"Oh, I can see it now, father". The soft whispered words escaped lushest blood-red lips; they are coloured as if they were the single most important testimony to vampirisim. From backstage a dim light is projected from a flashlight off centered, creamy and dreamy yellow articles of artificial rays creeps through the exhale of a fog machine to give the illusion of a successful lantern at a distance, in the near distance. The dark is over taken, by the illumination casted out of an old semi-forgotten railroad light that now replaces the flashlight to which portrayed it for theatrical effect, as the main curtains are effortlessly drawn open. This is all of course done by the illusionist in an arranged agreement with the viewing theatre : it is a clever-some attempted delivery to persuade the onlookers that the characters before them have entered the foreground. The young female lead speaks volumes once more with a simple "Father" before looking around.
Howard sets up straighter in his ticket provided chair. This is his favorite part in the novel, it happens to be his first time seeing it professionally preformed, he hopes it will be given justice. This is his second play ever, he had always been a fantastic painter with the words he read; more so of his favorite novelist: Craig Cattenberry . The young man loved L. Maddison's version of: A BREATH BETWEEN HEARTBEATS, by his beloved author, that he just had to appear for her second piece inspired by Craig and carrying the same title: A Thatcher's DAUGHTER.
Craig's unmatchable imagery was superb all while being remarkably canvased in just as incredibly gifted vocabulary . He had showcased a great many ideas for capturing his victims in a few lines, once you were hooked you were done for, by far one of the best written vocalist to take the stage: now seeing his creations brought to life in general under the impression of someone else's interpretation was a warmth. This life, of course unnoticed by the uneducated, could only be given a breath by Maddison. Her development of gave people colors to dream in. However you spoke of this art Howard was a huge hooked and drowning fan.
The young gal walks out, stopping just shy and left of center stage, "Father". In small rhymaticly shaking hands she holds the light outstretched towards the faces beyond the fourth wall. It's presence, flickering in heartbroken beats between the two worlds, holding the moment breathlessly out of reach.... She confirmed in that single notion that she continues to control all. As engulfing musical sounds of crickets contributes to one's loneliness. Howard knows that it will be the first time she receives the eerie realization that her father is gone.
The kiss of a handheld torch lays in it's wake absolute authority with a glow highlighting the cold of the blue of her eyes. It is then that Howard realizes that little Kathryn is played by no other than Maddison herself. He saw her head-on, at an angle off the setting, behind the scenes directing his faith while watching: A BREATH BETWEEN HEARTBEATS. He would come to know those eyes anywhere.
A shout rings echolessly throughout the playhouse. Each syllable more haunting than it's leader; cold enough to ship shivers along a jellyfish's spine
A chilled breeze is made felt by silent stageside fans blowing air over strategically set blocks of ice, the flame in the glass grabs for oxygen, the face above all becomes whitewashed--- all but her blood-bathed lips. A figureless shadow is casted from behind a woman who is a lot older than she apparently makes herself seem seamlessly.
"Fath-...", the phonics frozen in her throat.
The light behind the stained glass ceases to go on living and draws it's defining last. An owl is heard through the darkness.
Though Kathryn's presence is not required for the next few Howard can still see her face---with horror draping it; and eyes burning -yet so cold and lifelessly- referencing the things to come. He can't blink away from his nightmare fast enough. As his eyes zoom in on her's, though none have taken place amongst the adjacent company of idealistic images, a second stream of curiosity has emerged as a whole new meaning sweeps the area. Curtains open all-the-while her linger fades in the mist submitting to the gentleman for whom is the narrator. Howard smiles, the devil is in the details, leans back... So far this is precisely how he would have preferred to have directed if he would have been blessed with such a task. His life long dream about being a writer was being challenged by a worthy appointed. He could always do both.
A beanstalk, casted to be the colorful raconteur, holds the ground unaware of to most that he is infact the devil. Yet a well-received and well-rehearsed semi-crooked smile is an elementary betrayal to his photogenic angelic semblance manifestation. One's masquerade ended when he told anecdotes --- speaking ambiguous phrases--- about Thatcher's youngest daughter -Kathryn- in the acts before. While holding a voodoo doll by a hitchman's noose, in an almost authentic Cajun seasoned flare, while looking out over the crowd, "Come take a closer walk with me". His eyes meet with an abhorrently sinster stare as he pulls an apple from his blouse, rubs it against his chest, tosses the produce into the air before handing it outward as if it was a peace offering presentation to a sacrificial animal. " Come on,now, I won't bite", fang like teeth perfectly punctured the fruit.
Howard watches the unfolding take place. According to the paper in his lap intermission is coming up,everything will be normal for 45 minutes, Howard plans to talk with the actors and actresses. He wants to ask Maddison herself in small talk the only question he would have thought to ask. So far the play had interestingly entwined the four novels into an argument that was very much like what he created in his subconscious mind while reading.
The overhead lights slowly drive through sheets of various shades of grey, black, blue, and brown as eyes adjust to artificial light. Howard may not be able to be the first to meet with the stars but he was going to be the first to provoke thought of someone with such above advantage intelligence.
He thought to himself, standing up to move to the meet and greet, "Oh, I can see it now."
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You really capture the feeling of being immersed in the theater. Each paragraph is just rich with detail of all of these moments and scenes unfolding on a stage. You feel the main character’s awe and wonder with it all. This line was especially beautiful: “It's presence, flickering in heartbroken beats between the two worlds, holding the moment breathlessly out of reach....” Great job, Drew!