I often try to have a meaning behind my stories, and in truth I wrote this one after wondering what other teenagers were doing when I was busy being a weirdo writing poetry on her jeans, but the aim is that you see the world through the eyes of someone who’s lost and desperately trying to feel something good.
Not that my short story ‘Molly’ full encompasses every teenager (much less all teenagers in Phoenix), but I know that for some of them this story is very real (or at least exists in my head).
I hope that ‘Molly’ is a whirlwind experience for you- MA 2017
Molly by Melissa Diane Algood The neon-orange glow at the tip of the joint was all that existed. “Get back in here, Jason!” Aaron yelled. “It's the best part of the movie! Ya know, where the baby is crawling on the ceiling!” “You're a sick fuck. This isn't the best part of the movie.” “This isn't film theory, Lizzie.” Aaron inhaled deeply, the fire on the tip of his fingers burned so bright she could see the outline of his chiseled jaw. He brushed his long blond hair out of his eyes, and passed the joint to Lizzie. As she came down, she didn't fall flat on her face, but drifted like a feather to the bottom of the valley. “Ugh! We're out of beer!” Maya pulled away from Jason just long enough to call from the kitchen. “Wanna go for a ride, baby?” Aaron arched an eyebrow at Lizzie, dark eyes shining. Jason's dad had a black BMW, perfect for an evening jaunt; so they all loaded up and headed out. Lizzie didn't know anything about cars, but this one had heated leather seats and a badass speaker system. Every thump of the bass line hit her like a hammer. So she closed her eyes and let the night wash over her, as she smoked her cigarette attempting to avoid barfing. Needless to say, this car was a vast improvement over Aaron's junker. He'd wrapped that old tin can around a light pole last winter. “Hey, aren't the Miller's in Sedona for the weekend?” Maya piped up from the backseat, like always tangled in Jason's grip. Aaron made a sharp left toward the house, swerving onto the curb, and hit a stop sign. The pole skimmed the side of the car. They all yelled at once, and then they giggled. At last, they parked next to the brightly colored house. Aaron used the bobby pin from Lizzie's hair to pop the lock. The four of them stumbled into the house. Maya danced around the entryway, spinning Lizzie with her. The boys went to the fridge in the garage, where they knew the beer would be. “The - Miller's - Have - A - Pool!” Lizzie stressed every word to Maya. The girls stopped spinning and ran toward the backyard with squeals of glee. They tumbled out of their clothing, leaving on only their bras and panties. Maya dove into the pool like an Olympian. Even faced out as she was, Maya still had the grace of a ballerina. When Lizzie dove, every molecule of water kissed her skin, every ripple felt as if she'd been taken out to sea. It seemed as if it took years for her to touch the bottom and pop back up laughing. Aaron and Jason rushed to the edge and began taking off their shoes, shirts, and pants. “Mind if we join?” Jason asked the girls, right before cannon balling into the pool. Drops of water shot up into the sky, a prism that glittered in the moonlight, enchanting Lizzie. The four of them floated on their backs, looking up to an unending ocean of stars. “This water feels so...cooool,” Jason whispered. “Yeah! Beautiful.” Lizzie heard her voice say, but couldn't feel her lips move. Maya swam toward Jason. They melted into each other. Lizzie remembered the last time she was in this house. She paddled over to Aaron. “Come on. I wanna show you something.” Somehow she was able to coax him out of the water. Maybe he eagerly followed her upstairs because she sucked on his index finger. The room was exactly as she remembered from when Mr. Miller, her coach, brought her here after practice. Midnight black silk sheets, red walls, and the massive headboard. Lizzie couldn't stop to analyze the last time she was there. Every nerve in her body ached for the safety of Aaron. All she knew was his tongue running along her collarbone, melting her like butter. He picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his toned frame and let herself fall into the feather bed. Every touch of his lips on her skin was like an explosion. In her sixteen years, she had no better way to explain it other than, awesome. It felt like hours that they spent tangled in those sheets, which the housekeeper had so impeccably tucked into the king size bed. When Lizzie looked at the clock, it had only been ten minutes. “Hey bitch!” Lizzie heard the roar. “Gabby just texted me about a rave! It's in an abandoned house on 4th. Stop fucking and get down here!” Maya's voice echoed in the house. Lizzie and