Theater at night
By: Rita Wakim
Jamie walked past the threshold, shutting the door behind him to prevent the chilly November air from pervading the studio. He untied his bright red scarf from its bundled knot around his neck, placing it on a wayward chair along with his dark coat.
He sighed, rolling his shoulders as tried to shake the tiredness out. He had a whole script to memorize by Thanksgiving, and opening night was only seven weeks away. Jamie had to start blocking tonight, or he’d never get it right.
Every actor has a method, and Jamie’s was persistence and perfection. If things weren’t exact each and every time, he’d never be satisfied. It was one of the reason’s he actually had a job, unlike so many other actors.
He remembered how long it’d took to find someplace that’d hire him. With his hooked nose, he didn’t have quite the right face for the stage; but he had a strong voice, a clear sense of movement, intense eyes and a burning passion for acting. In the end, adding all of that to his stubborn method had gotten him a decent part.
The olive-skinned young man walked out onto the stage, getting a feel for the atmosphere. A late November night at the theatre, practicing his role as the wind howled outside. It was an excellent mood, exactly what he needed to begin.
Jamie put a hand in his pocket, searching for his script. He rolled his eyes in frustration when he realized it was still in his jacket backstage near the exit.
He rolled his sleeves and marched out to get his script. The strong scent of flowers hit him, and a giggle interrupted his angry stomping, “Looking for this?” His coat floated in midair, along with his scarf.
“Lavender? What are you doing?” Jamie grimaced, not having any patience for the ghostess’ antics. As much as he appreciated this job, he didn’t quite enjoy the fact that the theatre was haunted.
A soft mist visualized until the ghostess appeared, the red scarf wrapped around her sweet face. Long, pale hair drifted down to tickle Jamie’s nose. Her bare feet swung widely, hardly constrained by the coat draped around her shoulders.
Lavender was a small ghost, and the coat reached her pale knees. “Give me my script, Lavender, and get down here.”
“You can’t tell me how to live my life.” Lavender smirked, floating up to the rafters.
“You’re a ghost, Lavender.”
“What play are you doing this year? I want to practice with you.”
Jamie clenched his fists in anger. Practicing with naughty ghosts was not part of his method. “We’re doing Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, and I need to have it memorized within three weeks. Now please, give me my script, it’s in the coat pocket.”
“I’ll let you have your script if I can practice with you.” Lavender laid across the rafters, lazily waving the end of the scarf at Jamie.
Jamie bit the inside of his cheek. Once Lavender got an idea in her head, he’d never get it out. “Fine. But you better do everything exactly the way I tell you.”
Lavender’s face lit up with a genuine smile, and Jamie felt a bit ashamed. Maybe he’d been a bit harsh towards her; she was just a young ghostess.
“I’ve always loved this play. When I was alive, I remember wanting to be the Ghost of Christmas Past.” Lavender handed the script to the actor. “What part are you playing, Jamie?”
“Ebenezer Scrooge.”
Lavender burst out laughing. “You’ve got the right nose for that!”
Jamie grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Very clever. Now do you want to crack jokes or practice?”
Lavender straightened up. “Practice,” her eyes betrayed her, still full of mirth.
“Alright then, you can be Jacob Marley. We’re doing the scene where Scrooge is receiving a warning from his dead business partner.” He held out the small script, so Lavender could read it beside him.
Lavender felt herself trembling at Jamie’s presence. She’d never admit it, not as long as she stayed at the theatre, the way Jamie made her feel so alive. His energy, his strict behavior, his dedication to a craft she wished she could still be a part of, it filled her.
And as she stood beside him, haunting the spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge as Jacob Marley, she knew with all her heart that even as a ghost, she could still be alive, as long as Jamie was with her.
He sighed, rolling his shoulders as tried to shake the tiredness out. He had a whole script to memorize by Thanksgiving, and opening night was only seven weeks away. Jamie had to start blocking tonight, or he’d never get it right.
Every actor has a method, and Jamie’s was persistence and perfection. If things weren’t exact each and every time, he’d never be satisfied. It was one of the reason’s he actually had a job, unlike so many other actors.
He remembered how long it’d took to find someplace that’d hire him. With his hooked nose, he didn’t have quite the right face for the stage; but he had a strong voice, a clear sense of movement, intense eyes and a burning passion for acting. In the end, adding all of that to his stubborn method had gotten him a decent part.
The olive-skinned young man walked out onto the stage, getting a feel for the atmosphere. A late November night at the theatre, practicing his role as the wind howled outside. It was an excellent mood, exactly what he needed to begin.
Jamie put a hand in his pocket, searching for his script. He rolled his eyes in frustration when he realized it was still in his jacket backstage near the exit.
He rolled his sleeves and marched out to get his script. The strong scent of flowers hit him, and a giggle interrupted his angry stomping, “Looking for this?” His coat floated in midair, along with his scarf.
“Lavender? What are you doing?” Jamie grimaced, not having any patience for the ghostess’ antics. As much as he appreciated this job, he didn’t quite enjoy the fact that the theatre was haunted.
A soft mist visualized until the ghostess appeared, the red scarf wrapped around her sweet face. Long, pale hair drifted down to tickle Jamie’s nose. Her bare feet swung widely, hardly constrained by the coat draped around her shoulders.
Lavender was a small ghost, and the coat reached her pale knees. “Give me my script, Lavender, and get down here.”
“You can’t tell me how to live my life.” Lavender smirked, floating up to the rafters.
“You’re a ghost, Lavender.”
“What play are you doing this year? I want to practice with you.”
Jamie clenched his fists in anger. Practicing with naughty ghosts was not part of his method. “We’re doing Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, and I need to have it memorized within three weeks. Now please, give me my script, it’s in the coat pocket.”
“I’ll let you have your script if I can practice with you.” Lavender laid across the rafters, lazily waving the end of the scarf at Jamie.
Jamie bit the inside of his cheek. Once Lavender got an idea in her head, he’d never get it out. “Fine. But you better do everything exactly the way I tell you.”
Lavender’s face lit up with a genuine smile, and Jamie felt a bit ashamed. Maybe he’d been a bit harsh towards her; she was just a young ghostess.
“I’ve always loved this play. When I was alive, I remember wanting to be the Ghost of Christmas Past.” Lavender handed the script to the actor. “What part are you playing, Jamie?”
“Ebenezer Scrooge.”
Lavender burst out laughing. “You’ve got the right nose for that!”
Jamie grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Very clever. Now do you want to crack jokes or practice?”
Lavender straightened up. “Practice,” her eyes betrayed her, still full of mirth.
“Alright then, you can be Jacob Marley. We’re doing the scene where Scrooge is receiving a warning from his dead business partner.” He held out the small script, so Lavender could read it beside him.
Lavender felt herself trembling at Jamie’s presence. She’d never admit it, not as long as she stayed at the theatre, the way Jamie made her feel so alive. His energy, his strict behavior, his dedication to a craft she wished she could still be a part of, it filled her.
And as she stood beside him, haunting the spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge as Jacob Marley, she knew with all her heart that even as a ghost, she could still be alive, as long as Jamie was with her.