a moment of truth


you walk into an auditorium jammed with people…randomly wandering…you look to your left and you spot a lone girl- with intensely straight hair- smiling…not sure what she is smiling at, your gaze looks forward to a stage with a thin, long-faced man in his 30’s crisply pronouncing “Check. Check. Check….” over a sound system loud enough to hear over an airplane take-off…

there are plenty of seats, except all the ones that are “tagged” with clothing articles. the seats remain empty. you feel a strange vibration…then realize the sound system is working. a middle aged woman with a retail-style badge passes with a smile- but the smile is not directed at you…it looks vacuous, like she is remembering a roasting turkey on a holiday platter…

another figure passes as you stand in an aisle, not sure what to do. a few older couples sit down in a far section to your right. down front, a man with a newscaster-quality camera pans an imaginary audience, then lowers the mechanism. sound check man is piercing the corners of the building. a screen above the stage begins a count down. a few teenagers scuttle into seats toward the front, and more people gather towards that stage. looks of expectation. you cannot turn away from their looks, you wonder what it is they fear…or wait for…

the lights dim and a fog spills out from above. it begins to shroud the musicians on stage who begin playing an acoustic string of unfamiliar notes. warm violet, yellow, red, and blue lights rain down through the fog-rays, and you sense a rush toward several seats. one bangs into a seat trying to maneuver around a pile of winter wrappings. everyone is finding a seat. you walk down the aisle…toward the front.

sudden energy in the room, fog density increasing, you sniff the air. it can’t be…but it is…perfume. it permeates the large auditorium, mixing incongruously with the sounds eminating from the stage. more reddish-purple lights…any moment now you expect to see Gene Simmons appear on stage and the KISS sign to flash on the large banner screen behind…

it is starting, whatever it is. a drumbeat that matches your heart- or rather trumps your beat- shakes the room. a crowd of people inhabit the seats you just perused- where did they come from? you try to find a seat inside the draped-chair rows, asking “is this seat taken?” you get replies of a nod and a stern look. then you find one. you pray you do not have to urinate anytime in the next two hours. it is a silent head prayer, with your mouth open, and your neck craning to take in all the sights- like suddenly finding yourself in Times Square. and then the music rises, and the crowd yells, and you feel like the concert is beginning…

it is a song you have never heard before, but sounds very familiar. the beat literally affects your balance and you sense it going through your body. then you realize the floor- a massive concrete floor- is vibrating as well. you look toward the stage, but in your obscured partial view. a woman is bouncing up and down, singing…then shrieking. you hear a roar. the massive wave like at a football match…it seems to overwhelm, flood many, but you sense nothing…and then the fog starts lifting, the perfume lingers, and bright noise fills every cavity left, and there is no escape…

it is a simplistic song, but confusing. you try to piece together the meaning that others are shout-singing with as much gusto as a Superbowl touchdown. someone in front of you collapses into their chair…you can see the mosh pit before the stage. one person is whirling in a dance, another looks like a picture from the wailing wall, but most are gyrating to the music…or bouncing like the Tigger-figure on stage…

the noise is nearly deafening now, you have to sit down to regain your balance. you sit there and try to make sense of it all. but…your mind begins to wander…as the auditorium rocks. you imagine a dusty roadside…you look out at the stage and see the yellow lights..and you think of that day…you remember a lonely figure, sitting along a dusty road, then look again at the stage. a woman with a sweat-drenched face and  an intense grimace belts out the rest of the song as a chorus of followers shout…and you think back to that figure, stooping down, writing in the dust, as the stones fall from the startled faces around you…and you imagine it is you there…as the figure comes closer and stares deeply in your eyes- but all you see is peace…and love…

until the throng, in soccer/football style chant “whoa-ohhhh,” and you forget where you are. you forget where you are…you think back to those gentle, but serious, eyes…and nothing is the same again.

…so you walk through the doors as the audience chants, the beat pounds at the double doors, and the smell of perfume slips out under the door…and you walk alone, toward your vehicle, and home…

and sitting in your vehicle, you look up at the cross on top of the building, and shake your head, and remember the figure with the gentle eyes… 

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About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, and entrepreneur- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. His blogs are an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of his posts from thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, talesinastrangerstrangerland@wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple@wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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5 Responses to a moment of truth

  1. WOW, just wow this is so vivid!

  2. that’s because it is based on fact

  3. reocochran says:

    I liked this and it was very slow building to what the ‘truth’ of that moment meant to you. Also, how the different events were very well described. I could feel the concert, the cheering and excitement in the gymnasium and the quiet moment on the dirt road. Almost all senses utilized… Very detailed picture of these experiences. Perfume and the details given, bring it all into a great but sad memory.

  4. oldpoet56 says:

    I like this post, I was wondering for a while where it was going but it ended well, very good writing.

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