Join our microtale community, Nirvaan.

Summer House

A Taste of Mischief


Haven’t tried it as of now, let’s hope I don’t come across one.

Jackson stopped the Impala right in front of Berkley street, “Man you see that?” His index finger pointed towards a distant dark place with neon lights flickering inconsistently, “How about going in?”

“Man you serious?”

“Hell yeah I’m serious man, we came here for a tour and….”

“A tour of LA without a club! Are you nuts?”

That got me on the edge, probably he was right, Los Angeles is famous for its clubs, nasty ones indeed. “Let’s hit ’em man, just once.”

His kinky smile appeared to be trying it’s best to say yes. “Uh….okk..kaayy.”

“That’s my man”, a quick bro fist cleared all the skirmish we had in our heads and we drove towards the neon lights.

The place was all quiet from the outside, no crowd, no bouncers, just silence. “Lemme do the talking”, Jackson stepped up the stairs and knocked the door, a slit opened up showing two eyes, “How many?” The man asked, “Just me and my wingman.”

“No guns?”

“Nah man no guns, we’re clean guys”, he opened his leather jacket and showed it to him.

“Alright hop in.”

We entered the quiet space, soon Jackson opened the real door and there it was, “Welcome to heaven man”, Jackson gave a wierd laugh as he pulled me inside the big hall which was already bathing in red and deep blue lights. I could see a couple or two busy in a random corner, but never mind! The music was what made the place look so lively, sober beats shook the dance floor where girls and their “favourable guys” were dancing like hell.

I found my type of place in a corner, a small pub, “Soda, flavoured with uh…..” my eyes scanned the place, no sign of soda, just liquor. Even though there was soda, it wasn’t what I wanted.


“Trying it for the first time?” My head span right towards the source of the sound and came across a really pretty face, pushing the blond hair behind the left ear the black eyes looked right at me with a wierd zest of what I perceived as lust.

“Ye….yeah”, I replied taking a sip of rum, bitter to the last extent “Damn, how the hell do you guys drink this?” My taste buds became chaotic, I started  losing the command over my senses, images started to become  blur, I blinked my eyes constantly but it was too late, all I could hear was “It’s okay, come with me” and the next thing I did was, dancing probably? I could feel the beats, heart beating out of the ribcage, pupils dilated, Jackson was nowhere to be seen. I was in a different realm. I don’t know when it all went AWOL and I cursed the DJ and picked up the mic, climbed atop the pub’s table and said “Just play the best you have……I’ll……..sing”, the people cheered, that girl was among them as well. Slow but infectious, the beats pulled me deeper and deeper, “Cold enough to, chew my bones it feels I’ve done what you wanted…….”

I could hear breathtaking woahs and he’s good till I sang the hook. I lost it completely in the end and sat on the table. The people were already lost in their world, music had taken its toll.

I opened my eyes inside the Impala, right on the back seat, right beside me was the girl I had encountered last night. “Man what the hell have you been doing here?” Jackson was at the front seat looking at me shellshocked, I looked at the girl then at him, repeated the process again, “Hell no man, I can’t!”

About author

They say to feel something, you need to be there. Well in his case, he feels it well enough inside his grey matter. Versed in wars and thriller genres he can manage to portrayal of a soldier, a psychopath, and all the way back to a common guy who fights his inner demons every second. Get him in the mood and he'll spin a verse no matter what the circumstances might be because writing is his drug, which he doesn't want to escape.
Related posts
Summer House

This is how emptiness shapes (part 1/3)

Summer House


Summer House

Best Friends Forever !!

Summer House

The Precious Gift, “An Orphan”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *