One shots |TrashmanXSnekboy|

Good luck

I was in a weird mood when I wrote this (kinda upset but not at the same time)
There is no specific person I had in mind when writing this so it can be whoever you think it is

Warnings: Minor Hamilton reference, Ghosts, Haunted theatre, Accidental fire, Hint at death, Someone says one of the forbidden phrases

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First Point of View
Old tattered fabric clung desperately to the slowly rusting frames. The once vibrant and soft seats now dull and weathered.
The sudden shrill noise of a whistle echoed throughout the room indicating five minutes to curtains, which had slowly regained their breath-taking hue.
I could hear the banging of final props being put into place, the stage manager could be faintly heard yelling at people to hurry up.
I swiftly stood and made my way backstage watching as my old friends chased after cast members adding final touches to makeup and the outstanding costumes.
There was a light thud and a small 'ouch' as one of the younger stage hands walked back into a wall dropping a box of prop-papers that were for the second act.

Momentarily everything fades, the room looks desolate and rundown but only for a second - until everything is moving again, the air is joyful and chatter fills each moment. I hear a passing comment of congratulations on how successful the first act had been.
making my way to the other side to hear some of the other conversations. I arrived at a group of people one of them was shaking and breathing heavily the others seemed to be trying to help calm them but to no avail until the stage manager appeared and went through some common breathing exercises.

The shrill whistle blew once more and, after checking that the boy was okay, he muttered to one of them a small good luck as he was dressed in costume, everyone scattered to do their final tasks before curtains once again.

Everything fades again, and once it returns I find myself on the edge of the stage watching as the female lead burns letters from her lover. As she turns to walk away she knocks the bin over and the burning letters scatter. Suddenly the dream-like memory disappears and I'm left alone in the abandoned theatre. I look up the painted roof falling apart and clearly burnt in places. Sighing I carefully make my way out of the building and go back to the graveyard to sleep. (Bored of teenagers and nerds intruding on my home.)