The Show

[Alaeha]

(OOC Note: Please don't post in this thread unless you've been introduced... Commentary is welcome in the OOC Thread)

 

Alaeha stepped out of her seclusion in the corner, looking for Ayshela. Where had she gotten to? Her gaze found the entrance, and she laughed. The guards had finally overstepped their bounds, it appeared.

 

"Ayshela..." She said as she came within hearing range of her friend. "I'm sorry that I'm late with this... I think it's about time that I start my show up."

 

"Your show..." Ayshela thought for a moment. "Oh! That! I'll have the Band take a break at the end of this number."

 

"That'll be great." Alaeha smiled, and walked toward the stage.

 

The song seemed to stretch on into eternity, and she grew nervous. She had performed countless times before... but never before people whose opinions she truly cared about. It was a whole new gamble... and she feared that she was going to fail miserably.

 

Finally, the music faded out, the stagehands gathered the Band's chairs and stands, and the musicians walked offstage. She took a deep breath, laughed softly as she let it out, and ascended the stage with a smile.

 

"Excuse me!" She called out into the murmuring crowd. "The Band is taking a break for a time, and I've arranged for entertainment of a sort to fill the time. I have a list of performers who will be reading tales that they've written for this occasion, and I'll be introducing them as they come.

 

"First, though, I'll be starting this off with a piece of my own.

 

"A little about myself... I'm a Spellsinger, half-elven (half=human), raised by a guild of Bards. (They had a different definition of Bard) The piece I'm about to read for you is called "These Stark Words". It was written based on AFI's song "This Time Imperfect".

 

Alaeha looked down for a moment, emptied her lungs of all air, inhaled deeply, and looked up as she began her short tale...

[Alaeha]

Erin lay sprawled on her bed, hand clutching a faded, worn sheet of paper. From the other room, she heard Steve laughing. It would be at some stupid show, or a joke, or something. It always fascinated her to realize how much she could figure out without leaving her room, just by listening... and it always helped to distract her, as well.

 

Until she realized that she was distracting herself. As she glanced back at her paper, it flooded back to her.

 

“He won’t understand...” She whispered to herself. “He can’t understand... He knows something’s wrong, but he...

 

“I can’t even understand it myself. Why should I expect him to? I could never tell him, anyway... When push comes to shove, I just can’t do it.”

 

It had seemed such a good idea, at first. She had always been able to put her thoughts into words best when she wrote them down... But when she had finished, it didn’t seem to make any sense after the first reading.

 

“I don’t know how to say this... and I’m sorry that it’s necessary.” She read. “I promised myself once... almost a year ago, now... that I would never hurt you.

 

“It would appear that I lied... I know this will hurt you. There’s just no other way.

 

“I loved you, once. You could have ripped my stomach out and fed it to your cats... and I would have forgiven you. It doesn’t matter, anymore... You ripped my heart out instead, and you ground it into the asphalt. It’s never been the same.

 

“I thought that given a few weeks, or at most a few months, I could get back to being a friend... no more. But... I haven’t. For what you’ve done to me, I’ve forgiven you. I forgave you that long ago.

 

“I just can’t bring myself to forgive you for what you’ve done to Jenny... Or for what you’re doing to yourself. I can’t be around you anymore.” She sighed.

 

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t afford not to... but she just couldn’t do it. She didn’t have it in her.

 

With a sigh, she flipped the paper over and began to sketch out patterns on the back. Nothing would come.

 

“There truly are no flowers...” She whispered. “Not this time.”

 

“Hey! What’s up?” She looked up to see Steve standing in the door to her room.

 

“Nothing... Just doodling.” She forced an indifferent expression.

 

“Oh. Mind setting that aside for a minute? Phone for you.”

 

“Sure... Who is it?”

 

“It’s Kevin.” Steve passed her the phone and disappeared.

 

“Lovely...” She muttered. Then, with the phone to her mouth, more loudly: “Hello?”

“Hey! Are you busy this Saturday?” Kevin’s voice replied.

 

“Umm... Not so far as I know... Why?”

 

“I’m having a party out here that night. Can you make it?”

 

“I’ll do what I can. But I’ve got to go...”

 

“Ok. I’ll see you then.” Kevin’s laugh was cut short by a beep as she hung up.

 

Quietly, slowly, she folded and tore, refolded and tore yet again, the letter she had written. Finally, weeping in frustration, she dropped the fragments into the bag she hung from her door.

 

Even she couldn’t the words that were whispered softly... They were more thoughts than speech. “I’d share with you, could I only speak, just how much this hurts me.”

[Alaeha]

Alaeha stood on the center stage, suddenly dizzied by the size of her audience. She shook her head slightly, almost unnoticeably, to clear it, and looked out to the audience. Finding Ayshela again, she smiled and, after making eye contact, winked at her friend.

