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“I’ll fucking kill you, bitch – mother fucker!”

Galina stomped her boots, laces undone and the boot neck rolled down, onto the hard frozen slash on the sidewalk. She was wearing panty hoses that let her skin shimmer through, black hot pants, and a wide open black trench coat. The bottoms of the trench coat fluttered in the icy air. Her lips were painted red and thickened with cosmetic bee sting injections an hour ago in the bathroom. Her blond hair was hardened with spray and bashed into wild and disheveled look.

A winter bare tree had a layer of snow left over from two weeks ago. An abandoned copper mining shag had black window openings. The windows were bashed in long ago. The equipment was gone a decade ago. A few segments of blackened chain link fence were still left over. Blackberry bushes had grown up the support of the chain link fence. All that was left of them were the dead limps and black leaves on the ground.

“Suka blyad! Natalya doesn’t whine this much about bringing her little sister.”

Kalista looked a little smaller and a little more baby faced. Her black, smooth hair went all the way down to her butt. She was wearing a black mini-skirt, high heels, and a black special operations military jacket that was two sizes too big. Her pantyhose was torn at the knee and the thigh. She hurried to catch up to her sister Galina.

Galina stopped, spun around, and spit at Kalista near the eye above the cheekbone. With her thumb, Galina smeared Kalista eye liner down an inch. Galina refreshed the spit on her thumb and smudged Kalista’s red lip stick way past the lips. Then, she kneeled down to rip Kalista’s pantyhose so hard that it wasn’t simply a tear. A flap of pantyhose was hanging off. Galina hit Kalista on the cheek with the flat hand. She repeated the hit harder. Kalista’s cheek was reddening.

“You better look cool. Don’t make me regret this, sestra!” warned Galina.

Kalista trotted behind Galina. Kalista’s mouth displayed annoyance. Her eyes displayed secret excitement. This was the first time that Galina would take her little sister to a witch house party. Miass was a copper mining city in the Southern Ural Mountains. For miles around the city, there is nothing but rugged terrain. This wasn’t Moscow. Anyone who wanted to be someone went to the abandoned Zelenyy Medved mine shaft. A locally grown musical subgenre of witch house music had its worldwide epicenter here. Witch house is a dark, dangerous, and threatening sounding version of house music – fast and upbeat dance music originally.

A young lad, about twenty years old, very tall and skinny, was sitting on a stool in front of the wooden mine building. The freezing night had fallen. There weren’t many stars out. Every working person was at home and holding onto the last sparks of heat under the blankets. The only thing out was the cold and frozen frog creeping through the streets and the forest around the city, except for the two sisters. The booming bass was coming through the wall and door from inside the mine. The sound had a creeping quality to it.

“Galina and her little sister Kalista!” said the lad. “Make sure that she behaves herself!”

Galina’s metal ring decorated fingers reached into her bra to pull a folded money bill out. Kalista was proud to have her own stash of money in her a size smaller bra. Both handed a green bill with a hydroelectric plant over to the lad.

“Kalista, you know that you have to show me your tits,” said the lad with an excited smile.

“Don’t do that,” said Galina as she pushed the door open and pulled her sister away from the lad.

There was a black curtain that they passed through. Galina could only see the sparkling residual light in her own eyes. Kalista’s hand kept pulling her forward with a clear sense of direction. The sound of the bass embraced Galina. She started relaxing her body into the music. Her movement was informed by the rhythm of the music. The pastoral organ music samples put an eerie fear into her. Under the blanket of the witch house music was the loud smattering of young voices mingling.

They passed through a second black curtain into a large hall that was packed with people dressed in black. Around the fringes of the room were couches and chairs. Above the crowd was a female hanging head over. Her ankles were tied together and dangling from a rope that hang in the beams under the ceiling. She had her arms stretched out like an inverted crucified Jesus. Her face was painted pale as white. She was wearing a leather bikini set. Slowly, she turned in circles, savoring her sacrificial energy and the attention of people in the crowd who stole glances at her.

The voice of a priest rose across the beat. The voice was distorted to have an echo and sound more dramatic and more prophesizing. Each word of the Book of Revelations was pronounced with finality. Screams of women and groans of men were interspersed. The woman hanging from the ceiling writhed her body as if she were a demon and the biblical words were tormenting her. It was all for the effect of casino siteleri dramatic facial expressions and clawing then pointing fingers.

