The Invisible Dancer

Private location

Only some of the aforementioned people attended the private meeting.
“Understandably,” John Small tried to explain “some of the people that we met at the Tap and Spile last week were not too interested in discussing this further. Who is the saner of the two parties does not concern me. What concerns me,” he paused and took a sip of brandy long enough to give the impression he was thinking of his words “is that… creature and how come only we saw it!” In truth, John has prepared this speech carefully. “I would like to investigate further, avoiding all forms of recognized authority – which will simply call us ‘crazy’ and do nothing but hinder us. There are risks, but hey…” Here is stopped for another sip and did not continue. Instead he waited, as long as necessary, until some1 else spoke.
Only half of the initially 6 people were in attendance. John himself completed the quartet that were united in silence. Eventually, the youngest person there spoke up:
HJ: “What did you have in mind?” As if waiting for the question John replied instantly:
JS: “A break in! Not to steal or vandalise.” He continued prompted by the raising of the eye brows, “Rather to investigate the curtains and the rafters and the whole symphony hall, see what we might find?”
JM: “ ‘A break in’ !? “
JS: “Yes. I have contacts; I have money; I have curiosity; what I lack is youth!”
TH: “Not into breaking into places, personally”
JS: “Neither am I – ordinarily! This is not ordinary…. I know the staff rotations there, cleaners, security procedures and systems.”
TH: “You break in…”
JS: “I intend to. Hopefully all together!”

And so John Small, Hannah Jones, Jake Mallone and Terri Hannik sipped their drinks and chatted for a few hours. And so El’zah listened. Not terribly well, at first, but as the conversation grew more animated and lively she found that she could concentrate and block out the soft music and eavesdrop past the thick wall that separated them. She heard enough to get the gist.

the listener

Unbeknownst to any of the people at that table, there was another person taking part that night. Or at least listening, if not contributing. Her name was El’zah and having seen the newspaper article knew this would be something of interest to her. The paranormal fascinated her and she took great pleasure in ensuring she got involved in all such investigations.

Her problem now was gaining access to the next secret meeting….

Tap and Spile
Are you alone?

First to arrive was the person who posted the article.
Who was soon joined by a tall, 30-something Caucasian male, then a similar female, then a 20-something, black male, then young, white female. Sometime later a middle-aged, Asian gentleman joined them and finally another white, 30-something man joined them. They gingery introduced themselves and chatted in hushed voices about what they saw. Though details were sketchy they all agreed:
A man, unkempt and ugly, climbed down the heavy, maroon drapes at the back, danced to the music, and then eventually climbed back up them to vanished somewhere among the rafters. This was during a packed out concert in the symphony hall and disturbingly, only the people at this table seemed to see him!
John Small, a man true to his name, with salt-and-pepper hair in his 50’s (the man who posted the newspaper adverts) took control of the conversation:
“Gosh! It’s almost 11. My bedtime. If you give me your numbers, I’ll arrange for us to meet in a more private location in the near future and discuss what to do about it, if anything?”

Are you alone?

“You are not alone!”
That was the eye-catching, mid-spread title of an announcement hogging the two center pages of almost a dozen newspapers (local and national!). In similarly large, dark blue block capitals on a plain white background it continued:
“If you saw what a room-full of people seemed to miss, on 7.6.2009, at the CBSO, in the middle of Beethoven’s 7th symphony, you are not alone!
If those sightings are driving you to distraction and everyone thinks you are insane, you are not alone!
On the 19.6.2009, I will be at the Tap and Spile, just off Broad Street, from 8.30pm onward, clutching two half-empty glasses of beer.
Come talk to me!"

In the concert hall.

In the pause between movements 1 and 2 (Beethoven’s 7th symphony) a figure jumps down from the rafters. He looks like a hobo. Dressed in tattered jeans, a filthy T-shirt and a long black overcoat and some non-descript trainers. Matching his attire, his facial features aren’t terribly attractive either. He lands behind the orchestra totally noiselessly. No one seems to notice him. Yet he takes no precautions whatsoever to hide himself. In fact with one mighty, inhuman leap he jumps over the orchestra to land right in front of the conductor. He cautiously sidesteps him as the 2nd movement commences. He starts imitating the conductor and his movements, seemingly totally enraptured by the music. Yet no one seems to be able to see him. He proceeds to dance up the isles, and flings the hair of one of the women sat next to the isle. She straightens her hair but never sees him. When the 2nd movement ends he pulls funny faces at a few members of the audience, turn the page of one of the orchestra (who quickly finds the correct page and carries on playing) and shuffles to the back of the stage again. There he jumps on one of the massive purple drapes (that sway slightly under his weight) at the back and climbs up them, to vanish (out of sight) somewhere up in the rafters!


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