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~it is during our
darkest moments
that we must focus
to see the light~


"i am a stick"

est. 8.19.20

Message to Readers

I don't know if I like this or not...

I Am Alone (My Attempt at a Halloween story)

October 24, 2020


    I tread carefully, but my legacy still creaks underneath my invisible feet. Haunting music wafts through the air, disturbing my alone time. I am drawn to the dancing like a moth is drawn to a light. It is my light in the darkness, my friend in the loneliness. And so, I have no choice but to follow the music. I climb the grand flight of stairs leading from the tunnels to the first floor. Ancient footprints disturb the dust that has been settling for nearly one hundred fifty years. I climb up the marble staircase, worn to the point that their surface caves inwards towards the center. Here, the dust has been swept away to be replaced by mud and water and snow from the many children that climb the two flights every day. Next, I climb ever upwards towards the third level, my level. Air from the age-old furnace fills my nostrils as I push open the door into the ballroom, my ballroom. The door squeals noisily as I enter. My eyes finally catch sight of the dancers preforming their art, my art. But my entrance seems to have cause a disturbance. 
    "The door just opened by itself..." One girl hisses to another, grabbing her arm with nervous excitement. 
    "It's probably just Mr. Allen." The other girl rolls her eyes and pushes her friend away. Then they both break into giggles and spread back apart to dance.     
    I spend several minutes wandering the room, my room, to just survey it. The cracked and peeling walls. The folding chairs placed at awkward angles. The dusty wooden stage. The painted dome that makes each noise echo a million fold. And the dancers. These are not my dancers. But I still watch them. 
    I watch as they dance to music portraying me. Or maybe not truly. 
    A girl stands alone, surrounded by a group of the people that used to be her friends. They cast her aside because she sees. But I do not understand. She sees the three figments that loom around her, taunting her with their gestures. Momentarily, I wonder if I have finally found someone like me. This idea is enough to bring me out of my chair and towards them. 
    I join them and for a moment, four figures loom around the girl. I turn to my side and smile at the figment who stands beside me. A little wave, a passing wink, a grin. That's all I need. Confirmation that I am not going insane. But no, the music stops. The friends I thought I knew laugh, and mingle with the dancers they were haunting. It was an act. A play on what I an going through now. And once again I am invisible. 
    My invisibility never stops me from being with them though. I want to hear a sliver of the human mind, and in some ways, my invisibility makes me invincible. Time has passed, but humans don't change. They speak of the same drama only altered. They speak of the same problems only warped. They could be my dancers if they tried hard enough, couldn't they?
    Or maybe it's me that isn't trying hard enough... 
    "Hello?" I walk to the middle of their circle and speak. It is a strange feeling in my rusty vocal chords. Years of silence broken. "Please, I have a request for you..." I turn to the girl nearest me. Her red face is smiling from a joke made by a friend sitting near by. "Please, young miss. It won't take but a second..." But the girl has already left through the door. This time, I turn to one who is quiet. I whisper to her, hoping her loneliness will bridge the space between our dimensions. "Can you hear me?" She turns her face down and scratches her foot. The stream of dancers leaving becomes heavier and I know I will soon be left alone again. This cannot happen. I need... 
    "STOP IT!" I scream. I cannot stay alone. I need...
    "PLEASE! I need you to talk to me..." I want to be acknowledged. I need... 
    But they continue flowing through the stream, ignoring my pleas. My invisibility no longer makes me invincible. In fact, quite the opposite. My invisibility makes it so that my heart is exposed to the raw heat of the ancient furnaces. I crumple to the ground in a heap. Screaming. Crying.
    But I am alone. 
    I am only the ghost of my conscience haunting the ghost of the legacy I built. The Allen School of Dance. The place where I taught and loved and grew to be loved. Even one hundred years later dancers the dancers remember even if they do not remember what they remember. 
     I know because they called me Mr. Allen. My name was Mr. Allen, but now I am more commonly known as the ghost of Mr. Allen.    
    I am Mr. Allen, and I am alone. 
SOOO... This is my take on a creepy story... I'm not sure how creepy it really is, but it is based on the ghost that haunts the place I dance. Mr. Allen truly created Allen school of dance in 1913 on the top floor of a cracker factory that was built in 1892. The building fell into disrepair and was bought by my dance teacher around 1990 or so. Allegedly, Mr. Allen haunts the building and is the reason why doors frequently open and close. Let me know what you think...  (Also, around this time last year, my dance company took a tour from my dance teacher's husband around the lower floors of the building... It was SOOO creepy. It was also like 2:00 AM and we only had a flashlight so that might be partly why XD) 

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  • Bhavya's Treasure

    Re: Oh is it? XD
    It's great to hear the (weird and not so weird) speaking/talking style of people from various backgrounds. :D
    I too enjoy it here. There's so much to learn and explore!
    And good night to me. XD

    3 months ago
  • Bhavya's Treasure

    Re: I too love saying, 'Yaassss!' XDD
    *grins like a maniac*

    3 months ago
  • Bhavya's Treasure

    Re: Congo girl!
    Your prize... Well, I'm working on the review. Will that suffice? :D

    PS: I noticed the above sentence rhymes. XD

    3 months ago
  • Bhavya's Treasure

    Re: Lol! XD

    3 months ago
  • Bhavya's Treasure

    Re: I'll try to review it soon though it might take 3-4 days. I'm well, too quick. XD

    3 months ago
  • Bhavya's Treasure

    This is so gooood and made me shudder!
    The thing is I'd read footnotes already and later started reading the story. Seriously!!! You went down with a flashlight, that too at 2:00 am when I am preparing to sleep. Oooo terrific!
    I want to say something more about this, shall I write a review?

    Re: Thank you Madeline! :D
    I'll update the results tomorrow.
    Yes, I would also like to share my coffee with them.
    And uncle John's ghost is quite similar to Mr. Allen's XD

    3 months ago