Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 179
This week's picture prompt was taken in the Orpheum Auditorium, New Bedford, Massachusetts, US. This Auditorium opened on the same day the Titanic sunk, April 15th, 1912. A supermarket now occupies some of the building, but the rest remains beautifully deserted. This image was taken by Frank Grace, and he names it The Haunting New Bedford Orphuem. He takes some incredible pictures, definitely worth a browse.
I wrote this and couldn't find an ending so turned it into this. I think it works.
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The Show Must Go On.
She rushed down the aisle as fast as she could, trying to ignore the laughing and jeering going on in the audience either side. It couldn’t happen this way, it just couldn’t! His dreams dashed in such a public way. Moving quickly was difficult in this new fangled bustle dress that was all the rage, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her saving her darling.
She got to the steps at the side of the stage and someone rushed out and grabbed her arm.
‘Madam! You can’t go up there! The show MUST go on!’
She was having none of it, and pulled her arm out of their grasp, picking up her dress as she ran up the steps. By the time she reached the stage he had collapsed. She knew he would; it was the stress of the performance. She fell to her knees at his side and cradled him.
‘Oh Hugo, my Hugo,’ she whispered.
The lights faded and the wood under her knees creaked; her arms falling empty.
He was not there - no one was. The stage was empty as was the theatre. The only fool was her – Phyllis, believing that wishing him back would be enough. It would never be. He’d never be back. The theatre was closed and disused now.
She slumped back onto her behind and brought her legs round, crossing them under the rags that were once her best dress and looked round the auditorium. Like the faded theatre walls her memories were becoming colourless and fragmented. This last moment seemed to be the final one and it kept playing on a loop.
She hadn’t been able to bring Hugo back anymore than she could bring herself back. She was locked in purgatory, forever reliving this traumatic event; the death of her beloved Hugo.
She spotted movement at the back of the theatre.
‘Who’s there?’ she called.
She stood up, but it was dark under the dress circle and she couldn’t make out if it was a person or a shadow. She went down the steps and walked back down the aisle, trying to make out if someone was there.
When she reached the back she found nothing. Her shoulders slumped. She’d hoped for something or someone to break the monotony. Then she heard his voice again and looked to the stage. There he was!
She rushed down the aisle as fast as she could, trying to ignore the laughing and jeering going on in the audience either side. It couldn’t happen again, it just couldn’t! She had to stop it. His dreams dashed so publicly. Moving quickly was difficult in this new fangled bustle dress that was all the rage, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her saving her darling.
She got to the steps at the side of the stage and someone rushed out and grabbed her arm.
‘Madam! You can’t go up there! The show MUST go on!’
She was having none of it, and pulled her arm out of their grasp, picking up her dress as she ran up the steps. By the time she reached the stage he had collapsed. She knew he would; it was the stress of the performance. She fell to her knees at his side and cradled him.
‘Oh Hugo, my Hugo,’ she whispered.
