The Stage

As promised, here is the first story in my February Short Story Series. I originally wrote this one in October 2017. I had plans of finding something to do with it that year, but lost steam after I finished the initial draft. I let it rest until October 2019 when I fixed it up and decided to offer it to my friends on Facebook for free. I made it happen by October 31st as a special Halloween treat as this is a bit more spooky. I got a little feedback at the time, but was mostly unsure what to do with it. Once again, it was put aside. I find that a shame as I really like this story. Last year, as I was working on another short story that you will read later this month, I realized how that world and the world in this one connect. I'm excited to find ways to further weave them together and perhaps revisit some of what I explore in this story. For now, this is a standalone story. Here, it finds life again on the internet.

What you're in for:

Jerry is in charge of securing the stage for the local theater's next production, but his luck seems bent on stopping that. When he discovers the old closed theatre in town, it seems as if things are changing for the better. A strange, old man warns him of the theater's dark past, yet Jerry is too blinded by his seemingly good fortune to care. But the stage is hungry and Jerry is in for a terrible surprise.

This contains some swearing and death.

***

The Stage

by S.M. Taylor

“I swear to God, Jerry. If you don’t pull through on this, you are done. You get me? Finished! Fired!”

Jerry cringed away from the phone, holding it far enough away from his ear that he could still hear the shrill voice of Mary Champlain. She had been screaming at him for a good twenty minutes straight since he had informed her that the usual stage the theatre company used for their performances was set to be demolished later that month. It would have been nice if the company that owned the property had given them some kind of notice. Treeline Theatre had been renting the space from them twice a year for almost twenty years. 

Jerry thought it would have been more cost effective to buy their own building and build their own stage long ago. Something, perhaps it was Mary’s screeching, made him think his suggestions would fall on deaf ears. None of this was changing the fact that they had been left without a stage either. 

Of course it’s the year that I’m in charge of something that some shit like this happens. Jerry wished he was anywhere but where he was, not that it would have stopped Mary’s yelling. He had cell phones to thank for that constant companionship. 

Mary was a force to be reckoned with. He had known that long before he took the job yet somehow that hadn’t been enough preparation for working with the real thing. She had a voice that could be heard across a room and opinions to match. When she had something in mind, it was near impossible to change her ways. She was a leader, not a follower. It was only fitting that she was the director. Mary was tall, taller than Jerry’s five foot six by near half a foot. She would loom above you, her arms crossed against her chest as she scowled down with disapproval. Many intimidating people had shrunk from that gaze. Mary looked at least ten years younger than the sixty she was - not that anyone knew her age. Jerry thought she would have been attractive had it not been for the pinched expression she always wore that made it look like she had either smelled something bad or needed to go to the bathroom. 

“Jerry? Are you listening to me, Jerry?” 

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll find you a place to put on this show, don’t worry.” 

“Oh, I’m worried, Jerry. It’s too late for that. But I have no other choice than to trust you. Get me a stage, Jerry. I don’t care if you have to bribe someone. I don’t care if you have to lie. I don’t care if you have to steal it from some Middle Schoolers. I don’t even care if you have to sell your soul to the devil. You get me a god-damned place for my actors to perform, you hear me?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Stop wasting time. Get to it.” The line went quiet. 

Jerry looked down at his phone just to make sure the call had really ended. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Mary off further by hanging up on her when she had only been taking a long pause. He was relieved to find that it was true. He was off the hook - for now. He stashed his phone in his front pants pocket and looked around him. He had chosen the back porch of his apartment for the dreaded call. He had thought sharing the small space with his slowly growing woodpile and the dying plant someone or other had given him at the beginning of summer would have been comforting. Normally, when he perched on his plastic chair among these things, he could look out into the trees that surrounded the building and find at least some shred of peace. Not today. Mary’s anger had sent all that into oblivion. He sighed and heaved himself into a standing position. 

“I guess I better get to work.” 

***

By the end of the day, Jerry was no closer to his goal. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He had called everyone he could think of, and even showed up at venues and asked to speak to people directly. It wasn’t a large town, and by six, all of his options were exhausted. He didn’t have the heart to call Mary. He didn’t have enough left in him to take another beating. 

“Maybe she’ll agree to performing outside. I bet I could get us a permit for the park or something. Hell, there’s gotta be some spot out in the forest that can work. Who would object to that?” Jerry suggested to himself over what was left of his sandwich. He sat alone at a corner table. The restaurant was busy enough that he wasn’t often bothered. Several times he had wondered if the waitress herself had forgotten him, but he didn’t necessarily care. After the day he had endured, he was fine dealing with people as little as possible.

He stared at what was left of his dinner, as if it were responding to his question. In his mind, it must have, for he sighed and drooped his head. “No, of course not. Maybe in the Summer, but the Fall? It’s way too cold. Damnit…” He stared at the last few bites of his sandwich, his stomach turning as he tried to call forth more possibilities. There was absolutely nothing. As a last-ditch effort, he had called the schools to see if there was any chance they could use an auditorium. Nope. Maybe if he had called a couple months before, but at this point, they had things scheduled. Everything was booked up. 

“Can I get you anything else?”

It was harder than Jerry expected to lift his head and face the waitress. “No, thank you.” The words were weak. His plight had affected him more than he realized. 

She stared at him a moment, as if she were trying to figure out if there was something wrong with him. She decided against asking and turned on her heel, returning a few minutes later with the bill. Jerry left the balance and a tip on the table and left the remains of his sandwich behind. He found he didn’t have the stomach for the rest after all. 

