The Dancing Boy and Girl

A Children's Story About The Power of Belief

Once upon a time, there was a boy who couldn’t dance. Try as he might, he would always stumble and stagger and fall to the ground. One night, sad and confused, he walked into the forest, hoping and praying that he would one day be able to dance like the rest of the people on the dance floor. While in the forest, it started to get dark, and a storm was coming. He gazed through the thick woods and saw a cottage in the distance. He made his way to the cottage and opened the door.

Once inside, he saw that a witch lived there, and without meeting his gaze, she asked him what he desired. He told her that all he wanted was to be able to dance. The witch created a potion and administered one drop into his mouth. His shoes turned to gold and silver, and music started playing from the air. His feet moved without his control, and he saw that he was dancing like all the great dancers he had seen before. He tried to shout in jubilation, but something stopped his voice. He couldn’t speak. The witch had traded his ability to speak for his ability to dance.

At first, the boy thought it was a fair trade, and so he went into the world, from club to club, dance floor to dance floor, impressing the girls and becoming the envy of all the other dancers. But when they approached him to get to know him, he left mysteriously, hiding the fact that he could not speak.

After months and months of this, he realized that he regretted his decision and wished that he could speak again. But try as he might to speak, to scream, to laugh, to cry—nothing came out. He returned to the witch’s cottage and demanded that she reverse the spell, but she refused. The boy frantically ripped off his shoes and threw them at the witch, wildly motioning that he didn’t care about dancing and only wanted his voice back. The witch cackled and went about her business. The boy looked down at his feet, and the shoes had mysteriously returned to them.

Distraught, the boy didn’t know what to do. He returned to the clubs and dance floors where many admirers waited for him to show his moves, but he watched silently from the sidelines. The other dancers were confused, and over time they began to make fun of him. His reputation went from being the greatest dancer in the world to being a quiet stranger.

One day, the boy saw a young girl who reminded him of himself before the spell. She sat alone against the wall, watching all the dancers twist and flash and show off their moves. The boy, wishing he could help, approached the girl and smiled. She smiled back at him. He motioned to the dance floor, inviting her to dance, but she trembled nervously and shook her head no. The boy decided to show her a simple dance move—one foot in front of the other, and then back, switching feet. The girl copied him step for step. The boy introduced another, more complicated move, and she stayed with him until they were both dancing in perfect harmony.

As soon as the boy and the girl placed their feet on the ground for the last step of the routine, a bright white light shone down on them, as if by magic. All the other dancers turned and looked in the direction of the light, and gawked at what they saw. The boy and the girl continued dancing in the light - a routine so creative, so unique, so spellbinding, that everyone rushed over to them, imitated them, and repeated their every move. The boy and the girl locked eyes and smiled until the music stopped, and they stood face to face, perfectly still, while the crowd cheered and roared and laughed. They pushed closer and began to bombard them with questions.

“Who are you?”
“Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“Tell us! Tell us!”

The boy, once again disguising his inability to speak, deflected all of the questions to the girl. But he noticed that her smile began to fade, and she looked nervously at him, and then at the crowd.

“I cannot speak,” she signed with her hands.

The boy’s mouth dropped, and a look of pure shock took over his face. The crowd turned to him and waited for a translation. He simply shrugged and reached his hand out for the girl.

At the moment, the next song played, and started doing the dance they had just learned, while the boy and the girl snuck out the back of the club to figure out what was going on. For a moment, they just stared at each other, until the girl signed, “So you can’t speak either?”

The boy didn’t speak at all, not even sign language, so she simplified for him by using basic hand gestures, pointing to his mouth and shaking her head no. The boy understood and shook his head no in return. The girl stared at him for a moment and motioned for him to go with her. She led them out of the city and into the forest.

As they got deeper into the forest, the boy, unable to ask where she was taking him, tugged at her arm, warning her that there was a witch nearby. He did not want her to know the deal he had made with the witch. The girl took his hand and pointed to her head. She knew about the witch. They walked further into the woods until the witch’s cottage was in sight. Once again, the boy restrained the girl, pleading voicelessly not to enter the cottage. She persisted, and together they stepped through the door.

This time, the witch stopped what she was doing and met both of their eyes. Wasting no time, the girl repeated the first dance step that the boy had taught her. Then the second. And the third, until the boy caught on, and they began doing the routine. Once again, music emerged seemingly from the oxygen in the air, and they danced like never before, spontaneously adding new elements to the routine, as though they shared the same mind. Sparks flew. Light and magic filled the room. The gold and silver light that radiated from the boy’s shoes flashed brilliantly, flickered, and then dimmed. In the next moment, the girl floated into the air on a beam of pure white light that outshined everything in the room. The witch got swept up in the pulsating energy produced by their routine until the music faded and they stopped dancing.

They looked around the room for the witch, who was nowhere to be found. Echoes of her laughter faded into the walls of the cottage until then disappeared. As the smoke and light dissipated, the cottage itself began to dissolve from view, until the boy and the girl were alone again in the forest. The sun was rising.

They stepped closer to each other and embraced.

“Are you okay,” the girl signed.

“Yes,” the boy said aloud, and they both screamed in unison at the sound of his voice, and then again at the sound of hers. Their voices had returned! They danced and screamed and laughed as the birds and animals signaled the start of the day.

Finally, the girl looked solemnly into the boy’s eyes, and spoke.

“That witch… she gave me a gift, but she also took something from me.”

The boy leaned in, curious to hear more.

“I used to be a dancer,” the girl said. “Dancing was everything to me. Until…” the girl looked off into the distance.

“Until what?” the boy asked.

“Until I fell. It was so embarrassing. I don’t even remember it, but when I woke up, I couldn’t walk.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and he looked confused, staring at the girl’s feet, and back to her eyes.

The girl continued, “You see, one night I dreamed that I could walk again. I was so happy I didn’t want to stop, and so I walked and walked and walked, skipping and dancing through the forest until dark. I got lost, and I saw the cottage and went inside, where I met the witch. Before I could say anything to her, I woke up. I forgot that I couldn’t walk, and I tried to take a step, and fell. I knew I had to see the witch. I knew she could help me, but I didn’t know how to get there except in my dreams.

A few days later, I had the same dream. I could walk again. This time, I wasted no time and walked straight to the cottage. The witch was there, and I asked her to help me. I explained that whenever I wake up from the dream, I can’t walk, and that I wanted nothing more than to be able to walk again. Without speaking, the witch made a potion and placed it in my hands. Without hesitation, I tipped the potion to my lips, and when I woke up, I could walk! I tried to scream, but ...”

“Nothing came out,” the boy interrupted.

“Yes. The witch had taken my voice. What’s more, every time I tried to dance, I would stumble and fall. I could walk, but she had made it impossible for me to dance. And that’s when you found me.”

The boy, stunned by the similarity of the girl’s story to his, reached out and touched her hand. He told her what had happened to him—about the storm, the potion, the shoes, and finally that the witch had also taken his voice. A moment of silence passed between them. A silence they knew all too well.

They smiled and embraced once more. Despite the fact their voices were restored, they silently emerged from the forest, a mixture of walking and dancing that seemed as natural as breathing. Inspired by their own story, the boy and the girl traveled from town to town, seeking to spread the gift of dance to all who believed they couldn’t do it. They only had one rule...

No talking on the dance floor.