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.