Aaron redressed once they got back to the pool, where they had left their clothes. Before leaving, they raided the fridge, pantry, and medicine cabinet. Everyone hopped into the newly stolen Jaguar, and drove into the night, leaving behind the banged up Beemer. Through the window, Lizzie saw neon flashing lights arrayed against a black canvas sky. That night, in the cold Arizona desert, there was house music, drugs, and a horde of teenagers crammed inside of a condemned-looking house. Lizzie took another dose of medicine with the rest of them and sped up. If there was a door, none of them knocked on it. Each of them became an integral part of the mass. Even though it was chilly, Lizzie burned, as she ran her hands over Aaron's body. She didn't just feel the music; she became the drumbeat, bass line, and guitar chord. Every drop of perspiration, flicker of light, and body movement was absorbed by Lizzie and expelled back into the group through her dancing. When she opened her eyes, sweat dripped down Aaron's forehead. His eyes were dry and bloodshot. “Hey, let's go to the chill-out room,” She suggested, pulling him close. Lizzie directed Aaron down the hallway to the first door on the left, along with a few wayward youths. She did feel herself turn the door handle and gasp when she opened it. The entire room was soft, soundproofed, and blue. It was long and narrow. The floor, covered in navy beanbag chairs, glowed under the black light. On the far side, across from Lizzie, Breaking Bad was projected onto the wall. Aaron and Lizzie weaved their way to a set of empty seats, each falling down into the most comfortable spot ever. To her left was a couple making out. On her right another fucked against the wall. But most of the inhabitants were completely entranced with the moving images in front of them. Maya and Jason cuddled, closer to the screen. No one acknowledged Aaron or Lizzie, even though they were hyper aware from the drugs. The tiny beads that they sat on, the padded walls, the shades of blue that bathed them, and the tenor of television all soaked into Lizzie’s consciousness. The space engulfed her senses. They were all so in tune, that right on cue, the whole gathering shouted along with Jesse Pinkman, “Magnets, Bitches!” All the lights and sounds in the sapphire abyss were calm, until Jason's nose started bleeding. “Damn, I feel weird,” Jason whispered. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Maya, along with the rest of the room, were oblivious as the black light magnified the lines of red dripping from his dark eyes. His gasps blended with vibrations emanating from throughout the building. “Hey look! Jason's dancing!” A classmate pointed to Jason's jerking body, writhing on the floor. The group pounded their feet and clapped their hands in time with his frantic movements; until he went still. His blank face covered in blood, held no interest for them, so they turned their gaze back to the closest sparkling object. “I wanna dance!” Maya jumped up, spun, and pulled Lizzie up from her seat. The boys stayed behind. What was once a kitchen and dining room had been transformed by spray paint and black lights. The DJ mixed Lana Del Rey and M.I.A., which pleased Lizzie as she was absorbed into the faction. She and Maya mirrored each other’s movements. Their groins rocked, fists pumped, hips rotated, and they shook their heads so that their hair cascaded around them. The room screamed with glee. Suddenly Maya pulled Lizzie close, brushed a lock of hair from her face, and kissed her. Maya was soft, and tasted like a lollipop; too sweet. Lizzie tried to pull away, but Maya's arms wrapped tight around her, like a vine. Lizzie felt Maya run her hands over her back, ass, and breasts. Lizzie wanted to forget, get lost, so they became one in time with the bass. It might have been moments, or hours, until she felt the crowd shove her, finally breaking her from Maya. Lizzie didn't hear the sirens, or know where the boys were. All she knew was the bright bubblegum pink lips in front of her. “Run!” Lizzie heard Aaron scream beside her. Aaron's long slender tattooed arm yanked her out of the room, through a hallway, and into the still Arizona night. She blindly followed him, but Jason wasn't with them. For a moment, Lizzie remembered seeing his body go limp on that floor. Then half the basketball team rushed past them. Lizzie giggled as the teenagers ran away, like a hive that lost their queen. Every time her sneakers pounded the pavement she felt the reverberation throughout her body. It shot like sparks into the starry sky. They ran for blocks, or miles, for what seemed like forever. They were free.
If you or anyone you know has a substance problem then may I recommend you visit Narcotics Anonymous