Sound; BOOM-BOOM-BOOM, the kind of sound that shakes your insides to the beat, makes you nauseous, your head about to split. The crowd is pressing, drunk, stinking breaths. My vision is blurred, I am as drunk as the worst of them. My mouth hurts, why? I think I bit my tongue when that bitch pushed me, I can’t feel my face! When did I get this drunk? BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.
The music stops suddenly. Is it time already? I just got here!
“Ten…Nine…” The crowd, all at once, hands held up, punching the air, timing the seconds. My hand is up with the rest. “Eight…Seven…” I look around, my friends are gone, where did I see them last? “Six…Five…” At the bar? The Ladies? Shit! “Four….Three…” Who will I hug? Kiss? Smooch? “Two…One.” Bellowed screams and the whole crowd couples up in a split second. I look around, no familiar faces. Everyone is hugging. Shit! I feel stupid. One looks at me, inviting, not too bad looking, fuck it! Our tongues lock. One long smooch, pretty hot in fact! But I taste blood! Oops, I hope he doesn’t also!
Breathless, I end it. His eyes are green, he’s smiling. He nods, I nod back, a ‘thank you’ I guess.
I search for my friends. My phone is useless, in this crowd, no reception. One Message Received. What? Unknown number. “Open Immediately”
“Hey, I sent this message one hour earlier than I should have, please read it before midnight, look at your damn phone, please, don’t be an idiot. Who am I kidding, I know you won’t! Why do you even carry a phone! Your friends are outside, Kate is throwing up, the others are with her. Forget the countdown, go to them now, the guy with the green eyes, DO NOT KISS HIM! He’s got AIDS.
I’m you from the future by the way, hard to explain, but I know you spat in Ms Cunningham’s tea that one time, no one else knows that. You trust me now? Just read the damn message in time! Please…”
This is a response to Writer’s Digest prompt for this week:
At exactly midnight on New Year’s Eve you receive an email labelled “Open Immediately.” The really strange thing is that the email is apparently from your future self. What does it say?
I couldn’t help but go with –what I hope to be – fiction 🙂