Come, dance with me

Every night, just before the boy sleeps. He looks out through the keyhole in his bedroom door, and sees an empty living room, with a tv.

But on every Friday, at 1:15 in the morning. The boy wakes up to the sound of a woman dancing. He hears footsteps against the floor in a rhythm pattern. He hears the sound of anklets, and sometimes, he even hears laughter.

His mother is a psychiatrist. And has a night shift, every Friday. So whenever he calls her, she convinces him "You're just imagining it. Don't be afraid. "

But on Friday, January 1st, 2021. The woman stays at home with her son. After they have dinner, the boy asks "Mum, can you sleep with me tonight." 

The mum says "okay!", and says "There's nothing for you to worry alright. "

"But what if it's a ghost?" asks the boy

His mother smiles, "Ghosts are just what we say, so we can imagine a life for those who died. "

"Death. Isn't that what happened to dad?"

The mother strokes his hair, "Yes, as long as he's in heaven. He's watching over you, you got that?"

The boy nods his head, and goes to bed. She stays up beside him, a bit more longer. She studies her patient files, before she switches off the light. 

And then.

At 1:15. There is the sound of a window opening. The son opens his eyes, and sees that his mum is still sleeping.

Then the soun of wind, and the sound of feet striking the floor. Anklet bells just like he heard before. His mother wakes up and her heart races.

She takes out her phone, and gives it to the boy. "Call the police, tell them its a emergency."

"Wh-What about you?" he holds the phone.

she holds her breath, "I am going to look through the keyhole."

The bells grow louder. she bends forward, looks through the hole. And sees a pair of eyes looking back at her.

The eyes are bright. They move from side to side. The dancer holds her hands forward, as though inviting her to dance together. 

The woman screams, and carries her child.

"It's a ghost isn't it...?" the boy asked. 

"No." says the mother, "It's a patient of mine. "

-by Ashwath Sezhian 

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