Graythorn Manor - Chapter 1: The Theater
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In our small town there is a theater on Main Street, the building is a bit dusty and run down from over the years but shows go on as usual. There is nothing special about this town, we have all the modern conveniences of any other city in 1860, I have lived in this city all of my life and walked up and down its sleepy streets countless times. Sometimes I wish something exciting would happen here, before I grow old and gray, yet my wishes never seem to come true. The Main Street Theater is putting on a new show this week and my drama class thought it would an educating experience to see the arts in action. I could care less although I can't complain, anything is better than a stuffy classroom and another boring lecture on Macbeth.
My three best friends Vicky, Elizabeth and Martha, or to better suit their personalities I call them hair brained, shallow and spiteful, have been my companions since grade school. People who know us say we’re like four peas in a pod but I say they don't know me at all. “Look at those three chatterboxes in front of the theater. And how dare Vicky wear my purple ribbon today, I looked all over for it this morning!” With her long black curls draped down her back and dark brown eyes that burned with envy, the young lady in her early twenties dressed in a violet dress and black laced leather boots, of late nineteenth century design, to fit the fashion of the times, walked at a quicker pace to reach her friends in front of the theater.
With a frown on her brow and a clinched fist, the far from timid little lady fixed her vision on Vicky's hair. “I ought to snatch my ribbon right out of her pretty little head.” she said on her march. Her three friends at the doors, dressed in like attire, impatiently waited for their late classmate. “Lauren, hurry up, professor Honeycutt is calling roll.” hollered Martha while she incessantly waved her hand. Lauren reached the doors and with an air of grace and a smile on her face, sweetly bid her friends good morning and complimented each of them on their lovely dress, especially Vicky.
In the theater, dozens of posters advertised the newest show to hit Main Street, and flyers spread across the theater walls, in every inch of available space to squeeze in an advert. The amazing and spectacular Mr. Lane read on every flyer. Elizabeth looked around the room in amazement. “Wow, they sure are going all out for this show.” In turn Vicky added her usual comment that never benefited any of their conversations, “I'm so glad we get a break from professor Honeycutt today.” A critical remark was sure to follow from Martha and sure enough she never disappointed her friends. “Hush, he'll hear you. Do you want all of our grades to get marked down?” said the spiteful young woman. Vicky very timidly replied “No.”
In the grand old lobby, the drama class along with Lauren and the girls remained silent only to admit to attendance as their professor gave roll. “Everyone’s here. Alright class please be on your best behavior today, we have the special privilege of watching rehearsal for the new show and I would like to be asked back here again, so try not to break anything and above all embrace the arts!” said their patronizing professor. Lauren rolled her eyes and under her breath mumbled “Oh please, don't make me puke.” Vicky heard her friend’s mumbling and asked, “What did you say?” Already upset with her ribbon robbing companion, Lauren thought, but did not speak, “Nothing you nosy little thief,” and only smiled at her friend.
Elizabeth, a shallow young lady, only concerned with the outward beauty of herself and others stayed true to her character and said giddily, “Let’s see if there are any handsome performers here.” Martha replied, “Of course there aren't. Only the great Mr. Lane is here and no one else.” The news that a white haired old man would be the only performer in the show saddened Elizabeth. She said, “This stinks. I had my hopes set of seeing some handsome actors, now my whole day is ruined.” Lauren began to laugh and Elizabeth asked, “What's so funny? I'm serious. What a let down, I don't want to see some old man pull rabbits out of a hat. What does this show have to do with drama class anyway?”
Lauren answered her friend, “Quit complaining Liz and enjoy the show or they won't let us kiddies come back here ever again. And don't touch anything or the professor will put you in a time out.” Liz replied sarcastically, “Very funny. I hope Mr. Lane makes you disappear.” Martha, seeing a chance to make a criticism, chimed in, “He does talk to us like we're in grade school but this is college for crying out loud. We deserve to be treated like adults.” Vicky read a show flyer and did not follow the conversation so she asked, “Who are you talking about?” Martha turned and said, “Vicky, I’m talking about the professor.”
Lauren with a sparkle of hope in her eyes said, “I'll be glad when I'm done with school altogether. Then I'm wasting this dust bucket and going west.” Her hair brained friend turned to Lauren in surprise. “Why do you want to go west? I don't get it.” asked Vicky. “Vicky, you twit, it's because she'll never blossom here. Isn't that right Lauren?” Martha said smugly. “Why you snotty...” before Lauren could finish her thought, Martha’s face beamed with excitement and with a loud squeal she said, “The rehearsal is starting, let's get a seat up front.”
The old fashioned theater held enough chairs to comfortably seat the whole town. In the past it was an opera house and later a Shakespearean playhouse but fell from the limelight and into disrepair, the show house now hosted whatever act came to town. The stage was beaten and worn and the seats that were once scarlet were now brown, and the faded green curtains and fringed yellow tassels only added to the misery of the place.
“It smells like something died in here.” said Liz as she placed a pink handkerchief to her nose. “Please ladies don't ruin the show for others. I was told they are working on getting that smell out, as we speak.” said the professor as he seemed to pop out of nowhere and startled the girls. “My goodness professor, don't do that. This place is creepy enough without you scaring us half to death.” Martha scolded. “My apologies ladies but please take your seats.”
Lauren insulted the professor under her breath and he heard her. “I beg your pardon Lauren?” turned the professor with a puzzled look. “Nothing, Professor Honeycutt.” smiled Lauren in an attempt to look as innocent as possible. The professor walked off not quite at ease and once in their seats the class directed their gazes to the stage where a frail old man stood dressed in a black top hat, a tuxedo, and a matching black cape with red lining. On stage the man’s only prop, a red curtain, laid on the floor.
