Post by indi on Oct 18, 2019 6:15:06 GMT -5
Hey buds!
It’s me again, Indi Rhyder, the galactic princess and investigator of the spooky and the strange! Last time around, I told you guys about my brush with the fires of hell. It was pretty freakin scary I don’t mind admitting that… But this time I have something just a little different for you This is a story from my childhood, a retelling of something someone once told me, that I just had to see for myself.
Like all good stories, I’m gonna start from the beginning. So keep with me here and lets see if you get even half as spooked as I did!
Morro Bay, CA
2004
When I was a little princess, real little in fact, the kinda little that people call knee high to a grasshopper. My mom's dad was still alive, I couldn’t really speak all that well as a toddler, so instead of gramps? I would call him Grumps. The name kind of stuck and it was a funny juxtaposition to his naturally sunny demeanor. He never really minded the nickname and would even crack a wrinkled smile when I toddled my way over to the big, comfortable chair he treated like a throne and scrambled onto his lap.
“Tell me a story Grumps!” I would demand, little fists balled up at my sides as I peered into his wise old eyes.
Often he would tell me fantastical stories of space explorers and faeries and unicorns. But not on this day; this day Grumps looked into my face sadly. His weathered but oft hand gently cradled the small of my back and it seemed as though he was about to let go of a weight that had heaped upon his shoulders for decades. Twirling a strand of my wavy blonde hair around his pinky finger, he began to speak very softly at first.
“When I was young, not much older than you are now. The town over announced dance lessons at the same studio where my father taught wrestling classes. The building was the pride of the town and every little girl in the town and the next five over, wanted desperately to enroll in these classes. As I spent so much time in the building watching and waiting for my papa; I began to notice the girls coming in and out to register for these classes. Almost all of the girls were very average, plain even and I barely gave them a second glance.
Even at my young age, I was a boy who noticed pretty girls and one wet and miserable Tuesday afternoon, I saw her.”
His eyes turned misty and wistful, I was too young to think much of it then, but I think a lot about the way he looked when he told me this story. His gaze distant and sad, as though he was watching it all play out before him as he recounted his story.
“Her name was Evangeline and she was as unique and pretty as her name. With locks as long and blonde as yours are now. And light feet that seemed to make no sound as she glided down the hall towards the room they used as a dance studio. She wore cornflower blue that complimented her powder blue eyes and two sparkling diamond slides in her hair.
For weeks, I watched Evangeline to and from class. I would notice how elegantly she moved, her limbs seeming to find music to move to even when none was playing. Her round face always fixed with a small smile that invited conversation and admiring glances even at her young age. Other children noticed her too, but they didn’t look at her the same way that I did.
Ugly green hues of jealousy clouded the other girls eyes as they watched Evangeline. Their lips would twist to sneers between the spiteful whispers they passed back and forth among themselves. Evangeline could have been and done anything, but she was a tap dancer. The best tapper in her class.”
Grumps released a sad sigh as he pulled me a little closer. Again, I was too young to really understand his change in demeanor and, as a child always hungering for affection I simply snuggled closer to him as he told his tale.
“As the months passed, the ugliness from the other girls began to leave its impression upon Evangeline, she no longer wore the beautiful blue color, instead choosing black. Better to blend in, she wore her sunflower gold locks wrapped up in a bun at the base of her neck, all the better to hide her beauty from the world… The small smile was replaced by a worry filled line and, instead of inviting and enticing those around her; she turned sullen and rude. Not wanting any extra attention on her.
But still she came alive when she danced.
I would hear the rhythmic tapping from down the hall and more than once I snuck my way to the studio door and pressed up on tiptoes to peek inside and witness the way she moved. Her dancing lit up the room and her perfectly timed taps drew the attention of anyone and everyone nearby.
About six months after classes began, it was announced that there would be a recital, all of the other girls in class talked excitedly between themselves; this was to be the biggest event the small town had ever seen and they had plans.
If only I had known; I could have stopped them… I would have warned her.”
Even as a small child, I found what Grumps told me next to be too unbelievable, so far from the reach of reality that as I aged, I wondered if he had gone a little funny in his old age and I chalked the story up to his aging memory and flair for the dramatics.
It was only years later, when he lay sick and weak on his deathbed that I thought of the story again, old shaking hands grabbed my wrist and he pulled me closer, those same wise but yet now fearful eyes poured into mine as he whispered close to my ear.
“Find my Evangeline.”
The night after the funeral, I couldn’t sleep. Well wishers and do-gooders had been in my Grumps home all day and now that it was quiet, the cold touch of loneliness began to rear its ugly head. My mind raced back to the final words he had ever said to me and I recalled the story he had told me one afternoon.
It only took me ten minutes to be dressed, in my car and on the road. I drove through the night to the next town over and found the now abandoned and forgotten building he had described to me from memory. Aside from some caution tape slung across one door, there was nothing to prevent my entry and so I went inside. Hallways once filled with music and laughter now lay silent; the building was nothing more than the old bones of what it once had been. But I knew my course and stayed on it, walking past the abandoned studio room.