 

She addressed the crowd, speaking loudly. "Well... My story is finished, for now. My thanks for your patience and restraint.

 

"I'm now pleased to introduce one of the many QuillBearers of the Pen Keep, (though she may not remain such for long...) and the Hostess of the Fall Ball. The Lady Ayshela Whisperwind has agreed to read a short story she wrote based on the song "Darkest Days" by Stabbing Westward."

 

As Ayshela ascended the stage, Alaeha walked slowly toward the side. She gave her friend a quick hug and murmured encouragement when they met, and slipped quietly offstage and into the audience to watch the performance.

[Ayshela]

Ayshela took the stage slowly, hoping no one could see her nervousness. Appearing before crowds was far from her favorite thing to do, but in support of her friend she would make the effort.

 

Scanning the crowd quickly, to make sure all was well and she was safe, she took a deep breath and began:

 

 

Broken Pieces

 

Melissa wandered slowly through the house wondering idly what it was that she was supposed to be doing. She knew there was something, and it was important, but she simply couldn’t remember.

 

It was so strange – she stopped to look in the mirror but the effect was more watching herself stop and look at herself in the mirror. So distant, so removed.. it had its advantages, when all one felt was hollow pain, but it was strange and left memory and depth perception a bit askew. She watched herself reach out to touch the mirror. How far? She watched the mirror hand reach toward her hand, or so it seemed in her numb confusion. Too far, too fast – her hand hit the mirror and knocked it from the wall. “How appropriate,” she thought. “Another seven years bad luck to add to the current run. I should stay away from mirrors, since everything I touch I break.”

 

She had started picking up the pieces when she heard footsteps on the stairs. With a shudder of despair she kept her head down and continued cleaning up the broken glass. He came in ranting and raving about the noise, as usual, but stopped suddenly when he saw what she was doing.

 

“You filthy little bitch,” he snarled. “You broke that on purpose so you wouldn’t have time to make dinner. Well you’re going to anyway, and you’re going to be quick about it. You are going to be a decent showpiece, whether you want to or not.”

 

He smacked the back of her head, throwing her forward into the wall. She realized as she cried out that she shouldn’t have. He spun around and grabbed her by her hair, dragging her through the glass and to her feet. She lost track of what he was shouting as he shook her and threw her against the wall. As she crumpled to the floor, curling into a ball in the middle of the glass, she could feel him still hitting and kicking her, but it was fading from perception as she sank, drowning in the depths of despair, alone with her rage.

Edited October 27, 2003 by Ayshela

[Alaeha]

Ayshela trembled slightly, for a moment, as she finished her piece, and walked off the stage as quickly as her dress and appearance of grace would permit. As she reached the edge and faded into the crowd, she passed Alaeha.

 

"You were fine. It was a good story." Alaeha whispered a reassurance as she took the stage once again. Having gauged the crowd's reaction to the show, her confidence had been restored somewhat, and the momentary stage fright she had suffered seemed a trifle silly.

 

As she reached the center stage and addressed the membership of the Pen once again, her smile was unforced. "Our next piece will be perfect, for those who don't frequently visit the assembly room." She added, with a sheepish tone: "I'm afraid I'm guilty of that crime myself sometimes...

 

"I'd like to introduce Gwaihir, our Deputy Loremaster, but I suspect that we all know him. On the offchance that some of our newer members have managed to go without the pleasure of meeting him, I simply mustsay that apart from being the Protector of all things Wiggly, he is one of our finer ballroom dancers, and he's an inspiration to us all.

 

"Gwaihir will be reading a poem based on the song Daniel, by Elton John, and he'll be here any moment..." She trailed off and waited for the next performer to arrive on stage...

[Gwaihir]

When Gwai rushed in the door it was only about a minute late, but that wasn't the problem. As he stumbled to the stage, everyone could see why he was having trouble walking this time--he was putting on his pants! Someone gasped and he blushed.

"Suddenly my clock turned five till four, and I knew I had to be here at four o clock to read, but I was way out at the cabbage patch and ...well some people didn't approve of my dress clothes at the Fall Ball, so I can just guess what you all would have thought of my work clothes. I knew that I wouldn't have had time to get here if I changed first and then came, so I did them both at once."

This as he buckles his belt.

 

"Well, umm anyway, my poem, 'My Sister's Lack of Realism.'"

 

No one can be that sort of dream brother.

And when she says she misses me, I almost wonder why

It's not that I don't miss her too, a lot.

But they admire me so much--so strange of them.

And if I see farther,

I am standing on the backs of giants

I am a dwarf, and when will she notice.

 

I know that I am in no way a star,

But as I watch her grow and learn

Maybe she is.

She grows so beautiful and so mature.

I watch her learn to not always demand the bright spotlight,

I watch her grow and give her most loved treats away

So bright, so kind, so wonderful...

I know that she's a star!