The Witch continued. Welcome Steemit Friends I invite you into my world for some horror and the power to overcome horror. It is a world of the spirit and the hidden abilities some people have that they find out and secretly use to the benefit of all of us. Written for Steemit.
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Gran'pa Rowland had seen something during the previous chapter:
The Dancer - The Witch 8
“What heavyset woman?” The other adults asked. I had to go to the bathroom and avoid the embarrassment. I excused myself and Ma came with me, questioning.
“Oh brother,” I said to myself as I shook my head to avoid the third degree, ignored my wife, and stepped into the restroom. I didn’t have to but I sat in the stall for the longest time.
“Did you die in there Roland?” Ma yelled into the restroom. There was going to be no escape from this. I heard some laughter in the restroom.
“No Ellie, I am just getting old and it is taking some time,” More laughter erupted.
“The drums are beating again.” Ma yelled back. And someone yelled, “That is not the sound of drums.” More laughter rolled from the peanut gallery.
“Ellie, I will join you when I am done but could you get a soda and some popcorn?” Changing the subject was necessary in a relationship for its long term survival. I learned it from Ma.
“Row, I will and meet you in the stands.” Another way a relationship lasts a long time and there is peace is when the other partner recognizes that whatever happened, the subject has been changed. I could hear the drums and singing muffled. A few more minutes would cause Ma to get involved in what was in front of her and I would have my soda and popcorn without waiting in line. I truly was getting older. This was tougher than young people think especially after a shock like that. Ma knew that too so it really wasn’t a lie.
I had seen a ghost, a ‘them.’ This was the second time I could remember in my life that I saw such a thing, the other was on the lake when the family almost drowned. That time there was suggestion and a mist or fog. This time it was in plain sight. I knew that Martha, Pete, and Bjorn were not playing a game.
It took me a few more minutes than I thought and I was relaxed, finished. My legs fell asleep on the toilet. I hated when that happened, don’t you? Not old enough yet, huh?
They could be frolicking and playful just like any other kids when they wanted to do mischief but this was a sacred subject for Martha. She never joked about this that I can recall. No, I had a clear thought process while I held myself up by the walls of the stall, while I felt the blood flowing back into my legs. Think that took a couple of extra minutes and I moved back and forth in the stall.
I did not know it at the time but I was to find out later. What happened to me in the stall was an effect from the ghost or whatever it was. That is why Martha danced. Stop moving and it would take a hold of you. Martha would later tell me she learned this at a very young age, younger than she could remember.
I returned to the stands and Ma handed me my soda and popcorn. I immediately ate some and then sipped thinking she might start saying something about ‘the event’ but she did not. Instead, she told me that all the children were dancing as fish for the Navajo fish dancer. I wondered what the kids were doing. She was intrigued by it and so was I. We did not talk, we watched in wonder and enthralled. Rog made one comment as an aside to me,
“Who will they get to dance as fish? Do you suppose it is necessary?” I just shrugged and said,
“They never had to have fish dancers before did they?” Rog didn’t answer; he turned back to concentrating on the dance. We were going to fish tomorrow and he didn’t have to say it. He avoided a rebuke from my daughter.
The kids did a great job. There were more than just the kids down there now. They swam in schools. Some of the fish went their own way and Bjorn made an eating motion of Martha and she fell down, ‘eaten.’ I laughed at that. No one else did, not even Ma.
No one jumped up to do anything either and that surprised me. Maybe they did not see it. The fishing dancer worked his way among the fish. He caught the adults not the kids and moved them to a giant basket. Then the dance was over.
Last up was the Sioux buffalo hunter and he asked the kids if they wanted to be buffalo for the dance and they all shouted, “Yay!”
His dance was like the fish dance but he hunted. He used a bow without an arrow and he had a spear. It ended with a mime of him cutting out the heart of a buffalo and holding it up to the sky. The person who danced as a buffalo had been an adult too.
The show was over and all the performers made a line facing the audience, including the drummers and singers. They bowed several times to much applause. After the applause stopped, one of them came forward and said very loudly to the crowd,
“We have about 15 minutes where we will answer questions to those who want to come forward and ask.”
Many of the kids rushed forward to the dancers in the center of the line. The hawking vendors with the boxes held in place by shoulder straps moved into the questioning crowd. The question and answer session was a sales gimmick. Rog went down there to ask if they were Christians at Mommy’s request and retrieve Martha. There were adults heading down there too.
I decided to go with Rog, I needed to stretch my legs. Ma would wait and have a mother and daughter strategy session on whatever it is a mother and daughter strategizes about.
Rog stood between Martha and Bjorn at the front of the throng of people. He asked the hoop dancer with tact, “I saw you make a cross with your hoops are you Christians?” The hoop dancer nodded and answered,
“Yes, we incorporate Christianity in the ancient ways.”
Rog was satisfied and said, “Thank you for your performance.”
I was behind them when Martha moved her hand back toward me and asked the dancer who was now out of his bird costume, “This is my Gran’pa and he saw the woman during your dance. Could you please tell him what that was?”
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Written for Steemit: Copyright © 2017 Jeff Kubitz - The Dancer - et al. All Rights Reserved. Steemit.com/steemit/@jeff-kubitz