Once outside, Jerry pulled his hood over his head and zipped his sweater as far up as it would go. Already, the autumn chill had set in. It had come upon them fast enough this year that Jerry had forgotten he would need to be prepared for it. He longed for his thicker layers he could have brought with him that instead waited in his closet back home. Of all the nights he would have chosen to walk. This just isn't my day. He hugged his arms tight to his chest, pinning his hands beneath his armpits in an attempt to lock any body heat he had within. He was about a ten minutes' walk from his home, but the cold made it seem much longer. Halfway there, a breeze started up with a biting chill that cut into his face. He kept his head down, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. 

He stopped at a corner, knowing he was at the home stretch. Regretfully, he lifted his head to check and make sure there were no cars around to oppose him crossing the street. The area was deserted. There was still enough light to see but it was fading fast as the sun was already going behind the mountains. The wind died.

As he resumed walking, he could hear the clear sound of his footsteps echoing around him. There wasn’t much on this side of town. He was out of the main business area. Here it was mainly residential. Some cabins, apartment buildings. The most commercial things on this street were a church and the abandoned building on the corner.

The abandoned building on the corner. 

Jerry stopped. He had finished crossing and now was faced with said building. He had never paid much attention to it before. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone go in or out of it. It was two stories high. It looked black in the fading light though he knew it to be a dark blue in the sunlight. Jerry looked around him to make sure he was still alone and walked up the small concrete path that seemed to glow like moonshine in the dim light. He watched his feet as he moved. The path was badly cracked in places. Dead, dried out plants stuck out of several of the spots. There was a root growing under it close to the front door that had elevated part of the rock. Despite looking down, Jerry’s foot caught the edge of it, and he stumbled the rest of the way to the door, barely catching himself from falling. 

The front doors were before him now. Two, black, double doors. He grabbed one of the handles and gave it a pull. As he expected, the door didn’t budge. There were windows to either side of them. Jerry walked up to one and peered in, cupping his hands around the sides of his eyes to improve his chances. Inside was only blackness. The layers of grime that had accumulated over either side of the glass weren’t much help either. He stepped back, staring at the building for a moment more. 

"No signs anywhere," he mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder, once again checking to make sure he was alone. He did a loop around the building as best as he could in the fading light and found that he had been correct. There was no signage announcing that this building had been condemned. There were no "For Sale" signs either. Nothing to announce anything about this building whatsoever, not even what was once inside. 

"Who owns you?" He didn't expect the boards to answer, but he found the question escaping his lips all the same. He was met with nothing but the sound of the wind picking up again in the trees. His walk was only going to get colder, but he didn’t seem to care about that anymore. He had ceased to feel the cold in his fascination. His gaze was held by the building. As the gears began to work in his brain, he found himself unable to pull away. It was when a car drove by, the reflection of the headlights bouncing off the windows and nearly blinding him that he was finally snapped out of it. "I’ll be back," he announced before hugging his arms close to his body once more and heading off down the street. 

Just before he turned the corner and left it out of sight, he looked over his shoulder one last time. There was no detail in the building now, nothing but a black shadow where he knew it to stand. That shadow was his last hope. 

***

"Hello. My name is Jerry Gatlin. I got your number from Harry March. I've been trying to hunt down the owner of 117 Broad Street. Is this Donna Fieldman?"

"Yes, this is Donna. I currently own the building. Are you trying to buy the place?" The voice was kind but there was a hint of confusion in it. 

"Not exactly." Jerry recounted the story of the demolished stage and how he had walked by the other building the night before. "Listen, I know this sounds crazy. I know the place is no doubt not equipped for this at all. All I'm asking is, does this place have enough room for a stage? If it does, I’m sure we can figure out how to get one in there - and I will gladly pay you for use of the space."

There was silence on the other end for a long time. Jerry checked his phone twice, but the call had not ended. When Donna spoke, she sounded spooked. "117 Broad Street is a theatre."

Jerry almost dropped his phone. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say that old place has a stage?"

"Yes. In its heyday it was called 'The Twilight Theatre'. It belonged to my great grandfather."

"How come I’ve never heard of it before? Why does no one use it?"

Donna didn't speak right away. Jerry was more patient this time. He could hear the soft sound of her taking a breath before she said, "There was a terrible accident. A woman died there. No one wanted to go in after that." 

It still didn't make sense why the place had sat for so long, how even Mary hadn't known of it. It was a perfectly good stage and this tragedy had happened long ago. The worst that could happen was they would see a ghost. Heck, Mary had told him she didn't care if he had to sell his soul to the devil. Ghosts are nowhere near as bad as that. This was the answer to his problems. “Donna,” he heard himself saying before he had realized he was going to speak. “Could we meet there. Sometime today, or tomorrow, whatever is best for you. I would love to walk through the place. We could talk about compensation?”

“You mean you still want to rent it?” 

“Of course.” 

***

They ended up meeting there later that afternoon. Jerry was waiting by the front doors. He was admiring his find, trying to imagine what would be inside, when he heard the sound of a car pulling up. He turned to see a shiny, silver sedan parallel parked on the side of the road. From the driver’s side emerged who he assumed must be Donna. 

She was tall with long, chestnut hair tossed over one shoulder. When her dark eyes locked onto Jerry as she walked up, they stayed there. They were not warm but piercing. “Jerry?” She asked when she reached him. 

He nodded and put on a smile, “Yes. Donna?”

She nodded but did not smile. She looked over Jerry’s shoulder at the theatre and some of the color seemed to drain from her face. She didn’t say anything as she stepped forward, her right hand disappearing for a moment into her jacket pocket, then re-emerging with a small, gold key with a circle of dark leather attached to the end as a key-chain. Something had been printed on it, but that had long faded away. She hesitated in front of the doors for a moment before she gathered her courage together. In one swift movement, she slipped the key into the lock and pulled the doors open. 

