dance of shadows

Like a drowning girl a breath away from the surface, I wait for morning.

‘I called your name, and you turned your head from me.’ It was her sweet rasp, as clear as if she were alive.

A creeping darkness keeps watch over my insomnia from the corner, always the left corner; it watches and waits. Sometimes it creeps across the floor and climbs up the sheets to sit on my chest. It feels as if all the darkness in the world is condensed into one cloud, that doesn’t hover over you as a cloud ought to, but presses down on you till you feel your soul sink down, down; till your body and soul separate. You cannot move; you cannot scream; you can only feel the weight of darkness.

Sleeping things open their eyes, like secrets unwinding. Unsaid longings and despised thoughts resurface as whispers on the lips of sleep-talkers and in the minds of the troubled and sleepless. And if you watch closely, hidden monsters come out to play. One by one and two by two, the dark and black and nothing comes out.

“Hello?” I meant to call out, but it was only a whisper.

And she screamed. It vibrates through me, cold, afraid, alone; it’s inside of me and I can feel her. The shadows come closer and pull me into their darkness. Against my will I fight them off, but who can fight with shadows? Darkness swallows me and I lose consciousness. And go back to that night.

Me and Kasia. She was out of control – in a way that made you lose yourself in her, in the wild, but fear she might lose herself completely. We put on our shortest skirts and went looking for trouble.

Through the window pale light finds its way through the cracks. The moon outside is faded and the stars are covered by smoke and in the middle of a great wide field, there is another light, small, yellow, flickering that can only be a fire – another secret that lights up the night. We walk in the direction of the light.

We find their fire. They were two boys from our school. They gave us a beer. They taught us to dance like shadows. Kasia stepped on a smoldering log and melted the plastic bottom of her shoes. One shadow circles and another shadow stands. A dance of shadows at the night’s command. Laughter died quickly. I told her we should leave, and she said no. She ran off with one of boys into the shadows. The multiply and divide and layer the shadows over shadows, until they overpower, and until it goes black again.

She didn’t die that night, but her spirit did. People said she was wild. She got grounded enough. But, no one thought anything more than that. She was a wild girl. She would grow out of it. When she died, they said it was sad, but secretly told their children, ‘That’s what happens to wild girls,’ and gave them a kiss goodnight and locked their door.

“You knew didn’t you.” Aaron, Kasia’s brother, looked at me with eyes that hadn’t seen sleep in days.

“No – I just thought –”

“You knew and you could have saved her.” Aaron’s hands trembled and his glass fell to the floor. Glass scattered.

His father grabbed his arm. Vodka was on his breath. He whispered something in his ear and then apologized for his son. Aaron picked up the glass piece by piece. It calmed him. I took my napkin and wet it in the sink. Kneeling on the floor next to him, I wiped up the small shards of glass.

A car drove up, shinning it’s light in through the kitchen window. He glanced over.

“Does your god believe in justice?”

“Of course.”

He held out his hand to me and pulled me up. He walked out the back door – but waited with the door open, so I followed.

In the car were his three closest friends. Music was blaring. The old car banged every so often as they drove over the old dirt road. One of them got out to open a gate and hopped back into the car. We drove into the middle of a field of cows – no not cows, bulls.

They started laughing. They got out. I stayed in the car.

“What are we doing here?”

A loud bang in the truck. As the music from the car died, I could hear them. Two muffled voices in the back. I tried to open the door, but they locked it.

They took out the two boys. The boys from that night. Their hands were tied. The other end of the rope was long and at the end of it was a lasso. They threw it the lasso around a sleeping bull and jumped back in the car, laughing.

The two begged. They tried to open the car door, but they blasted the gas. As they drove away, they yelled and honked and woke the sleeping bulls.