Theatre of the Dead | Part 1 of 4 [a nightbb story]

in #writing8 years ago


Every week, we gather at the magician’s place in the theatre district to play cards. I like to think I’m getting better but every time without fail the magician ends up with my stack of chips. Tonight, it’s our usual four - the magician with his quick fingers, the dragon with surgically implanted horns and pointed ears and the whites of his eyes dyed purple, Marina  with her flaming hair and rough edges,  moody restless me, and our plus one - Miette of the musical voice and uncanny air. 

“Do you know what tonight is?” the magician asks, dealing another hand. The dragon folds and Marina calls. 

“Ghost night,” she says, pulling at a curly strand of her orange hair. "One night a week the theatres close their doors so the ghosts can put on their shows." 

The magician raises and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a good hand so I call and he deals another round of cards. Miette watches us silently, curled into the corner of the couch beside me. She doesn't comment on our banter. After all, the whole reason she's here is for ghost night.

"One night a week the theatres close their doors so the ghosts can put on their shows." he repeats. "Tonight, we shall be in the audience." 

“Let’s go to the Rosary,” she says, breathy. It’s her favourite. She’s been a member of the fanclub for years. Miette turns to me, eyes wide and anxious.

"No," I say, in a rare show of authority. "We promised. It's the Bell Theatre tonight, in honour of our guest."

"Yes!” the dragon agrees. He climbs over the couch and starts juggling. Marina fingers the necklace she’s wearing but she smiles at Miette and myself in assent. Miette relaxes and squeezes my hand in gratitude. I bounce my legs up and down, as the magician takes the rest of my chips and money.  I feel him bristling a bit at my declaration but I let the knowledge wash over me and then fade. His sensitivity is not my problem.

I breathe smoke out like a prayer. "Let's go out." 

The Bell Theatre was infamous. Once a shrine, then a memorial garden, then a club for magic users then abandoned because of a string of murders and reopened years later. Now, it's one of most famous theatre in the City, right up there with The Rosary, which is quite a compliment as The Rosary is run by  Luscinia, head of the Rosemoon Family. Any theatre that can compete with that legend deserves some respect. Shows are at midnight every night but the night for ghosts. If you haven't grown up in the City, you may not think ghosts are such a big deal but here they're practically citizens. By the time I finish my cigarette, the magician and dragon are already up and almost out the door, chattering. I like to watch the two of them together, the easy way they switch from roughhousing to patting each other on the back. I light up another smoke. 

"You smoke too much," Marina reminds me as clove-scented smoke curls between us.

"Yes." I agree, helping her put up her hair and pinning it into place. "I do." 

We walk because we walk everywhere. I can't ride and smoke. The dragon contact juggles and the magician does tricks for passers-by. Miette ghosts along beside us, silent as usual. She's an introverted type. You'd never know how much of a talented artist she was or how many fans she had. In fact, research for another of her projects is why she's with us tonight. Even though she's been friends with Marina and myself for years, we often go long periods without seeing each other. I rather like that about her - the way we can pick up and leave off. Despite her strangeness and difficulties with lots of social situations, she and I get along easily.

Setting the affectionate thoughts aside, I wonder if I'm the only one suddenly feeling like I could crawl out of my skin. 

"What kind of ghosts are we walking into?" I pick up a rock and toss it to Marina. She catches it easily and passes it back. 

"Depends on the night," she says, tugging at a lock of her flame-coloured hair. It surrounds her head, curly and full and glorious like a crown. She gives me side-eyes and smiles mysteriously. "Which ones do you want to meet?"



Hey! My name is Ciel Sainte-Marie (aka So Nefarious). I'm a writer and artist hanging out on Steem, writing stories, and studying games. You can read my previous short stories: The Ghost at the Auction Party, The Unexpected Ghost, and House of Longing here on steemit.

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