A musty sort of smell leaked out of the darkness. How long had it been since this place had been opened? Jerry reminded himself that it didn’t matter, that they just needed a stage. Still, something in Donna’s hesitation had his guard up. He hung back, waiting for her to make the first move into the theatre. After another minute of her not doing anything, Jerry wondered if Donna would ever move. He was about to ask her if she was alright when she made an audible "huff" as if it were the noise that was finally going to motivate her. She propelled forward, practically jumping over the threshold. She disappeared into the darkness. It had all happened so suddenly that Jerry didn't move. He stared at the spot where Donna had been a moment before, his mouth slightly open. It was when the lights blared to life inside that he was startled back to reality. 

Donna re-appeared in the doorway. "Well? Are you coming or not?" 

"O-of course." Jerry crossed the threshold, his eyes wide as he took in the room around him. 

The room was large and open. At the far end were wooden, double doors. There were faded letters that must have once been gold placed together above them that announced, "Stag," the "e" having long dropped away to an unknown place. The carpet, once a rich, royal blue, had paled to an almost gray color, many spots eaten away by mice. On the far left was a short bar, what Jerry assumed to be the remainders of the long retired concessions stand. The opposite side of the room was open, with only a single door with a sign on it that said, "Employees Only." The walls were bare, though the outlines of the spots old posters were hung could still be seen, the only clue that there had ever been anything there. Scattered about the edges of the room were the lumpy figures of old pieces of furniture covered in thick tarps that were either yellow-grey, or had been stained so with age. 

The musty smell was worse in here, the air was thick and stale. Still, the place wasn't nearly as destroyed as Jerry had expected. Air it out, maybe a fresh coat of paint on the walls if Donna will let us. This place will be as good as new. Of course, the real test would be what the stage - or the stag in this case - looked like. If there was no fixing that up, this was all a crap-shoot. His eyes turned to the wooden, double doors. He didn't realize he had already started walking towards them until he was already there. 

"You can go in, you know," Donna said from somewhere behind him. 

Jerry almost jumped. He had forgotten that Donna was even there with him. He had been too engrossed with taking in this place that was to be his saving grace. He turned around and saw that she was still over by the front doors. Her arms were hugged around her chest, but there was a small smile painted across her lips. Apparently Jerry's fascination had melted away some of her fear. He nodded to her and then turned back to the stage entrance. Without another moment's hesitation he grabbed the handles, one in each hand. They swung towards him easily. 

The room was already lit. He was staring directly down the middle aisle, straight towards the stage. The carpet in here had been red, but it has also faded with age and was more frayed and eaten up than the carpet in the previous room. The room was bigger than he had expected. Just glancing around he estimated they could seat at least a couple hundred people, maybe a little less. 

He began a slow walk down the aisle. The curtain was pulled back already. Jerry expected that when he inspected it, it would be in much the same shape as the carpet. It was a classic, red, velvet one from what he could see. He hoped it wasn't too bad off. That might be difficult to replace in the little time they had. The stage floor - at least from most of the way down the aisle - seemed to be intact. It was smooth and black. 

There were three wide stairs leading up from the floor at the end of the aisle onto the stage. When Jerry reached them, he didn’t pause as he took them one, two, three. He walked across the stage, testing it, inspecting it. It was perfect. Out of everything in the whole building, it seemed to be the best preserved. 

He turned around to see Donna waiting for him halfway down the aisle. He smiled, a great, beaming grin that mirrored the joy he felt knowing he had found what he was looking for. 

Donna did not smile. “So, you want to rent it then?” 

Jerry ignored her lack of enthusiasm. “Yes!”

***

Negotiating a price was another breeze. Donna refused Jerry’s offer of the same amount they had paid for the last place. “That’s ridiculous for this dump,” she assured him. “Use the saved money to do whatever you need to to fix it up. Gut it if you have to. I could care less. I’m never going to do it.” The compensation she did end up asking for as rent was so ridiculously low that Jerry knew Mary would have no choice but to be anything other than pleased with him. 

Donna didn’t ask Jerry to sign any contract. She didn’t ask for any money up front. She shoved the golden key with the leather tag into his hand and held it there a moment, turning her large, brown eyes to his own. Her stare was stony but her hand was trembling. “You sure?”

Jerry nodded. “I’m sure.” 

She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe it. “It’s all yours,” she huffed. With that, she turned on her heel and made a beeline out of the theatre. Jerry Gatlin never saw her again. 

He called Mary right away. He was honest about the state of affairs, that the place needed help, but she didn’t care. She was in shock that Jerry had come through with a space at all. “I was ready to tell the Board that we were going to have to call off the Fall production this year, maybe replace it with a small-scale fundraiser instead,” she admitted. They agreed to meet at the theatre at five, and the conversation was done. Jerry left it feeling far better than the day before. Not only had he had to endure Mary’s voice for a drastically shorter period, but she hadn't yelled at him, not once ounce of disappointment, no more words of him losing his employment. He did a little dance on the stage, unable to contain his excitement. 

“So, you’re bringing back the Twilight Theatre, eh?” 

Jerry stopped dead, a chill running down his spine. He felt the blood drain from his face and his hands and feet went numb. He looked out into the audience, where the voice had come from. A man was standing in the middle of the aisle. He was older, probably in his mid to late seventies. Jerry was too far away to tell how tall he was. He didn’t stand up quite straight. His clothes were a pallet of gray. Nothing special, but a pair of formless slacks and a cardigan sweater over a button up. His head was bare so his wispy, snow-white hair was exposed. 

“How did you get in here?” Jerry’s voice was scratchy and weak. His mouth had gone dry. 

“I saw the front doors open. There’s no cars outside. Wanted to come check and make sure no kids were in here vandalizing. Caught the end of your phone conversation. Sorry for eavesdropping. Is it as bad if I can only hear one side of the conversation?” He chuckled. His eyes twinkled when he did. “I guess it’s still eavesdropping though, huh?” 

