The Girl Who Loved To Dance

Isle of Wight, Summer 2010

There was once a girl who loved to dance. She liked nothing better than to run and twirl and jump and jig about. Whenever she danced she always smiled and giggled and when people saw her, they soon found themselves grinning and tapping their feet.

One day, when the sun was shining gloriously in the sky and a swallow was swooping high above, the girl found herself in a big wide open field. It was a beautiful green space dotted with wild flowers. Instinctively the girl began to dance, making the space her own. She rushed here and there, swooping, twirling, skipping and laughing in the pink and orange spotty dress she loved to wear. So lost was she in her dance that she didn’t see a figure walking slowly towards her.

“Little girl!” the figure called from the distance but the girl danced on.

“Little girl!” he called again but still she danced.

“LITTLE GIRL!!” he shouted, much closer now, and she looked at him and stood very, very still.

He was a broad man dressed in a big heavy coat and his voice was cold and shrill.

“Little girl...” he started talking to her but all she could do was stare, a shudder going right through her. The way he looked at her made her feel bad and bad about what she was doing. As his eyes locked on her she found she couldn’t move. Slowly he began walking over to her, reaching out a hand. With each step she could smell him, his sweat, his breath, the dampness of his coat.

“Little girl..” he whispered but she couldn’t speak. Her throat had tightened and no words would come out.  Closer he came. “Little girl...”, his hand nearly touching her. She shivered and leant away. Inside she was running. Inside she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Little girl.......”

When she got home that day she decided never to wear the pink and orange spotty dress again. So she stuffed it to the back of her drawer. And she vowed never to speak about the man and the field ever again.

One day, when the girl was older, she went walking in the forest and heard the cry of a swallow swooping overhead. She looked up and could just about see him through the trees so she decided to follow him. It was hard work trying to keep up though. The heavy coat she wore kept catching on branches and thorns. But every time she thought she’d lost him, the swallow would swoop back, beckoning her on.

So on she went, trying to avoid the branches and thorns, often going a much longer way to get round them. Yet still they would catch her and tear at her coat. And each time she would swear and grumble and shout at the trees, her cheeks flaring with rage.

Eventually, with anger boiling inside her, she cried out:

“Why am I wearing this stupid coat? I hate it! It’s too big, it’s ugly and it stinks!”

So she took it off and trampled it into the ground.

When her heavy booted feet had finished, a shaft of light shot through the trees. And another further on and then another, further still. She looked up and saw glimpses of a path opening up before her. So she turned and started to walk. The clothes she wore were old and thin and like the coat, not the best of fits, but at least she felt a lot lighter now. At least now her skin could breathe.

Not that things became easier straight away. Although she was much better at avoiding branches and thorns, when they did catch her, they really hurt and soon her clothes became ragged and parts of her skin, scratched and sore.

But the more she moved, the more the shafts of light lit up her way and the more she could see the swallow swooping overhead. And the more she saw him, the more she wanted to run and twirl and dance and jump.

Her boots, however, were not helping. She kept tripping and falling over. One minute she’d be running, the next she’d be face down in the undergrowth. So she decided to take them off.  Bending down to untie the fraying laces, she thanked them for keeping her feet safe and dry. Then she kissed them like two faithful friends and laid them lovingly down, hoping that one day they might be a gift to a barefooted traveller passing by.

Tip-toeing onward and with a new spring in her step, the girl skipped towards the shafts of light as they became brighter and brighter and the trees fewer and fewer. She loved to feel the springiness of moss, the squidginess of mud and even the sharpness of stones beneath her feet. Although she was eager to keep up with the swallow she couldn’t help but jump on the moss, twirl in the mud and sprint across the stones. Again and then again and then again, just for fun.

She was about to launch onto the moss one more time when she heard a strange hissing sound. She looked down and there, just by her feet, was a snake looking up at her.  She screamed and ran as fast as she could until she was back on the path of lights and could just about see the flick of the swallow’s wings.

Chastened but with excitement rising, she kept going, stepping into the light until the forest suddenly stopped and ahead of her was a huge open space – a beautiful green field dotted with wild flowers..

The girl hesitated. Suddenly she felt a shudder and her throat tightening. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She knew that the only place she wanted to be was in that field, yet at that moment everything in her wanted to go back into the forest. To find her boots and reclaim the heavy coat.

But, in that same moment, something caught her eye. A glint, a shimmer, a shine of something right there in the middle of the field. She looked around and slowly stepped on to the grass. She took a step, then another, each time looking around, afraid that something might happen, someone might come and steal this moment away, this chance to be where she’d always wanted to be.

A few steps in and she thought she saw someone – a figure lurking in the forest. But when she turned round all she saw was a shrub swaying in the breeze. So, on she went, step by step, bit by bit, in the field, the green wide open space dotted with wild flowers with the swallow swooping up above and the sun shining gloriously down on her.

Time passed but within a moment she was there, in the centre, looking down at a flickering flame in a drawer, burning up a pink and orange spotty dress. And in that moment a curtain came down and surrounded the girl and the fire. And on the wall of the chamber it made was a golden dress, some shoes and some underwear, all beautifully made. And beside them, a bath of steaming water, a towel, some soap and a jar of precious oil.

The girl was not afraid. Within the chamber she felt safe. So she took off her ragged, blood-stained clothes and threw them on the fire. Then she got in the bath and as she washed, her scratches began to fade and the soreness of her skin was soothed.  Getting out she wrapped herself in the towel and revelled in its snugness. Then she poured the oil over her head and as she rubbed it into her skin, she felt a shard of ice snap in her heart and melt away.

Next she looked up at the dress, the shoes and the underwear and took them down. The underwear was of the purest cotton and fitted perfectly. The golden dress was of the finest silk and fitted perfectly. The shoes were of the softest leather and fitted perfectly.

The girl felt so good in her new clothes she started swirling and twirling around, knocking over the jar of oil and sending the soap flying. She almost caught her dress in the fire but she didn’t notice. She just wanted to dance. At last she felt free. At last, at last, at last.

As she stomped in that secret place, the curtain slowly went back, the bath and towel disappeared and the fire became a pile of ashes. Round and round the girl twirled, further and further around the field until she came back to the centre and rolled around, laughing and giggling. Looking up she could see the swallow circling above and as her gaze fell on the horizon, she saw a man walking towards her.

The man was tall and wore a flowing robe and walked with a lightness in his step. She could tell his eyes were completely on her but she wasn’t scared. And she didn’t stay still. And she couldn’t keep quiet. Instead she yelled at the top of her lungs and waved wildly at the man. And soon he was standing there right beside her:

“Young woman,” he said in a warm, deep voice.

“Young woman,” he said and reached out for her hand, the fragrance of his robe filling the air.

“Young woman,” he said, “Dance with me.”

And he took her hand and she smiled a huge smile and off they went, giggling and dancing together in the huge wide open space dotted with wild flowers, the swallow swooping high above and the sun shining gloriously down on them.