My sister is a triple ampute, but I hear her dancing every night. I just found out the horrifying reason why my sister Mallerie and I were never close. She's 5 years older and was always the star. Good grades, theater, ballet, everything I wasn't. When our parents died in a house fire last year, it didn't bring us together like you'd expect. We barely spoke at the funeral and she didn't even show up to collect her inheritance. A few months later, I started seeing Mal's face on billboards. My friend Brentcalled me excited because she landed the lead in some big play and was killing it. Then she got a role in a soap opera and was working with professional choreographers. I was proud but focused on my own grief and baseball career. I kept meaning to visit her shows, but never did. Then I got the call that changed everything. Mal had been in a horrific car accident in New York. The other drivers walked away fine, but my sister wasn't so lucky. Both legs and her left arm had to be amputated. When Iflew out to see her in the hospital, she was like a completely different person. Her eyes were dead and empty, staring off into space like she wasn't even there anymore. After weeks in the hospital, Mal moved in with me. I took extended leave from work to take care of her because she's all the family I have left. She mostly stayed in her room watching reruns of the soap opera she'd start in. I tried not to listen to the constant sobbing through the walls. That's when things got weird. Last week,I woke up at 3:06 a.m. to the sound of a woman cackling. It was coming from Mal's room, but I hadn't heard her laugh or even smile since the accident. What could possibly have her laughing so maniacally at 3:00 in the morning? I got up to check on her, but stumbled and fell flat on my face. That's when I heard it. Someone was dancing in her room. Heavy thuds that I could feel through the floor, like someone was jumping around wildly. The laughing stopped, but now Mal was singing in somelanguage I didn't recognize. My blood turned to ice because this made no sense. How had someone gotten into my house? Why was my disabled sister singing for them as they danced? "Malerie!" I called out, grabbing my baseball bat. The dancing and singing stopped immediately. I heard the distinct sound of covers being pulled up like someone had just gotten into bed. I crept across the hall, pushed open her creaky door, and flicked on the light. No one was there. The TV was off, windows closed, and Mallerie looked fastasleep. Her chest rose and fell softly, lips slightly parted like she'd been sleeping for hours. I checked the closet under the bed, then searched the entire house from basement to attic. Not a soul anywhere. Maybe it was just a nightmare, but it happened again the next night and the night after that. Always the same, cackling, dancing, singing in that strange language. and sudden silence when I called her name. But here's what really freaks me out. I keep finding things moved around the house, books ondifferent shelves, pictures turned around, my baseball trophies rearranged. Last night was the worst yet. I woke up to what sounded like a full dance rehearsal happening in Mal's room. Not just footsteps, but leaping, spinning, the kind of complex ballet moves she used to practice for hours. I could feel the entire house shaking with each landing. But when I burst into her room, there she was, my triple amput sound asleep in bed. This morning, I decided to confront her about it. Mal, I've beenhearing strange noises from your room at night, dancing, singing. Are you having nightmares? She looked at me with those dead eyes and said something that made my skin crawl. David, I haven't slept since the accident. I just lie here all night thinking about dancing. But I heard you singing last night in some foreign language. Her expression changed completely. A smile crept across her face. The first I'd seen since the hospital. Oh, that wasn't me singing. David, that was them. The themm. Who'sthem? The other dancers. They visit me every night at 3:00 a.m. They're teaching me new choreography. I stared at her, not understanding. Mal, you can't dance anymore. You don't have legs. That's when she laughed. The same maniacal cackling I've been hearing. I don't need legs where we're going, little brother. They promised me I can dance forever if I bring them someone new. Someone with working leg. I back toward the door, but it slammed shut behind me. That's when I saw them.Shadowy figures materializing around Mal's bed. Dancers in tattered costumes, their faces gone and hungry. Some were missing limbs. Others had their necks twisted at impossible angles. "Welcome to the truth," Mal whispered. And that's when I realized the horrible truth. The accident wasn't random. She'd made a deal with these things, traded her body for eternal performance, and now they wanted mine. I grabbed my bat and swung at the nearest figure, but it passed right through. They surrounded me, theircold hands reaching for my legs, and I could hear Mal's voice getting stronger, more alive than she'd sounded in months. Don't worry, David. You'll understand once you join us. We dance every night, forever and ever. The last thing I remember is feeling my legs go numb as dozens of ghostly hands grabbed me. When I woke up this morning, I was in Mal's bed and she was gone. I tried to get up, but couldn't feel anything below my waist. I looked down and screamed. My legs were gone, completely gone, likethey'd never existed. But I can still feel them somehow, itching to move, to dance. And now I understand what Mal meant because I can hear the music starting upstairs. beautiful haunting melodies that make my phantom legs want to leap and spin. Tonight at 3:00 a.m., I'll join the Eternal Dance. And tomorrow, I'll start looking for someone new to recruit, someone with working legs who can carry on the performance. Because the show must go on.
