In October 1860 I went to Clarendon's road, and bought a tube of flushed roseate nail polish for just around 2 pennies from Lismore's street behind Rosebank Market: half the price I would usually pay. Walking through Clarendon road was like walking through a bunch of junkie little drug addicts the smell of Weed Xanax poor beggars and scrawny short children starving was enough to say that it wasn't the best place there was in the small town of Courtdale but I'd seen worst l was sure I could handle a few more years in this disfigured town.
A small beauty parlor stood on the sidewalk. Women chatted left and right from within it's brick walls. The sun beamed heavily into its open windows aligned evenly along the walls. In its ever looming shadow lay a much cooler alleyway. filled with broken women cracked and shattered like glass, their minds huddled but their bodies separated, each of them had found something amidst the broken things to fan themselves with, Granted Courtdale wasn't the happiest place on earth but it did have its good sides.
Down the alley was an old theatre for charlatans and actors alike, its lights shone brightly in the shadows of buildings. True, there existed better theatres in better parts of this town, but every local knew a good play was not in the budget but the actors, and this theatre in particular was known for its actors. People from all walks of life flocked around the ticket booths, wallets in hand, just to see the latest play because of the depressing atmosphere in life. Everyone wanted a piece of joy, even if it meant it was all a fake play.
There were time plays and tickets were shoveled out of that aged theatre like snow from a sidewalk in the cold winters, but alas those times were gone and this theatre made plays as fast as a snail made its way from Florida to Canada. every blue moon, but l was set on ensuring whenever that next big play came out, I'd be in it. As l galloped and skipped through the alley of broken things that included the smell of sex, cat callers, and perverts. My shoulders brushed against the youthful woman that gave me distasteful allure before going off to wherever they were going.
Behind, the brick walls of the theatre where a church lay near was a towering and wide curved door with battered and worn out handles. My hands gently caressed on the door knob and l pushed inside. There was not much other than the humid air surrounding me. Clothes, dresses and suits were all thrown on the couch with all kinds of fabrics , colors, designs. the glint of light barely lit up half the room and on my part of the dressing room a yellow light lit up from the mirrors light bulbs illuminating the brown desk which was cluttered with expensive vermillion lip balm a deck of cards eyeliner and upon other types of cosmetics and a scarlet box with a square mirror besides that was a brown coat with black stripes.
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Nickolas and the others must've already gone. They'd always somehow managed to get ready by the time l was here but l worried not because I had an extra hour before all the people entered the theatre. l pictured their faces and the glint of excitement as they would see me entering the stage it put a smile to my face, l sat down and began to powder my face with cosmetics lipstick and eyeliner, l put the nail polish I'd bought earlier and took the small purple lid off painting it against my nails.
By the time I was done Nickolas entered the dressing room sighing as she leaned on the wall crossing her arms and staring at me with her saffron eyes annoyed you could say but I would say waiting in all the years I spent time with her I'd never seen her angry at me.
The woman was much taller than me, around six feet tall to be exact and much older. l was a century younger than her; we were both vampires although we were turned. She considered me a younger brother and I considered her a mother
sometimes she would tell me stories of the plagues, wars, people that she had seen throughout time and I'd only fall asleep to her tales but then there was one particular story about a man she'd seen only once in her youth following the French war her mother had fleeted and she had hid in a haystack near a beer parlor, She'd told me the man was tall and had light hazel eyes His robes where white and his skin was crystal clean pale unlike his beetroot lips she would go on and tell me how he'd saved her from the misery of the bloodshed that night how the man had approached her and asked her to reveal her neck with hesitation she'd agreed and the man licked her neck baring his teeth into the crook of her collar bones.
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l sat up from my desk and dusted my pallid robes from where all the makeup had made itself powder and the smell of lipstick covered the room Our next play was a play of La colombe noire de la vie which translated to the black dove of life in English
From across the room Nickolas uncrossed her arms. "Such an old soul You are always somewhat late" she whispered and let out a sound of laughter but l could not see her expressions in the dimly lit room where she was standing
l put on my red heels "Am l so old now?" l asked approaching her And we began walking down the big narrow halls Lights glinting brightly where all the things unneeded and wanted where kept.
The excitement in my stomach churned l felt as though it was death itself who stood behind me, with his arms wrapped around me as tight as iron bands, and his lipless mouth kissing my neck as if in love. But as well as the horror and excitement, l felt a strange longing to see all those faces that shared the same excitement l did.
l felt my heart beating faster and faster as l came closer to the stage where millions of people sat below and up were the directors watching with wine glasses in hand, Eyes staring.
Mooney my brother stared at me from below the stage Yesterday he'd said "je ne viens pas (l am not coming)" and because so many people were attending and this was of much importance l wanted him to be there we'd made a tremendous fuss about it that resulted in broken glass shards and plates l knew him well enough to say that by morning sometimes he'd change his mind stubborn as he was. This was one if not many of those sometimes.
