To say the theatre was old would be an understatement. Built by a man with foresight to bring entertainment to the locals who lived and worked the area. Then it surrounded by warehouses, fed by river traffic, and two active churches. One beside and one behind and no doubt the city council of the time never expected it to survive.
Now however, it is protected by listed buildings and cobbled paths. The churches still stand but aren’t used and the graveyard to its left hasn’t seen a deposit for nigh on a century.
Compared to modern structures it was small. A seating capacity of three hundred and ten, forty of which were in the upper gallery but unlike recent counterparts, it had charm. Patrons and actors alike loved the place, and it was a rare occasion indeed for performances to be given to a less than full house.
At some point in its long history, it had been dragged into the present. A modern reception area, a small bar, access to a patio for the warmer months, a second studio for rehearsals or other events as needed, and of course, plumbing. The gas lighting had been replaced with electric and every few years, a fresh lick of varnish.
But the main stage and seating areas hadn’t changed much at all. True, the stage had been rebuilt, raised to make access underneath easier but not enough to crick the necks of the front row audience.
Two rear doors give access to the auditorium. Fifteen rows of fifteen seats in the centre, with two sets of three seats on either side of the thick red carpet. The seats themselves are the folding kind. Weighted at the rear to rise up the moment your butt was off them. Made from dark mahogany, each seat has a curved back rest, solid arms and a deep cushioned seat, covered in a red velvet to match the entrance carpet. Whether you’re watching a play or sitting in silence, the weight of ages and shows long past can be felt in the timber structure.
Six weeks of rehearsals were over and this evenings dress rehearsal—the first of three—had ironed out the technical issues. One minor issue with lighting, two wrong stage entrances and that damned alarm clock.
You know the one, wind up mechanism, two bells on top that are enough to wake the dead. Some bright spark had decided to add ambience to the stage set. They must have realised how noisy that ticking sound was because they then hid it in a china teapot.
Twenty minutes of hunting through the bric-a-brac on the shelves, all the while the actors were working through the scenes and the director made last minute alterations to timings. Problem was, it was a key piece to the final act, but that ticking was distracting. How anyone could sleep with its incessant tic-tic-tic like a metronome on steroids, was anybody’s guess. Even after stuffing it in a box filled with cotton wool, you could hear its heart beat.
Tic-tic-tic.
Act three—The bed scene. Yup, you guessed it, more than a few challenges getting the bed on stage, set and ready for curtain up. The actors got to take a rest while we, the crew, figured it out. Of course, a single would have been ideal but no, the Director wanted a double. Figured it out, tested the process and got it down pat in under eight minutes.
Tic-tic-tic.
Rehearsal completed. Short break. Ran again. Much smoother. Same time tomorrow.
Thanks to all, a few discussions with the crew and director while the actors departed, then a walk round to lock the place down and ensure there weren’t any stragglers.
Including myself, three people remained. Early start tomorrow, lots to do. Not in the mood for the long, fog laden drive home. One choice, stay the night in the theatre.
TIC-TIC-TIC.
With everyone gone, there’s much less noise. Is it me or does that damn clock seem louder?
“We’ve got two comfy sofas in the Green room, one and a small cot in the changing room upstairs. Where’d you want to sleep?” I said.
“Green room is fine for me,” Mich said.
“I’m going to take the bed,” Jay said. “I like to stretch out.”
“Even with your diminutive size, I doubt you’ll stretch much on that cot.”
She grinned. “Not the cot, the bed!”
We turned to face the stage.
“You’re sure?” I said. “You do know this place is haunted, don’t you?”
“You too? Others have been trying to scare me with that hocus-pocus all week. I don’t believe in ghost and that’s a perfectly good bed. Yeah, I’m sure.”
Mich gave me that look.
“O-kay. Here, take this torch. We’ll be in the Green room next door if you change your mind.”
In the main office I switched off the lights, checked the security system then headed back. Mich had her torch on and I followed the bright light till I reached her then we cut past the stage and through to the back rooms.
“Sleep well Jay.” I said.
“If you try and creep up on me, I’ll hit you with the torch,” Jay said. She hefted the rubber coated torch for emphasis.
Our green room was painted green, a historic colour but no one seems to know why it was originally chosen.
TIC-TIC-TIC.
“Where did you put that clock?” Mich said.
“In the office, why?”
“I can still hear it.”
“That’s a relief, I thought I was going mad.”
She chuckled.
I made a beeline for the other sofa, took a last look across the room as Mich killed her torch.
TIC-TIC-TI.
“Finally! Good night, Mich.”
“Night.”
I have found that I can sleep anywhere and have including much to some surprise, a nightclub, a coffin in a cinema and the nook of a tree. Shoes off, feet curled to the side against the backrest, I am lost to a world of my own devising in the midst of slumber.
The scream pierced my ears, my thoughts and my dream. My legs spasmed and I hit the floor with a thud. Its sound chilled me more than a bath of ice cubes ever could
“What the fuck was that?”
It came again. I fumbled for the torch, remembered I had given it to Jay and stopped. Hands out in front of me, I took a tentative step forward and stumbled over my shoes.
“Goddammit!”
A light blinked on and blazed a light saber trail in the darkness. “Was that a scream?” Mich said.
“Yes! Twice! So I guess you’re not playing a joke on Jay then.”
The torch flickered then died. Goosebumps crawled up my arms.
“Why is it so cold?”
“You think Jay forgot where she was and fell off the stage?” Mich said.
“Possibly, better go and have a look.”
I reached out and took Mich’s hand then led the way to the stage.
Up three steps, light seeped around the backstage curtains. The air here was chilled too. It’s never been this cold even in the dead of winter.
“You hear that?” Mich whispered.
“Laughter?”
I pulled the curtains open.
Light blazed from the front of the stage.
We stepped in and moved toward the bed but halted. The auditorium was packed.
“What the—” Mich said.
She rushed to the bed, Jay was there.
Silent.
Terrified.
The covers pulled up to her chin, eyes brimmed with tears but she couldn’t tear herself away from the sight.
The audience clapped, to what, only they could know.
The gas lamps on the front of the stage dimmed as more gas lights brightened along the walls.
The audience began to rise, oblivious of our sudden appearance. The seats thudded into the upright position as they filed into the corridor between the seats. They reached the closed exit doors, and passed through as if open. As the last person departed, the gas lights extinguished and we were left in darkness.
Heat rushed in to fill the void and Mich’s torch returned to life giving her a start.
TIC-TIC-TIC!