In Honor of the Tony Awards . . . Trois Drabble!

So they are going to do it all over again . . . and we won't know till it is done whether we are emboldened or embarrassed to call ourselves "theater people" for yet another year.  Okay, we'll probably actually know before they finish the opening number.

I can't claim credit for thinking of writing these this particular week. My friend Laurence Simon of the 100 Word Stories Podcast chose the word prompt "stage" for his Weekly Challenge.  I have been using drabble (100 words exactly) and haiku as warm up exercises for my writing, and could not resist the prompt.

She tripped over the lip of it and fell flat on its aged wooden surface with a painful thwack! 

“What’s this?  Who put this here?” 

An ethereal voice came out of nowhere, “Welcome to a rarefied world where art and life collide.  Welcome to the great forum of thought and emotion.”  The voice raised in pitch, and intensity, “Welcome to the deep reality of emotions reflected with …” 

She interrupted impatiently, “Yes, yes, get on with it.  Where’s the ladies loo?” 

“Backstage left, and down the stairs to your right.  Push the handle twice, please, or it won’t flush properly.”

***

The veteran and the neophyte stand in the wings watching, and waiting. 

“Do you ever get nervous?” the young one asks. 

“Every time,” is the curt reply. 

“Really?” the young one croaks, hand shaking as he raises his water bottle and slurps, hoping to not botch his very first line out on the boards.  He twitches.  “But all those people, all those eyes watching you!”

The veteran turns a slow, patience gaze on the young one. He very softly, very deliberately whispers, “If you hit your marks and stand in your light, you will not see them. Do not look.”

***

Bette reached for the shiny statuette.  It was a local award, but it sparkled like a Tony.  As she sputtered out her humble gratitude, the past entered her mind.

It was a sunny, hot bee-buzzing July afternoon. She hid high amidst the fanning branches of the old backyard swing tree. Mamma and Auntie on the back porch sipping huge, foggy tumblers of supposed lemonade. 

“I wish I knew why Bette needs so much more attention than the other children.  She’s always performing!” her Mamma cried.

Her Aunt’s patient reply, “Don’t worry, dear.  It’s just the stage.  She’ll get over it.”

***

 

Text and Production (c) 2013 by Judith Cullen 

Click Here  to listen to these stories recorded for your enjoyment.  As always, the recordings are offered free, AND tips are welcome!

Click Here to check out the other submissions in this week's challenge on the 100 Word Stories Podcast!

The music snippets on the audio recording of my three stories are from Royalty Free Music.  The piece is called "Batty McFadden" composed by Kevin McLeod at incompetech.com.

COMING THIS WEEK:  A Trio of My Father's Tales on Kindle and in Paperback.