The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces Story

Hello again, reader. Last week, I analyzed The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces, and this week, I'll write a modern version of that story. I decided to write it from a different perspective.

Put on your dancing shoes.

Clyde had been a bartender at The Castle for the last few years. He wasn't sure when the girls had first shown up, but they seemed as much part of the bar as the wood countertop of the bar itself, or the expectation that he would have wise advice when someone poured out their heart to him while he poured their beer. The girls had come to the bar every night for a long time. The twelve of them always came in smiling, danced until about last call, and left shortly before the bar closed. It was a little intimidating to see all of them come in and take over the dance floor, but they always managed to find partners.

One night, Clyde happened to catch the eye of one of them on his way back to the bar from the bathroom. She smiled at him and waved him onto the dance floor. Even though he knew he had to get back to work, Clyde found himself moving through the dance floor over to her. Once he got to her, he started dancing. He didn't think about what he was going to do, or how dumb he might look. He just moved to the music, and she moved with him. He had wanted to ask these girls a million questions, but he couldn't remember any of them now.

It wasn't until one of the other bartenders called closing time that Clyde realized how long he'd been dancing. He looked down and noticed his partner's feet. Her shoes were in tatters and her feet were starting to bleed. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," she said. She looked around and the eleven other girls moved toward her in a herd.

Clyde had seen them walk away from the bar without a car in sight. He took a deep breath, and then took a gamble. "Do you want a ride?" he asked before she got too far away.

She turned back toward him, looking like a deer in headlights. "What?" she asked.

"I don't want you to have to walk home if you don't need to," he said. "My van is big enough for all of you. I used to be a drummer, so I have a big car..." Clyde trailed off. He wasn't usually this awkward. What was happening to him?

The other girls looked pleadingly at the girl he had danced with. She looked at them, and down at her feet. "I suppose you can take us part of the way," she admitted.

"Great," Clyde replied. "Let me just clock out, and we can go."

Kathy, the other bartender, must have been listening in. "Leaving me with the cleanup, Romeo?" she asked sardonically.

"Just this once?" Clyde asked.

Kathy sighed. "Only because you've never done this to me before. Go on."

Clyde thanked his lucky stars Kathy decided to be nice, and that two of them were working tonight and not just one. He led the girls through the bar and out the back. Clyde knew his car didn't look great, but he was newly self-conscious of it, bringing these beautiful girls into it.

"Is this yours?" his dance partner asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "I've been thinking about getting a new one, maybe a little smaller now that I don't have to lug a drum kit around, but..." He shrugged. He unlocked the car and climbed into the driver seat. Clyde was a little surprised to see his dance partner sitting in the seat next to him instead of in the back. "What's your name?" he asked impulsively.

"Violet," she said, shyly.

"I'm Clyde," he replied, smiling at her. He started the car and backed out. "So, where to?"

As Violet gave him directions, Clyde admired her bravery. He was certainly outnumbered, but he'd had to interfere with enough men giving women unwanted attention to realize this could have been dangerous for the girls anyway. Soon enough, Violet told him to pull over. "Here is fine," she said. Clyde was not surprised they were in a rich neighborhood, or that he wasn't sure which mansion was theirs.

"Are you safe at home?" he asked her.

Violet ducked her head and the other girls stopped chatting. "Thank you for the ride," Violet said before she got out.

After that, the girls would ask him for a ride home from time to time, after he was done closing. Clyde got to know their names, they were all named after flowers, and what they thought of the bar, but they never talked about why they went there every night, or why they never talked about their home. All Clyde knew was that they were given nice clothes and shoes, and they were able to dance their shoes to pieces and wear new ones the next night.

One day, before the girls usually came in, Clyde heard a rumor about a rich man who would pay dearly to know where his girls snuck out to every night. "Are there twelve of them?" Kathy asked with a smirk.

The man, who was only a little tipsy, nodded. "I think so. Something like that."

"I think I know where they go," Kathy told him, laughing, "but why doesn't he just ask them?"

The man laughed. "A man like that. He doesn't ask questions. I'm surprised the girls haven't just told him."

"Or that he hasn't had them followed," Kathy opined.

"Or that," the man agreed.

"Either way, we don't want to get involved in that." Clyde tried to sound casual, and failed.

Kathy laughed at him. "Of course not, lovebird. You'd have to pay me a lot to get close enough to talk to a man like that."

As the weeks went by, Clyde confided to Violet about why he quit playing the drums. "After the band broke up, I just couldn't do it anymore without my friends. I had a few offers to play for other bands, but it wasn't the same."

"You gave up," Violet replied flatly. "I know all about that."

"Giving up?" Clyde asked.

