Through the Night

by Anna Hoyler

Sunset:

Two large creatures rose up on their front legs, then came down, one after the other. Thud-thud. Thud. Thud. Before them people dropped to their knees, knowing if they waited much longer they would be unable to stand. Alone, a young woman kept her feet.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Slowly she began to sway. After several moments her hands joined in the motion, then her feet. Soon she was dancing to the rhyme of the creatures.

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. As the rhyme picked up so did the movements of the dancer. She never repeated the steps; she was guided only by her instincts and spirit of the dance. She weaved in and out of the prostrate forms of her people; for her this was pure joy, this dance was everything.

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Now she was among the feet of the creatures that kept her rhyme. One wrong movement on her behalf and she would be flattened.

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. She escaped unharmed, for not a single mistake was made. The dancer left her musicians and danced once more about her people.

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. She danced for hours. Sweat had long ago saturated her garments. Her breathing was heavier, but not labored, and her body was beginning to protest the strain of dancing all night. As the first hints of light touched the horizon, her steps began to slow. When the sun itself first peeked over the horizon, she fell on her face before it.

Thud. Thud. The final beats.

The people began to rise from the trance-like state they’d been in all night as the dancer slept.
 

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