Galina walked through the crowd to the bar and put her hand on the shoulder of a young woman. The young woman had thick strands of hair that were glued together to make her head hair look like a flower with a thousand little petals. She was wearing a fur jacket with an overblown neck. Her face looked like it was presented on a platter of fur. The body of the jacket itself was so short that it revealed her bare belly with a jewel glimmering in her belly button.

“Natalya, I brought my little bother,” said Galina with a sneer in her mouth.

“Oh, you are always too hard on Kalista. Let me be her aunty. I’ll take her around,” said Natalya blowing smoke from a black stick of unknown substance.

Natalya reached her hand out with wide open fingers. Kalista interlocked her fingers. An endearing smile like sunshine chased across Kalista’s face. Natalya pulled Kalista into the crowd. The wall of people in black parted just enough for Natalya’s body to slip into the mass and closed right after her, so that only Natalya’s hand was sticking out. Kalista dared to dive in. Her feet jumped a little like bambi from the excitement that she couldn’t suppress. Then she was inside of the mass of people.

Like watching the world inside of a fish tank, people were pressed against her. The room was so dark. The tall bodies made everything even darker around her. She could make out the faces, the tough guy faces, the dolled up makeup faces of girls, piercing chains and tattoos on faces, chokers like she had only seen in fashion magazines, alcohol glasses held close to someone’s chest.

She had to lean with her shoulder into a guy’s leather jacket to move forward. The hard jewel of a ring was pressing against Kalista’s thigh as a girl lowered her hand. A tall blond girl on high heels got shoved and pressed her body into Kalista’s face. An exuberant young man pushed Kalista forward, so that Kalista lossed her footing. She tried to brace herself with the push of her free hand. Yet, her hand only pressed against the soft flesh of a pierced belly button that moved out of her way without giving her steadiness. Kalista stumbled a few steps forward. Kalista re-gripped Natalya’s hand to hold on dearly. Natalya occasionally appeared visibly in front of her before the crowd closed in, and all Kalista could feel of her was the hand pulling her forward, deeper into the rabbit hole.

Kalista’s foot caught on something. Natalya dragged her on. The room got darker. Instead of flashes of lights, there was only demure half-light. The crowd spaced out more, so that Kalista could dug in between the spaces of people talking instead of squeezing herself between bodies. There were in the old locker room of the copper miners. Someone had put blankets, pillows, and thick white candles into the shower stalls to make little cozy spots. Natalya let herself fall down on top of a girl in a tube top, G-string, and fur sleeves on her arms and calves. That girl turned her head had and dreamily kissed Natalya on the lips. She looked very relaxed to the point of being in a kind of trance.

“What’s wrong with that guy?” asked Kalista as she sat down.

There was a guy who was squatting. He’d shake his right arm three times and then turn his head left and right. He kept repeating that movement continuously. He was wearing trousers with suspenders and no top. He had a railroad hat on. His eyes didn’t seem focused on anything at all. Nobody was talking to him. He was simply repeating the motion by himself, completely aloof of the music.

“Drug side effects, sestra,” said Natalya.

Kalista had been sitting upright, eagerly looking at everything that happened around her. People were talking emphatically, yet their counterparts remained very relaxed. Natalya pulled Kalista’s body close. Kalista let her body glide to the side. Her rib touched Natalya’s shins. Kalista’s head came to rest on Natalya’s belly. Kalista put her arm comfortable to the side and felt the unknown girl’s skin. The unknown girl was running hot. The unknown girl didn’t pull back to the physical contact. Kalista could feel the unknown girl energetically embracing Kalista’s presence. This was all very pretty and romantic in the shower stall on a pile of blankets and pillows. The beat was softly pumping from the other room.

“This is my lover, Isis. Do you like girls or boys?” asked Natalya.

“I like boys,” replied Kalista.

“You are just like your sister Galina,” said Natalya with a headshake of disapproval.

“Garcon,” yelled Natalya. Her sharp voice pierced through the almost deafening sound curtain. Natalya was used to being at Zelenyy Medved.

A boy with an excited smirk on a milk boy face arrived in a squat next to them. His torso was bare and sweaty from dancing. He wasn’t overly buff. He wasn’t overly skinny. He was like the type of guy that’s always active and moving around. He probably had an awesome dancing jam canlı casino with his bodies. His eyes had a clear blue that made him intriguing to what was going through his head. Despite his feminine, almost gay energy, the heavy boots on his feet gave him a manly appearance.