She looked at him. "He only lets us have our nightly excursions to remind us how under his control we really are. We leave on his schedule."

"But you weren't supposed to meet me," Clyde pointed out.

"No," Violet said with a smile. "I wasn't." Then, after a moment, "But I'm glad I did."

Clyde smiled back at her. "Well, if I ever decide to stop giving up, I'll let you know."

"Maybe we'll live our dreams together," Violet said. Clyde saw the hope in her eyes, but the defeat under it was too strong.

A week after that, Kathy put in her notice at the bar. "You finally win the lottery?" Clyde asked with a smile.

"Better," Kathy said. "I've got a lot more than I make at this place. I'm going to use it to travel and reinvent myself."

"Where did you get this money?" Clyde asked, with a growing concern.

"Oh, don't worry so much," Kathy said. "Yes, I went to their dad, but I told him the wrong place. That's why I'm going to disappear before he realizes it. You can keep playing lovestruck taxi driver."

Clyde shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing," he told Kathy.

Kathy smiled. "Of course I do. This isn't the first time I've had to run away from a crazy man. You know that."

Clyde shook his head, but didn't say anything more. He saw Violet the next day and told her everything he knew. "Why would he try to track you all down?" he asked her. "I thought he knew what you did."

"We weren't supposed to go to the same place every night," Violet admitted. "Before, he didn't care and didn't check. He thought we were too afraid to disobey, but Lily really liked the music this bar played, and..." She sighed.

"So, you haven't given up," Clyde said.

Violet looked up at him. "It was such a small thing. I thought he wouldn't care anymore."

"It should be fine," Clyde said. "Kathy told him the wrong place."

Violet looked away. "It's only a matter of time. He just wants to prove he can find us and then who knows? Once he proves that he's won, he'll probably keep us from leaving again."

"He can't keep you in the house against your will," Clyde said.

Violet shook her head. "So, how has your practice been going?"

Clyde decided not to push her and to follow her topic change. "Really well. I've got my music back. I'm almost as good as I used to be."

"That's great," Violet replied with a genuine smile.

Clyde started to say something, and then stopped. Why would he ask her to run away with him? They were just thinking bad things might happen. They would be fine.

However, a few days later, the girls didn't come to the bar. Clyde didn't have anyone to talk to about this. Kathy had left and he wasn't sure he trusted anyone else at the bar. Any of them could have given the girls away. "Maybe they're just sick," Clyde told himself, "or there's something special happening at their house." When they didn't show up the next night either, Clyde knew there was something wrong. As soon as he could, he left the bar and drove to their house. He drove by, parked around the corner, and got out and walked to the house.

Clyde saw what looked like two lines of dark shadows walking toward him. He met them at the fence.

"We've been locked in," Violet said from under her navy blue hood.

"He's not letting you leave the house?" Clyde asked.

Violet looked away and Clyde saw the bruise on her face.

"Come with me," he said. "All of you."

"What?" Violet asked.

Again, Clyde saw all of the girls looking at Violet with hope in their eyes.

"We'll leave this place. I'll become a drummer. You could be dancers. Or doctors. Or anything you wanted!"

Violet looked excited, but reined it in. "We'd have to leave now. With nothing."

"That's fine," Clyde assured her. "The thirteen of us can figure something out." Impulsively, he reached over the fence and grabbed Violet's hands. "Let's go live our dreams together."

Violet looked into his eyes, bit her lip, and nodded.

The twelve daughters disappeared without a trace that night, and The Castle had to look for yet another bartender. Beyond that, life continued as normal, while in another town, far away, a drummer joined a band headed for stardom and twelve sisters turned the dancing world upside down with their unique style and their devotion to speaking out about domestic violence.

The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces

Just rowing across an underground lake.

Hello, reader. This week's story is another one from the Grimm Brothers. The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces is a story about ladies who love to party all night long, and is a variant of The Twelve Dancing Princesses. As a reminder, next week, I'll write a modern version of this story, but, for now, let's dig into this version linked above.

I've read so many variations of this story that have made the princes monstrous, that it's strange to read this one. During this story, we find out that the princesses are breaking a spell on these princes. At the end, we learn that because the princesses failed, many more days are added to the princes' sentence. It puts the story in a different light for me.

We don't get a reason for the princesses to dance with these young men all night. How did it start? Why do they keep going along with it? Do the princesses like the princes and want to free them? For me, this story brings up far more questions than it answers. One of the most important is this: Was the soldier unintentionally a villain? If the princes were good people, then we would want them freed, but the soldier stopped that from happening. If the princes were good, then the solider would have acted evilly, even if he didn't mean to. I also wonder if the eldest princess, now his wife, hates him for what he did.

