Shadow of Paradise (Night Encounter)

Normally, I would write a poem if I go through a profound experience. But this time is different. This time, I feel as if this is a story. I may work a poem from it later, but now is not the hour for that.

Tonight, Sunday night, I had a very interesting encounter with a woman who did not speak a word, nor respond to any of mine. Or… did she?

About 10:00 pm, I left the dormitory lounge and headed up to our multi-use stadium, the Redwood Bowl, to practice my ocarina, as I had earlier been informed that people were growing tired of my random practicing and had been over the course of the last two weeks. Sitting in the stands on the west side of the field with a concrete wall behind me, a roof above halting the mist shimmering down and, past the other set of stands opposite me, trees, endlessly, I began to play. I will say that I need more practice; however, my ocarina was singing the best that I had ever made it. I played a couple of familiar tunes. They reverberated throughout the bowl and into the forest. I felt powerful, like I could do no wrong… save the slip of a finger, of course.

Suddenly, I heard the quiet shuffle of a light footstep to my right. There was not supposed to be anyone here, and yet a figure descended the cement steps about 10 yards to my right. In the near-blackness, I could not see if it was friend or foe, male or female. I froze, unable to move, the slightest twinges of fear sliding up and down my spine like beads on an abacus.

The slender shadow reached the base of the stairs as I watched from my perch near the top. By this point I had identified the person as a girl, a student. I was ready to let her continue across to the other side of the field and towards the southeast end of campus. But that was not her intended destination, and as I began to play again, rather tentatively and in segments, she began to walk slowly across the field towards the other stands.

From my vantage point, she crossed behind a pillar that slightly obstructed my view of the field. I craned my neck expecting to see her emerge but she had appeared to vanish suddenly behind it. As I scanned the immediate area of the field where I had last seen her, she appeared from an area of pitch-blackness, taking very slow steps along the 50-yard line. I played a little more, fluidly, peacefully, with no song in mind, just moving up and down the ocarina in my hands, and when I next looked up she had begun to dance.

She danced with no music except perhaps in her head— or headphones, I could not tell. She danced with my ocarina breaking the silence that hung over the stadium and surroundings. She danced along the 50-yard line, then along the 45, leaping gracefully but always on the white, twirling, while up above her the ancient flute whistled away. For the better part of five minutes, ten minutes, this continued. I felt compelled to join her but could not move except for the playing of my ocarina, which sounded more beautiful and haunting than before, or ever. Abruptly, then, she began to walk back towards the west stand, where I sat high above.

She ascended the steps the same way she had come; nearly silent. No sound except that of her feet lightly brushing the concrete. She reached the top, and with it the open door that led to the small parking area above. As she began to disappear, I let out a noise:

“Hey!”

No response.

It was a quiet word, I had not been able to vocalize it properly. I found myself slightly choked at the situation; I could not speak as loudly as normal. I felt a tingling in my spine again, but this time almost pleasant or magical in nature. Seconds later I headed for the other door, on the other set of concrete stairs. Emerging, and looking around, I spotted her about the same distance from me as before and separating as time flew or dozed by, I could not tell. I could see her beret in the streetlight, her black coat and dark pants.

“Hey!”

The cry came forth from my throat, but still no response. It had been about the same volume as before, and the shadowy princess of graceful dance was moving further away.

“Hey!”

Again, no sign of recognition from the girl. By now I had been able to pick out the straight dark hair stretching halfway down her back, and a pale hand at her side. I looked around, half intrigued, half exasperated.

I took a few steps towards her, almost to follow but not quite.

“HEY!”

Probably the loudest I could muster under the situation and how I felt at that point, which in retrospect was not all that loud at all. And again, no response was forthcoming. As she paced away, I looked around my surroundings almost for advice as for what to do. For a full minute, I stood staring at the backsides of buildings, the foliage, the overcast sky which had consented to halt its misty pursuits for the time being.

Then I began walking. It was rather convenient that the road she had taken led nicely to my dormitory hall. But by this point, she had vanished from sight, not to be spotted by my searching eyes again.

What did I miss, I wondered? If she had responded… I had wanted to complement her on her grace and movements… I sit here pensive. I wonder if it may happen someday again, that I might encounter the shadow.

I do like to practice.