Welcome Steemit Friends I invite you into my world for some horror and the power to overcome horror. It is a world of the spirit and the hidden abilities some people have that they find out and secretly use to the benefit of all of us. Written for Steemit.

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The Dancer - The Beginning 2

Again, I am Martha’s grandfather. It was when she started to go to school for the first grade that the city began to change a little bit. All, I can say is with a certainty, it seemed like crime began to increase. Reflecting, I think it was because of the longer amount of time she spent at school.

At first, she had behavioral problems with her attention, or so the teacher said. Martha did not like sitting at her desk during the classes or in the chairs when there were reading circles or activity circles. She would always want to dance around, keep moving.

It was a concern for her parents and since our family was very closely knitted, we, the grandparents were involved in the discussion. The funny thing about Martha was that even though she refused to sit still, she was still aware of all that was taught. When tested, she almost always correctly answered every single question.

The problem we finally decided and even the teacher, Miss Hayes and the principal Mr. Roberts agreed that the problem was not that she had attention difficulties like they thought – Martha was a disruptive leader that affected the other children because they wanted to dance around too. Only they did not retain everything like Martha did.

Eventually, after a lot of talks with Martha and a lot of examination of the answers on her tests, the only questions she ever answered incorrectly were what was taught when she was in ‘the corner’. She began to sit still, for most of the time and was allowed ‘dancing breaks’ when transitions occurred or it was not absolutely necessary to pay attention. Once allowing her to dance every so often was decided, her test scores were near perfect.

She became the happy little girl she was before, seeming to accept that she could not dance all the time.

One nice Saturday spring day after the snow melted, it was early May and she neared the end of the first grade. I took Martha for a walk to the park and on the way to the park, we bought vanilla ice cream cones.

“You are adjusted Martha to school now and seem to be happy.” I said to her while we took a walk to the nearby park as we held ice cream cones. She did not dance with an ice cream cone in her hand and so I had her full attention.

“I know I do not have to dance all the time now.” Martha replied.

“You had to dance all the time before but you do not have to dance all the time now?” I asked.

“Yes.” Martha answered and took another lick of her vanilla cone.

“Why did you have to dance all the time before and now you do not?” I asked my granddaughter.

“Because I did not know that if I dance right a short time it would work.” Martha smiled.

“Dancing a short time would work at what?” I asked.

“Making them go away.” Martha answered and licked her treat again.

“When you dance it makes ‘them’ go away?” I asked wondering what they were. I had never heard from her there was a reason she danced, or she thought there was a reason for dancing.

“Yes.” Martha smiled as she responded.

“What are these things that go away when you dance?” I asked.

“I don’t know what they are but they go away.” Martha smiled.

“Do they do something?” I asked her.

“They are mean. They are very mean and I make them go away.” Martha said and she nodded her head as she said it. She looked very satisfied. If I did not know better, I would say her expression was the same as mine would be when I had an epiphany in life.

Did six year olds have epiphanies? I could not really remember much from that far back in my life to such a detail to remember. While we walked on the sidewalk, I tried to remember when I was her age.

I sat on the bench adjacent to the play area. Martha was the only child on the fort with its slides and climbing ladders and crawling tubes but not for long. Within ten minutes, there were at least ten kids up there with Martha or around the fort and they all started dancing and playing around and Martha seemed to lead them or they mimicked her. A little boy came up to me and asked,

“Are you Martha’s grandpa?” He asked me.

I was deep in thought trying to remember when I was that small and what had happened, if I had any epiphanies I could remember. It was so deep in thought I barely heard him.

“Mister,” the boy tugged my sleeve, “My Mom wants to know if you are Martha’s grandpa?”

“What? Yes, I am Martha’s grandpa, where is your mother, son?” I asked him.

He pointed behind me and said, “She is over at our house watching.”

