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Backstage Spotlight
Tracy peeked out the door of the back entrance. It's where the crowds would gather after every performance, waiting to rub shoulders with one of the stars, hand over flowers to a loved one or just to be a part of the energy that followed another incredible performance.
For now, the tide had ebbed, taking with it the people and their waves of energy. She opened the door all the way, placing a partial cinder block at it's base to hold it open and set to rolling up the dirty red mat. Tomorrow morning, some stage hand would come in and clean all the dried mud from the dense fibers, wiping it down so it would be ready for the Matinee show. For now, all Tracy had to do was pack it away just inside the door, keeping the dirt far away from the fine costumes depicting the French revolution and the props for the castle, the town, and the gallows.
"I'm set to head out," she called into the cavern of backstage.
"Hold on," the gruff voice of the old stage manager halted her. She heard some shuffling from his office before he stepped out with an industrial stapler. It was the sign of an agreement between them. Tracy could only walk the alley at night as he re-stapled the billing posters. The heavy-duty stapler was as good a weapon as any, he believed. Not that it was needed in the clean, well lit alley that paralleled the main street, but if it made the old guy feel better, Tracy wouldn't argue.
Tracy left the man and the theater behind, hands in the pockets of her ratty wool coat. The streetlights were spaced perfectly apart, each section of yellow light just touching the edges of the next. Tracy smiled, feeling as though these were her personal spotlights, throwing her own quiet, behind the scenes life into the forefront of life's stage. It was a heady moment she looked forward to every night, these few moments when the quiet world was her oyster and her audience of one was riveted to her every move.The coffee shop was only a hundred yards or so from the theater's back entrance. She paused just outside the door to wave back the way she came, grasping the door handle and making her exit, head held high.
Carrie--I liked this a lot. The words seem to fit perfectly in your story. I especially liked the description of the lights touching each other...very nice. Well done!
ReplyDeleteThank you. :) I focused a lot on the streetlight bit. I was afraid some of the words would seem forced with the prop description, so I'm glad they came across smoothly.
DeleteCarrie,
ReplyDeleteThis piece had a lot of character and setting depth for only 500 words. I experienced a true relationship between Tracy and the old man walking her out. I felt the history of the theater and the way it influenced her life. As I so often do reading these pieces, I want more! ; )
Bravo!
~Christopher
PS
I made I link to your Home Page at the bottom of mine. Have a look and let me know if there's any changes, etc.., you would like me to make. -Cheers!
Thank you for adding a link to my blog. That really means a lot to me. I'm crazy speechless.
DeleteI have to say, I really like this scene. Sometimes the free flow pieces come out the best. It seems so simple, and I'm so happy it looks like readers are appreciating the depth. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. :)
Oh, I could sense a dreamer here. I like it that you saw something beautiful in such a dark lonely place and turned it into a young woman's dream for better things.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I had just read something that made me happy before I approached this. That on top of thinking the first instinct is to write something dark, I really wanted to write a more uplifting piece.
DeleteI could almost hear her footsteps echoing down the empty street as she passed from one spotlight to the other. Well done!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much. :)
DeleteStrong imagery. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. :)
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