The amazingly frail Mr. Lane started his act with a few parlor tricks that amused no one in the audience of students. Lauren sighed to herself and began to daydream of living in a city with more excitement than this. Elizabeth nudged Lauren and woke her out of the daydream. “What?” Lauren said angrily and Elizabeth giggled and pointed to the stage. The spectacularly feeble Mr. Lane began to walk and jump about the stage and was surprisingly limber for a man his age, but Lauren took no interest in the act.
Her eyes began to wander around the room from the tarnished painted gold ceiling to the peeling red paper on the theater’s walls but her wandering was interrupted when Mr. Lane raised his voice and asked, “Who from the audience would like to participate in Mr. Lane's next daring feat?” The audience of students laughed including Lauren and her friends sitting on the front row. Mr. Lane stepped forward to the edge of the stage and with his wrinkled finger pointed to Lauren. “Young lady, would you please join Mr. Lane on stage?” Lauren looked up in terror and quickly shook her head no but it was too late, her friends grabbed her by each arm pulled the girl from her seat. “No way, let go of me. This isn't funny.” cried Lauren and the audience roared with laughter.
“Ah, there is nothing to be afraid of young lady. Mr. Lane will only need your participation for a moment.” said Mr. Lane, always referring to himself in the third person. Pulled to the steps of the stage, Lauren's giggling companions let her go and Mr. Lane extended his hand to help the girl up the steps. She said, “I can manage,” and looked down her nose at the little man. “Okay kindly step over here miss. That's it, right there. Now close your eyes and wish for the thing you most want in life.” Lauren looked at the old fool, rolled her eyes and glanced out at the audience. Her whole drama class was there, all twenty students. She let out a sigh and looked back at Mr. Lane. “Are you serious?” she asked. “Yes miss. Please close your eyes.” said Mr. Lane.
Reluctantly the young woman closed her eyes and the old man quickly picked up the red curtain from the floor and enshrouded Lauren from head to toe. In the blink of an eye Mr. Lane dropped the curtain and Lauren was gone. She opened her eyes to find herself in a darkly lit room filled with racks of clothing, that hogged most of the space in the room, with only a small narrow walkway cleared that led to the door. The numerous racks of clothing held theater costumes that gave the room a musty smell, a telltale sign the costumes had been there for some time.
“Hey, where are you guys, Mr. Lane?” She fumbled about the dark room and made her way towards the door. She tripped over clothes and being utterly disgusted with her surroundings Lauren began to call louder, “Mr. Lane, the trick is over let me out!” There was only silence. She called again, “Where is everybody? I think I fell through a trap door or something.” She waited but heard no answer. “When I get out of here they are going to pay for this.”
She fell to the floor with a thud and finally reached the door, turned the knob, and tumbled out into the hallway. “Ouch, I'll murder those lugs!” A quick look at her surroundings revealed she was now in a dim and dusty hall. “Where am I? I've never seen this place before, I must be somewhere below the stage.” In the long hallway, faint beams of light peered in from the boarded windows above and danced among the shadows. She looked up at the ceiling and wondered, “What lamebrain decided to board up the windows?” For a moment she stood in the middle of the hall and looked to each end, she questioned which way led out. “Do I go right or left? Makes no difference I guess, the sooner I get out of this smelly dump the better.”
She looked down the right of the hall, a creak in the floorboards behind caused Lauren to swing about in an instant. “Who's there?” Only a cold draft met her. “Humph, I don't scare so easily.” With her head held high she marched towards the direction of the sound. She walked down the hall lined with doors on each side and she tried to open several but found each door locked. “Looks like no one is down here, that stupid old man must have forgotten about me but I know they must be looking for me, at least I can count on my friends for that.” she thought with assurance that she would soon be out of the theater.
At the end of the hallway a skylight, not boarded, allowed a faint light to pour in. The light overhead caught the lady’s attention, which brought a creeping sense of worry into her mind, it was getting dark out. “What time is it? The rehearsal was at noon but it can't be evening already. I was only at the show for half an hour and on stage for a minute, then down here.” She began to recount the sequence of events of that afternoon and tried to figure out where the lapse in time occurred.
“I was at the rehearsal, got on stage and now I’m down here. It's just not possible. No way is it possible.” She began to pace the hall and stopped to rub her head. She combed her fingers through her long black hair and she paused, “Maybe I bumped my head when I fell through the trap door.” She rubbed her head again. “But I was standing when I opened my eyes...” Another noise in the floorboards from the opposite direction broke her concentration and Lauren began to walk to the other end of the hall.
She came to a staircase that creaked with every step she took. While she pondered the time she hurried up the stairs and into the foyer of the theater. The concession stands conveniently sat in the dim theater lobby filled with peanuts, hard candies and other goodies and the hanging posters advertising for the great Mr. Lane swayed in the cold evening breeze that seeped in through every crack in old the building. Lauren shuttered and looked around the empty theater room that displayed a vacant stage and hundreds of unoccupied seats. “Everyone's gone. I can't believe they forgot about me. How could they do this to me?” she said in a whimper.
She walked to the front entrance of the theater and her feelings of disappointment turned to anger as she grabbed the door handle and forcefully motioned forward but the door did not budge. “And on top of everything, they've locked me in! Ooh I could just scream!” In a fit of rage she grabbed the nearest object she could lay her hands on. She tossed a bottle at the door’s window and watched in amazement as the object bounced off the glass and onto the floor, intact. She quickly grabbed a waste paper bin and threw it at the window yet no scratch was left on the glass.
Copyright © 2012 S. L. Brown. All rights reserved.
