Manacle Made of GoldManacleMore Like This
x of x
There was something to be said for the grandiloquent building, emblazoned with a neon sign that read SIN in proud, glowing letters, its pink aureole staining the night and blending with the cheap yellow of the streetlamps. Passing the bouncers was no easy task, but the reward was stepping through the metal doors (black paint flaking to reveal cold rusted gray) and entering the realm of the most infamous club around. Inside, vainglory imbrued the air via overly aromatic incense and provocative music of sensuous chords and voices that had never spoken an honest truth. There were seizure-inducing strobe lights, blue and green and white; they gave glimpses of the otherworldly realm, glimpses that could only be pasted together like a slideshow in the mind to give an idea of just what sort of otherworldly realm one had stepped into. All else was dark, save for the illuminated bar and stage.