Let's not forget about the king. He knew he was setting a difficult task. Why was the penalty for failure death? This is especially troubling if most of the men competing were princes. That's a fairly certain way to start a war, unless other kingdoms have extra princes hanging around. Wouldn't it be interesting if the king knew about the curse and was trying to clear the ground before his daughters freed their dance partners? After all, he's got twelve daughters to marry off, and what king wouldn't want to see them all settled in their own kingdoms? Even if they had to take them from someone else. Troubling.

The moral of this story is to follow the advice of old women if you're trying something crazy. Alternatively, if someone is trying to find out what you're doing, don't get cocky and assume they're drinking the drugged wine.

Sleeping Beauty Story

I'm trying something new on this blog. Last week, I analyzed the story of Sleeping Beauty. This week, I'll be writing a short story about it, putting it in our modern terms. If you like, you can read a much older version of Sleeping Beauty at the link provided. For my story, I did some research into what life was like in the US in 1915, but I'm sure I missed something. Feel free to comment below if you have anything helpful, or if you want input into the story I cover next.

James Williams looked out over his factory. He had made a killing with his textile factory and was now one of the most powerful men he knew. His wife was due any day and he looked forward to passing on his empire to his son. He turned back to his overseer. "Have you found the discrepancy in our accounting records?"

"Yes, sir," the man said. "One of our accountants had sticky fingers."

"Have you fired him already?" James asked.

"Yes, sir, as soon as we found out who it was."

"Good. Send some of the boys around later to get back what he stole."

The overseer didn't look surprised. "Of course, sir."

"You're dismissed," James told him. He looked back out at the factory once more. It was loud, but the sound was music to his ears. Clothing was expensive, and clothing made from his fabric was even more valuable. There was a commotion on the floor. James frowned and looked closer. One of the women had gotten stuck in the machinery again.

"Why are they stopping it?" James asked his overseer.

The man hurried to come back. "When they get stuck like that, it can jam the machinery," the overseer explained. "And keeping it moving can get blood on the fabric."

James pursed his mouth. "Then why did she get stuck in there?"

The overseer shrugged. "Who can say? We've never tried to ask them."

Without another word, James walked away from the overseer and out of the floor. As he got closer, he could see that woman was incredibly pregnant, just like his wife. But this whimpering creature, held up by two other workers, was nothing like his wife. "What do you think you're doing?" James demanded. "You made us stop production."

The woman didn't respond in words, she just yelled.

"Why?" James demanded again.

The woman spit at him. "A curse on you!" she yelled, before screaming again.

"A curse?" James asked, puzzled.

"No more like you on this land! All of your children will die!"

James stepped forward and slapped her across the face, making her red hair fly. "Take her out of here," he snapped to the workers who had been holding her up. James turned away and stormed out of his factory.

The next week, Jame's wife gave birth to a daughter named Dawn. As if that wasn't enough, his wife died the next day from complications from the childbirth. James left the care of his daughter to her grandparents, who lived in the house with them. Although he would never admit it, James took pains to see that woman's curse couldn't be carried out. His mansion was outside of the city limits, and he bought up more and more land around it so no one would build near him. He only brought his daughter out of that house on rare occasions. If he could isolate his daughter, then it was less likely she would be harmed.

Dawn's grandparents worked between them, with their magic, and were able to produce a counter curse, but they couldn't remove the dying woman's curse completely. They were able to almost remove the cause of death from the spell, but anything to do with fabric was burned into it. They were only able to change the death itself into a prolonged sleep. None of them knew when Dawn would wake up from that, but it was the best they were able to do.

James never remarried, so his hopes of passing on his factories and wealth was limited to getting Dawn married. James knew he would have to find a good man for her to marry, but until she was ten, he was more worried about her making it through childhood. On her tenth birthday, he breathed a sigh of relief, gave her a present, and handed her back to her grandparents.

Dawn grew up beautiful and her grandparents tried not to let her be spoiled. They taught her all they knew, and were able to justify a governess for her for awhile. James wasn't concerned with his daughter's boredom so far away from everything; he agreed in order to make her more marriageable. Any man bright enough to run his factories would need a woman who could look after their household. Everything continued in this way, until a particularly ambitious young man decided to visit James William's house on what happened to be Dawn's sixteenth birthday.

This young man, Henry, had wanted to prove his dedication to fabric, and he had spun thread in his youth, so he brought his spindle along as a prop. Dawn got to him before her grandparents, so they weren't able to stop her from grabbing the spindle from Henry. Just as they had feared, as soon as Dawn took the spindle, she pricked herself on it and immediately fell into a deep sleep. Henry got on his horse and never came back.

