Just a little something I wanted to throw up before I head off. Written for an ex-lover.

Please Note: This is very much a deviation from my usual style. The excessive wordplay is intentional and my usual approach, for those of you who have not read any of my previous work.

Constructive criticism specifically on whether this style of writing works (or not) is appreciated.

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~ DANCE ~

People say that the shy and scared hide in shadows and secluded corners, that they dwell in their own cocoons, safely locked away from our everyday humdrum. They might be right. Most of the time.

But the shy and the scared are lured forward sometimes, to the clattering beat of a new twelve incher, to the clattering beat of high heels, and to the clattering, shattering strobe of the slitter on a punch drunk crowd's glitter, sweat, smiles, strips, body shots and acid trips. At midnight, in anything from the fancy uptown establishments to the seedy underground improv clubs, it's the same old story, night after night. The pulsating jungle of basements, back beats and bass drums thumping new truths into the scattered souls of the everyday gloom.

This is where they go to forget, to be all that they wish they were. This is where they let alcohol and pheromones mix and overdose on each other, where new chapters in comedies and tragedies are initiated. Night after night, drink after drink. Beat after beat after beat... It's here, in the night, that the hidden comes forth.

But still remains just as hidden.

She danced. There was no other word for it. No poetic orchestration of syllables and sex could intensify that sight. Black hair like a waterfall swayed back and forth across her bare back and the opaque blue halter top scattered with deep blue spangles clung on for dear life against the rhythm of her twisting torso, threatening to slip loose at any second. The short, pleated black skirt slapped her upper thighs like a curtain in erratic draft. Her feet moved to their own melody, and her lips, her blood red lipstick, mimicked a monologue that nobody could hear.

She danced, in every sense of the word, a combination of ancient traditions and futuristic ideals, clashed into one body in motion, always finding a new form for her balance between madness and structure. She danced alone, in a sea of other writhing forms, none that could touch her, none that could ever compare with this girl in the black skirt. She was not there, not in their world of debauchery and skin parade, although she played the part, wore that mask to blend in and stand out all at once.

This was her moment, her chance to escape, to enter the cocoon and live her own agoraphobic utopia for a few, vibrant minutes. This was where she hid from things. Things that did not match her pace, things that tilted her universe the wrong way on a daily basis. Things that made her feel that creeping sense of not belonging. This was her home, her hideout. Where everyone could see her.

She danced, and the world, the command of her destiny, somehow still belonged to her.

Loved it.

I must say that the way you described everything was very well done; the adjectives in conjunction with a sense of a certain emotions behind it went along nicely. When a hint of it shows, makes the reader wonder where the author is going with it as it describes with such detail the surroundings, (which by the way I swear I could just see myself in one of those grummy yet exciting clubs, I would love to visit one of those) and that is of course the point, to make the reader perceive it to such extent, taking us into the world you are describing.

Anyways, I enjoyed the read. You mentioned that this really isn’t your style; well I encourage you to keep using it. I’ll be honest, and this is for myself only of course…I won’t really bother when they’re long ass stories because I cba to read all of it unless it catches my attention, yours in this case however, grasped it well and if you usually write it this way, then you got yourself a reader, so entice me

The amount of alliteration and word play you have in there just makes my body feel removed from the surface I'm sitting on. It's so well-crafted that it elevates my view of you as a writer- I've seen many people try to do what you did here and most have failed miserably. Aside from the style you've chosen to write it in, the message it has is well-thought out and put forth in an original and intriguing way. It has a note of melancholy in it and a smattering of hope... and those things are extremely effective in stirring emotion at least in me. This is talent. That's what it comes down to.

The writing style uses a great charade of details that are thrown in so you can picture the scene; and while you said almost nothing at all about what was actually going on you said a lot about the moment. Its artistic but not very flexible if you were to take it and try and write something longer. The structure is very stiff, and while it flows within the structure, varying too much from simply describing a point in time seems like it would break the mood you set. There were a few words that lost me for a moment; humdrum, for example, isn't exactly a common word that is used in everyday English, and while the meaning is implied, it still seems out of place.

Its not quite a poem, but it doesn't quite fit into the general definition of a short story, if that makes any sense. If this is a variant from your normal writing style, if you can meld the two together, it would probably turn out quite spactacular. To be honest I tried picking it to pieces as best I could but can't really find much to complain about.

Very good. I was lost on a few words in the first paragraph... It was a moment thing. Very well described. But what was the actual goings on? All I could get was a girl dancing in a bar... Was that all that was going on? but as I said. the word play was done well and it did captivate me. Other than that. I can't find anything else to critique.. And as tom said. If you did meld the two together.. it might come out exceedingly well.. or bomb.. It all depends on what you do. But I see the first one than the second happening. You do have a good eye for detail and plot. I give you that.