CHAPTER 19: LE RÊVE
CHAPTER 01
CHAPTER 02
CHAPTER 03
CHAPTER 04
CHAPTER 05
CHAPTER 06
CHAPTER 07
CHAPTER 08
CHAPTER 09
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
Please feel free to like and reshare this piece as we’re all trying to fight against AI work, and this work is very obviously not written by AI but by your favorite weirdo, and no computer could come up with most of the shit I write. It would mean a lot if, instead of being a complacent, silent reader, you’d give this a second of your time and push a human-written piece up the algorithm.
Connor’s favorite artists included Ren and Eminem. He couldn’t say they were the kings of rap because that would be wrong and racist, but he remembered cold nights at 11 years old, once his parents had allowed a desktop in his room, watching Slim Shady and 8 Mile over and over, thinking, ‘one day, that’s gonna be me.’ Now, instead of dreaming of becoming a rapper, Connor dreamt of being in love.
Picture this: all of our characters are in an illegal chicha and karaoke bar beneath a kebab shop, belting the lyrics to “Treat Me Like a Slut” by Kim Petras while hosting their very own twerking competition that Connor was winning while drinking his daily blood bag mixed with tequila.
Our king of love was the king of twerk.
Diana: How is the neck-crophiliac winning?
Connor: Twerking is so mouse ballet!
He thought back to the conversation he had with Marley on Halloween, questioning his sexuality as he felt a desire for someone who was neither man nor woman for the first time. Marley was a secret third thing: a threat, an omen.
He thought of how Marley had shut his monologue up by simply kissing him and unzipping his pants, then later bent him over his bed, their giant fake cock strapped onto them. It made him feel so many things he had never felt. Oh gods, he wanted to be their boytoy so bad.
But he was a prisoner of his own lucidity; like the burger once said, he was but a coward incapable of acknowledging the risk of an illusion, an illusion that would burst soon enough.
Diana had one thing on her mind: where and when would they take the molly? It was already past midnight, her birthday long gone, but the night only seemed to amplify in intensity.
Diana thought that she was only going to live once and wanted to experience as much of youth as she could.
Going to clubs, drinking, smoking weed, fucking strangers, whatever she felt like doing, she did it.
They were spinning an empty bottle of vodka to decide who would do the lap-dancing to whom, and it was finally Diana’s turn to spin the bottle. She’d gotten a lap dance from both Daphné and Connor so far, and she had to say, she didn’t think Connor had that great of an ass until now, and found herself very jealous of his juicy peach.
She spun the bottle, all of her friends cheering excitedly like middle schoolers during a fight, and it landed on none other than Spencer, of course, because the universe was funny like that, bless the stars and the whore who made them.
She laughed, looked at him from across the couch in their smoke-infested heaven with the chicha between them, and found him laughing as well, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. She knew this was going to be good.
Diana stood up, stretched her neck, and said:
I’m picking the song, and it’s going to be quite a change from this.
She picked up the iPad from the wall, a smirk playing on her lips. The mood was about to change drastically, sure, but if she was doing a lap dance, she was giving it her everything. She’d never done one before; the men she slept with were too busy getting her clothes off for her to do it herself in a choreographed fashion, but she couldn’t help but think it would be fun, especially with Spencer, for whom she was developing more feelings every day.
If everyone agreed that Chase Status was amazing, they would also agree that the following song was made for a striptease, and she was nothing but a woman, firm of breasts, weak of mind, or whatever.
The violin started playing, and her friends laughed at her dramatic personality. Of course, she’d pick Glory Box by Portishead to do a striptease. To her, it was the ultimate sex song.
She pointed to the empty chair in the middle of the room to Spencer, and he sat in it without a word, but a small hiccup of anticipation got out of his throat as he passed her without looking at her. Oh, she couldn’t wait to get more hiccups from him tonight.
They’d played it shy tonight with their friends, light touches, glances that couldn’t lie, kisses on the cheek, but nothing more. It was time to dial it up to 100.
