Feast

- 42 or 24?

Agleaya didn't know that anymore. She threw the note away a few streets away. She thought she would remember. After the birds. Disorganized thoughts oscillated in her absent-minded head.

- 24! 24 sounds better! - she said to herself and went to this number.

The shabby, gray tenement house did not attract passers-by with its appearance. It was nasty. Agleaya straightened her elegant tie and tapped her white, shiny shoe on the floor. After all, she had to show herself somehow. The rotten wooden floor gave way under her careful steps. She anxiously climbed the stairs to the room marked as the meeting place. She guessed it's here. She pressed the doorknob.

Along the slightly moldy room there was a long, covered table full of various delicacies. There was already a group of elegantly dressed young people gathered around it, and at the end of it proudly sat an older gentleman called Magister. One worry fell from her mind. Apparently she came to the right address.

- What is your name? He asked politely.

- Agleaya.

- We don't have you on the list. But it doesn't matter! According to tradition, a lost wanderer comes to this place every year! Make yourself comfortable and sit down!

As he said, so she did. She sat down and watched the action unfold anxiously. The Magister rose from his chair.

- We are gathering here for the thousandth time to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of our organization. We have been playing without rules for over twenty years and we are waiting for new players to join our humble team. Today we welcome a new student. It's Agleaya!

The audience rose from their chairs and there was thunderous applause. However, something didn't add up. What game has no rules? Why wasn't she recognized earlier? Lost wanderer? She began to doubt her memory.

She couldn't think for long. The feast has begun. The amused young pupils laughed. The atmosphere was cheerful and polite. There was wine involved. She was poured one glass. Second, third. She started swinging.

- Great! - exclaimed the Magister. A blonde-haired girl with an uneven tie sitting next to him started clapping.

- One, two, three! - shouted the Magister. The music started.

The gathered people got up from their chairs and started dancing lively. I guess this wasn't how this meeting was supposed to go. Someone pulled her tie. It was a young boy with braces. A two hundred złoty banknote stuck out of his pocket. He started throwing the girl around. Her head was spinning. The ceiling plastered with paper angels became blurry, spreading out linearly as he twisted her around his figure. She had enough. Pillows started flying under the ceiling. The Magister was draining another bottle of cheap liquor. Someone was walking on the table and throwing off the tableware. A delinquent called the sub-magister explained the geocentric theory. She thought the bad wine had made her too dizzy. She sobered up immediately. She hit her partner. The music stopped.

Those gathered looked at her hostilely. Has she done something wrong? After all, the boy took her to dance without asking.

- Out the door! - the Magister shouted.

The adepts rushed at her and in one movement pushed her out of the hall. She fell on the dirty floor. Her white shirt was dusty. Her mesh tights were torn. She was devastated, confused and couldn't feel the ground under her feet anymore. She crawled away in embarrassment, brushed herself off, stood up and slowly walked down the creaking stairs.

- 42... - she thought as she sat on the step in front of the entrance to the miserable building.

a reply to: Agleaya

Omg, she's so s c a t t e r b r a i n e d!

a reply to: Agleaya

Like whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?

a reply to: Agleaya

Who is a proud and scatterbrained young person? Tralalalalalalalala!

a reply to: Agleaya

Looooooooool!

a reply to: Agleaya

Who feels literally devastated right now?

Really not meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

a reply to: Agleaya

Nooooooooooooooooooooot at aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall!

a reply to: Agleaya

An enthralling story, Agleaya. I liked the crescendo during the festivities and the irony in her final thought. It's Murphy's Law that you always choose the wrong number...

a reply to: Encia22

Thank you Encia!