The Colors of Alemeth - Vol. 1

by V. Cobe

  “Where are we?” wondered Hazael.

  “These symbols… this can be… it may be…,” Lael said.

  “It has all the looks of…,” Alem said.

  “Paganism,” Lael said.

  “Satanism,” corrected Hazael.

  “There’s music coming from there,” said Jaala, pointing the flashlight to the left of the symbol where the tunnel continued.

  They followed through it, intersecting with other tunnels that appeared from right and left.

  Music played louder, mixed with the noise of many people congregated in one place.

  What are we doing? It was all too dangerous.

  “This will end badly,” complained Hazael.

  They turned a corner.

  The end of the tunnel opened up into a large room where a young crowd moved their bodies frantically to the sound of something that resembled music, but that wasn’t like any music they knew. Some danced on the floor; others danced on cement blocks or on plates placed above the others’ heads, like other floors. They swayed up stuck to each other, kissed, boys and girls, girls and girls, boys and boys and some with boys and girls at the same time. Boys were shirtless; girls too.

  The music seemed to be made of electricity and had a force and aggressiveness so large that it even shook the body inside. The lights were either white and filled the entire room when flashed intermittently for milliseconds. They were made of a blue wire that rippled around the dancing bodies or red squares on the floor that lit interchangeably. Occasionally, a silver rain shined from the ceiling to the delight of the crowd.

  What are these people doing?

  “This is pure perversion. It’s the devil manifested in a party!” said Hazael, shocked.

  It was hard commenting on what they were seeing.

  “I don’t think I can stay here,” said Alem.

  He turned to the side to rally the troops and return home and found Jaala looking at the scene with a slight smile, mouth agape. He heard him murmur, “Awesome.”

  “We have to get out of here,” Alem told him, trying to ignore that reaction.

  “And fast,” suggested Lael. “This is so wrong.”

  “Why’s it wrong?” asked Jaala. “It’s different from what we’re used to, that’s all. Different from the prison in which we live. Look over there. Do you see anyone who’s not happy? Think of the Institution’s miserable ceremonies and compare the two. Isn’t it you who says that God wants to see us happy?”

  “But not doing this!” answered Alem. “Are you mad?”

  “Why?”

  “Look over there, Jaala!” shouted Hazael. “Girls younger than us are naked! Kissing each other! And this noise….” He capped his ears as if the sound hurt.

  “It has the sound of evil,” said Lael.

  Jaala was about to fight back but after contemplating the scene again, his shoulders slumped.

  “Let’s go,” said Hazael.

  “New around here?”

  From the shadow came a tall, thin man, smiling. He wore an orange mantle, closed in the front, and pulled over his entire body, leaving only his head out, but even that was covered by the hood. When he raised his arms, the cloak rose with them and exposed naked legs and bare feet.

  “Want to come with me?”