Devil in the Dancehall

Maria Espinosa moved up the wooden steps, her wavy blue dress trailing behind her. Her face was agrin as she pushed through the doors and entered the bright extent of the Costa del Sol Dancehall.

She was greeted by the sight of couples sprawled across the dancehall, engaged in the Samba de Gafieira. The dancers performed dangerous twists and acrobatic stunts, each thrust in one direction seeming as though it would break the two apart, yet they remained strong and pulled back to one another for an intimate twirl. Maria grinned. This would be a night to remember.

This morning, her sister had been married. The celebrations were wonderful, and Maria was very proud for her sister. But Maria differed from her family in a manner. Her family was pious, conservative, and strict. Maria was wild, unpredictable, and loved to party. This distanced her from her family, especially her parents.

As she walked into the dancehall, she could remember what her grandmother had told her after the wedding, just a few hours ago…

EARLIER THAT DAY…

The sun stood at the top of the sky, gradually falling to the West. The church was alive, full of activity. The church bells rang, people cheered, and the wedded couple pranced down the lane, showered in birdseed thrown by the young children.

But Maria was far from there. She sat in the church courtyard, on a ledge where potted plants were held. She was happy for her sister, yes. She wanted to be there for her. But nonetheless, Maria was so bored.

She sighed, tapping her feet against the cobblestone. She could hear her friends and relatives in the distance, but she didn’t care. She didn’t travel all the way to Villahermosa just to see the wedding. She wanted to party.

The city wasn’t best known for its nightclubs, but it did have a rather popular dancehall. She had to check it out.

A door opened to her left. She heard it shut, barely paying attention. Slowly, the form of her grandmother, Isabella, stepped out from the cloister and into the sunlight. She squinted through her glasses, then saw Maria. She walked towards her. Maria sighed.

“Maria!” her grandmother shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Nana.” Maria turned her face away, looking at a pair of birds in a tree.

“Maria!” Her grandmother was loud and firm. “Today is the day of your sister’s wedding. Why aren’t you out there with the others? You should be celebrating. I know you, Maria, you love your sister.”

Maria remained silent, watching the birds in the tree.

“Maria! Escúcheme!”

Reluctantly, Maria turned to face her grandmother. “What is it, Nana?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Her grandmother sighed. “My young nieta, why must you always be like this?”

“I don’t like hanging around for these boring parts. I was at the ceremony, I hugged and kissed Lupe when she was going, and I—.”

“Then why will you not be present during the reception? Your whole family will be there!”

“I don’t care about it,” Maria sighed. She continued to stare at the birds in the tree. The hopped around each other, making precise steps, like a mating ritual. It looked to her like a dance.

A dance… she thought. She didn’t want to take part in the corny chickendancing they’d probably have at the reception. She wanted to tango. She wanted to dance, for real. She wanted to wrap her arms around a handsome man and do the most dangerous dance there was.

“Maria?”

She snapped out of her daydreaming. “What?”

Her grandmother shook her head. “You never listen to me. You never listen to your parents.”

“But they never listen to me!”

“Maria!” her grandmother shouted, so loud that the birds Maria had been watching hopped off the branch and fluttered to a tree in the distance. “You will respect your mother and father. And you will respect your grandfather and grandmother, that means me. I don’t want to hear that tone coming from you anymore.”

“Fine.”

The old woman frowned. “I’m getting the feeling you aren’t taking me seriously.”

Maria was silent.

“Maria,” her grandmother sighed, placing her hand at her forehead, “Maria, Maria… Today is your sister’s wedding. You should be happy. You should be out there with her, right now!”

“Why aren’t you out there, with her? Why aren’t you happy?”

“Because you are out here when you should be with your family, enjoying this wonderful celebration!” The woman’s face was turning red.

Maria was silent.

“Maria,” her grandmother said, growing impatient. “I want you out there in ten minutes. If you aren’t, then you’ll have brought shame upon yourself and your entire family.”

Maria stood up. “Don’t hold your breath, Nana.”

“Don’t you—!”

“I’m going.” She began to walk away. “I’m going to the dancehall.”

“Maria, if you leave this church, we will never forgive you.”

“I don’t care.”

The old woman slowly calmed herself down, her face becoming dark and grave. “If you leave these church grounds now, Maria, there is no turning back. You are being tempted by the Devil.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Maria!”

Maria didn’t listen as she walked towards the gates.

“Don’t let the Tempter take you away from us!”

She walked out the gates.

AT THE DANCEHALL…

Her grandmother was a fool, she thought. Just like all of her family. They valued piety and manners over having a good time. She didn’t care about any of that. Worshipping God didn’t do a thing for you. Talking “properly” to your elders made no difference. Nothing mattered. All that she cared about was enjoying her life.

