Welcome to Gaia! ::

Shandra sat in the lighting booth watching the play agitatedly. She looked at the audience. They were destined to be uneducated, to live in small houses, and to work the land all their lives. She used to believe that she could achieve more than that. She used to believe that, with her plays, she would be able to break free from the cycle of her family and finally move up a class. Now, she knew it to be impossible. Her plays were for a smarter, higher class audience.

The play was half-through. Shandra could tell, from just looking at the audience, that none of them had understood. Not a single one of her witty jokes had produced a smile. These people couldn’t understand satire or sarcasm. All they understood was slapstick and dirty jokes. In frustration, she picked up her brother’s old leather jacket and stormed out of the lighting booth. She passed the back of the house and was about to leave the theatre when a strange sound caught her ears. It stopped her in her tracks. She turned around on her heels. Had her ears deceived her? She listened for it. No! They had not! A laugh! Her heart jumped as her ears searched for the sound’s origin.

He was seated at the back of the house, isolated, in the far left corner. She took up a seat and watched him. He understood every bit of subtle satire; every sarcastic line brought him a smile. He understood and was seemingly touched by the overall tragedy of the play. The man was intelligent! He understood every line in her play! She longed to converse with him. She had to! She made notes of what he looked like, so as to find him easily in the crowd when the audience left. She noted his dark, chin length straight hair, his high cheek bones, and his tanned skin. A whole notebook in her mind could be allotted to this man. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, more lovely than any one person that she could have ever imagined.

When the play was finally over, she approached him. She tapped him on the shoulder of his white peasant’s shirt. He turned around. Smiling casually, he asked, “Wasn’t that a great play?” Her heart raced, “You liked it?” “Of course,” he responded. Then he smirked. “You were a part of the production weren’t you?” “I wrote it.” She responded, proudly. “The playwright! It’s an honor! Please! Let’s take a walk downtown! I must talk with you!” he exclaimed. Shandra beamed. “Of course. Let’s go.” Shandra was fascinated. His intelligence, will, and sheer presence were enough to give her the chills. Presently, their discussion was going over the pity that the play could not be viewed by an audience who would appreciate it. “I’d give anything for an educated audience to see my work!” she exclaimed. “Anything?” he inquired, as a devilish glint entered his eye. “Anything! I’d give absolutely anything!” With a final flourish she added, “I’d give my very soul!”

As if on cue, he whipped out a lengthy legal-looking document. Confused, she asked what it was. He replied that he could make the trade possible, and that all she need do was sign. At first she didn’t believe him, but with his devilishly persuasive grin he assured her that she’d have nothing to lose if it wasn’t what he’d made it out to be. Chuckling, she took the pen and laid a perfect John Hancock down on the paper. He smiled and carefully rolled up the document. He informed her that she would get his end of the deal within five days and he would come for her end in five years. With that, he left her.

In just a few days, he had vanished from her mind. She hadn’t paid any serious attention to him or his “deal”. About four days after the event, a coach broke down in front of her theatre. As a result, a high class couple was forced to stay in the theatre and watch the play. The couple was raving about how wonderful the play was. They would bring friends to see it! They had to!

Within the next few months, her name became household. The craze for her plays spread the country like wildfire. It was the kind of thing that made her think back to that man. She no longer doubted the reality of the contract she’d signed. In fact, she took to going to daily Mass. Every where she went, she held a bible in her pocket and wore a scapular and a cross. She became quite religious, and began to incorporate it in her plays, especially as the five years started to come to an end.

During one of the plays, she noticed something. There was a poor looking man sitting in the back of the house. Nowadays, this was uncommon, seeing as all who had come to this theatre for the last five years were highly educated high class. She walked up to him and whispered, “Sir, may I see your ticket?” He turned and smiled at her. Instantaneously, she stepped backwards in horror. It was him! She tried to run, but he grabbed her wrist. “Let’s not spoil the play.” She shrank back to the back wall of the house and watched. All of a sudden, it seemed that this play, the play which she’d written, was all about her. She thought to give it a Faustian plot without thinking of why. Now she knew. Her last play was to reflect her own life. And now, having written her life, she knew how it would end. Once the play was over, he approached her. “It is time.” She only nodded. “Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded again. He grinned. “Good.” They walked out of the theatre. By the next day, the entire country knew she was missing. A fully planned search was conducted for her, but alas, she was never found. No one ever heard of her again, but they knew where she is.

It was odd, but I liked it. ^^