Free Sarah Of The Moon by Randy Mixter

allow her to be an enigma. As long as she allowed him entrance into her world, he would gladly chase her forever.
     
    “Our ride is here!” Chick shouted loud enough for the house, and most of the block, to hear.
    Alex had changed back into clothes more appropriate for the evening’s venue. He now wore the boots, black pants and vest, and a white billowy shirt. He also wore his red tinted granny classes for the first time. He imagined he looked the part of a flower child except for his hair that remained trimmed around the ears, and his face, which, despite not shaving for three days, was as smooth as a baby’s bottom.
    In his short time at the house, he never seen any of its occupants, with the exception of Sarah, move faster than a snails pace. This night was different. Several passed him as he walked the stairs, seemingly indifferent to the perils of the atrophied steps. The foyer similarly emptied at breakneck speed.
    Chick explained the mayhem to Alex as he closed the front door behind them.
    “The last time we borrowed the Pranksters bus, some seats were missing. The driver was a bit high and the ride was not a pleasant one for those standing. The Free Clinic did a good business that night.”
    Paint covered the bus parked on the street in vivid colors and swirling patterns. To Alex’s eye, designs and imagery covered every square inch of the vehicle.
    “I personally made sure all the seats were in place and fastened properly this time,” Chick continued as they climbed on the bus. “Thank God hippies do not believe in lawsuits.”
     
    There were no incidents this time. The seats were all there and secure and the young driver was deliberate and sober. It took about twenty minutes to reach the Fillmore auditorium. Alex saw many people assembled on the streets and sidewalks surrounding the building.
    He was grateful when the bus arrived at the venue. The vehicle was barely off Ashbury Street when numerous joints fired up, and a thick pungent fog blanketed the interior. Chick, in the seat next to him, graciously offered him a hit off the big round reefer he enjoyed. Alex turned him down with a thanks anyhow, adding that inhaling the bus air was doing the job just fine.
    When they were on the street, Chick handed him his ticket.
    “I’ll catch up with you inside,” he said. “I have some friends to meet.”
    Alex saw many people meeting and greeting friends. Hands met, peace signs filled the air, and hugs and kisses were commonplace. He imagined these concerts as social events where all sharing similar philosophies could connect and interact.
    He walked around and listened, gathering source material for his next article. He was concentrating on two young women wearing short flowery dresses and white go-go boots, as they expounded on how their boyfriends measured up in the free love department, when the doors opened.
    He followed the crowd through the entrance into a large lobby area. Many posters of various groups decorated the walls. To his eye, they appeared designed by the same artist who decorated the bus. Two aluminum tables pressed against the far wall. The bowls of assorted candy scattered about them attracted many of the concertgoers including Alex, who just had to nibble on something.
    Ticket takers lined the doors leading to the doors leading to the dance hall. Once he had stuffed his tight pants pockets with as much of the free candy as he could, he entered the hall.
    The place was old, but impressive nonetheless. The main floor was expansive, with seats taking up much of the space. There was, however, open floor near the large instrument filled stage and in the roomy aisles. He concluded these spaces were available for anyone too restless to sit while music played. A balcony took up space above him, covering many seats near the back.
    The auditorium filled up fast. Alex took his seat near the middle of the hall. Soon his fellow housemates joined him on either side, with Chick sitting down next to