A Dance with Madness

By Shantnu Tiwari

A girl vanishes, kidnapped by a dark invisible force. A homeless boy sees the crime, but no one believes him. The police say such a girl never existed.

And soon, he is being hunted by shadows, and his own mirror images laughs at him.

The boy must now figure out if he is going crazy, or if the world is crazy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shantnu Tiwari
• Release date: Feb 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386599029

Book preview

1

The red light blinked harshly into my eyes. It was meant to slow down the traffic, but all it did was burn red into my head. At night, the traffic light switched to a blinking red light, a warning to motorists to slow down. It didn’t work; the drivers still drove like maniacs through what was a school area in the daytime .

From my dumpster, my bed for the night, as it were, I could see the traffic lights clearly. It was a nice place to lie down. During the day, it was a busy place, with the buzz of school kids running around, their parents arriving ten minutes after school closing, mobile phones stuck to their ears, screaming loudly into their phones, screaming even louder at the kids to get into the car, as if it was the kids’ fault the parents were late. And then later in the evening, the quiet sound of the teachers leaving, as well as the few kids who took extracurricular activities. These kids were quieter, leaving with their football kits or their guitars, walking home in a more leisurely pace.

For a few hours after that, you could see the occasional person walking home from work, sometimes holding a bag of fish and chips in their hand, headphones playing loud music, ignoring me, pretending they couldn’t see me, couldn’t see me lusting after their food.

At night, this place became deserted. There were few houses around, mostly retirees who went to bed early. Which meant this was a good place for a homeless guy like to me to hide from the police and the moral vigilantes who felt people like me were a bane on society.

Sleeping rough near the school was like a joke for me. It was here, just a few years ago, that my teachers had warned me: If I didn’t clean up my act, I would become a homeless bum. Well, I showed them, didn’t I. I was a homeless bum, sleeping right next to my school. I even saw a few juniors, kids a few years younger than me. A few had pity for me, most had contempt. It no longer bothered me.

My visions had stopped.

Those mad visions which had driven me crazy. My dead grandma waking me up every night. Old Mrs McGinty rising from the grave to drink Suzy’s blood every night. Suzy vanished a few days later. Dark things that moved around the school after night. Things no one else could see.

All those visions were gone. Thanks the demons for that.

And so I settled in to sleep. It was going to be another cold night, though it was still only July. But the weather was getting colder. My boxes of cardboard no longer warmed me, and I would need to start taking extreme measures soon.

The cold gave me a violent shiver, which is why I saw her.

Miyuki Chan, a pretty sixteen year old. Born in Japan, moved here ten years ago. She was one of the handful who showed me pity, even offering me her food once or twice, which is why I knew her.

The question was, what the hell was she doing here so late in the night?

She was standing there, holding her violin case. Like many Asians, her parents were hyper competitive. Not only did Miyuki top her class in academics, she was training to become a professional violin player, taking extra classes after school.

There were no violin classes at eleven in the night.

Besides, there was something wrong.

She was staring straight ahead, her eyes empty, her face full of raw terror. Her school uniform was torn, a large gash in her shirt going across her stomach; there was blood on her legs, and she was missing one shoe.

All the while, she stood there, under that harsh blinking red light, like a puppet, holding her violin case, stood there like she was in a daze.

Then she saw me. She was crying, her eyes red, her face in pain.

A black cloud swept by her.

And then she vanished.

2

No one believed me, of course. They knew my reputation .

The police were polite enough to pretend to listen. They even took notes.

Who was this Miyuki? Where did she live?

I had no idea.

No one called Miyuki had been reported missing.

Maybe the parents didn’t know yet?

It was one in the night. They would have noticed if their daughter had vanished. Besides, the police couldn’t do anything until the parents complained. They would contact me. What was my address again?

Of course the police knew I was homeless. It was a faint dig. Get lost, punk, before we throw you in for vagrancy.

The night was still cold when I left the police station. A local