the abandoned theatre part nineteen

"I am an actor in an abandoned theatre seeking to escape it," he says.

"Really? Me too," I say. "Well, more of a scriptwriter, usually, though I have been known to venture onto the stage. Do you know the way out of here?"

"I found it," he says, "but I think I might forget it soon. We have to hurry. This way."

He starts walking forward and I follow.

"So," he says, "what made you want to escape the theatre?"

"I've been here too long," I say. "Acting gets exhausting after a while, especially when you're surrounded by emptiness."

We keep walking. Then I realize that the light is dimming. I look over my shoulder and realize that the lights along the hallway are going out, one by one. If we don't hurry, we will be cast into darkness, and will never be able to find our way out. We start running.

Just as the last lights are going out, we burst through the door and onto the stage. I feel like I have not been here for ages, and wonder how I spent so much time here before, never venturing beyond the reaches of the empty stage. We go backstage and there, where I left it, sits the script.

"It's the plan for the future," I say.

"I know," he says.

I pick up the script. It feels different from the papers in the filing cabinet room. They were full of meaning, but this script is heavy and the thought of having to read the whole thing fills me with dread. If I don't want to read it, why sentence myself to live it?

I turn to the man and say: "We need to get rid of this script."