I turned to look back over my shoulder and saw the boy’s mother, a lovely brunette woman who must have been no older than 24 or 25 years old. A baby was in her arms. I waved at her. I nodded and I am sure she saw me. She waved back and motioned for her son to go play and began to walk over.

My reverie was ended. I think I had just hit upon a small epiphany or the understanding of a wonder when I was Martha’s age too. We introduced ourselves and she sat to help watch the children. It would be another eight years before I found out more of what Martha made go away, or thought she did.

The more I learned I am certain she made something go away because I do recall this moment very well.

“Excuse me for a moment,” the Mother holding her child that was two and a half suddenly addressed her son, “Jimmy, what are you doing? You stop that and come over here this instant.”

“Mom we’re fighting them! I have to finish.” Jimmy the little boy who had tugged my sleeve yelled back.

“Climb down off of that wall right now before you fall!” She yelled, “Come here this instant!”

“I’ll go and make certain I can catch him,” I said over my shoulder as I jumped up and moved as fast as I could to the wall of the fort on which he stood, and if I did not know it I would say he danced on it.

“I won!” Jimmy yelled throwing up his arms in an expression of victory while he stood on the wall.

“Get down off that right now!” His mother yelled.

I was under him by then and ready to catch Jimmy if necessary. He did not fall and said okay as climbed down off the wall and as he ran over to his mother after sliding down the slide. Disaster was averted and I said to children still up there, “Nobody should climb on the walls of the fort any more, Okay everybody?”

“Yes,” they all answered one by one. Except for Martha who was the last to speak,

“Gran’pa Jimmy had to do it to save us.” Martha stated defiantly as she looked me straight in the eyes.

“Look Martha, you and the rest of you kids, you will have to figure out how to save each other without climbing up on the walls of the fort, it is too dangerous and you could be hurt very bad if you fall.” I said. “I do not want to see anyone else climb up on the wall.”

“How will we stop them from coming in the fort and getting us?” Martha asked.

I had to think about that one for a moment, “Throw something, no shoot them like this.” I made my finger into a pistol, “Pow!” Martha pointed her finger like a pistol off in the other direction to my right at her imaginary enemy and said,

“Pow!”

“That did work,” a little boy I did not know who crouched next to Martha said as he peeped over the wall of the fort said.

“Thanks Grandpa, it worked.” Martha looked very satisfied as she reported the results.

“Good. I am glad to hear it. Is everyone agreed that it is not safe to climb up on the walls of the fort from now on?” I asked. Fortunately, they all answered yes. I returned to the bench. Jimmy was seated with his arms folded and a frown on his face in a timeout.

“They won’t be doing that anymore.” I said to the Jimmy’s mother, “Now they have finger pistols and no need to climb on the wall.”

“Did you hear that Jimmy, there is no need to climb on the wall to punch them,” Jimmy’s mother said to him. “It works just as good at getting them to use your finger as a pistol.”

“Can I go back to the fort?” Jimmy asked.

“You won’t climb up on the wall anymore to fight them off?” The Mother asked.

“No, I won’t.” Jimmy paused and asked, “But what if we run out of ammo? Then what do we do?”

The Mother paused and I answered, “We have the ammo here in our protection you send a runner to come over to us to get more.”

“Okay!” Jimmy jumped up and started to run to the fort but turned back around and held out his hand to his mother, “I need some ammo.”

She pretended to hand Jimmy ammo and he ran away, “Thank you, I should have thought of that.” She said to me.

Now I remembered an epiphany from when I was six. The good guys never ran out of ammo in a battle. Every so often a defender of the fort slid down the slide and ran over for more ammo and that lasted for at least a couple of hours, maybe more. While we walked home together after their great battle Martha said,

“Gran’pa I don’t think shooting them works as good unless it is a dance.”

“Did you try dancing and shooting?” I tried not to laugh while I asked.

“Yes, and it works better.”

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Written for Steemit: Copyright © 2017 Jeff Kubitz - The Dancer - et al. All Rights Reserved. Steemit.com/steemit/@jeff-kubitz