A theatre is a living being. If you listen closely, you can hear it breathing. You can see its eyes, watching you, critiquing you. It listens, to your words, however mundane, spoken to its amusement. Whether or not a show is being presented on stage, the above remains true. Even the silence of the emptiness or the hum from the ghost light is enough to appease it.
Auntie Kiki goes to the theatre at night to remember. She had acted both in grammar school and in high school and had done tech in college. Clearly, her love of the theatre did not die with her as she often still speaks of herself as a theater kid and often regales people with stories about times that she went to see shows with loved ones.
“Haven’t seen you in awhile, Auntie Kiki.” says the spirit of an elderly male stagehand pushing a broom.
Auntie Kiki jumps and laughs. She had been so lost in thought she hadn't realized that he had appeared beside her. “How are you, Gus?”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you none.” Gus resumes sweeping. “Can’t complain.”
“Anything new coming in?”
“Nah. Nothing in or out in a long while. Heard the owner say he might sell. They’ll turn this place into an apartment complex or a garage I bet.”
“What a shame.” She replies, sighing.
“You should’ve seen the shows they put on here when I was alive.”
“I’m sure that they were great.”
“Better than great. Only the best performed on this stage.”
“I wish I could’ve seen one of those shows.”
“Only mine were worth seeing!” says a bubbly blonde twenty-something spirit flapper materializing as she spins onto the stage and does the Charleston.
Auntie Kiki applauds. “Amazing as ever, Lena!”
Lena curtsies. “Thank you! Thank you!”
A middle-aged male spirit with a clipboard, salt and pepper hair slicked back, dressed in a tan plaid suit enters in a huff. “Of all of shows and all of the performers you had to stick around.”
Lena laughs. “You love it. I keep you entertained.”
“Auntie Kiki, my dear, lovely to see you.” He kisses her hand.
“Master Clive.” replies Auntie Kiki, nonchalantly wiping her hand on the stage curtain.
“I toured the world you know and—” Clive begins.
“So you’ve said.” Gus says trying to cut him off.
“London. Paris. Rome.”
“Yes.” Auntie Kiki and Lena say in unison.
“Recited and directed the words of the greats.”
“Uh huh.” Auntie Kiki says, stifling a yawn.
“And I die in Nowhere, USA forever to haunt an eight-hundred-seater with a flapper and a janitor!”
“Buzz off!” Lena replies, blowing a raspberry.
“You know, wise guy, I had heard that they might be tearing this place down to build a garage. Where will you go then?” asks Gus, arms crossed, broom levitating.
“Oh, darn. I’ll be forced to haunt a garage with a flapper and a janitor. Those ghost shows will love it!” Clive said, sarcastically.
“You could always move on.” Auntie Kiki says, smiling. “You all could.”
“Move on to what?” asks Clive, slightly offended.
“Well, if you feel like you’ve finished your...umm...business...we could offer--" Auntie Kiki began to stutter out.
“I know." Interjected Clive. "Look. I’m sorry. I suppose I’m being a royal you know what. It’s just...well, maybe one day. I think first I might like to play the role of phantom of the parking garage.”
All four laugh weakly.
“I hope you heard wrong, old boy. Despite its flaws, despite ours, its…all we have.” Clive becomes quiet.
“Oh, Clive!” Lena reaches out to hug Clive.
“Oh, shush.” Clive pulls away.
“What brought you to the theater tonight anyway, Auntie Kiki?” Gus whispers.
“What do you mean?” Auntie Kiki whispers back.
“You seem to only come when you need to think. It’s just been noise and melodrama since you got here. Should we get out of your hair, or do you want to talk?”
“I just like being here. I like to remember being onstage, you know, happier times and all. Sometimes I need to remember who I was so that I can help people remember who they are.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“Why are you whispering?” Lena whispers, poking her head between them.
“Oh, Lena!” Auntie Kiki replies, laughing.
