Once upon an All Hallows Eve, Dr. Just was on a journey. Though Dr. Just was a man of prestige and importance, he preferred traveling by foot. It was the most perfect form of exercise and afforded him the very great pleasure of meeting with all types of human condition from which to study and learn, thereby profiting his medical brethren. Dr. Just ever lived to serve.
On this occasion, Dr. Just was traveling to the renowned medical symposium held in honor of the late Dr. Malform, a celebrated pioneer in the field of medical oddities. Being an expert on Dr. Malform’s philosophies and methods, Dr. Just had been invited to give a lecture, an unprecedented honor which he attributed to his regular presence at the symposium. Dr. Just made it a particular point to attend no matter what he must leave behind in order to do so.
Being an avid follower of Dr. Malform in both life and death, Dr. Just had taken it upon himself to follow the route of Dr. Malform’s final journey. Though there was no specific information about the great doctor’s death, nor even his precise location when that event stole upon him that eventually steals upon us all, Dr. Malform’s intended route was known. He had believed in keeping copious notes to act in his stead at that unlooked for time when he himself would no longer be among the people he so diligently served. Dr. Just considered it his duty, as he was soon to lecture to Dr. Malform’s most ardent followers, to trod this weary road. And what a good idea it had been! With every step, Dr. Just felt positively filled with the excellent spirit of the great Dr. Malform.
Unfortunately, just now the feeling of being imbibed with Dr. Malform’s spirit was growing thin. The sun was weary and so was Dr. Just, eliminating any possible positive effect from walking in Dr. Malform’s ghostly footsteps. Dr. Just considered it prudent to find a place to rest for the night and was greatly pleased when he topped a rise and saw below him a small sort of hamlet basking by the sea. It seemed to him as he stood atop the rise looking down upon the brilliant blue sea and the winging birds that the afternoon sun warmed his very soul. It was all so picturesque, Dr. Just felt sure of a pleasant stay. It took no more than a moment for Dr. Just to identify the small inn from his vantage point. It looked both clean and comfortable, the perfect sort of place to put up his feet and drink a pint or two of cider to the health of Dr. Malform. He rubbed his hands together briskly at the thought of it and started down the hill.
In barely half an hour Dr. Just had entered the town. The townspeople paid him no mind, a rather impressive feat. Dr. Just was a gangly man with hands and feet and face too big for the rest of him. While attention was generally arrested by these blaring features, it was maintained by the self-possession and poise so pervasive in Dr. Just’s demeanor that those around him could not help but stop to tip their hats in deference at the admirable man before them. Though this was so, the townspeople paid him no mind. They were, instead, running hither and thither as if there was something afoot.
Dr. Just did not notice exactly that nobody was paying him any mind. Truly great men had no need to notice the people about them noticing. He detected only a certain something amiss. He decided, in fact, that on close inspection the town did not seem nearly so pleasant as it had from the top of the hill.
It did not take long for Dr. Just to make his way to the inn. He was approaching the door when a rather rotund woman with a bustling sort of air stepped out and shut it up tight. She turned around and gave a great start. “A stranger! On a night like this!” She did not look happy.
“Is this the inn, ma’am?” Dr. Just’s cheeks warmed for he felt a fool; the inn sign was creaking merrily in the breeze from the sea even as he asked it.
“Aye, ‘tis indeed. You’ll find no comfort here tonight.”
It was a small town, to be sure, but the inn did not have the air of one so frequented that there was no room left for him. “Are the rooms full, ma’am?”
“Not just yet, sir, but they will be. They will be.” She tapped the side of her nose. “I cannot let you just hang about. Not on a night like this. And the sun nearly set! You must take yourself off to Mosey’s. Walk down this street ‘til you come to the corner with five streets ‘stead o’ four. Turn right. It will be the blue door.” With that the woman took herself down the street opposite to where she had pointed Dr. Just.
