Some dance to recapture a part of themselves long buried in the humdrum monotony of task ridden life, while others dance to forget who they are, to transform into someone else entirely. Whatever the reason, one truth is certain: the night dance is the essence of liberation and nourishment for the impoverished soul. One can lose herself and find herself in the same heartbeat. For Shasta, she lost herself and found much more.
* * * *
The beat of the music called to her like none other ever had. Shasta shed the heavy comforters and wiggled out of the tangled sheets that clung to her restless legs. The curtains of her window wafted inward on a cool midnight breeze, whispering promises of desire and release. In the distance, she heard a tribal drum, a voracious fiddle and the trill of a wooden flute.
Shasta rose from her bed and drifted off on the night wind to sail though the darkness, her translucent nightgown trailing behind her. Her body ached in protest from grappling with the sweat drenched sheets. But the night breeze kissed her arms and legs, evaporating the drops of perspiration and exciting goose bumps on her skin. Her bare feet touched grass and off she was, running though the moonlit meadow underneath a sky bejeweled by diamond stars.
She could hear the music getting stronger with each hasty leap. As if in celebration, the sky rained stardust, the glimmering specks catching in her long hair and sticking to her body in ethereal shine. A full moon glowed overhead, gleaming diaphanous light that revealed her intended path. The grass was beaten down by footfalls, leading to a hilltop glade where a fire burned, casting orange glow on the midnight sky.
Soon shafts of white iridescence followed her bare steps, spirits of the night, akin to her own. The light sparked at her heels and played with wisps of her hair. Shasta laughed and spread her arms, letting go the trials of the day and giving herself to the mystery of the night. She followed the path, her bare feet stained by bleeding grass, riding on the currents of a fateful wind.
The glade was filled with revelers, their faces illuminated in the burning flames. Some were as insubstantial as mere shadows, or glimmering shafts of trailing light, but others were people, like herself, freed from their worrisome lives for a brief moment to dance their problems away.
She wondered how many people were like her, stuck in the robotic tedium of a dead end job, a loveless life, and an uncreative slump. Looking at the glowing faces around her, she could see people of all ages, in all walks of life, some dressed in extravagant gowns, and others, like herself, sheer and naked in their nightclothes. Everyone was charmed by the music, allowing their hearts free reign over their minds.
Shasta’s head bobbed to the rhythm of the song. A solo fiddle careened through the night wafting on a voluptuous melody that swelled inside her. Shasta twirled, enraptured by the sound, and caught the fiddle player in the corner of her eye. Her eyes settled, and she couldn’t help but stare, taking in his lithe and flowing body as it came into view.
He was a young man, around her age with a swash of dark chestnut hair, gleaming green eyes, and lips that curved in a luscious pout to the notes as they ached and resolved. He looked like a wandering gypsy, a roving minstrel that traveled from lands of mystery to enchant her world. Shasta watched as his long arm swung the bow, dipping and rising to produce a melancholy sound that quelled her lonely heart.
Suddenly, as if he felt her stare, his eyes flashed in her direction and Shasta was caught in the fire of his emerald glance. She ducked between two dancers and spun, mimicking their moves like she was part of their charade. As if in response, the fiddle rose in pitch before becoming one again with the flute and drum.
Shasta’s heart raced like she’d been caught stealing. Had he seen her staring? Or was she imagining his flash of wide eyes and the music’s crescendo? Shasta fell into step behind a pair of jesters, each one jingling bells from their multicolored heels.