She sighed, returning to the present. Samba music blared as the couples on the dancefloor moved together passionately. Maria grinned. She couldn’t wait to get there. But she couldn’t do it alone.

Maria paced along the edge of the dancehall, keeping an eye out for single men. There were people at tables snacking on tortilla chips and salsa, there were people teaching their anxious partners how to dance, there were people standing alone, looking all pathetic and pitiful, in hopes of getting a hot girl to dance with.

She walked along the carpet, eyes darting from potential partner to potential partner. None seemed that appealing. There was a man standing alone, drinking from a glass of fruit juice. He noticed her watching and turned away. She snorted. He was too dorky-looking anyways. The thick glasses and greasy hair wasn’t any good.

As she walked further, she found another lonely man. He was tall, white, blonde-haired, and mildly attractive. He was probably one of those American tourists. His clothes were tacky as hell. She wouldn’t bother with him.

She continued walking. There were a lot of couples, and she almost felt alienated by being alone. As she walked, her eyes settled on a handsome young man reading a magazine. As she approached, he took notice and placed the magazine away. “Buenas noches, señorita.”

“Buenas noches, señor,” she said with a smile. “What’s a handsome-looking guy like you doing all alone in a dancehall?”

He grinned. “I am waiting for my partner to arrive.”

Oh. “Ah, I see. You’re already taken. Sorry, I’m looking for a partner myself.”

“Un momento, por favor.” He wrapped his arm around Maria’s shoulder. “Perhaps I could use a dance partner until mine arrives.”

Maria laughed uneasily. “No thanks, I have to go.” She stepped away from him.

“Are you sure, señorita?”

“Yes.” She tried to distance herself from the man without looking suspicious. In a couple minutes, she was on the other side of the dancehall, still without a partner. She was getting frustrated, and she decided to sit down in an empty folding chair away from the dancefloor. She sighed. Maybe Nana Isabella had been right. Maybe God was punishing her for her impiety by leaving her humiliated and without a dance.

She frowned. Nobody, not even God, was going to ruin this night for her. As she stood up, she bumped into someone. She spun around. “Perdone, señor. Me—.” She stopped.

The man she had bumped into slowly turned around. She was struck by his good looks. He wore a black jacket with red frills, and a cloak as long and black as the night. He was tall and thin, his face devilishly handsome. He had a thin goatee, and a long mane of black hair. His eyes gleamed like onyx, his lips moving to form the sentence. “No, it’s quite alright, my dear.”

Maria felt like she had fallen in love. She fumbled for words. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” He grinned. “My name is Señor Dobali, but you may call me by my first name, Paso.”

“Buenas noches, Paso. Me llamo Maria. Maria Espinosa.”

“Buenas noches, Maria.” He looked around. “So, where is your partner?”

She looked down. “I don’t have one.”

Paso seemed surprised. “For real? A young señorita like yourself shouldn’t be caught on the dancefloor without a partner.” He grinned. “I myself am without a dance partner. Would you care to join me, Miss Espinosa?”

Maria smiled, her fantasies coming true. “Why, yes. I would love that.”

Paso tilted his head back. “Come. They are about to finish the Samba de Gafieira. Let’s go.” He took her hand.

Feeling his large, warm hand encompassing her own sent chills through her body. “Yes, Señor Paso. I want to dance the night away.”

Paso led her by hand to the dancefloor. Even though she had danced hundreds of times, dozens of different styles, she always felt nervous when dancing with a new partner in a new place. They walked out onto the floor just as the Samba de Gafieira finished. The man breathed softly, pulling Maria close. “Have you ever danced the Samba Pagode?”

“No…”

“It’s much like the Gafieira, but with less acrobatic movements. It’s meant to be more intimate. Do you know the Samba?”

“No.”

“Then I will lead you.” He placed his other hand on her waist. Blushing, she wrapped her free arm over his shoulder.

The two stood in place, and then the music changed suddenly and subtly. “Is this the Pagode?” Maria asked.

“Yes,” Paso cooed. He led her in dance. Step, replace, forward. Step, replace, backwards. Each third movement was longer than the others. They danced together, moving rhythmically with the music. Maria moved clumsily at first, but she slowly got the hang of the dance. Paso smiled as he watched her dance. “The dance gets faster.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “As long as you keep me from stumbling and making a fool of myself.”

Just as Paso had predicted, the music grew faster, and with it went the dance. Paso and Maria danced together, performing more daring moves as Maria grew more comfortable. Onlookers watched them happily, thinking that they were a couple that had known each other for a very long time, not knowing they had only just met.

Seconds seemed to last hours. Maria was losing track of time as she was so enveloped in her dancing. Finally, the music changed once again. “Now, this is the Samba Axé. We must move with the lyrics.”