“I guess.” It was a little easier to talk that time. Jerry found that he liked this old man. His story was plausible, his voice was warm, he was nice enough. With the shock wearing off, he found that there was no reason to be afraid and managed to smile. The man smiled back at Jerry, then let his eyes begin to wander around the theatre. He looked hopeful. He turned back to Jerry with a glint in his eye. “This place has been waiting for a chance to hold performances again. Theaters weren’t meant to be empty. Stages should never be quiet. There’s too much energy. This stage put on some particularly great ones.”

“Did you see them when Donna’s great grandfather owned the place?” The old man must have been a small boy at the time, but would he really have been able to remember? Must have, cause he does.

The old man smiled. “And more. There were a few revivals after he died, but she may not have known about those. They were from before she moved out this way. 

Jerry’s brow furrowed. “But… she said they closed it down after a woman died.”

“Ha!” It was not a happy sound. The smile died on the old man’s face as his expression turned to one of stone, “Several have died on this stage. Two women and a man. It was a woman the very first time and then many years later, during the revivals, was when the others came.”

“How did all these people die?”

The old man grinned, the light coming back to his eyes. "That’s a long story, my boy. What do you say you come join me in one of these seats here, and I’ll tell you all about it?" He walked down to the second row and picked himself a seat, leaving the aisle seat beside him for Jerry. 

There was a fleeting moment where Jerry wondered if he should be afraid of this man. He’s an old man Jerry. What’s he gonna do?

Jerry jumped down from the stage and joined the man in the audience. Once he was sitting, the old man offered his hand. "I’m Marvin Edwards by the way."

Jerry accepted the hand, shaking it warmly. "Jerry. Jerry Gatlin."

"Now is that just Jerry or is that short for somethin'?"

"Technically short for Jeremiah but I prefer Jerry."

There was that grin again. "Well then, I'll call you Jerry if you call me Marvin. No Mr. Edwards here. Deal?"

"Deal." Jerry found himself returning Marvin's grin. He liked the old man more with each passing second. 

Marvin stretched his arms over his head letting out a yawn before readjusting more comfortably. He turned back to Jerry, his expression more serious now. "Forgive an old man, but I need to start from the very beginning. To understand the deaths here you must know the whole story of the Twilight Theatre. Still with me?"

Jerry glanced at his watch. It was almost four. He still had plenty of time before Mary would arrive. "Let’s hear it. I love a good story."

"I’d hoped you’d say that." Marvin went  silent a moment. He stroked his chin as he did what Jerry assumed was searching his brain for the perfect place to start. Or was it just for show? Jerry wondered how many people he had entranced with this particular story. That would be a question for later as Marvin cleared his throat and began. 

“The Twilight Theatre opened its doors on October 10, 1947. The owner was young and hopeful, even after the war. Don't ask me how he did it. He was known to say he wasn't even sure how it all came together in the end. Between a small inheritance and his own hard work, he scraped together enough money together to bring his dream to life: a real, genuine theatre, right here in Treeline Village. It would be beautiful, intimate, a five star kind of place without the five star prices. Our own little slice of Hollywood or New York - not that he'd ever been to such places. Only in his dreams. Everyone assured him that this town was no place for a theatre, that he was wasting his money. 

"Opening night was no packed house, but the handful that did show were surprised with the quality of the show they were given. The next night, the house was packed. It soon became the talk of the town. Over the next few years, the announcement of a new show was a town-wide event. Tourists started coming to Treeline Village just for the theatre. People would want to come and tour it even if there were no performances happening. There was just something about the place. 

"Then everything changed. It was January of 1952 and rehearsals were in the beginning stages for the Spring show. All was going as it usually would until they arrived for practice one Tuesday evening. The leading lady, Bianca Lamark, had not arrived. This was unusual for her. She was known to always be early. She would arrive thirty minutes before practice to begin getting into character and go over her lines. This room seemed abandoned at first. They called out her name, wondering if perhaps she had just stepped backstage for a second. As it turned out, she had stepped backstage, but there would be no hearing her name. They found her just off to the side of the stage, obscured by the curtain. She could have been sleeping. There was no sign of a struggle, no evidence of her being stabbed or even beaten. Her body was unmarked, there were no stray pieces of set that could have fallen on her. She was barely thirty and had never been in poor health. The medical examiner could find absolutely no reason that she should have died. 

"After that, people were put off by the theatre. Maybe if there had been some reason for her death, but the mystery was too much for many. She had been a huge draw to the theatre, one of the original actors in the troupe. It wasn't just the audience that was affected. It was hard to get anyone to audition after that. There was a rumor going around that there was some sort of curse. Perhaps the place was haunted. There were a million theories, and they only got more ridiculous as time went on. That's what happens when there are no answers. We as humans can't seem to accept the unknown so we have to come up with something, no matter how ridiculous, to explain it. 

"The owner tried his best to keep the theatre open after that, but it was a false hope. By the beginning of 1953 the Twilight Theatre had closed its doors. The owner fell into a deep depression. He found other jobs, other ways to make money, but he never opened the theatre again. Still, he couldn't bring himself to sell it. Too much had gone into it. He didn't care if it rotted where it stood, never to be occupied again. He held onto it, and when he finally died of old age, he left a stipulation in his will that it was never to be sold, though it could be used should anyone desire to resurrect it as a theatre - but only as a theatre. 

"It wasn't until over twenty years later that this place would see a performance again. A small theatre company, probably not much different from yours, started up in town. they approached Donna's uncle, who was in ownership of the place at the time. He had no qualms about renting the place out, was overjoyed, in fact, to be getting some extra cash. That was, until they reached their final dress rehearsal. That night, the cast arrived to find the director's body collapsed center stage. He was dead. Just as had been this case with Miss Lamark, there was no possible reason he should have died. 

