Don’t Laugh

Monday, October 01, 2007

Current mood: exhausted
Category: Writing and Poetry

just tell me what you think...



P R O L O G U E

"Ah!" I jump back, startled, as I come face to face with a giant clown - a wooden cutout for a previous production. "No wonder people think they've seen ghosts around this place. Ugh-storage rooms give me the creeps."

"Remind me why we're down here again," Megan asks. We are in the basement of the local theater-The Ritz. The basement, dark as midnight on even the brightest summer day, is where all the old props/costumes/random things are kept. One of my friends (who's off at college now) swears that something (or someone) grabbed her ankle one time when she came down here. Cue horror music. I usually try to avoid the basement, but Megan and I are the only ones not in this scene that they're reahearsing who know where the basement is. It's not because I think there are ghosts down here - I swear I don't believe in that stuff - but, come on, this place would give even the most sceptical person the creeps. It floods at least two inches when it rains, it hasn't been cleaned out since God knows when (can you say massive spiderwebs?), and, like I said, it's always dark.

"'Cause we're the only ones who know where it is that aren't onstage," I say. "You're not scared are you?" Creeped out had moved out of the way in place of bravado.

"Duh. Uhhh-I think something just touched my shoulder!"

"Don't go into hysterics on me. It was probably just a cobweb. Now put on your big girl panties and help me find the lamp post."

"Can't we find the light switch first? We're never gonna find anything with just these flashlights."

"All right."

We start looking for the light switch. In the process we find more clowns (seriously, what production was that?), five pairs of gloves, saddle shoes, a whole box of poodle skirst, nun outfits, fake trees, and the lamp post.

"Chris! Here's the lamp post - now we can get out of here. Thank God!" Megan said. "Weird that we found that before the light switch..."

"I didn't know the Ritz had ever done The Phantom of the Opera..." Now that we've found the lamp, I'm curious to see what all else is down here.

"They've never done that, Christina," Megan says. Well she would know - she's been doing this play stuff longer than I have. She was born into a theater family. Her mom is the choreographer for almost all the plays that we do down here. She's been dancing since she was three. I've only been dancing since I was seven - after my dad died and I came here to live with my aunt. I would've gone to live with my mom, but she bailed when I was four and I haven't heard from her since. Now, thirteen years later, I'm in the basement of the Ritz with a girl who's practically my sister - seriously, during a play I basically live at her house - looking at a mask I swear came right out of Phantom of the Opera.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Maybe it's from some other play or something. Come one - leave the mask. Let's get out of here."

"Fine," I say as I quietly slip the mask into my bag.



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ok, now something entirely different...

The warm breeze caresses the back of my neck, reminding me of the hand of a gentle love - a touch I both need and long for. The tide is coming in, the saltwater licking at my toes. The sun-kissed glow I had gotten this summer is beginning to fade, another reminder that the times are changing. Fall is around the corner and school and the real world along with it. It's almost time to leave my summer wonderland behind. Already, the ocean is starting to lose it's warm temperature.

I stand up. People have always said that every ending is also a beginning. But this is not the beginning I would choose if I could relieve a chapter of my life over again. The chapter I choose began at the beginning of the summer - a chapter I would never change and a chapter I would never want to rip out of the story of my life. It's the chapter I'll remember for the next forty or fifty years - til the day I die.

I take a step. The cool water comes up to my ankle. Another step. Why do all good things have to come to an end? Another step. Can't life have a pause button? Another step. A rewind button would be nice, too. Another step. The water's up to my waist. I didn't even feel the coldness anymore. Another step, and then another. One more final step and I'm floating. I drift, letting the tide push me gently around. It's the best place to think, to remember. I close my eyes. I see a face swimming before me. His. Two soft gray eyes, two full lips, and a nose that is maybe a little too big. The face smiles. Two small dimples appear on his cheeks. Slowly, his face starts to fade. No! I think silently. But I'm distracted by yet another face. Mine.

My face before this summer - before everything that happened. I remember it distinctly - looking in the mirror the morning I left my too-small city apartment I share with my family to escape to the sea side for an entire summer...