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we�re in the mansion of a wealthy man. we go there to practice jazz dancing while the owner is away on business trips. the entry hall is made of the finest italian marble. it's huge, bigger than many concert halls. it ends in a series of strange stairwells that all but hide the living room just beyond them. the stairs have orange and brown striped shag carpeting and are raised up 3-D tetris; some lead to the next level of the home, some just end in mid air like thin, wooly towers. normally, we just dance in the hall, tapping and struggling to be in sync to a routine we've made up but not before saying "hello". we climb the stairs and move through the �70�s d�cor. the carpet is dark, brown and thick on the next level. there are rooms everywhere with vaulted ceilings and empty fish tanks. giant, beige pillows are piled along walls. silk tapestries of orange and tan owls hang along the corridors. the rooms are all full of knick knacks; every corner in every room packed tight. we move silently along to the end of the hall where there is a strange blue glow humming from a room carved out from underneath a second stairwell that leads to the roof. this is where the children live. we peek in to see a boy and a girl, no older than 5, in pajamas that cover their hands and feet in fluffy, brown wool.. they lie on a huge bed that stretches before a giant screen blasting super fast anime without any sound. they are thin and weak, their bellies rising and falling as if they were asleep. they look up and smile at us with huge eyes that seem to detach and float in front of their heads. i set down a plate of cookies for them and ask them to come down and join us. they shake their heads as always. they like to hear the tapping noises of our shoes from where they are. i tuck them in and kiss their heads before returning to the bottom floor. we began practicing and are deep into our session when the limo pulls up. he is home a day early. we scatter and hide in our panic. i and another girl race to the living room and struggle to squeeze our dancer bodies behind the fire place. he comes in and flops down parallel to us on a leather couch. he has a brandy glass that he swills. he says, to no one in particular,
�I know you�re there, you precious little pixies. Come out, come out, wherever you are!�
we come out slowly and stand before him. he places a molesting hand on my back and sits me down at his side. he rubs in slow, smooth circles, swishing his drink to match.
�Are you afraid?�
I shake my head.
�Do you know that all these big mansions have security cameras? For quite some time now, I�ve watched you and your friends scuff up my million dollar hall with the pitter-patter of those second hand shoes. I watched you sneak upstairs and play with my TV children. And I even watched you infest my den and eat the chocolate liquors that I keep in my desktop. (picks up my fingers and runs his tongue between them). I can still taste the bittersweet shock of your theft.�
I pull back my hand and see the others starting to sneak away out of the corner of my eye.
�Don�t bother trying to escape, my little angels," he calls absently. " I have memorized each and every single one of your sweaty faces as you struggle, in vain, I might add. I have spent long, lonely nights rewinding my videos so as to memorize each step in your routine. There is no greater joy for me to than to return from a long trip and watch your slight bodies contort this way and that in the middle of my very own hall, without a care in the world. Oh, but, every time I wonder just how you would move if you only knew I was watching.
Because you see, you are all in very, serious trouble." |
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