Dr. Just was very confused. All he wanted was a place to sleep for the night, a good meal, and a warm pint of cider. Instead he was dismissed by a small sort of woman with hardly a thought. He gave a great harrumph and thought about walking into the inn to see if someone a little more welcoming was about. He had determined that this was indeed the course of action he ought to follow when the bustling woman turned around and shouted.
“Quickly, now. The sun is nearly set!”
Dr. Just, we must frankly admit, jumped quite high. He stood with his mouth slightly open for several moments before he remembered himself. He looked toward the sun and saw that it was indeed nearly set. And on such a night as this! He ought not to be about if the rather rotund woman were to be believed; she did not seem one in whom Dr. Just could place unwavering confidence. Still, he was tired and needed a bed and it did not appear he would find one here.
Dr. Just tipped his hat at the corner where the woman had disappeared (it would not be said of Dr. Just at any time that he was lacking in manners) before turning on his heel and walking briskly in the direction the woman had indicated. He had gone only a few steps when he stopped in surprise. The streets, before so filled with people hurrying every which way, were now devoid of life. The only sound was the creaking of the inn sign behind him. Dr. Just gave a great shiver and hurried his pace.
He found the corner with five streets instead of four. There were two streets to his right. He barely paused before hurrying up the nearer of the two. He passed three doors before seeing one that might once have been blue. It took only a couple of great, lanky steps to make it up the front stoop where he knocked loudly and rather more urgently than he was used to do.
It seemed to take a long time for the door to open. Dr. Just found himself shifting from one foot to the other. He deliberately planted his weight on both feet, resisting at the same time the urge to tap his fingers on his leg.
At long last, the door was opened by what he could only assume was the lady of the house. She looked distressed and impatient and as unhappy as the innkeeper had been. “Yes, what is it?”
Dr. Just swept his hat off his balding head and bowed deeply. “I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am, but I was directed here by a portly woman down by the inn. She said something about a Mosey?”
The woman’s hand darted out and pulled him inside by the front of his coat. She pushed him behind her, shutting the door rather too enthusiastically, Dr. Just felt, and throwing the bolt.
Dr. Just was not used to being handled so roughly. “Ma’am—” Dr. Just began, but the woman turned around with a smile so big and a face so warm that he faltered.
“Now then, come in. We were just about to sit down to dinner. I don’t suppose you are hungry?”
Dr. Just stammered that he was indeed hungry and he may have also stammered something akin to a thank you. The woman, talking all the time, led Dr. Just upstairs to a small room. It was sparsely furnished but looked comfortable enough with a small bed, an over-stuffed chair and footrest, and a corner table with a washing basin. It even smacked of coziness when you considered the wide fireplace and large stack of wood and kindling.
Dr. Just set his small pack down by the corner table before walking to the three-sided window that jutted out over the street below. He lifted the rough curtains and looked to the sky. It was golden all over with a hint of the faintest pinks. Nearly sunset indeed.
Dr. Just may have inadvertently stumbled on quite a find. While Dr. Malform focused primarily on odd maladies of the physical body, Dr. Just had chosen to follow Dr. Malform’s studious example when it came to inexplicable maladies of the brain. It seemed from those whom Dr. Just could claim a limited acquaintance with that there were many cases in this small town worthy of study. He had not yet had the pleasure of meeting any of the men, but the women certainly seemed to be afflicted.
He couldn’t help but smile as he imagined the wealth of celebrated papers he could write with the information he was sure to gather in this town. Why, he could even mention that the maladies of the brain were so pervasive that upon entering the town he had noticed that the air itself was unrestive and perhaps even temporarily harmful to those possessed of whole faculties. Yes, indeed, a lovely town.
He dropped the curtain and rubbed his hands together as he turned around. He was surprised to find the room looking quite dim. The sun seemed to set rather quickly, which might just explain the strange preoccupation with it. Perhaps the unhealthy air of the town was beginning to affect him, too, that he noticed or cared about such a thing. Something he would need to remember to include in his studies.