“Why are there so many Sambas?” Maria asked.

“This dancehall has a rich Brazilian background. Much of the dance and music is imported from other Latin countries.”

Maria smiled, and went along with the dance. This one was a deal harder than the last one, and Maria kept finding herself falling out of beat. She started to sweat, feeling like the only person on the dancefloor who couldn’t get it right.

“Don’t worry,” Paso said. “You are doing fine.”

After a while, the music changed suddenly. It sounded like the kind of music Maria listened to at home. “What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s Samba Rock. Think of it as nightclub music.”

Maria nodded, and continued to dance with Paso. The evening was disappearing beneath the veil of night, but Maria didn’t notice. She didn’t even care. She was having the most fun of her life. Suddenly, she remembered what she had thought earlier at the dancehall. Nobody, not even God, is going to ruin this night for me. She grinned. She had been right this time.

After the brief Samba Rock, the music suddenly changed to something drastically different. Maria grinned. “What Samba is this?”

“This is no Samba,” Paso said. “It is the Pasodoble, the music of the toreador.”

“Pasodoble?” Maria laughed lightly. “That’s like your name, Paso Dobali.”

Paso smiled, but didn’t respond. The two continued to dance. Maria was becoming enraptured with the dancing, almost in a sleeplike state. She could hear the music playing, and the people clapping all around her…

She shifted her gaze from Paso to look around. Nobody else was dancing. Everyone else on the dancefloor had now circled the two, and was clapping. Faster and faster, like the music. “What’s going on?” Maria asked anxiously.

“What?” Paso replied. “Are you afraid of taking the center stage?”

“No,” she said. The music continued to go faster. The clapping went faster. Maria felt like she wouldn’t be able to keep up. She wondered how Paso could even dance so fast without even faltering. The music grew faster. The clapping became more frequent. Maria felt like she was in a tornado. She was getting dizzy. Slowly, she looked down at her feet, and at Paso’s—.

Feet.

Those weren’t feet.

They were cloven hooves. Maria stared down at them in disbelief, and slowly her gaze traveled up the hairy, misshapen legs, into the black uniform, and to Paso’s face. She tried to stop the dancing, but she was powerless. “No!” she screamed. “No! Help!” She struggled as hard as she could, but she was still stuck in Paso’s spin. The music sped up, the clapping with it. Why wouldn’t anyone help her?

She tried to free herself, but Paso had her in an iron grip. Terrified, she stared up into his face, which was no longer the handsome man she had seen before. The eyes were yellow and reptilian, the nose flat and replaced with slim nostrils. His hair was falling out, until he was completely bald. Finally, his dark, sinister grin opened up, and with a loud hiss, he flicked his serpentine tongue at her.

“No!” she screamed. “Help me!” She fought as hard as she could, but could not overpower Dobali.

Then, she realized. Dobali. Diablo.

Throwing her head into the air, she screamed, “El Diablo!” In an instant, Paso had pulled his cloak around her, covering her completely. As the girl’s horrified screams mixed in with his unholy laughter, the two suddenly burst into a ball of fire, and then, they were gone.

The music stopped.

The clapping stopped.

Everyone remained silent.

Then, the music started up again. People returned to dancing, to socializing. As if nothing had happened. The foul stench of sulfur hung in the air of the dancehall.

THE NEXT MORNING…

“Policia!” Isabella shouted. “Policia!”

Slowly, the police car slowed to a halt and stopped before the old woman. The officer peered out the open window. “Can I help you, Señora?”

“My nieta, my granddaughter, she is missing.” She showed the officer a photo of the girl. “Her name is Maria De La Torrez-Cuevas Espinosa. Have you seen her?”

“I am afraid not. But we’ll keep an eye out for her.” He motioned to leave.

“Wait!”

The officer turned back to face her. “What is it?”

“The gatekeeper at the church… he said that Maria mentioned leaving to go to a place called the ‘Costa del Sol Dancehall.’ Do you know where that is?”

“Costa del Sol?”

“Ci.”

The policeman shook his head. “I am sorry, señora, but I’ve been in Villahermosa all my life, and there has never been a dancehall by the name ‘Costa del Sol.’”

Isabella’s heart drooped. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, I’m afraid.” He frowned. “Do not worry, señora, we will find your granddaughter for you.” He nodded at her, then shifted the police car into gear, and drove away.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

This is based from an urban legend that tells of a promiscuous young woman who went to danceclubs when she should have been with her family. As a result, she was taken away by the Devil. There are many tales of encounters of the man with cloven hooves, but I’ve chosen this one because it has an important lesson to be learned. If you remember, Maria said that “not even God would ruin the night for her.” What she didn’t realize is, it wasn’t God that she should have been looking out for.