"They were jarred, understandably, but as a surprise to the entire community, the show went on. Albeit, they didn't open on the original night they had stated. That was too soon. Two weeks after the fatal dress rehearsal, they opened. It was June 25, 1976. The performance was fair. They had a decent turnout. It wasn't a full house but the community seemed to want to show their support after the tragedy, unlike after Bianca’s death. I think it helped that they were already in performances instead of just starting rehearsals. That night they had a cast party. It had been such a long road and for a few days it had seemed like it would have all been for nothing. Everyone was in high spirits. They didn't clear the theatre until midnight. As the last stragglers, the producer and the lead actor, were heading out, they realized it seemed there was one cast member left behind on stage. Assuming it had been a case of too much to drink, they went to help get their friend home. 

"It had not had too much to drink after all. The cast member turned out to be one Michelle Yates, a seventeen-year-old and one of the youngest in the cast. No amount of shaking could wake her. The two had been buzzed, but when the producer found Michelle's pulse to be missing, he was almost instantly sober. Again, there was no reason for her to die. 

“There were no more performances from that group. After the two deaths, there were no more performances here period. To be honest, I think it's Michelle's death people remember most when they think about this place. It seems it’s the youngest deaths that hit the hardest."

It took Jerry a moment to realize that Marvin had stopped speaking. He looked over to see that the man was staring off in the direction of the stage, but his eyes were glazed over. It was obvious his mind was far away. There was a deep sadness in that look. For some reason, the theatre's plight hit the old man hard. Jerry wished he knew just why the place meant so much to Marvin, but couldn't bring himself to ask. He wasn't sure if it would somehow be rude. 

After a couple minutes, Marvin turned to catch Jerry watching him. He tried to smile, but the gesture was forced. "Sorry, Jerry. Forgive an old man for getting lost in his thoughts. Sometimes this reminiscing can get one caught up in memories, you know?"

Jerry wasn’t sure if he did know, but he nodded all the same.

Marvin held Jerry in his gaze, eying him. Jerry felt almost as if those eyes could see right into his soul. He found he couldn’t move, couldn't turn his own eyes from the old man, couldn't even speak. A chill ran down his spine and in that moment, he could have sworn that Marvin had looked into his soul. 

"Jerry," Marvin hesitated. "I like you, Jerry. You've got a good heart. I mean, you've sat here and humored me by listening to my story. You didn't have to do that." He sighed, looking away for a brief moment as he thought about how he was going to word what he wanted to say next. He let out one more long sigh. "There is something I need to tell you, Jerry. It's very important." He wasn't making eye contact when he spoke this time. He kept his gaze steady on the stage. "You're not going to want to believe me when I tell you, and if you're going to or not is going to be entirely up to you. But whether you believe me or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that what I'm about to say is true." He turned back to Jerry now, his eyes wide, his mouth no more than a line. Jerry suddenly became aware of just how old Marvin really looked in that moment. 

"What is it, Marvin?" Jerry pressed, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

Marvin looked back to the stage. He waited another minute before he finally spoke. "This building resides on a place of power. Do you know what that means?" Jerry shook his head. "No, I didn't expect you to. There are many places of power in this world, Jerry. Hot spots that just can't be explained. It's too beyond our tiny, human minds. It's in a realm that we can't understand until we get there, and once we do, there's not usually a way to go back and warn the others. Not that anyone would believe it." He paused. 

Jerry held his breath. What was Marvin getting at? Marvin returned Jerry's gaze. Jerry was sure that Marvin was quite aware how much he was leading him on. Still, he didn't get the impression that the old man was doing it because he enjoyed it. He looked too serious. There was something hiding behind those eyes. Jerry's first thought was fear, but how could that be? 

The seconds dragged on but neither man could seem to break out of it. Finally, Marvin's voice cut through the bonds that held them in place. "There are bigger things than us, Jerry. Big things we'll never be able to understand. We can learn to live with them or not. Most times, we ignore them and call them something else in our denial. That doesn't change the truth." He was looking at the stage when he said this but now he turned back to Jerry. His eyes were big and wide. 

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, passed through Jerry's mind. 

"Jerry, the first night I stood in this theatre, I thought I was at the beginning of an era. I thought that I was starting the next big thing in this town - and for a while, it was. But, our darkest secrets have a way of coming back to bite us, whether the truth itself is what comes out, or something far worse. 

"That first night that this place was truly finished - long before I let a single thespian inside - I wanted it to be just me and this beautiful creation. I wanted time to bond with every room, every floor board. I bit off more than I could chew. By the time I reached the stage itself, I realized I was going to get to know the place far more than I imagined was possible. 

"I walked down the aisle, lights lining the walkway. The stage was lit up in all its glory while the rest of the house was dark. It was the place I had left for last to wander through. Everything smelled so clean, so new. There was a hint of fresh paint in the air. 

"As I walked onstage, I felt my heart leap. It was as if I were in a production. I could almost hear the audience members as they waited in their seats with bated breath, trying hard to be quiet as they waited for the opening to the show. I reached center stage and did a turn to face my 'audience' giving them one sweeping bow.

"'Thank you, thank you,' I called out to them. 'Thank you for patronizing this beautiful theatre. You will not be disappointed'

"Their imaginary cheers were music to my ears. If this could truly be the rest of my life, I would die happy. This theatre was my dream. With it in my reality, what could ever go wrong?" He shook his head, his mouth scrunched up in distaste. "Don’t ever ask yourself that, boy. There is always something that can go wrong." 

Jerry wanted to respond, wanted to butt in. This story had taken an odd turn, Marvin couldn't actually be insinuating that he was the one who had built this theatre, was he? That would be impossible. It was hard enough to try and form the words, but before Jerry was close, Marvin started his story once more. 