Dr. Just sighed and stretched and dug in his small bag for his house slippers. He poured cool water into the basin and washed his hands and face. He reverently placed the tome containing all of Dr. Malform’s greatest work on the right armrest of the over-stuffed chair. Satisfied that all was in order, Dr. Just checked that his house slippers were securely on his feet and walked out the door.
Though dinner was plain, mutton stew with potatoes and green beans, it was serviceable enough and Dr. Just enjoyed it immensely. This was likely due to the strong apple cider that Mr. Mosey had put up himself.
Dr. Just was working his way through his third helping (Mr. and Mrs. Mosey and their small grandson had finished their own meals some time ago and were watching Dr. Just in a state of astonishment) when Mr. Mosey began a subject that Dr. Just was always pleased to discuss. “You seem to be a clever sort of gentleman.”
Dr. Just puffed out his chest and painfully swallowed the large piece of potato posing an obstruction to his speech. “I see you have a discerning eye, sir.” Dr. Just lifted his cider to Mr. Mosey and took several large swallows.
Mr. Mosey, despite his statement, did not seem impressed. “What was a clever man like you doing out near sunset?”
The fire at Dr. Just’s back seemed to grow warmer. He did not like Mr. Mosey’s tone and did not at all like his implication. Dr. Just put his spoon down slowly, reminding himself that he was not yet sure of the particular brain malady that Mr. Mosey was suffering from. “I have not been afraid of the dark for many long years.” Dr. Just’s tone was infused with the perfect amount of self-possession and censure, letting the man know precisely where he stood in relation to Dr. Just. That was key in helping those with severe brain maladies.
Mr. Mosey’s eyes seemed to sink deeper into his face and his voice was solemn. “This night will teach you to be scared of the dark.”
Dr. Just assumed a soothing voice. “Tell me, Mr. Mosey, what is it about the night that you and the others of this town seem to find so troubling? Perhaps I can be of some help.”
“Help!” Mr. Mosey scoffed.
“Why, it’s All Hallows Eve!” Mrs. Mosey exclaimed. The play of shadows from the fire gave her frightened face a rather frightful appearance.
Dr. Just cleared his throat. “That it is, ma’am. Just as I am not afraid of the dark, I am no longer troubled by imaginative visions of spooks and haunts. I do not fear traveling on this night nor any other.”
Dr. Just took a deep drink of his cider. When he put his cup down he was alarmed to see the boy staring gravely at him from across the table. “He doesn’t know, grandfather. You had better tell him.” The boy said this without a waver in his voice or a blink in his eye.
Dr. Just was beginning to be quite alarmed by the depth of their varied conditions. When he returned, he must bring some of his excellent colleagues. He slid his chair back quickly, jumping at the sudden noise the wooden legs made scraping against the rough floor. “I am afraid I must excuse myself. I have some reading to do to prepare for my lecture.”
Mr. Mosey placed a hand on Dr. Just’s shoulder. Dr. Just was alarmed to see that his sunken eyes had completely lost themselves in shadows. “Stay. You must understand.”
Dr. Just felt extremely uncomfortable and entirely unable to move. “Well, then.” He cleared his throat loudly. “I suppose you had better tell me.” As soon as the words were said Dr. Just regretted them. Looking into Mr. Mosey’s eyes and with Mr. Mosey’s hand on his shoulder he simply fancied he couldn’t move. Ridiculous as he was quite capable of movement and it would have been a thing of a moment to leave the room. However, Dr. Just was a man of his word so stay he must.
Mr. Mosey nodded once and settled into his chair.
“Tonight is All Hallows Eve.”
Stating what had already been stated by more than one in the present company. Dr. Just tried not to fidget.
“Men watch over the day as surely as the sun rises. At night, well, at night the world is ruled differently. There are many nights when man’s hold on the world is all but lost. This night, from sunset to sunrise, the world belongs to others.”
“Skeletons!” The boy was excited beyond reason. Sad to see the young so afflicted.
“Yes, my boy.” Mr. Mosey smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Skeletons as well as other spooks and haunts.” At those last words, Mr. Mosey slanted his eyes over to Dr. Just.
