You can see them dancing, sometimes. If you know where to look and when, you’ll see them floating carefree, all white and cool and lovely.
I was lucky enough to see it once, on All Hallows Eve – they danced and laughed, although some were sad and grief washed out from them in waves. I was crouching behind a tombstone, shivering with cold and fright; a simple dare was turning into something else entirely.
The stars glared down from the brilliant heavens. The grass was long and green and it waved slightly in the air, tickling around my knees. I was wearing shorts and it was a choice I regretted.
Most of them were children, just like me. Some though, were older and paler – you couldn’t really see them as well. The circle of spiralling figures drifted further outward, coming closer to where I was hiding. I could hear the first chords of a lilting song. It was faint, but even from a distance it made me want to dance, to twirl and have joyous fun.
I could feel a smile creeping across my face,
‘Just go and check it out,’ they had said. ‘Don't be a wuss.’
I didn’t have many friends. Those boys usually didn’t talk to me, but this morning they had, eyes cold above their gremlin, fox and troll smiles. It didn’t matter anymore.
Tonight at least, I would have friends.
They were all around me now, whispering, billowing out and above like so many thin curtains. Can’t you hear the song? I could and now I was in the centre of the circle, feet moving in smooth, confident bounds. It was wonderful and gay and lovely.
You can see us dancing, sometimes. If you know where to look and when, you’ll see us floating carefree.