Gracon produced an old fashioned whiskey glass. There was a syrupy, milky white substance at the bottom of the glass. The rim of the glass had many imprints of lips – some were merely oily imprints, some were pink lipstick imprints. He held it out to Natalya. Natalya graciously took the glass with long straight fingers that showed an air of elegance, a studied way of grabbing a glass from lots of experience of grabbing drinking glasses and conscious reflection on how to grab a glass for effect. The moment was a chance to draw attention to her thick metal rings.

She fully drank the liquid. She opened her mouth wide to show her tongue and the pearly white teeth. She slushed the white syrup around in her mouth. Then, she spit it back into the drink and passed the glass to Isis.

Without getting up, Isis put the drink to her lips and emptied the glass. She pursed her lips and pushed some of the liquid outside to let it run on her lips. Then, she sucked it back in and swirled her tongue across the lips. She spit the liquid back into the glass with bubbles of her own spit and handed it to Kalista.

Kalista looked at the drink unsure. The glass was warm in her hand from all the hands that it had passed through. She could see some original syrup had mixed with different kinds of spit. There was bubbly, white spit. There was green spit. She shuddered a bit.

“Don’t embarrass, Galina. Show her that you are one of us,” encouraged Natalya with a challenging tone of voice.

Kalista had been feeling worried about fitting in. She had eagerly been looking at everything and so wanted to be part of this, yet she also felt like she knew very little on how to be part of this world. She took the drink. She pushed down the shudders of disgust. At least, Natalya and Isis had cleansed the spit covered substance. They seemed like clean people, good people, girls like her. She swallowed the drink. It wasn’t that bad, rather very foreign. She could taste the smoothness of spit. She could taste the bouquet of different people’s mouths. She could taste something bile in it. She opened her mouth wide. All three eagerly inspected her mouth to make sure that it was all in there. Then, she spit it back into the glass, full with relief of having passed the test and of being part of the in crowd.

“What is it?” asked Kalista.

“It’s HIV cum,” said Isis. “This is Russian roulette for real Russian people. We are all connected through it. Can you feel my tongue in your mouth?” Isis was rolling her eyes back. She seemed very relaxed and at peace. “Look around you! You are connected with everyone in here now, one big brotherhood. And one of us will have gotten HIV.”

Natalya pointed to a table where a naked man was lying under a lantern. He was a muscular man with long, thin hair. His buttocks were firm. He made a tormented facial expression. A woman was wanking his penis hard and fast. She looked excited, thrilled actually. A small group of five was cheering her on. Someone held a glass to the tip of his penis.

“They are milking Victor,” said Natalya. “He got HIV last summer.”

“What if I die?” asked Kalista panicked, yet trying to pretend to be calm.

“The same thing that happens if you don’t die. There is nothing going on in Miass. What is your profession?” asked Natalya.

“I’m a hair stylist,” replied Kalista.

“Tough shit, someone else will cut hair when you are dead,” said Natalya. “When all the hair stylists are dead, we’ll simply walk around with long hair. Tough shit.”

Natalya remained lying in the cuddle pile with Isis and Kalista, yet she worked her arms laboriously to get a hold of Kalista’s thigh. Then, her hands went under the mini skirt of Kalista. Kalista pulled away at first, yet then returned to let Natalya proceed. Natalya pulled down the Kalista’s panty hose leg to above the knee. The thigh skin was bare. Then, Natalya got a syringe from under the blanket and injected Kalista in the middle of the inside thigh. Slowly, she let the plunger sink down and a yellow liquid went into Natalya’s body.

“What is that?” asked Kalista.

“That’s Zipra. It’s an anti-psychotic drug,” replied Natalya.

“What does it do to people who aren’t psychotic?” asked Kalista with panic.

“Zipra is from schizos. They can’t tell the difference between what’s reality and fantasy. You won’t be able to tell the difference. You’ll experience what it is like to be a crazy!” Natalya ended her speech in harsh condescending laughter. “The world is crazy. The only way to deal with it is to become crazy.”

Isis rose from her slumber, “there is another Kalista inside of you. We will bring her out tonight. In real life, I’m an angry bitch. Inside of Zelenyy Medved, I’m a purring kitten.” Then, she went back cuddling into the kaçak casino blanket on the floor.

