SONG: Pretty Stranger
^{"Then I saw you on a pretty bike -
a stranger wearing a smile.
In a flash my world found a shot of light - and my heart -leapt up in delight"}

"Pretty Stranger Club Mix" | Released on December 2023

All rights reserved | Dancing with Reality presented by Reny John | Follow in Instagram

Dancing with Reality - The Story

The night was cold, a full moon’s silvery light fell over the resting land. Man and beast safely inside the warmth of their homes - waiting for a new day. Yet under this veil of peaceful moonlight, darkness grew in some parts of the old town.The word in the street was that Ambu’s son was spotted recently on the "Highranges". A wanted man - like his grandfather, he was on the run. Some say that he - also like his grandfather - was accused of crimes he had not committed. A young man forced to flee his land because he would not surrender for a crime he did not commit. Some even say that - being an easy target - he was framed by the local Sheriff. But, all this was many years ago and the truth - no one knew till today.The Old inn on the high ranges stood silhouetted against the moon. It's many rooms were often, empty - save one or two random guests. The faded and stained red carpet, stuffed animals in odd places, dim lights and its ominous location on the top of the hill could all be reason enough for the Inn to be a favorite among the wrong kind of guests.The shrill ring of the telephone broke the silence.The land lady, picked up the phone and after a short conversation, put it back. She sighed and looked out through the closed window, it was one of those nights,where, even a full moon, can do little to quell the intensity of the deathly-darkness that engulfed the valley by the ranges.With her heartbeat increasing, she made her way up the wooden staircase. The stuffed rackoon on the landing eyed her as she moved towards room 13. She knocked on the door and waited. No response, she knocked again, this time her knuckles hurting, as they touched the dead-cold wood of the door with force. She could hear some movement inside, but no reply. Growing impatient, she hissed - "There's a storm coming your way. Pack your bags and run away!".Inside the room 13.His shoulders sagged to the sides, his chin sunk to his chest and his body slouched on the chair as he battled tiredness and alcohol-induced sleep. On his one hand was a nearly empty bottle of cheap Rum and on the other a pistol.Though he had heard the land lady's message, his body simply didn't seem to cooperate. His eyes seemed too heavy to open, he could feel his eye brows raise as he tried in vain to open them. He could sense his lips pulling back as his hands seemed to go numb -more from fear than from the cold. This was it.For 15 years he had wandered. But now it seemed that it was time. Time for the end - time to surrender or die fighting. He could not bring himself to walk away and keep running. He could not bring himself to surrender for a crime he had not committed - like his Opa. His eyes, still closed, became moist as memories flashed in his mind's eye. He felt powerless, the weight in his chest seemed to grow heavier and heavier.Silent tears rolled down his chin. A part of him still hoped that someone would save him and fight for him. But everyone seemed to be on the Sheriff's side.Involuntarily he took another swig from the bottle.A moment's indecision was all it took - he drifted back into sleep, his breathing became deep, his eye brows dropped, his mouth relaxed.His mind wandered. They say people travel ages while at sleep. He found himself looking at a crackling fire. He was with his Opa, at Opa's house. They had started the fire anticipating a cold evening. Opa seemed somehow much older that day. His hair whiter, his walk slower and his voice hoarser.Suddenly, Opa turned and faced him. They were sitting on a rag on the dead-cold cement floor, facing the fire. He could see the light on Opa's face and the fire reflected off his eyes. Opa said - "There will once a day come, when one is all alone. A day for one path or another to decide. And one path is to run away and another is to fight." With this Opa leaned closer to him and with grave eyes asked - "When your legs start to tremble, when fear spreads deep inside and when your hands are too tired to move. Then, will you fight or walk away? Will you pack your bags and run away?" Or "Will you fight and save the day?".The sound of glass hitting the floor woke him up from the sleep. The bottle of rum had fallen off his hand and landed on the floor. His mind still disoriented, he tried to remember the dream he had just had. His eyes grew wide as he realized he had lost precious minutes by falling asleep. "No more time to contemplate now."As if by instinct, he pulled himself up from the chair and eyed the room. His bags were packed, he could jump off the window at the back and disappear into the woods, then make his way down the valley.He heaved the bag up from the floor and moved to the closed window. After putting out the lamps, he hastily pulled back the straw-like curtains. The chilling cold of the night seeped into the room as he pushed open the wooden window. He looked down into the valley below - his blood drained from his face.There, through a clearing in the valley beneath him, he saw a faint line of light. Lights - lanterns or wooden splinters in the distance. As his senses heightened, the faint sound of marching footsteps came to his ears. They were here. If he had to escape he had to get out through the window now. No more time to contemplate.Left right left right they marched. Left right left right. As he listened, suddenly - from far off, the chilling low drone of a wolf's howl floated into the night. Low at first and then crescendoing - filling the night.He froze - his bag slipped off his hand and landed with a heavy thud on the floor. His legs grew weak, as he supported himself with both hands on the window sill.He closed his eyes - soaking in the cold, the fear, the fading tiredness, the indecisiveness and the helplessness.Without warning, the dream flashed before him - overwhelming him. Opa's peering eyes, the dancing flames of the fire and the warm room were all in front of him. Opa smiled gently - "Will you fight or walk away?"Left right left right.The dancing flames in Opa´s eyes seemed to get brighter. He felt as if he were going to faint."Will you fight or walk away?
Or Pack your bags and run away?"LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT,
LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT.The warm room, the bright fire, Opa's grave face, his sad smile, his defeated eyes - he saw them all clearly. He understood.—-----The morning sun fell on an unsettled town. News was out about the shooting at the Old Inn. The word was that the Sheriff was missing and several men injured. Ambu's son was behind it. He was innocent some said - otherwise, why would he come back? Why would he fight?—---"In the dark another day
When you hear the wolves again
Will you fight or walk away?"

We don't ask for money, we only ask that you gift this journal to one creative person that you want to help!