Dr. Just cleared his throat. Anywhere else and he would have made it clear, once again, that he did not believe in spooks and haunts as any intelligent man would not. Being a man of manners, he didn’t feel he could interrupt Mr. Mosey.
“Now, do not worry.” Mr. Mosey’s tone was reassuring. “While this night belongs to others of the dark world, here we are disturbed only by skeletons.” Mr. Mosey nodded his head at his grandson, who grinned so large Dr. Just nearly mistook it for a grimace.
“What’s more,” Mr. Mosey continued, “Our skeletons don’t seem to be holding any grudges. You see, each All Hallows Eve the skeletons crawl up from whatever place they’ve been hiding and--”
“Where do they hide?” Dr. Just found he sounded rather rushed and breathless. He gulped some cider.
“Oh, the sea or the caves or deep hallows. Anywheres they suppose we can’t get at ‘em.”
“Oh, my.” The brain maladies of these people really were far beyond what Dr. Just had seen before.
Mr. Mosey leaned toward Dr. Just and seemed almost happy. “You will never guess what it is these skeletons do, sir. Never.” Mr. Mosey leaned the slightest bit closer and tapped the side of his nose. “When all the skeletons get together, they dance.”
“They . . . dance.”
“Yes, sir, they dance. And a great, galloping, good time they have, too. They dance in the streets, they dance in the public houses, they dance in the dance hall and at the lighthouse. Anything as could be considered a public sort of place is filled with skeletons dancing.” Mr. Mosey tapped the side of his nose again. “And do you know what happens to any living, human creature they find in those places?”
Dr. Just discovered he was holding his breath and let it out all at once. “I am afraid I cannot imagine.”
Mr. Mosey grinned and sat back, spreading his hands wide. “Why, they make them dance right along with ‘em.”
Dr. Just nearly smiled. How quaint these people were. “I am sincerely grateful to you, Mr. Mosey, for saving me from the terrible fate of dancing with skeletons. I am sure I can never repay your kindness. But I shall try, Mr. Mosey. I shall try.” Dr. Just tapped the side of his nose back at Mr. Mosey.
Mr. Mosey looked at Dr. Just as if he wasn’t quite right in the mind. Dr. Just puffed out his chest and prepared to leave the table.
“Now,” Mr. Mosey paused looking hard at Dr. Just with his sunken eyes. Dr. Just settled back into his chair. “Now, it wouldn’t be a terrible fate to dance the night away with skeletons. You are right about that, sir. The problem comes when the night is over. There is no way to dance with skeletons without becoming a skeleton yourself, see. The prevailing feeling is that the skeletons aren’t malicious at heart, so to speak, but that they are having such a great, galloping, good time that they want all they meet to join in the fun. Fun it may be to spend a night rioting around town without any of your skin or hair or other vestments of that sort, but fun it is not to spend the rest of the year as a pile of bones deep in the sea.”
“Ah, no, I don’t believe it would be. I quite agree with you there.” Dr. Just again prepared to leave the table but sighed and stayed when Mr. Mosey began again.
“Now, a great clever man like yourself might wonder why we don’t do something about the dancing skeletons.”
“We built a bone mill!” the boy offered excitedly.
“That’s right, my boy.” Mr. Mosey slapped his knee, fairly beaming. Dr. Just sifted in his chair. “And what do we do with the bone mill?”
“We crush any skeletons we find, man or beast.”
“Right again, my boy, right again!”
A slight pause allowed Dr. Just to insert himself. “Do you crush skeletons wearing their, ah, other vestments?”
Mr. Mosey turned his sunken eyes back to Dr. Just. “There’s no reason to be doing that. It mucks up the mill, see. If we find a skeleton wearing his vestments we burn away the excess before crushing the bones.”
“How, er, intelligent of you.” Dr. Just’s voice was rather faint. He cleared his throat and tried to look dignified.
“That it is, sir. If you crush the bones they cannot come dancing during All Hallows Eve. But the bone mill is no good for the bones beyond our reach, so to speak. All them bones in the sea and the bones in the caves and hollows and wherever else bones is hidden. Them we cannot get to.”