The grandparents allowed James to take Dawn to the hospital, but they knew it wouldn't do any good. Eventually, they were able to bring Dawn back home and set her up in her own room. Overcome with grief, James left Dawn in the care of her grandparents. Over the years, they passed away, and everyone else forgot about the mansion in the middle of nowhere. When anyone remembered it, one look was enough to convince them it was haunted.

The years passed, until Dawn had been sleeping for 100 years, still as beautiful as ever, if covered in spider webs. One night, a group of teenagers from the nearby town decided to dare each other into the haunted house. In a group, they managed to make it past the front door. Then they goaded each other into going up the stairs. Henry, the most daring of them all, walked down the hallway and into one of the bedrooms. When he saw a form on the bed, he almost ran for it, but when he saw the moonlight lighting up her face, he stopped.

Henry eased into the room, wary of rotting boards and the girl on the bed, in case she wasn't asleep. She looked about his age. Hesitant, he leaned forward, and poked her quickly, flinching away. She didn't react. She was solid, so she couldn't be a ghost. Henry shoved her arm. Nothing. He tried pinching her. No reaction. She really was in a coma, then. Gently, he wiped the spiderwebs away from her face. So close to her face, Henry was overwhelmed by her beauty. He leaned down and kissed her.

Not believing what he did, Henry pulled away and started walking toward the door. He heard something moving behind him. Slowly, he turned around, and the girl on the bed was sitting up. "Hello," she said, her voice rusty.

Henry gasped, turned, and ran.

Dawn rubbed her eyes, and realized she had put spiderwebs all over herself, so she slowly lifted her arms to brush them off. She tried to stand up, and her legs crumbled under her. Somehow, Dawn was able to make it to the door, but she heard the front door slam and assumed that boy had left. She stood at the doorway to her room and looked around. "How long have I been asleep?" she wondered. "And who was that boy?" Dawn sat down on the floor, mostly by choice. "What do I do now?" she wondered. She looked around at her dirty and dilapidated house, but it had no answers for her.

Sleeping Beauty Again

Hello, reader. You may have noticed the title of this post is a little unusual. I'm making a few changes to this blog, and I thought we'd start with something familiar. I've been thinking about this format, and realized that fairy tales aren't meant to be static stories. They aren't cannon, written once and never changed again. People change fairy tales all the time to fit the audience they're speaking to. So, I thought I would do the same. One week, I'll pick a fairy tale and analyze it. Then, the next week, I'll rewrite the story and make it my own. This week, I thought we'd start with a story most of us know, and one I covered earlier in this blog, and that is Sleeping Beauty. You can read the version of Sleeping Beauty I'm basing this off of at the link. Then, read below as I analyze things I didn't have the space to look at last time.

She's too pretty to get bedhead.

Let's start with the fairies. There are eight of them, but the only ones who matter are the old fairy and the wise young fairy. I might be overly forgiving, but if someone didn't know I was still alive and therefore didn't invite me to the christening of their child, I wouldn't cast a curse on the kid because of it. That's a little bit of an overreaction for a missing invitation and a plate that isn't made out of gold. As far as motivations go, this is pretty weak. This makes me wonder if there was something else going on with her and the royal family.

Then you have the wise young fairy. She did say that she couldn't fully undo what the old fairy did, but did she have to set the princess up to sleep for one hundred years? For everyone that knew her, that would be like her dying, and for the princess, it would be like throwing her into a foreign country by herself and expecting her to survive. A lot could happen in one hundred years. Would the castle still be sound at that point, or would it crash in on top of her? What I'm saying is that this fairy made an effort, but she didn't really fix the problem. The problems of continuing the throne and a curse remained. It's not surprising that all of the fairies disappeared after she did that.

Let's take a look at the prince as well. He is possibly related to Sleeping Beauty (although distantly, if at all), and he is foolish. He hears about a beautiful princess trapped in a castle behind a ring of trees and immediately rushes off to get to her. The barrier stops anyone else from following him, but he doesn't seem to think much of that. Then he sees all of the servants in the castle asleep and doesn't think much of that, either. I suppose at least the fairy kept all of their food from spoiling or the fires in the castle from burning them. It was the least she could do. Then, when the prince makes it to the princess' room, she's so pretty that he just has to kiss her. There are tales where the man who finds her does worse, but that doesn't mean this is okay. However, Sleeping Beauty is immediately in love with this man and they get married the same night he woke her up. I guess she waited for him for one hundred years, but another day or two couldn't have been that difficult.

The moral of this story is: even when fairies are trying to help you, sometimes they don't do much. Alternatively, if you're going to be cursed, make sure you're pretty so there's no problem breaking the curse.