A/n- A dream I had a while ago.

Summary: Our world and their's, crossing ito one.

Issac and the Dancing Girl

It was cold outside; the kind of cold at midnight where the moon spots seemed to freeze-frame whatever it touched
The group walked down the middle of the cul-de-sac toward the intersection of their quiet, slumbering neighborhood.
They weren’t talking much, Isaac knew why. It was one of those hazes in between drunkenness and being sober where everyone seemed to wallow in their own self pity and sorrow. In the dark, pinpricks of cigarettes could be seen to his right and left, even in his own hand as he lifted his fingers to take a second, a third, and a forth drag. A friend coughed; Isaac licked his lips, breathing out a cold cone of cloudy white. He watched his own feet scrape across the damp asphalt.
Towards the end of the empty sidewalk, the last streetlamp had just flickered off, thrusting the group into complete darkness.
One of the guys made a noise, stopping in his tracks, his head up; the others pulled their gazes from their shoelaces to see what was going on. Isaac squinted in the dark. His friend’s cigarette was hanging out of his mouth, he was starring forward. They followed his gaze and also gawked.
In the middle of the street was a girl, nothing clad her body but a shimmering white glow.
She was dancing. Around and around at a dizzying speed.
She would dip and stretch and twist and jump, and twirl.
Isaac striated at her.
The girl’s face was that of ecstasy.
But every few seconds, when she would dip and spin her legs onto the ground, she would grimace. With a sick feeling, Isaac saw she had no shoes, and as she skated across the asphalt, more of her skin seemed to rub off her ankles. Her feet were already bleeding, flecks of blood dropping all around her, the only color in the white darkness.
“Oh my god,” Trent said from somewhere next to him. Isaac dropped and snubbed out his cigarette, reached into his jacket pocket. Tossing out old matches and a wrinkled ticket stub, he fished out his pocket knife. He clicked it open and started forward.
“What are you doing?!” One of his friends hissed.
“What?” He barely heard them.
“Don’t go near it!”
But Isaac had already walked a few paces closer.

fin