Glitch Dance Central Novels & Stories

Fucking chocolate. ************ It isn't even up to ten minutes since we arrived at the club and my head is already giving off sirens. Am not a nerd or anything, but I can swear that parties are not my place. I chuck down another glass of tequila, my sense buzzing as the cold liquor runs down my throat. "Come on pari let's go dance." Shelly yells over the music forcefully dragging me to the dancefloor. I adjust my sticky gown which hugs my curves like a second skin then join Shelley in dancing which comprises of jumping, twirling and fist pumping.

And he stared. Kimber was currently on the dance floor at Adam Catrell’s bar, The Hang Out, swaying her sweet hips to a Shakira song about that very part of her anatomy. With thighs bared by a skirt so short it neared indecency, a strip of pale belly bared, she danced—sandwiched between Adam and his brother, Burke. The club was smoky and crowded and just getting loud. And despite all that, Deke couldn’t mistake the lust on either brother’s face.

I should have danced with someone else and kept my options open. The song comes to an end and Fiadh stops twirling right in front of our designated spot. Her Glortinon dance partner disappears quickly and I watch her for a second. She seems so small and timid when she is alone and it hurts my heart when I see it. She has suffered a great deal in her short life and remained sweet. Fiadh looks over her shoulder at me suddenly and I smile before closing the space between us. "How was your dance," I ask while trying to keep the image of Cull with the Kea out of my mind.

The deep, foundational pulse of the sub-basement escapement wheel didn't remain confined to the reinforced concrete vault. By the second week of July, that slow, rhythmic 'thump' seemed to have bled upward through the old timber joists of the DUMBO warehouse, anchoring the forty-two Glitches in a collective, unhurried focus. The chaotic, frantic energy of their initial weeks had completely distilled into a smooth, deliberate momentum.

I whispered back, my eyes twinkling with excitement and warmth. We stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. Our trance broke, when the music volume suddenly increased once again, and the people started to dance. Alessio also gave me a soft push to start dancing again, and we lost ourselves in the thumps of the music. With lights twinkling in my eyes and Alessio’s arms wrapped around me, I looked around. Daniel was dancing with Gloria. Lara was on the higher stage, dancing along with the goth DJ girl with a bottle of champagne in her hand. Her whole body bobbed up and down as her hair flew in the air. I had never experienced such happiness and excitement in my life. Not even in my dream

I'm realizing just how much I need you. I may be too old now to have you comforting me, after scraping my knee on bicycle rides. But I still need you at times. To talk, like we used to when I was little. Even if it's about the most insignificant of things. As for an update on school, I am on probation. For this entire month, due to my skiing accident holiday. So, I'll have to audition in front of all the dance instructors when that period elapses. Only a verdict from there will determine if I get to stay in the advanced placement class, or repeat the previous one.

Each arc of my arms symbolized unity, every leap spoke of sacrifice, and every spin demanded strength. This wasn’t just a dance—it was a language, a desperate plea for acknowledgment. I began slowly, each step deliberate and careful. The jagged stone beneath my bare feet felt alive, shifting under me as though daring me to falter. The wind tugged at my limbs, and the stars above blurred as exhaustion gnawed at me. My body ached, the Bite of Truth searing through my shoulder, but I kept moving. The dance grew harder with each sequence. My arms moved in wide, graceful arcs, my feet spinning on the edge of the abyss.

Still craving a man who's shown me I'm nothing but a piece of ass to him. So I lift my glass, drain what's left, and paste the smirk back on my face like armor. "C'mon, cuz. Let's dance. I don't wanna talk about men problems tonight." Daisha grins. "Now that's the energy I'm lookin' for." She grabs my hand, dragging me straight into the crush of bodies. The dancefloor moves like one giant wave under the flashing lights, shoulder to shoulder, heat and sweat rolling through the air thick enough to taste. Daisha's already in her element—dropping low, throwing her ass back like she's auditioning for Beyoncé's next tour.

About the promise I had made to master my energy while dancing. “Something with a strong beat.” I replied. “Intense. Hypnotic.” “Closer again?” “No.” I shook my head. “Something different. Something that makes everyone stop breathing.” Jess scrolled through the playlist and selected “Glory Box” by Portishead. The first chords filled the room — slow, dragging, loaded with an almost painful sensuality. “This one.” She said. “This one.” I confirmed. We danced a little in the living room, testing movements, laughing when Nox tried to “hunt” our feet.

Suddenly he trips and fell face first with his mouth open swallowing some of this hot sands, while he coahed few times in a raw to clear his throat and spit some saliva that were mixed with dirt, he lay there in the open, being sandwiched between the sun on top and sands bellow, his heavy breath started to give birth to some squeaking of some old rusty iron door being punched and kicked so that it can be open. While he is struggling breathing while his eyes begins it blurs, a shadow of silhouette was revealed, thinking that his enemies catsh up to him, rather than become scared, he actually felt relief, instead of of waiting his death by slowly being barbequed in this god forsaking place,