Thursday April 25th, 2013

The exercise:

Write about: the play.

This morning I finished transplanting our cabbages, and then after dinner I seeded a couple rows of salad blend and arugula. In between that, Kat did some potting up of tomatoes in the afternoon. Feels good to be making some progress on that stuff.

Oh, here's a picture of some blossoms in the orchard:


Turns out? A side benefit of working in the evening is passing through the orchard just as the sun hits magic hour. It may take me a little longer to get to the garden, but hopefully I'll get a few print/greeting cards out it.

Mine:

The audience sits in the darkened theater, restless and fidgety with no gadgets to absorb their focus. No words are exchanged, as all attempts at small talk between neighbours died off long ago. All eyes are on the motionless red curtain standing between the attendees and the play they have come to see.

It seems as though they have been frozen like this for hours, but a mere handful of minutes have passed since the lights went down. Nervous coughs begin to fill the air and are soon joined by the clearing of throats and awkward swallows of excess saliva.

No one dares leave, though surely many are tempted to do just that. They have paid hard earned money for their tickets, they have read rave reviews. Likely they have told friends about tonight's entertainment, perhaps even bragged about the quality of their seats.

But they have not been let in on the secret. They sit and they wait and they grow uncomfortable. They wonder and they check the time and they expect the curtain to be raised. Any moment now. Can't be much longer.

And they are utterly unaware that, from this side of the curtain, they are the show.

4 Comments:

Greg said...

That's a lovely picture, really nicely framed too. I can quite see that making the greeting card list :) And if your evening work means more pictures like that, then I'm all for it! ;-)
Heh, that's quite the show you've got going on in your little story today; it reminds me of waiting in the wings for the curtains to go up, peeking out at the audience and wondering how the hell so many people got let in. Once the lights go up though you can't see the audience, at least from the stage. Which is probably a good thing, when you think about it.

The play
The Gorillamumps American Football team was huddled on the sidelines with the coach. Off to one side the Young Mummies were performing 'Walk like an Egyptian' to entertain the crowd, having been banned from ever performing again 'Hey look, it's Medusa!' Most of the crowd were cheering enthusiastically, waiting to see what they next play would bring, except for section C who were... well, statuesque. Statuelike. The best placed to watch the Young Mummies' cheerleading.
"Coach, this play won't work!" Jermander was currently quarterback because the two previous quarterbacks had had to be taken off the pitch, one concussed and the other having lost an arm.
"Of course it will." Coach sniffed and tried to focus. "Why are you such a Debbie Downer?"
"Because their quarterback is a lycanthromorph and turns into a Rhino when he feels like it!"
"I thought he looked a bit heavy out there a minute ago. But that's no reason to go all Debbie does Dallas on me, Jer! Put your back into it. Go out and give him hell!"
The huddle broke, and Jermander stared despondantly at the pitch. How the hell was he supposed to make this play work? Then his eyes lit on the Young Mummies again, and their prop box.
"Excuse me!" he yelled as he ran through, scooping Medusa's head out of the box under cover of the confusion. Maybe he had a chance after all....

David said...

Starkly naked. Sweating, like a god damn sow. Blood trickled from her shin, scraped against the ladder at stage left. A stench enveloped her. A flatulence that pushed the leading man over the edge.

"I will not work with her"

She stood center stage as it all burned down around her. Her blank stare met the audience's pretentious gaze. She was pure filth. And brilliant.

Aholiab said...

The Play

Marjorie was preparing vegetables in the kitchen when she heard her son coming through the front door.

“Mom, I’m home,” he called as he dropped his books in the living room. “Is there anything to eat?”

“There are some fresh cookies in here.” She was always amazed at how much he could eat when he got home and then have a great appetite for dinner. “How was your day?”

“I got a part in the Junior play.”

She continued slicing carrots and considered how to respond. It was like fishing - if you pay too much attention, you frighten them away; if you don’t pay enough attention, they ignore you. “Mmm, what’s the play this year?”

“We’re studying Shakespeare, so they’re making us do ‘Romeo and Juliet’. It’s so lame.”

Shakespeare! My son’s studying Shakespeare! I could just dance and laugh and hug him! He’s going to love it! She was nearly done shredding the cabbage. “Well, I suppose they had to pick something. What part are you going to play?”

“Mrs. Jensen is making me do Romeo. I think Candace Bentley is going to be Juliet. Can I make a sandwich?”

Romeo?!? He’s going to be Romeo! I knew he had it in him! He’s going to love the theater! But I can’t tell him! Calm down! And especially no tears! Instantly she grabbed an onion and began violently chopping it. Tears rolled down her face and she choked slightly, “Oh, my, these onions are a lot stronger than I expected. I hope they’ll be ok in the Cole slaw. I guess you can have one sandwich, as long as it doesn't spoil your dinner.”

“Thanks, Mom. Hey, I figured out what makes me so hungry... ‘The play’s the thing!’”

Marc said...

Greg - yes, I think I would be much happier not being able to see the audience I was stuck on stage in front of...

Hah, I do love these tales from school. Particularly enjoyed the coach's bits :)

David - intriguing character. Some great descriptions as well.

Aholiab - wonderful scene, especially the internal dialogue. Feels very realistic.