Spencer sat, and Diana started her show, sashaying her way to him to the beat of the drums. She didn’t remember the drums were this strong on this song, but she kept going, touching his buzzcut to the beat of the violin as she twirled around him, teasing him with her proximity without committing to it, a big smirk plastered on her face, showing off her dimples.
Give me a reason to love you,
Give me a reason to be a woman.
Spencer knew he was in deep shit and wouldn’t be able to hide his VIPenis from his friends by the end of the lap dance. He was mesmerized by the blonde beauty standing in front of him, barely taller than he was, while sitting in a chair. She twirled around him, her finger grazing his neck, his collarbone, his hair, the smell of her intoxicating to the point where he only wanted to breathe in her metallic mint and spice perfume.
When the electric guitar joined the song, she bit his ear, and he couldn’t stop the moan from escaping his throat. The next thing he knew, there she was, straddling him, a devious glint in her eyes as she started to grind against him while licking the side of his face, her underwear grazing against his shaft, almost turning his penis blue with desire. No one had ever licked his face before,
Until,
He was transported to that apartment with heavy drums, with a curvy blonde girl licking the side of his face, naked in his arms, her pointy teeth armed against his flesh as she bit him.
Her hands went south from his chest, twisting one of his nipples, then south until she reached his erection. She didn’t seem to mind that he was so visibly turned on by her dance, and she touched him through his jeans, in front of everyone. Then the song ended, and he was brought back to the karaoke parlor.
Everybody cheered, and Diana laughed, taking a bow, looking at Spencer with a Cheshire smile. He was so red in the face that she couldn’t help but mock him. Poor boy, with her, he was in big trouble, and they both knew it.
At the end of their hour of Karaoke, the group got their takeout kebab, and out they went to an empty parking lot Spencer recognized all too well for being the one next to his therapist’s office, right next to the Burger King parking lot he cried in. Twice.
Vanessa (hissing in cold): Are you sure this is the place?
Marley: Trust me, it is. (She took the plastic bag out of her purse) Okay, everyone, take one and eat.
Everyone circled Marley and took their pill with a swing of Vodka before going back to their kebab. Marley went to the trash to get rid of their cigarette butt, quickly followed by Spencer.
Spencer: I don’t like this. We should tell them.
Marley: Not until we know what’s going on.
Spencer: I don’t think our friends are going to look too kindly on us tricking them into doing drugs.
Marley: We didn’t trick them into doing anything.
Connor (joining the group): You think this is going to work?
Marley: We’ll see. If they ask, don’t tell them anything. We’ll have a sit-down with them once we know, or else they’ll freak out.
Connor: Your tit is out.
Spencer: I’ll do shrooms next week before my sister comes anyway; I don’t think this is necessary.
Marley: Spencer, you’re cute, but you’re a main character. The main character never knows what’s going on and never takes it upon themselves to learn the truth; they just stumble on it at some point when the story judges it pertinent. I am not a main character. I’m doing this.
The three conspirators returned to the group sitting on the pavement, eating their kebabs as the bass of far-away music pumped through their veins while the drugs slowly dissolved in their already fucked-up system.
Diana was starting to feel the effects of the Molly right when the group was gearing up to go to their third location of the night. The street lamp’s light seemed brighter than before, the lights of the cars seemed like stars on the horizon, and her limbs, god her limbs, she felt like she was on fire but in a wondrous way, her skin felt flushed and alight with a novel kind of energy, and her eyes, gods her eyes, she could see every single star twirling in the sky.
She could feel the silky fabric of her dress underneath her leather jacket against her naked legs; the softness of it was not unlike Spencer’s fingers, which she was desperately longing for. She wanted to be touched, to fuck right there on the pavement of the parking lot for everyone to see. She felt ignited, and she never wanted this trip to end.
Marley led the group with their phone’s light behind the Burger King to a bunch of abandoned warehouses, and Diana felt a rush of adrenaline as she realized they were going to a rave.
Diana loved raves; it’s something that united her, Marley, and Vanessa since they first met. They’ve had their first rave experiences together, huddling in the dark to queue for half an hour to the only toilet and seeing way too many penises in the sink, which served as a urinal.