“So we stole their feet!” the boy shouted.
“That’s right, my boy, we stole their feet.” Mr. Mosey ruffled the boy’s hair proudly.
Dr. Just lifted his cup to take a drink of his cider only to find it empty. A pity. Dr. Just was sure he was about to hear how they stole the feet from dancing skeletons. Such stories undoubtedly required reinforcements. Dr. Just shivered and scooted his chair a fraction closer to the fire.
“Now, sir.” Mr. Mosey’s sunken eyes were rather alarming in his state of excitement. “How would an intelligent man such as yourself go about stealing the feet off dancing skeletons?”
Dr. Just pulled in a small breath but hesitated to respond. He wanted very much to justify the man in calling him intelligent. However, the question posed to him was of such an absurd nature that Dr. Just thought he would appear more a fool for considering the question. He sighed tiredly. “I’m not quite sure.”
Mr. Mosey’s face fell in disappointment. Dr. Just felt his cheeks warm.
“Well, sir, just before the sun set on All Hallows Eve, we spread a great number of boards with pitch and laid them out in the streets for the skeletons. The next morning you couldn’t see the boards for all skeleton feet. But there wasn’t any other sign of the skeletons. Except of course that the families living in the houses closest to each of the pitch boards went missing. The best we can figure is that the skeletons enjoyed so much swaying about that they couldn’t stand not sharing the fun. The next year we made a great pile of all the skeleton feet we had collected. All Hallows morning dawned and that great pile of skeleton feet were nearly all gone, only three or so left behind. Skeletons swaying about on their shin bones, see. That was the last time we tried anything where the dancing skeletons were concerned. Wasn’t worth the risk. We leave the public places to the skeletons, lock our doors and windows, and wait for their dancing to be done. It doesn’t harm us any. Poor things deserve a night of fun here and there, I reckon.”
It was clear from the way Mr. Mosey was contemplating the fire that he was done with his tales. The small boy looked satisfied and Mrs. Mosey’s eyes were closed, her hand to her heart.
Dr. Just stood up to retire for the evening. Mrs. Mosey’s eyes popped open. “Now you make sure your windows are locked up tight and keep your curtains drawn. No peeking! Stay safe, sir. Stay safe.”
Dr. Just thanked her for her thoughtfulness and generosity and said he would do as well as he could to stay safe. He was not overly worried as he had never found staying safe from skeletons troubling in the least.
It wasn’t until after Dr. Just had closed the bedroom door safely behind him that he remembered needing candles to read by. Unfortunate but not worth reentering the presence of his excellent hosts. He built up the fire and settled into the chair, angling Dr. Malform’s book toward the light.
The tome fell open to his favorite case in which Dr. Malform treated a young girl with twelve toes. He fed her evaporated salt water, hung her upside down from a tree, and then wrapped her feet for a night in a salve made of old tea leaves and potato broth. The girl woke to ten beautiful toes. The miracle of science. When Dr. Just read the account his own toes would tingle as if to say that yes, a salve of old tea leaves and potato broth was precisely how toes ought to be dealt with.
Coming to the part where his toes would begin to tingle, Dr. Just put his hands together to rub them briskly in anticipation when he became aware of a noise outside. It was a strange sort of noise. Something like a clatter, something like a chatter. It was too soft to be the sound of a carriage on the cobblestones, too numerous and repetitious to be a single, random incident. Dr. Just cocked his head, listening intently. He could not begin to guess what it might be.
And then Dr. Just remembered the skeletons. He smiled humorlessly. The locals took their lore quite seriously. They were determined to make him believe their wild stories. An effect of the brain malady?
Dr. Just tried valiantly to ignore them. He might have succeeded had the noise not grown steadily louder and more cacophonous. It was not disturbingly loud; had Dr. Just already been sleeping he was sure he would have slept through it. But it was persistent. It came in between he and his pages, determined that he not go back to his reading, that he not ignore this paltry attempt at making him a believer in ghosts and ghouls. He shut his book and steepled his fingers wondering how long they would continue this charade. He sat there long enough for the fire to grow low and its light to dim. The noise did not end. A brain malady indeed.
