The Spiral Dancer
He watched from the brushwood, under the cover of dusk.
Watching as she danced around the campfire singing to herself. He had never seen anything as beautiful as she before and with each turn, with each whirl he was drawn a step closer to her.As she whirled and twirled around the fire in a dream like state. He listened very closely, trying to hear what she was chanting but he couldn't make out the words.
He was mesmerized, frightened to take a breathe in fear that she might hear him, as the fire crackled and popped a burst of sparks would fly into the air,she kept singing and dancing. The fire now raged and her dance became more frantic as she danced small dust devils formed at her heals.
He watches intently as form appear in the flames, he rubs his eyes thinking he is seeing things as the form of a fire demon rises into the night and it begins to fiddle.
The music, the fire, her song and dance tug at him pulling him closer,can he resist.Maybe a just a few more steps, she cant see me hiding here in the undergrowth. The music and chanting become faster turning into a blur of sound in his head. He takes a few more steps forward then he stumbles on a branch, he pulls himself more into the safety of the underbrush, brushing the dirt from his hands he notices the music and chanting have stopped.
Frightened now he peers out of the brushwood thinking he may be found but the fire is no more, the demon and the woman are gone and in the clearing stands a beautiful wolf. She stands there looking at him for what seems ages reaching out to him then suddenly with a glint of sunrise in her eyes she turns and walks away, he sits there wanting to call out to her wanting to know why but is unable to speak.
He wants to follow her for he felt her call his soul.He stumbles to his feet and out of the thicket trying to reach her before its too late but as he scrambles to his feet he hits his head on a low hanging branch. As he stands he wipes the blood from his forehead, it’s a bad gash but he has to go to her when he looks up again she has gone, everything has gone.
He rubs his eyes, was this a just dream he asks himself,
was it my just imagination as he walks over to where the campfire once was, a campfire that burnt so brightly. There is no fire now, no smoldering cinders he reaches down and is able to pick up a handful of warm earth ...but how long,
what length of time, what was it, who.
Lauris Gower
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