The wide mirror still filled one wall, but now it gathered dust and cobwebs and other signs of age. A single wooden chair lay upturned in the middle of the room and forgotten pieces of dance wear, strewn near the barre, served as a reminder for what the room once had been. I paused to look in for only a second before continuing down the hall.
The grand auditorium had two large doors that opened to reveal the stage; heavy velvet curtain now sat moth eaten and forgotten at the edges. Stage lights long since fizzled out and nothing more than a dim glow. The decking of the stage itself had begun to warp and bow. But just as expected, there in the middle of the stage, moving in silence to music only her limbs could hear, was the blonde haired beauty Evangeline.
“The other girls were so jealous of her, they couldn’t bare the thought of her being the star of the production. While she was getting dressed, they snuck in and stole her tap shoes. Using a set of pliers one of the girls had stolen from her father’s tool box, they pried off the little metal plates from the bottom of her shoes.
When Evangeline stepped out onto the stage; nobody could hear her. No matter how hard she danced or how much she stomped; not a single sound came from those shoes. At first, parents were confused, concerned… But the girls soon saw to that. Screeching fire alarms rushed everyone from the auditorium to collect outside.
Nobody noticed that Evangeline was missing, without the usual tap of her dancing shoes; they forgot. Every person there forgot about the blonde beauty in cornflower blue, silently dancing up on that stage. Even as they moved to their cars or began to walk home, she danced. It was days before anyone noticed the sound was missing, but nobody could recall what sound they had forgotten.
Not long after, classes were cancelled and all of the girls went on their way; all the girls but Evangeline.”
Hate and Jealousy are powerful emotions, so powerful in fact that a hate fueled act such as destroying a little girls tap shoes; is all the power the universe needed to keep her there forever.
I ran towards the stage as the small figure continued to dance silently. Blood old and dried as well as fresh was smeared across the bowing wood; her hair was no longer sunflower yellow; but a shock of white like a mane around her head. Pastel blue eyes had turned grey and all but blind, but still she moved to the sound of the music only she could hear.
“Evangeline!”
The figure halted, her feet still as she stared out into the darkness, blinded eyes searching for the voice as her face cracked into a smile that mirrored the one my Grumps had described to me. It was only a fleeting second, a look of recognition before the dry dust filled air caused me to blink
and she was gone.
It’s me again, Indi Rhyder, the galactic princess and investigator of the spooky and the strange! Last time around, I told you guys about my brush with the fires of hell. It was pretty freakin scary I don’t mind admitting that… But this time I have something just a little different for you This is a story from my childhood, a retelling of something someone once told me, that I just had to see for myself.
Like all good stories, I’m gonna start from the beginning. So keep with me here and lets see if you get even half as spooked as I did!
Morro Bay, CA
2004
When I was a little princess, real little in fact, the kinda little that people call knee high to a grasshopper. My mom's dad was still alive, I couldn’t really speak all that well as a toddler, so instead of gramps? I would call him Grumps. The name kind of stuck and it was a funny juxtaposition to his naturally sunny demeanor. He never really minded the nickname and would even crack a wrinkled smile when I toddled my way over to the big, comfortable chair he treated like a throne and scrambled onto his lap.
“Tell me a story Grumps!” I would demand, little fists balled up at my sides as I peered into his wise old eyes.
Often he would tell me fantastical stories of space explorers and faeries and unicorns. But not on this day; this day Grumps looked into my face sadly. His weathered but oft hand gently cradled the small of my back and it seemed as though he was about to let go of a weight that had heaped upon his shoulders for decades. Twirling a strand of my wavy blonde hair around his pinky finger, he began to speak very softly at first.
“When I was young, not much older than you are now. The town over announced dance lessons at the same studio where my father taught wrestling classes. The building was the pride of the town and every little girl in the town and the next five over, wanted desperately to enroll in these classes. As I spent so much time in the building watching and waiting for my papa; I began to notice the girls coming in and out to register for these classes. Almost all of the girls were very average, plain even and I barely gave them a second glance.
Even at my young age, I was a boy who noticed pretty girls and one wet and miserable Tuesday afternoon, I saw her.”
His eyes turned misty and wistful, I was too young to think much of it then, but I think a lot about the way he looked when he told me this story. His gaze distant and sad, as though he was watching it all play out before him as he recounted his story.
“Her name was Evangeline and she was as unique and pretty as her name. With locks as long and blonde as yours are now. And light feet that seemed to make no sound as she glided down the hall towards the room they used as a dance studio. She wore cornflower blue that complimented her powder blue eyes and two sparkling diamond slides in her hair.
