Friday, 24 August 2012

Flashfiction Friday #03: Camping

The bass shakes the mud beneath your feet. Your wellies are long gone, lost in a tangle of tents and beer cans. You bounce up and down with the surges of the crowd, the mud splashing up your bare legs. The hair of the woman in front keeps hitting your face, you can barely see the big screens, let alone the band. The words of the song are lost, but the music keeps pounding. The cold night air makes your sweaty skin prickle but you hardly notice. You're hemmed in so tightly you can't quite catch your breath. At first you fought against it, trying to keep your position, trying to keep your space. Now you let yourself go, throw yourself into the crowd, so excited to be part of things. Finally, after so long, you belong.

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