Diana longed for the freedom she felt at raves. No one was looking at each other; you could dance however you wanted to. Sometimes she’d find herself in a moshpit; other times she’d linger in the back and oscillate between tai-chi and dance as she felt the full force of the music in her blood and heart.
After showing their tickets on Marley’s phone, they arrived in a giant warehouse with heavy bass hitting her like a vibrator on her clitoris. They all grabbed each other’s hands as they made their way through the crowd to the middle of it, and started dancing to the D&B set in front of them, where two DJs seemed to be competing and riffing off each other, and one of them was in a clown costume, an omen to Marley.. This was bound to be an insane night.
She noticed Spencer a bit in the back of the group, looking around with his big goggly eyes, and laughed.
Diana (yelling): Are you okay?
Spencer (holding Diana’s hand): I’m fine, I’ve just never been to one of those!
He put her hand above her head, and she did a little twirl, as obligated, and the pair started dancing the night away.
Spencer was positively high as a kite and wondered where the expression high as a kite came from. Kites didn’t fly high; he felt as high as the airplane that hit the Twin Towers, much more like it. Unbeknownst to him, amidst his problematic thoughts, drama was afoot.
But all he felt was Diana’s hand in his, clammy, but gods, he was incandescent. The light show hypnotized his eyes as the white beam flared in beat to the music, turning from darkness to a smoky white halo in the blur of a second, enough to see the sweaty bodies pushed together in the same narcotic danse.
The red lights of the rave seemed to be pulsing with something unseen, the music crashing over him like wave after wave, the beat stuck to his bones as he let go of everything and danced, danced, danced. This was pure, unbridled fun. He felt hot, horny, and emotional, and he felt like he had just discovered the meaning of life.
Of course, life was not about getting high and raving, but gods, did it feel good after a long week of exams to let it go and have fun without a care in the world. The world could burn tomorrow; at least he had tonight, dalé.
They were all pressed to each other; he felt Daphné’s hips swaying next to his, and Diana’s hand lingered on his shoulder from time to time as they let the vibe of the music rage through them. This was a night he would always remember. The good boy who always did what everybody expected of him was finally out of his cage.
Then, out of the blue, Daphné grabbed his face between her hands, her pupils dilated like saucers, and yelled:
I love you, you’re my brother in everything but blood, and I cherish every moment I get to spend with you before college is over. I know it’s going to be difficult to stay close once we’re no longer in the same city or even country, but you are my family, Spence. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.
Spencer gave her a thumbs-up.
She replied by hugging him tightly to her chest.
And then the vision started.
The music, heavy drum and bass, turned into something more demonic, more ritualistic to his ear; the lights turned from bright red to golden candlelit, and he was transported to that room with all of his friends.
They all sat around a fire in a fireplace, naked, discarded 18th-century gowns all around the boudoir. No one talked, and they looked somewhat different. Vanessa’s hair was in a braid, Connor’s hair was longer, and he could feel his own curls against his neck.
Something was burning in the fire, a picture, a tarot card maybe, and as the card burned, the music grew louder and louder, more insistent.
Jigsaws falling into place.
Past Marley: It’s done.
Past Vanessa: What do we do now?
Past Connor: Entropy will take care of the rest.
He felt himself speak, but it wasn’t him. His voice was deeper, as if he’d spent a life smoking from a pipe; he was stuck inside his head, but he was not connected to his mouth.
Past Spencer: Paris is burning.
And then he was brought back to the rave, to his modern-looking friends, as they danced in trance to the music. They were lost to the beat, sweat budding on their forehead, mascara running down their faces, eyes closed. He wondered if he looked like them when he was lost in the vision, if they were there right this instant. He reached for Diana’s hand, who danced next to him and-
Diana could feel sparkling brown eyes on her, devouring her from below, ravishing her. She knew this man, with a different haircut and a scar on his eyelid, but it was Spencer. Somebody reached for her navel and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. She opened her eyes and looked at Connor, his ass sparkling like a pink diamond in the dark.