As Dr. Just sat in his chair he became curious. The noise was unlike any he had heard before. Of course, it would be essential for the townspeople to create a noise that newcomers would not recognize; otherwise, their story would be easily dismissed and their fun undone.
Dr. Just stood up abruptly. The large tome fell to the floor with a muted thump. He stared at, momentarily stunned into stillness. He picked it up slowly, cradling it in his arms.
The smallest lift of the curtain enabled him to barely peek outside; he musn’t alert the locals to his watching. His eyes widened in surprise. Full-bodied suits made to look like skeletons. Dr. Just began to grow angry. An entire town preying on the fears of innocent travelers was unconscionable. He let the curtain fall from his fingers. He would not validate such madness by watching its gross display.
He wanted very much to go back to his reading but something was not quite right. How oddly the people had moved and how very much like old, dusty skeletons they had looked. He knew what they were about but it was important he fixed in his mind exactly what was going on down below. It would aid him as he sought an appropriate treatment.
Ever so slowly he lifted the curtain just enough for one eye to look out. He watched as below him a host of skeletons danced. They waved their hands and linked their arms and jumped up and down to music only they could hear, chattering their jawbones and weaving in and out of each other. Some seemed to have seaweed wrapped through empty rib cages. One in particular grasped its seaweed trappings and waved them about in the absurd imitation of a skirt.
Dr. Just’s eye traveled up the street. Innumerable skeletons everywhere. With mounting horror, Dr. Just began following the movements of a particular large-boned skeleton. It had a sense of poise and balance that were quite admirable. Had the skeleton been blessed with its other vestments, Dr. Just was sure he would have complimented its dancing skills. The skeleton gracefully moved from one side of the street to the other gadding about as if all the world were made for its pleasure. Until, of course, its bony face turned up to Dr. Just. It is impossible to know precisely where the skeleton was looking as it didn’t have eyes, but Dr. Just felt with terrifying assurance that the skeleton was looking directly at him.
Dr. Just dropped the curtain and jerked down. His breathing was heavy, his mind paralyzed. Skeletons. Dancing skeletons.
But he was safe, yes? He was in a private residence, not a public place. There were doors and walls between him and the skeletons.
He sat down hard beneath the windows and clutched Dr. Malform’s book of medical oddities tight to his chest. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, attempting to calm his pounding heart. He had always found the silence of the night comforting.
Dr. Just’s eyes opened wide. Silence. No more could he hear the sound of skeletons cavorting. Dr. Just didn’t move, didn’t think, didn’t breathe.
Out of the silence came the smallest of scratching noises on the window directly above his head. Dr. Just nearly leaped out of his skin.
He remembered now the woman advising him to check his windows. Had he? He couldn’t remember. But, of course, it would have been absolutely ridiculous not to check his windows in a town afflicted with such brain maladies. He breathed easier. He had checked, he was sure of it.
The Moseys sat around their breakfast table not moving, not eating, just listening. They tried not to look at each other but couldn’t look away.
It is unknown how long they sat in this attitude before Mr. Mosey pushed back his chair. “Well, my dear?”
Mrs. Mosey gave the tiniest of nods and stood. “Before I lose my courage.”
The Moseys walked slowly up the stairs, making as much noise as possible along the way, hoping Dr. Just would throw open his door all afire with dignity and annoyance. They paused on the landing.
Nothing.
As one, they crept forward. The door creaked slightly as Mr. Mosey pushed it open. There was the bed not slept in. There the remnants of a large fire. There, beneath the open windows, a pair of house slippers.
Mrs. Mosey gasped and put her hand to her heart. Mr. Mosey moved grimly to the windows and shut them quickly, covering them with the heavy curtains. The grandson whooped and ran down the stairs, hollering that he had met a dancing skeleton.