"I couldn't tell you how long I stood up here fantasizing of the days to come, of the productions I would hold, the audiences that would fill the room. It was far longer than appropriate for a grown man, I'm sure. It was when I got a strange, prickling sensation crawling down my neck that I started to wonder if I was actually alone. It was enough to snap me out of my fantasy world. I turned behind me, but there was no one. I turned back around and stared out into the dark audience. The light from the stage cast enough light that I could see the dim outline of most of the chairs. All of them were empty. This time I heard a scuffle, a whiff of air behind me. I turned and still was faced with no one - or was I. At the back of the stage, the darkness seemed darker, more concentrated than it had before. Turns out, it wasn't darkness. 

"I don't have words for what I met that day. Humans have come up with many things to call them - spirits, ghosts, demons, monsters - but none of those words seemed right for them. For the sake of conversation, I will call them beings. I can’t even tell you if it was more than one or simply one in the form of many. All I know is when they overtook me on that stage, they took me to another place, a place of darkness, a place of consciousness. I wasn't anywhere. My body had disappeared. But me, my soul, my mind, was certainly not where it had been before. They spoke to me, their voice both within me and all around me. A voice of one but many that gave me an order I couldn't refuse. 

"It said, 'Another little man thinks he owns where he stands. Humans are so stupid in their petty land trafficking. You cannot sell what you do not own. You have stepped on me little man. I do not like being stepped on. The last human who occupied this spot did the same. As fast as I got rid of him now I have you. What am I supposed to do with you?'

"The entire time the being spoke without speaking, I felt a suffocating closeness as it seemed to wrap tighter around me, choking the air from not only my lungs but the space around me. With its last question I felt my windpipe being squeezed. I could barely comprehend what was happening. Was this a dream or was I really being killed by a being I could not see? My life flashed before my eyes and when I ran out of life to reiterate, my unfulfilled dreams came crashing into the void. I saw it all now, all the shows I had imagined, the lights, the thrill, the glory. All my silly fantasies to do with theatre both in and out of reality. It came with blinding clarity, shining far brighter than the dullness that was the life I’d lived. In a glorious finale, I saw it as I’d always wanted it to be. There I was after a successful production, audience packed and in full standing ovation. They continued to cheer, and the cast stood aside, waiting for me. The lights, brighter than I’ve ever seen stage lights shine, engulfed me as I took my final bow as not only theatre proprietor but producer. True ecstasy welled up inside me as I’ve never felt before, and to be honest, Jerry, I could have died in that moment. 

"But that wasn't meant to be. As my daydream hit its crescendo, I felt the tightness release from my neck. Air rushed in and I could just faintly see the scaffolding above the stage. Yes, I was flat on my back center stage, but I wasn’t yet back from where the being had taken me. There was still a film of fog, the presence had not yet fully receded. Its voice came back to me, though with a hint of tenderness. It could have been whispering straight into my ear. 

"'I have seen into your mind and in you I have seen more than any human could offer me. You have a choice, little man. I want a taste of it, what this 'stage' as you call it brings. That sweet nectar of emotion. I want to taste it, to feed on it. You will give it to me.' Though the creature was bodiless I felt it move closer, could sense it getting right in my face. 'Before you begin your next production - or any production for that matter - you, and anyone involved must let me in. A gift of blood. Right here on this stage. Just a drop, from everyone, and I guarantee you will always see success. But if not…. Then you shall suffer.'

"It was gone in an instant, faster than it had come. It left before I could ask it what it meant by "suffer". Not that it mattered. There was too much weight in that word. I didn't need clarification to understand that the being was not speaking lightly when it threatened. 

I lay on that stage for a long time contemplating what had happened. Was it a hallucination? Was there any chance it could have been real? I assured myself it had been some kind of breakdown, an elaborate fantasy brought on by the realization that my theatre was finally complete. 

"I spoke to no one about my encounter, yet it never left my mind. I could not walk into the theatre without turning to look at that spot on the stage. I could hear the being’s words in my head replaying every time I was alone. 

"When the day came that I was approached by my friend, Harry Polk, the director who wanted to use my theatre first , the memory only burned brighter. Of course I couldn't say no. Not only was this my friend but this was the theatre’s purpose. This was what I had been waiting for. 

"I danced on the edge of ignoring what had happened to me but I could hear that word suffer echoing through my mind all the while I spoke to the director. I knew him to be a man who would never believe in the supernatural. How was I supposed to convince him and the rest of the cast and crew to perform a blood sacrifice? The answer came to me just as I spoke it.

"'Harry,' I said. 'Call me crazy, but I have a favor to ask of ya. A lot of my blood, sweat, and tears went into this dream and as off the wall as it sounds, I wanna do something big and crazy to kick off this place’s first production. I’ve thought about it long and hard and people are gonna think I’m weird, but this is showbiz damnit and people in this line of work have to be a little crazy so… would you and the cast and crew be willing to let some blood on the stage for me?' Now of course that confused him at first. I had to clarify what that meant. He thought about it, broke into laughter, and finally clapped me on the back and said, 'Sure, Buddy. Just a drop? Why the hell not.'

"So we did it. Once the cast and crew was finalized, we gathered together onstage. We sat, all cross legged in a large circle that looped around the exact center. We each had a needle to prick one finger to extract that single drop of blood. The lights were all off except for one spotlight lighting the middle of our human circle. 

"When we were ready to begin, I led the ceremony. I was the first to prick my finger and touch it to the stage, the rest followed suit. We did it in complete silence - the theatre was still, the night outside was calm - though I wasn't the only one who swore later that as we started giving the stage blood, it sounded as if a great wind had awoken, but it sounded as if it were coming from beneath us. 