Diana wanted to talk to tell everyone to stop this nonsense. She knew Molly could give hallucinations, but this was different; she talked, her voice was too muffled for her to hear, but her mouth was not connected to her head. She recognized this place, its golden embroideries, the candles; she’d seen this before when she kissed Spencer and when she pleasured herself while Spencer was getting a blowjob in the library. She thought it was nothing but a flash in her mind, but there she was again, Spencer eating her out, women’s moans coming from behind her, Connor kissing her, Marley sucking Spencer’s dick behind her. What was going on?
The music seemed to come from everywhere but nowhere, and she looked at the fire burning in front of her, burning brighter with each passing second, animated by something other.
She looked into Spencer’s eyes, and then she was transported back to the present, looking into the same eyes, dancing with him. She felt her chest heave, her heart accelerating to the beat of the drums, and she couldn’t breathe. She pushed through the crowd, Spencer in tow, and dropped to the floor.
Diana (through heavy breaths): What the fuck is going on?
Vanessa kissed Daphné with all the love and passion she could muster, hands in her underwear, Daphné’s hand on her ass, kissing, dancing, moaning, almost fucking right there on the dance floor.
Then suddenly, the underwear was off, and she was looking at the most delicate, swollen cunt she had ever seen. She kissed her way up Daphné’s sweaty body, licking and biting her nipples before she made her way back down south and nibbled her clit.
The drums were heavy, almost covering the sound of the moans emanating from the room. Vanessa had seen the vision before, but she was not scared. She knew that whenever she had sex with Daphné, she was transported to other places in time where she did just that and more. She recognized this room; this was the first room she saw when they had their first kiss.
But there were more rooms just like this, sometimes caves, sometimes huts, sometimes rich apartments. She figured that this group always happened. That they were all connected. She’d discussed it with Daphné to know she wasn’t crazy and imagining things, but turns out they had the same visions every time she reached climax, and she saw every single one of her friends.
But there was also a card, burning in the fire for hours until it was done, and the card vanished.
In Daphné’s vision, she held the card between her hands; it changed from tarot to tarot, from culture to culture, and from a different time to a different place. Every culture had divination, and she’d guessed that the card represented a divination from the culture they experienced.
The one she recognized was the tarot card: The Lovers.
Every time, it was the only fuel for the fire and the music, and it was only once they had all climaxed that the card would dissipate into nothingness.
And every time, when they talked, the puzzle pieces became clearer.
Connor: England will lose The Americas.
Marley: Japan will lose Korea.
Their ritualistic orgy was the beginning of the fall of dominoes: the dominoes of civilisation.
Connor and Marley were in the toilets when their vision came. Connor had taken it upon himself to pee in the sink while Marley freshened up in a cubicle, when they hit their head against the cubicle door, transporting them to another time, another body.
They looked outside to Paris, a city burning with a desire for democracy as the people marched with torches, burning and burning. This was their doing; Marley was certain of that. Paris was falling to the masses; a wrong had been righted.
Marley looked at their friends, sitting by the fire, looking at the card dissipating.
Vanessa: Did we start the Apocalypse?
Connor was cleaning his hand when he found a card stuck to his Converse. His vision hadn’t shown him anything he didn’t already know thanks to Marley. He was in an apartment in Paris; they fucked, big fucking deal.
But still, he recognized the card stuck ot his shoe; it was sticky and faded, but it was The Lovers from the Tarot de Marseille.
He smiled, grabbing the dirty card between his fingers as Marley grabbed him by the arm.
They looked at the card, a sense of dread distorting their face. Connor had never seen Marley scared. Marley was focused, smart, and adventurous. They sought answers no matter the cost, but as he looked at their pale face lined with fear, he didn’t question it as they pushed him outside to his friends in the empty Burger King parking lot.
Diana (slapping Marley in the face): You fucking drugged us for a vision!
Yes, I disappeared. Deal with it. I don’t know if I’ll ever write another article on this platform because it’s turning more and more like Twitter every day, but nonetheless, the nonsense of this story continues. I wrote it to be read, and since no agent is willing to pick up an anti-capitalistic queer novel, I’m going to make it everyone’s problem and post it here. Deal.
From Marseille with Love,
*vapes away*
marley the absolute GOAT you are