Monday, October 2, 2017

Flash Fiction - THE LAST CURTAIN


THE LAST CURTAIN

I'm not sure why such melancholy fills my soul.  Perhaps, it is the soaped greeting in the stage mirror, "A Happy New Year 2010."  It's been a fantastic run, 624 performances, rave reviews and my agent has no less than a dozen offers in the queue.  For what reason do I have to be so sad?

The last curtain as dropped on our rendering of Columbus, The Man of the Time.  I've been so comfortable in the skin of his squire that I hardly know who I am.  Night after night, I've transported back on stage to a time of wonder.  I've lived on the elbow of a man of such powerful purpose that his will could not be denied.  Royalty acquiesced to his desire.   I am inspired each night to bolster him in his moments of despair.  In private, he leaned on me, my only skill - to believe in him, in his immortality. 

As I look around at the plastic fruit in the vase, the LED flame in the lanterns and chandelier, the curved Styrofoam bulk of the castle walls and the thin tin mirror with the holiday greeting, I wonder can anything next be finer? 

I am afraid I may be ruined.  How could I ever do a crook or an evil person after having lived in the shadow of such a great man for the past two years?   I don't know that I can.  I'm not famous, I can't pick my roles.  I have to eat and pay the mortgage.  My agent assures me there are characters waiting that are worthy.

All right then, I am a professional.  I will gird up my loins and stride onto the front of make-believe to accost the enemies of righteousness and bring new projections of hope, perseverance, and right choices to those that watch my performances.   


For I am an actor of merit. 

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