Last Chance for a Slow Dance

They slipped away one by one as they town slept. The weak shadows cast by the glow of digital clocks were almost invisible as they first flexed and stretched, straining to reach a wall or the leg of a dresser. The deeper, more defined shadows created by the lights lining the streets of Pine Grove twisted away from their owners easily, almost rising from the floor as the dashed down stairs and along empty hallways.

One by one they reached the street, creeping from bush to mailbox to signpost by the faint light of the moon. Some of the shadows paused when they met others, twirling around one another playfully before resuming their mission. It took a few moments for most to get their bearings before moving toward the south side of town. A few--the shadows whose owners lived near their childhood homes--moved with more focus along the routes they'd followed as teenagers.

Cats hissed at windows as the troupe passed; dogs turned fitfully in their sleep. More of the shadows flitted together in knots of three or four, joining hands to swing along the pavement or dance across the walls of houses when the headlights of an occasional car flared along the street.

Beyond the last houses, a half mile of old pastures divided into subdivisions and strip malls separated the shadows from their goal. They were weak in the moonlight, clinging to wisps of grass and forming long chains when one could anchor itself on a signpost. The old high school gleamed in the darkness ahead. Closed for almost a year, the streetlamps dotting the parking lot still provided pools of yellow light and a spotlights shone where a flag used to fly in front of the building. The shadows moved more quickly as they approached the building, flying in long bounds across the parking lot and under the chained double doors leading into the school.

Thin rays of light streamed across the cafeteria floor. The shadows made their way across the empty room, some faltering as they tried to move around remembered tables. Slipping under the doors to the old gym they found what had drawn them away from their owners: a work light left on by a contractor working to dismantle the bleachers. After a moment's wistful hesitation they began. Pairs formed on the walls lining the gym and began dancing to unheard music.

As most loomed and danced on the gym walls, a few shadows broke away from the revel. Couples stealthily slipped under the bleachers. Some made their way to the heavy rope hanging from the ceiling and--now lithe and weightless--clambered up the braid to the beam where students who could climb had written their names during gym class. Others ventured into the hallways, gliding against lockers in the moonlight as they visited old classrooms. One went straight to the old library and carefully moved from shelf to shelf, pausing to sniff a forgotten book about the Trojan War that had been knocked under a counter.

They slipped away one by one as morning approached, retracing their paths as they returned to their waking owners.