The first effect that Kalista felt was her jaw spasming out of control. She tried to hold it with both hands, yet her jaw muscles were so strong that it felt like she couldn’t squeeze hard enough on the jaw to get a grip to hold it in place. She panicked. She was losing her composure. She was losing what it was like to fit in.

Natalya laughed, “Don’t fight it. Let it take you over. Let the real you come out.”

“I’ll go explore,” said Kalista. She got up to walk into the crowd. There were benches and tables in the large locker room for easily fifty miners. She thought about hair running through her fingers in the salon. That was a comforting and familiar feeling. There is this inaudible sound that hair makes when it runs through the fingers. Sometimes, it’s like a squeak of chalk on whiteboard. Sometimes, it’s a coarse sound. Standing with her scissors made her comfortable and confident. She mentally escaped from the place.

Something like a micro sleep befell her. When she opened her eyes, she was running her fingers through the blond, curly hair of a young lad sitting in front of her. He had his eyes closed with a dreamy expression on his face. He was pressing the back of his head into her tender belly. Her fingers massaged his scalp. The scene was very cozy. Kalista could not remember how she got into this situation. She pulled away to walk deeper into the crowd.

“My love,” the lad called after her.

Kalista wanted to fly to be above it all to look at everything from the 10,000 foot view from a vantage point. In half dream, she could feel her hand going on top of someone’s shoulder. She could feel her foot stepping onto the seat of a chair. The blurriness of reality made her feel hands on her butt and back. There were hands gripping onto her arm. She could see the ceiling very clearly. The crowd no longer towered over her. She was surfing on top of the crowd. The hands were passing her through the room out of her control. All she could do was surrender to the sensation of little hands, big hands, soft hands, hard hands, modest hands, immodest hands groping all over her body. She let her arms float wide and legs open to surrender to the crowd. “Take my body for it is yours!”

The crowd was pushing her body towards the center of the main room. Being above people’s heads, she could finally see the walls, the banners and flags of demons and lords of Satan. There was an antique sickle on the wall. The white bones of a raven were on the wall. Some people pumped their fists in the air while dancing. A lot of people were simply pressed tightly together and yelling into each other’s ears.

Someone threw a black rope over the wooden beam under the ceiling. Her legs got forced together. She could feel the rope tightening around her legs, one coil at a time. She tried to upright herself to yell something. Yet, the hands didn’t provide enough support for her. Then, there was the pull on her skeleton as her legs went skyward. There was the rush of her blood toward the head. There was the helplessness of her body moving away from the supporting hands. There was the disorienting sense from seeing everything head over. She slowly spun in a circle through the room.

She struggled to have her arms at the side. She tried to reach her feet, yet her abs were way too weak. She helplessly hang had over. She couldn’t do anything about the situation. She tried to yell. She could barely hear her own voice drown in the noise before it reached her ear. She surrendered by letting her hands drop head over. She was a piece of meat, like a cow for the butcher.

As she slowly turned around, the girl that she had seen earlier hanging above the crowd came into her vision. “How do you get down?” Kalista yelled.

“You don’t,” was the other hanging girl’s response.

Kalista looked deeply into the eyes of the other hanging girl. Her head was blustering red. Her eyes showed blood vessels that were growing thick.

Kalista could feel the vertebras in her spine popping as they relaxed from being stuck together to dangling freely. The music was pulsating in her ears. A couple guys were watching her from the bar. Their eyes looked at her unabashedly. The sound of the music turned to screeching sounds and the voice of a little girl sing-songing “I love you!”

“How does it feel to be hated by god?” asked the other hanging girl.

“I’ve been hated all my life by god,” was the dry response from Kalista.

The other girl went back to playing an inverted cross with her head dropped back to expose her throat. Kalista was left to herself to sink deeply into her thoughts. She could feel that she was at the place where she wanted to be. She had been working hard in the hair salon. She had put up with going to the dentist for a cleaning and paying the water bill, so that she could be hear, among this people, listening to this music, and experiencing something special. She wanted one of those boys. She wanted one of those boys to make tender love to her, to take her to a dark corner, so that they could have privacy. She moved her arms seductively through the air to summon such a boy to her. She was doing the magical dance of seduction. Would anyone look up here?

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