The Show, And What Came After

And so, a flashback to our hundredth show and a little piece written expressly for that strange occasion and which might, perhaps, give those not in attandance that night a mere slither of what happened to those who were [pics by gh0stdot / Juliet Shalam]:

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A show is a fiction, though to truths it aspires,
Performers little more than illustrative liars,
And this particular show was a show O most auspicious,
An anniversary celebration, yet with a germ so pernicious

The one hundredth show of The Double R, of darkness and of dreams,
Of absurdities aplenty, of somnambulant extremes,
Preparations they were underway, performers were assembled,
And as make-up it was plastered on, the company resembled

little more than dreadful figments of phantasm and of fancy,
Of magic most improbable, and of strange necromancy,
To each player the mirror showed them their beating, fictive heart,
Yet somewhere in that dressing room a figure stood apart

About the venue in preceding days, a man he had been seen,
In the foyer, in the offices, and on the stairs between,
He had been spied and then quite vanished, as if a trick of light,
Quite there and then just nowhere, so real but then not quite

Soundchecks they were ploughed through, feedback all a-squealing,
Props were set, mic stands adjusted, that stage-fright sinking feeling,
Yet beyond the lights and music, the frenzied preparations,
That man he stood in shadow and with unknown expectations

That man he was quite hairless and too pale to be true,
A strange red mark upon his face, perhaps the residue
of something terrible, perhaps of blood, perhaps of settled scores,
And he vanished as the audience flowed through the open doors

The show went rather well, there was blood and fire and laughter,
But no audience member pondered just what would happen to them after
all the lights were off, the props away, when acts had left the stage,
Just what crimes would be committed, just what evil, what outrage

Well, truth is, when the show was over and the audience went home,
That strange pale man went with them, followed them all into the gloam,
And as they fell asleep that night, albeit fitfully, afraid,
That strange pale man stood over them, their faith in cabarets betrayed

But then, well, nothing seemed to happen, their lives went on just as before,
Well that is nothing seemed to happen, but the truth is that every single door
they opened after that fateful night lead not quite where it should,
Every single door lead somewhere else, a nowhere, a falsehood

O places looked the same, don’t get me wrong, few noticed any change,
But they were no longer where they thought they were, their lives were rearranged
and they were living now quite somewhere else, in null and vacant space,
They had crossed some awful threshold, they were in “ANOTHER PLACE”

rr-51

~ by benjaminlouche on January 23, 2019.

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