The bar was a fever dream, drenched in neon—a throbbing heart of electric reds, blues, and yellows that spilled across the room in vivid strokes, both vibrant and haunting. The night had lingered long past its welcome, but Ŧ∆βʊ remained, a solitary figure caught in the forsaken haze of the ∆FT3R HØUR$. Around him, the remnants of a raucous evening lay abandoned, the air still heavy with the mingled scents of sweat, cheap makeup, and stale liquor—a strange perfume of excess and rot, clinging to the walls like an unspoken confession.

He hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, his gaze locked onto the flickering lights that refused to die. His clown makeup—a garish mask meant for laughter—had turned into a prison, trapping the storm of frustration and despair within. The painted smile on his lips, a smirk of exaggerated glee, now felt twisted, grotesque, a mockery etched into his skin, holding back the rage that simmered just beneath the surface.

The bar was a ruin of its former self—tables lay in disarray, chairs toppled and scattered, as though the revelers had vanished mid-celebration, leaving only the ghost of laughter lingering in the darkened corners. Silence had crept in, thick and suffocating, filling the room with a weight that pressed down on him. The neon lights blinked on and off, reluctant to release their grip on the night, casting long shadows that seemed to dance across the floor in a macabre mimicry of life.

At the center of it all, Ŧ∆βʊ stood unmoving, his presence at once commanding and desperately alone. He had come here searching, clawing through the dregs of memory for something to ground him to the truth, some shard of the past that might reveal the secrets he’d lost. But the night had withheld its answers, mocking him with its silence, leaving him no closer to the truth than when he had first arrived. Each clue had slipped from his grasp, dissolving into the neon-lit shadows like sand falling through clenched fingers.

Now, he was alone—the last soul left in this gaudy purgatory. The vibrant lights, once a promise of revelry, now felt oppressive, each flash of color bearing down on him like the weight of forgotten sins. Time had unraveled here, the boundary between night and day worn thin, leaving only this twilight realm of neon and electricity, an endless echo of the night that refused to end.

He breathed slowly, each exhale a quiet battle against the hollow truth settling in his chest. He had found nothing—no answers, no way forward. Just this place, this desolate shell of a night, its promises as hollow as the laughter that had faded into silence. Standing there in the grotesque guise of joy, he felt the yawning void within him, a darkness so vast and aching it threatened to consume him whole.

He was lost—more lost than he had ever been, a soul adrift in a neon wilderness that had offered him everything and left him with nothing.

CLOW₦ CR3W ∆FT3R HØUR$

Underground House Music Buff

Any ??📩📫

Bninjasworld@gmail.com

PURE NRG, Hyper Motion, and Soothing Vibrationz.  Live The Fantasee.

CLOW₦ CR3W ∆FT3R HØUR$

Špå®kłé Mötîøñ