"No one spoke of that night. It was a solemn occasion and speaking of it seemed wrong. Even the few spare conversations we did have ended quickly. It made us all uncomfortable. Still, the show went off without a hitch. Had to add extra dates 'cause it was so good. And maybe it was the good run that did it, but the next production that came around, it was the same group, and no one argued another sacrifice to the stage. This continued. 

“It wasn’t until the director changed that we had a problem. Orville wasn't pleased with the idea of giving blood to the stage. He was deeply religious and considered it blasphemous. I didn't argue it. More than anyone else I realized what we were doing. We were giving a piece of ourselves to a supernatural being in return for luck. It was only the highest level of blasphemy. So we didn’t do the sacrifice. 

"I tried to play it like it didn’t make me nervous, but I couldn't completely hide my apprehension. I wasn’t the only one. I could feel the nerves during our first few practices… and then we arrived one night and our lead actress was dead. I think it clicked in many people’s brains at that point just how much that sacrifice meant. Some of them had a hunch before, even if they didn’t want to admit the extent of how true it was. This made it difficult to deny. 

"So I’m warning you, Jerry, before it’s too late. If you want to use this theatre, to save yourself from the ultimate price, you have to pay homage."

It took Jerry at least a minute to realize that Marvin had stopped talking. It took him even longer to discover that his mouth was hanging open. He let it flop open and closed a few times as he tried to work out just how he was supposed to respond. 

"So you're telling me you're the guy that started this place and that I’ve been talking to a ghost this whole time?"

Marvin nodded. "Yes. Though out of everything I’ve told you, I'm surprised that's what shocked you most."

"You just dumped a load of bullshit on me, Marvin. I'm just responding in chronological order."

It was Marvin's turn to be at a loss of what to say. He stared at Jerry. There was a sadness in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but it was Mary’s voice Jerry heard, calling from behind him. "Jerry? Jerry, you here?" 

Jerry turned around to see Mary standing by the back row of seats. "I'm right here, Mary!" He called out, waving to her as he stood up. He turned to Marvin but the seat he had occupied was empty. Jerry whipped his head around but there was nowhere the old man could have gone. It was as if he had never been there at all. Jerry bit his lip, not sure how to process this information. He held his breath for just a second before deciding to ignore it altogether. 

He practically jumped into the aisle, turning back to Mary. "Let me show you around. This place needs some work, but trust me, you're going to love it."

***

"I’ve got more paint over here if you need it!"

"Thanks, Jan!" 

Jerry had walked into chaos. The theatre, in stark contrast to his first visit, was all hustle and bustle. Turns out, Mary did love the theatre, and she wasn't the only one who was thrilled. The entire group was ecstatic at the prospect of working in a dedicated theatre, not just a random venue where they’d have to construct a stage. No one had batted an eye at the need for repairs. Every cast or crew member had become a volunteer, coming in whenever they could to fix the place up. It was almost as exciting for everyone as the actual production - of which they had also begun rehearsals. Those who weren't practicing would paint, or sweep, or do whatever was needed around the building. No one was ever bored. Jerry couldn't help but walk around the place with a permanent grin. 

He had always been soft spoken and unassuming. Most people never gave him a second glance. Before he had been given the job of finding the stage - the only job the “assistant producer” ever had - he would do random volunteer work for the group and had felt more or less invisible despite the "Thank You" letter at the end of the season every year. Now things had taken a complete turn. Everyone went out of their way to call out Jerry’s name, wave at him, thank him for all he was doing. It almost made him nervous at times. He had never been the kind of person people paid this much attention to. Still, he would have been lying if he said he wasn't enjoying all the attention. It was one of the things he had wanted this job for, besides having the power to make actual decisions for the group. 

"Jerry! Good to see ya man! Check out this stuff I found for the floor!"

Jerry appeased the volunteer, smiling over the sample he held in his arms. He assured him it was great and directed him to another volunteer. With that taken care of, Jerry went into the main theatre. All the commotion was onstage as a group worked on building sets. The seats themselves were abandoned. Jerry wedged himself into the middle of the very back left row, sinking down into the chair low enough that it would be difficult to see him unless one was looking hard. Once he was situated, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This was the fourth time he had been back to that theatre today and he was getting tired whether he wanted to admit it or not. It was a good tired, one he didn't mind. It made him feel accomplished. 

"It’s not too late yet, Jerry."

Jerry jumped a mile into the air. He found it a wonder he didn't scream. When he landed, he looked to his right to see Marvin. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Marvin grinned. "Everywhere and nowhere. You could even say I never left in the first place."
A ball of frustration was awakening in Jerry’s chest. He had just convinced himself that his first meeting with Marvin had been all in his head. Now here was that grinning, old face again, spinning him right back into madness. "Why won’t you leave me alone?"

The smile on Marvin’s face crumbled. "I’m trying to watch out for you. I’m trying to save you from what happened to me."

Jerry’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the old man. "Listen, Marvin. I don’t know who you are or how you keep sneaking in and out of here, but I’m not buying this supernatural bullshit. Even if I did, I’d be the only one that would believe you."

Marvin shook his head, giving Jerry the kind of look that clearly said, "I feel sorry for you." He waited a moment to speak. His voice was soft and audibly hurt when he entreated, "I know how unbelievable this sounds, kid. If my experience hadn't been as out there as it was, it would have taken a hell of a lot more to convince me. But I’m begging you." His voice cracked and he paused a moment to regain himself. "Jerry, this thing is… it’s strong and determined and right now it’s pissed but if you do something immediately, I’m talking tonight, you might just be able to save this thing. If not, history is going to repeat itself and it’s going to go down as another black spot of a mystery on this building. You’re going to have a tragedy when all you have to do to stop it is so simple."

"Simple? How normal do you think a blood sacrifice is? Damnit, they would all think I’d gone nuts if I asked!"

"This isn’t about making people think you’re sane. This is about saving people, Jerry."