For weeks, I watched Evangeline to and from class. I would notice how elegantly she moved, her limbs seeming to find music to move to even when none was playing. Her round face always fixed with a small smile that invited conversation and admiring glances even at her young age. Other children noticed her too, but they didn’t look at her the same way that I did.
Ugly green hues of jealousy clouded the other girls eyes as they watched Evangeline. Their lips would twist to sneers between the spiteful whispers they passed back and forth among themselves. Evangeline could have been and done anything, but she was a tap dancer. The best tapper in her class.”
Grumps released a sad sigh as he pulled me a little closer. Again, I was too young to really understand his change in demeanor and, as a child always hungering for affection I simply snuggled closer to him as he told his tale.
“As the months passed, the ugliness from the other girls began to leave its impression upon Evangeline, she no longer wore the beautiful blue color, instead choosing black. Better to blend in, she wore her sunflower gold locks wrapped up in a bun at the base of her neck, all the better to hide her beauty from the world… The small smile was replaced by a worry filled line and, instead of inviting and enticing those around her; she turned sullen and rude. Not wanting any extra attention on her.
But still she came alive when she danced.
I would hear the rhythmic tapping from down the hall and more than once I snuck my way to the studio door and pressed up on tiptoes to peek inside and witness the way she moved. Her dancing lit up the room and her perfectly timed taps drew the attention of anyone and everyone nearby.
About six months after classes began, it was announced that there would be a recital, all of the other girls in class talked excitedly between themselves; this was to be the biggest event the small town had ever seen and they had plans.
If only I had known; I could have stopped them… I would have warned her.”
Even as a small child, I found what Grumps told me next to be too unbelievable, so far from the reach of reality that as I aged, I wondered if he had gone a little funny in his old age and I chalked the story up to his aging memory and flair for the dramatics.
It was only years later, when he lay sick and weak on his deathbed that I thought of the story again, old shaking hands grabbed my wrist and he pulled me closer, those same wise but yet now fearful eyes poured into mine as he whispered close to my ear.
“Find my Evangeline.”
The night after the funeral, I couldn’t sleep. Well wishers and do-gooders had been in my Grumps home all day and now that it was quiet, the cold touch of loneliness began to rear its ugly head. My mind raced back to the final words he had ever said to me and I recalled the story he had told me one afternoon.
It only took me ten minutes to be dressed, in my car and on the road. I drove through the night to the next town over and found the now abandoned and forgotten building he had described to me from memory. Aside from some caution tape slung across one door, there was nothing to prevent my entry and so I went inside. Hallways once filled with music and laughter now lay silent; the building was nothing more than the old bones of what it once had been. But I knew my course and stayed on it, walking past the abandoned studio room.
The wide mirror still filled one wall, but now it gathered dust and cobwebs and other signs of age. A single wooden chair lay upturned in the middle of the room and forgotten pieces of dance wear, strewn near the barre, served as a reminder for what the room once had been. I paused to look in for only a second before continuing down the hall.
The grand auditorium had two large doors that opened to reveal the stage; heavy velvet curtain now sat moth eaten and forgotten at the edges. Stage lights long since fizzled out and nothing more than a dim glow. The decking of the stage itself had begun to warp and bow. But just as expected, there in the middle of the stage, moving in silence to music only her limbs could hear, was the blonde haired beauty Evangeline.
“The other girls were so jealous of her, they couldn’t bare the thought of her being the star of the production. While she was getting dressed, they snuck in and stole her tap shoes. Using a set of pliers one of the girls had stolen from her father’s tool box, they pried off the little metal plates from the bottom of her shoes.
When Evangeline stepped out onto the stage; nobody could hear her. No matter how hard she danced or how much she stomped; not a single sound came from those shoes. At first, parents were confused, concerned… But the girls soon saw to that. Screeching fire alarms rushed everyone from the auditorium to collect outside.
Nobody noticed that Evangeline was missing, without the usual tap of her dancing shoes; they forgot. Every person there forgot about the blonde beauty in cornflower blue, silently dancing up on that stage. Even as they moved to their cars or began to walk home, she danced. It was days before anyone noticed the sound was missing, but nobody could recall what sound they had forgotten.
Not long after, classes were cancelled and all of the girls went on their way; all the girls but Evangeline.”
Hate and Jealousy are powerful emotions, so powerful in fact that a hate fueled act such as destroying a little girls tap shoes; is all the power the universe needed to keep her there forever.
I ran towards the stage as the small figure continued to dance silently. Blood old and dried as well as fresh was smeared across the bowing wood; her hair was no longer sunflower yellow; but a shock of white like a mane around her head. Pastel blue eyes had turned grey and all but blind, but still she moved to the sound of the music only she could hear.
“Evangeline!”
The figure halted, her feet still as she stared out into the darkness, blinded eyes searching for the voice as her face cracked into a smile that mirrored the one my Grumps had described to me. It was only a fleeting second, a look of recognition before the dry dust filled air caused me to blink
and she was gone.