The sky was torn asunder
By lightning and by thunder
On the night this tale commences—
A night when goodness and protection,
Abandon their defenses.
The hallway was cold as death,
And like death, devoid of breath.
It was silent as a tomb
Until a lost and frightened dancer
Entered into the gloom.
A single bulb lit it dimly,
Like a candle, wavering thinly,
And ‘twas halfway down the hall
In a dusty, decrepit sconce
Dangling loosely on the wall.
Shadows long unused to strangers,
Full of long forgotten dangers
Tilted their heads in greeting
With each rapid flicker of the light,
Like the dancer’s weak heart beating.
She looked round for some lost soul
Like her, hiding from the cold
To keep her from isolation.
But not a living thing gave breath
In the morbid desolation.
Now fear, like a hammer strike
Filled the little girl in the night
And she crossed herself and prayed.
Yet the fear remained and the girl
Still felt no less afraid.
Then, hoping she’d get no answer,
The young and bright-eyed dancer
Shouted out, “Is someone there?”
And her call echoed clearly in the
Cold and death-like air.
As her cry resounded to her—
Shot all around and through her—
Her whole body shook with fear.
For in the tendrils of her cry came
The reply, “I am here.”
Though she screamed, what followed after
Was wild, blood-chilling laughter
Echoing off each darkened wall,
Pursuing her fleeting footsteps as she
Ran back down the hall.
It engulfed her like a shroud
And once again she prayed aloud.
And she kept running faster yet,
Until the black and spacious shadows
Enclosed her in their net.
When the morning came again
The dancer’s family and her friends
Were all filled with great concern.
And stayed that way—for the dancer
Never did return.
