As a child, I would often be entertained at bedtime by my Dad or sister. They would make shadow creatures on the wall using the bedside lamp. There were birds and butterflies, sometimes a deer or a frog. All very interesting to a six year old child.
As you get older, perhaps like me, your older, mischievious brothers tell you that here are monsters under the bed or that they hide in the wardrobe. If, like me you grow up enjoying being 'spooked' you evolve into an adult who enjoys watching paranormal investigators on dubius TV channels. One show called Ghost Adventures features a team of paranormal investigators fronted by the ebululent Zac Bagans. The team spend the night 'locked down' in reputedly haunted locations. Some of the shows are really compelling, many feature the appearance of so called 'shadow figures'.
Other paranormal shows claim to have captured images of these phenomena on camera - sometimes they simply take the form of dark masses, in other sightings they appear in human form,sometimes moving, sometimes still. Paranormal investigators often describe these shadow figures as malevolent. Who knows the truth? I certainly wouldn't lke to encounter one. I have seen two spectres, on two random occasions but that is for another blog. This claims to be a true photographic capture.
I danced professionally in my earlier life and one of my favorite Latin dances is the Paso Doble. The dance signifies the bullfight. The man is the matador, the woman is the cape. The dance is usually set to spanish music in four-four time, sometimes with increasing tempo and intensity. The man parades, swirling 'the cape' to simulate the moves of the matador. It is an exciting dance. At the climax of a bullfight the matador kills the bull with his sword. Although bloodthirsty, in Spain bullights command huge spectator following, similar to football.
In my poem, I suggest a slightly more sinister plot.
Paso Deadly
He stands shapeless, hid in shadow
arms behind him, foot on wall
cap is lowered, features covered
body language – don’t stop at al
Glance is guarded, walking quickly
bag clutched tightly under arm
heel tips echo, steel on cobble
confident there is no harm.
Then her heel sticks in a crevice
falters and he lifts one eye,
suddenly he steps out strongly
he won’t let her walk on by.
One stride, stop, another longer
leaping forward, grabs her wrist
reels her to him, arm encircles
though she tries she can’t resist.
Stalker and reluctant captive
underneath the streetlight glare
mirroring each other’s movements
transfixed in hypnotic stare.
Steadily the tempo quickens
synchronising syncopation
perfect timing, pace increasing
step by step, no hesitation.
Tap step tap tap, heel tap toe tap
step tap tap. toe step tap toe
suddenly she senses danger,
tightens up, it’s time to go.
Instantly his hold is tighter
pulses racing, fights her will.
Through his all-consuming motion
she surrenders to the thrill.
Now he guides her from the spotlight
into darker, shadowed space
as she sees the bright blade flashing
desperation clouds her face.
Then he lunges, as he plunges
deep incision to her breast
in her scream, her dream of passion
crashes to eternal rest.
So begins his solo movement
heels tap victory on stone
as her body lays discarded
he dances for himself alone.
Silly girl – she should have known!
Don't have nightmares. Thanks for reading. Adele
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