The Dance

I met her when I was about 12. Hadn’t seen her around school before, but that was okay, she just seemed to naturally blend in. Our acquaintance was an odd one. We conversed in hushed tones and at odd times. I had a feeling that she talked the same way to a lot of the other boys, but they rarely mentioned her. It was almost as if she was invisible. Jr High came and went our relationship continued, although it did seem as if we were spending any more time together than before. At first she would come by only when I was especially lonely or bored. In times of stress, I could be sure that she would be there. She didn’t seem to expect much of me, I was pretty sure the relationship was one-sided, it didn’t seem to matter to either of us. I was 16 now, I thought that I would’ve moved on, found someone else…. Oh there had been others, but I always found myself going back to her, maybe even seeing her at the same time.

Speaking of time, I don’t know when it happened but one day I realized that she was pretty much always with me. I’d fall asleep to her voice, sometimes hear her calling in the morning or during study hall, sharing space in the hallway between classes with her, she’d be there waiting when I got home. So eventually I came to accept that she would be there, not so obvious that anyone else would know, but I knew. I tried to break it off a few times, each time ending in failure. I had become convinced I couldn’t live without her. And besides, we weren’t hurting anyone...at least that is what she said.

One time my senior year I was determined to avoid her for a whole month. How hard could that be, she certainly had others to entertain while I was gone, and I had lots of things to occupy my time with. For the first week I was miserable, I had no idea how much time we used to spend together. Now I needed to fill that time with other things. But what, nothing really seemed to compare to the time we spent with each other. Everything else seemed gray, lifeless. In the end, I simply gave up trying so hard to avoid her and within a few days we were back to our old habits, same as ever, I guess.

Then one night I saw her in my dream, actually I had been seeing her for awhile, I just never realized it was her that I was seeing. The dream was incredible. We were at some elegant gathering of only the most perfect people. Beautiful women danced with handsome men, I was numbered among the handsome, of course. We were in a huge Ballroom, with an orchestra playing in the corner. Everyone was with someone, dancing, talking, drinking wine, and having the time of his or her lives. Then from across the room I saw her. I don’t think she ever looked more radiant, but there was a sultry aire about her that I failed to note before. But I was noting it now! As she walked across the dance floor, I began to burn with feelings toward her. Feelings I remember having before, but not so overpowering. I was drawn to her and seemingly without effort we were together in each other’s arms, dancing. As we danced I noticed we were suddenly alone. The room seemed darker, more inviting, but less social, now more serious, intense. I knew I should slow down, be more careful. I wasn’t sure she was the only one I wanted to dance with. “Of course I’m the only one….”, she whispered to me. I missed a step, and struggled to recover…strangely her light embrace seemed to grow stronger as I stumbled. We danced for some time, I was getting weary, and I didn’t really want to dance anymore. But she seemed tireless, floating effortlessly in unending motion with the music. I asked her if we could take a break, she ignored me. I attempted to step back from her. With a strength that belied her graceful stature she drew me back into her embrace. Her arm that had before rested softly on my shoulder now seemed firmer, more confining. Her soft hand now gripped mine with a strength that struck fear into my soul. Her soft whispers of encouragement now became lower more insistent orders. I knew now that I wanted this dance to be over, this isn’t fun anymore. I tried to pull away again only to find that I could not budge from her embrace. I began to struggle. And I as I struggled I noticed two things. She had somewhere lost her beautiful voice, and her grip had become decidedly unromantic. I looked into her eyes and saw nothing but emptiness; it felt as though she was trying to fill that void with me. I fought even harder to break her grip. I felt white-hot pain across my back, pain shot thru my hand. Those definitely weren’t fingernails I was feeling. I looked at her again only to realize ‘she’ was gone. Soft curves and supple lips had been replaced by scaled flesh and jagged teeth. I made one last effort to free myself from her, I mean “it’s” deadly embrace. And as I looked down towards her chest, which had been pressed to mine for so long, I saw that parts of me were connected to her/it. The pain was unbelievable, my screams mingled with her alternately soft and then harsh pleas for me to remain. But remaining was not an option, I felt claws penetrating deep within my vitals seeking to crucify whatever will or Spirit in me that sought to free me from her soul-freezing clutch. I cried out, begging to be set free, she laughed and deep within my chest I could feel the claws trying to seize my wildly beating heart. And I knew that I was powerless to stop her, I had given in to her so many times before, how could I resist her now? I awaited my death. What had started out as a simple acquaintance was now a hostile takeover, with my life hanging in the balance.

My strength was gone; I was finished. Would someone please help me?

It seemed my plaintive pleas had been heard, for in that instant the cloying air was suddenly cut by something stronger, purer. He also was an aquaintence from my middle school years. I had spent far less time with him than she had garnered. And yet in my darkest moment, He was there. In a flash that was not so much visible as was palpable, He cut in. The dance was over.

As I lay there, surveying the damage. I could feel the holes in my back, I could see vital organs exposed and damaged. I knew I was a mess. He came back, from where I don’t know, but she was gone. I looked into my Friends eyes expecting to see pity, even anger. Pity because of how awful I must have looked. Anger, because this was entirely my fault, I was the one who asked her if she wanted to dance. But there He was, with a look so full of understanding on his face that I could've swore He'd been asked to dance with her too. How is that possible, He was the only one who ever got her to leave me alone, even for a little while. Then it occurred to me, I don’t even know her name…how will I ever deny her invitations for another dance if I don’t even know her name?

“Her name is Lust.”

I wrote this story a few years ago (feb 2002) in a more lucid moment, it really describes what I feel. But the story seeme to have a much happier ending than I think I currently am experiencing. There is work to be done, unfortunately I have gone back to dance with her way too many times since then. And its more like all pretense of 'dancing' is gone, this relationship has only one purpose and we come together for that and that alone....and after each time I'm left spent, alone, and un-fulfilled...craving the next time we meet, hoping that it will be the one time that satisifies. Only she will never be satisfied until I'm dead, who knows maybe I won't be satisfied until then either. (not that I want to be dead....I just dont' have alot of hope at this moment)