The Shadow Dancers

–Part Three – The Charleston

Once upon a time when the full moon rose above the treetops.

The street was dark and most of the streetlights were out, trash littered the sidewalk, yet he walked on ignoring the danger in this run-down section of the city.  The moon was almost full, and midnight was getting closer with each step.   The gardens where the Shadow Dancers gathered on the advent of the full moon would welcome them no more.  The Veil had closed, and the garden floated away like the morning mist.

Tonight, the Veil would open here in Charleston, South Carolina at the stroke of Midnight. He walked closer toward the old brick building, the sidewalks and streetlights shimmering in the distance then slowly everything became clear.  He could hear the clacking on the sidewalk of high heels and a song by Cecil Mack coming from the front entrance to the club.  He was in awe of all the roadsters parked along the street, men in white linen suits, and two-tone shoes, and the women in Flappers, short dresses, and bobbed hair.

This was Charleston 1923, and it was not unusual for one to see Garbo, Collen Moore, and of course socialite Alice Ravenel.  He could smell Sandalwood on the men near the door and notes of Coco Chanel floating in the air and he knew Rose was here, he was sure of this. He nodded to the doorman and walked inside The Twilight Lounge.  He saw her at a table near the piano talking to Alla Nazimova, an actress, and creator of a perfume called Marem.  It was a seductive floral fragrance filled with romance and mystery.

When Rose saw him, her eyes lit up and she ran over for a big hug.  She asked him how he knew that the Veil was open here in Charleston and they would be able to cross over.  In truth, he didn’t know. He just followed the calling in his heart leading him to the old Twilight Lounge where she once sang, and now here they were.  She called out for her driver saying that they were going to Sullivans Island to walk on the beach and make up for the time they spent apart when the Veil was closed.

Sullivans Island was a small island north of Charleston.  It was undeveloped with miles of sand dunes and a few cottages.  He wasn’t surprised that Rose had a cottage on this sparsely populated island.  She had the driver take them to the cottage telling him they had to be back before the dawn.  The sunrise was something that they would never share as the Veil closed at dawn and did not open again until the next full moon.

This had been their life since they met at The Twilight Lounge years ago.  Now they could only be together when the moon was full and only from midnight to dawn.  With only a few hours left before the sunrise, they walked arm in arm down the shoreline.  They cherished this time, these moments when the veil was open and they could dance, laugh, and in the end cry.  The love was real, yet they would never be together until it came time for him to cross over to her side of the Veil.

A distant light warned them that it was time, it was almost dawn and he held her one more time before she would drive away.  He watched the car shimmering in the coming light and finally it faded away as the morning sun peaked over the dunes.

He watched the new day come to life and it was time for him to go until the next full moon.

Links to all Shadow Dancers stories

Shadow Dancers | BIZCATALYST 360°

The Shadow Dancers | BIZCATALYST 360°


Larry Tyler
Larry Tyler
Awaken the possibilities … then unleash them. After 55 years of successful retail management, I have returned to my passion of writing. I write Poetry, Storytelling, and Short Stories. As a child, I grew up on front porch storytelling. I would sit and listen to my Dad and his brothers tell these great stories that were captivating, and I always wanted to hear more. I wanted to experience the things they talked about. I started writing at a young age and reading everything I could get my hands on. At twelve years old I started a storytelling group and several of my friends became writers or poets. At 16 I hopped box cars and worked the tobacco fields, orange groves, picked cotton, and spent many nights around a campfire listing to life stories. Someone once asked me why I wrote. It consumes an amazing amount of time and I assure you it is not going to make me rich. I write so that my children can touch and feel my words telling of the ones that came before us and the stories they told me. These are the chronicles of our family and even though they come from my childhood memories and are deeply rooted in a child’s remembrance at least they may feel what it was like in the time before them and cherish the things the elders left behind. I am a Columnist & Featured Contributor, BIZCATALYST360 and I have The Writers Café, a group on LinkedIn that features Poets, Writers, Artists, Photographers, and Musicians . On Facebook I have two groups and one page; Dirt Road Storytelling, From Abandoned To Rescue Dogs And Cats, and About Life, Love And Living. As writers, it is true that we honestly do not know what we hold within us until we unleash it. When our words inspire others only then will inspiration return to the writer. I will spend my twilight years in search of the next story, the next poem, and the next image. I will take the time to enjoy my Wife, our Dogs, and Cats, and our amazing new home and I will always find the time to walk down a dirt road I truly hope is that I never have to read another book on Leadership, be on a conference call or see another plan o gram as these were the tool for what I did in life and not about who I am.

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