"I’ve had just about enough of this." Jerry stood up, glaring down at Marvin. "You can either enjoy our production or not, but quit coming around here with your ghost stories. This is my one chance to make a name for myself."

Marvin just stared at him with his sad eyes. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but each time his lips would move without sound as he seemed to rethink what he wanted to say and gave up. After the third try he let his head droop so he could stare at his lap. He heaved a sigh that seemed overly dramatic to Jerry. When he looked back up, he was once again wearing that "I’m sorry for you" look. "If that’s what you want, Jerry." His voice was tired. 

Before Jerry could get another word in edgewise, Marvin did something he could not believe. At first he seemed to get fuzzy around the edges. Jerry thought maybe it was a trick of his eyes. He rubbed at them but that made no change. In fact, after he finished, Marvin began to completely fade around the edges. After another minute his entire being seemed just the slightest bit see through. He shook his head one last time. "You’ll believe when it's too late." His voice had a faraway sound and perhaps he was already far away. By the time he finished speaking, he was completely gone. 

Jerry remained unable to pull himself away. His eyes were glued to the spot where Marvin had been. His stomach was somewhere by his feet and his heart was doing its best to beat out of his chest. At some point he became aware that his whole body was shaking. 

"What the fuck is happening to me?"

***

Opening night was two weeks away. The theatre looked practically brand new - at least inside. They didn’t have the funds to do much more outside than redo the sign. That was the most important. Not that it was a new wood sign, just a canvas one that they were able to have printed and shipped there for a steal. It looked nice to have the white sign announce in bold black letters that the building had a name and that was The Twilight Theatre. 

Practice was to start in two hours and with all the work inside done, Jerry found himself in a rare moment where he was all alone in the theatre. It was eerie having it so silent. He had walked through the front doors and stopped. He found himself unable to move another inch. It came to him slowly. Something was off and it wasn't just the lack of people and activity. 

There was a certain electricity in the air. In fact, when he looked down at his arms, all his hairs were standing straight up. Something was wrong. 

A bloodcurdling scream erupted around him. A single, high pitched note that sunk right into his very bones. He was heading for the stage before he registered the thought that that was where it was coming from. He swung open the doors with enough force that they slammed against the wall. There was a nasty crunch but he didn’t wait to see what had been damaged. His feet seemed to have acquired wings. He was halfway down the aisle by the time he looked up at the stage. There, directly in the middle, was Mary. She must have arrived early to prepare for practice. But, Mary was not alone. She was stuck to the spot, her arms pinned to her sides. Her face was beet red, she had never stopped screaming. All around her swirled an ever growing cloud of blackness. Even as Jerry’s feet touched the steps at the base of the stage, he could barely see Mary anymore through the cloud. The only thing that didn’t change was the volume of that terrible scream.  

It suddenly occurred to Jerry that he had been screaming out Mary’s name ever since he had realized it was her. He was onstage now. Without a moment’s hesitation he launched himself into the haze. The two emerged on the other side together, Mary plummeting to the ground and Jerry landing on top of her. 

Mary had stopped yelling. She was unconscious now. Jerry was trying to shake her awake. "Mary, Mary. Please be okay." She mumbled a little something but her eyes did not open. There was a cold tingle down Jerry’s spine, and he felt the hairs stand up on his neck. He turned to see the cloud was all around them, ready to converge on top of them both. 

"Please," Jerry begged. His voice was weak and he could barely get the sound out. "Please leave her alone. This is my fault. Leave her alone." 

There was a terrible rumbling sound, something between a snarling animal and an earthquake. The blackness pounced and consumed him. Then there was nothing. 

***

When Mary came to, she thought she was in a dream. She was laying on the stage and couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there in the first place. There was a dull ache on the back of her head. She groaned and buried her face in her hands for a few minutes as it overtook her skull. She was sure it would become a migraine. 

"Great," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes before she opened them to assess her surroundings, and once again, try to figure out what the hell she’d been doing there. 

The first thing she saw was a slumped figure not even a foot away. It was obviously another person but the face was turned from her. He did not seem to be moving. 

What the hell? She crawled forward, her head was still hurting too bad for her to find her footing, and reached out a hand. She nudged the person’s shoulder. "Hey. Are you okay?" 

There was no response. Her brow furrowed and she narrowed her eyes at the person’s chest. There was no movement. Now her heart was beating fast, the tips of her fingers going numb as the beginnings of panic started to take hold of her. Her head pounded harder and harder the dull throb turning into an audible thump, thump providing a background soundtrack to her thoughts. She crawled around the body to look at the face. She didn't want to touch it. Not if there was any chance it wasn't living. When she caught a glimpse of the face, she stopped in her tracks. All the strength went out of her, and it seemed that the temperature in the room had plummeted to something negative. It was when she realized she was screaming that she fainted. 

Jerry’s body remained at her feet. His face stared offstage. The skin had gone so white it was almost translucent and was pulled taut against his face. His eyes were as wide as they could go and his mouth was frozen open in a scream of terror. 

Only one other remained in the room. A half-life, doomed to forever wander the bloody stage he had awakened. Marvin’s feet moved soundlessly across the black surface and stopped beside Jerry. He looked down into those lifeless eyes and shook his head. "I tried."

END

***

I would like to thank Jimbo, who I owe enduring thanks for the idea for this story. It was he, at a rehearsal with the local theatre, that brought up the speculation, "What if we had to make a blood sacrifice to the stage before a performance," then let me take the idea and run with it. 

Join me again next Sunday, February 14 at 12:00PM PST for another story in my writing adventure. Next week, we turn in a different direction as I introduce you to Marcus and Louie from Zone-E in their own story, The Wall Between Us.

UPDATE - HERE IS THE AUDIO VERSION:

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