Short Stories for Writing Class

The Voice in the Darkened Theater

Soul trapped in abandoned/dark/spoopy theater. 1 page monologue. Beyond the grave. Real or fictional. Can be actor/actress/staff/viewer.

No intro, just telling story in their own words.

   "No, you're doing it wrong. If you're going to sing falsetto, do it right. You need to open up your diaphragm and use all your gut to let out everything you have. This is why they chose me. I had more of a natural talent. We were both interested in life on the stage; acting, singing, dancing, but you didn't have the right touch. You were clumsy, your voice pitchy. No one was ever rude about it, it was just the truth. You never took criticism well. I guess I am the fool for not seeing your jealousy, but it never crossed my mind. I thought you were happy for me. 

   Why did you never identify my killer? I just saw the long, checkered coat, like the one Kennedy has, but I know you saw his face. Why didn't you say anything? Do you hate me so much that even in death I am not allowed justice? It doesn't matter now, it's been months. You couldve shared the tale of how your sister was brutally taken and how you narrowly escaped with your life. You could've been the hero that gave way to a haunting mystery, but instead you stayed quiet. How unpoetic of someone who recites Shakespeare  twice a week. 

   Speaking of Kennedy, he still looks as sour as ever. What a miserable old man. I remember the radiating disappointment that sizzled off him when you gave the news of being unable to produce a child. His first wife died soon after their marriage. His second wife's child was stillborn and she followed after the child the next day. He thought the third time would be the charm with you, but he never had luck with an heir. That was, until I died.

   You made yourself Cassidy's caretaker. It's Cassidy, not Cas, not Cassie. I named her Cassidy because that's what I wanted her to be called. You will never be my child's mother, so stop acting like you are. Maybe you care for her enough, but that awful husband of yours is an embarrassment. When he introduces her, he calls her Cassie Pigsburrow. It's Cassidy you swine and how dare you bestow upon my daughter your shameful name. I could never have married a man with such a name. You told me I had no place to talk, since I was never married. Kennedy and Margaret Pigsburrow, with their adopted daughter Cassidy. You've got your makeshift family,  but you had to take it a step further. 

   A man took away my life, but you've stolen everything I am. You took my daughter, you took my money, my furniture, my clothes. You do your hair up to look like mine. You took my role in this theater. You think you're at the top now, but is this really so important? Do you even think of me or do you only care about recieving praise? Can you feel me watching you as you trot across the stage? Do you know my grief as I look upon my daughter? That's the only good, you bring her to watch as you perform. She looks mature, her face stern.  She is a child that's lost her mother. You have what you wanted. You have a family, your husband's approval and your dream career, but sister are you really happy?"