, and it’s all coming back to me.
The headlights of another car shine onto us, and for the first time, I get a good view of Shane. He’s tall, dark, and cliché, with only a hint of danger lurking beneath his burnt, hazel eyes. For coming from a small town in Georgia, he’s not much of a country guy. Instead, skinny jeans mold to the shape of his legs. He’s topped off with a loose-fitting, plain white tee.
Shane makes his way around the car and stands aside Gina. I can tell by the mourned look on Cookie’s face that he isn’t happy with the current situation. He had probably thought tonight would finally be the night he could make his move. I don’t see that happening now. But by the smile on Gina’s face, I can’t believe this is the same man that just a few hours prior was the mysterious guy that made her look over her shoulder.
Love is stupid like that, I guess. Still, I’ll be keeping an eye on him all night. There’s something about him that I don’t trust. It’s not just what Gina told me. This is my own frequently-wrong intuition.
Blue points an accusing finger at Gina. “If this rave sucks, I’ll never trust a word you say again.” He’s joking, of course.
And she just plays along. “If this rave sucks, I’ll give you my next two weeks of pay.”
Blue bumps my shoulder with his. “Kind of hope it sucks now.”
“You guys really don’t have a thing to worry about.” Shane interlaces his fingers with Gina’s and steps in front of us like a sergeant leading us into battle. “You’re about to have the best night of your lives.” After they begin to walk toward the rave, Gina looks over her shoulder and gives a minor shrug.
Blue and I follow with Cookie right beside Blue. We walk through the tall blades of grass, hoping there are no snakes in our path. When we’re close enough to hear the drowned out beats of techno, a group of about seven revelers push the door of the warehouse open and stream out, hollering and carrying flasks of lighter fluid.
This can’t be good.
Music booms through the open doors, giving a brief view of the neon-clad party inside before the doors swing shut. The group of partiers head straight for a small fire that sits in the middle of a large fire-ring. Above the small fire are logs stacked seven feet high. I’m not a certified firefighter, but it’s my best guess that you probably shouldn’t start a bonfire so close to a standing building.
One by one, they squeeze lighter fluid onto the fire. Every drop feeding the flames higher and higher. They cackle and holler, reveling in their rebellion, and I think to myself, this is going to be a great night.
I needed this.
* * *
B LUE
It’s not an every night thing, or even a weekly thing. Not anymore, anyway. But tonight is the perfect occasion to indulge in a little mind-numbing drug use. It’s been a good two weeks since we’ve had any time off, let alone had any time to relax. A crowded rave with hundreds of life-loving country folk probably wouldn’t be what most people would classify as relaxing. But for us, it works because it’s when we’re surrounded by explosions of energy that we truly feel alive.
I understand these people here, because I am they and vice versa. We all came here to escape from the hard truths of our world and that we have to be something or somebody else to make it. Everyone here is an outcast in their own little way. It’s beautiful.
I guess I’m also the kind of guy who says the word, ‘beautiful.’ No shame.
The first things I notice when we push through the doors of the warehouse are eight-or-so cages suspended from the ceiling. Inside the cages are revelers painted in neon colors dancing in perfect sync to the music that echoes and vibrates from wall to wall. With any luck, I’ll have Charlie in one of those cages before the end of the night.
My grip on Charlie tightens as we are soon submerged into the density of the crowds. Until I get a feel for
The headlights of another car shine onto us, and for the first time, I get a good view of Shane. He’s tall, dark, and cliché, with only a hint of danger lurking beneath his burnt, hazel eyes. For coming from a small town in Georgia, he’s not much of a country guy. Instead, skinny jeans mold to the shape of his legs. He’s topped off with a loose-fitting, plain white tee.
Shane makes his way around the car and stands aside Gina. I can tell by the mourned look on Cookie’s face that he isn’t happy with the current situation. He had probably thought tonight would finally be the night he could make his move. I don’t see that happening now. But by the smile on Gina’s face, I can’t believe this is the same man that just a few hours prior was the mysterious guy that made her look over her shoulder.
Love is stupid like that, I guess. Still, I’ll be keeping an eye on him all night. There’s something about him that I don’t trust. It’s not just what Gina told me. This is my own frequently-wrong intuition.
Blue points an accusing finger at Gina. “If this rave sucks, I’ll never trust a word you say again.” He’s joking, of course.
And she just plays along. “If this rave sucks, I’ll give you my next two weeks of pay.”
Blue bumps my shoulder with his. “Kind of hope it sucks now.”
“You guys really don’t have a thing to worry about.” Shane interlaces his fingers with Gina’s and steps in front of us like a sergeant leading us into battle. “You’re about to have the best night of your lives.” After they begin to walk toward the rave, Gina looks over her shoulder and gives a minor shrug.
Blue and I follow with Cookie right beside Blue. We walk through the tall blades of grass, hoping there are no snakes in our path. When we’re close enough to hear the drowned out beats of techno, a group of about seven revelers push the door of the warehouse open and stream out, hollering and carrying flasks of lighter fluid.
This can’t be good.
Music booms through the open doors, giving a brief view of the neon-clad party inside before the doors swing shut. The group of partiers head straight for a small fire that sits in the middle of a large fire-ring. Above the small fire are logs stacked seven feet high. I’m not a certified firefighter, but it’s my best guess that you probably shouldn’t start a bonfire so close to a standing building.
One by one, they squeeze lighter fluid onto the fire. Every drop feeding the flames higher and higher. They cackle and holler, reveling in their rebellion, and I think to myself, this is going to be a great night.
I needed this.
* * *
B LUE
It’s not an every night thing, or even a weekly thing. Not anymore, anyway. But tonight is the perfect occasion to indulge in a little mind-numbing drug use. It’s been a good two weeks since we’ve had any time off, let alone had any time to relax. A crowded rave with hundreds of life-loving country folk probably wouldn’t be what most people would classify as relaxing. But for us, it works because it’s when we’re surrounded by explosions of energy that we truly feel alive.
I understand these people here, because I am they and vice versa. We all came here to escape from the hard truths of our world and that we have to be something or somebody else to make it. Everyone here is an outcast in their own little way. It’s beautiful.
I guess I’m also the kind of guy who says the word, ‘beautiful.’ No shame.
The first things I notice when we push through the doors of the warehouse are eight-or-so cages suspended from the ceiling. Inside the cages are revelers painted in neon colors dancing in perfect sync to the music that echoes and vibrates from wall to wall. With any luck, I’ll have Charlie in one of those cages before the end of the night.
My grip on Charlie tightens as we are soon submerged into the density of the crowds. Until I get a feel for
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