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Broadway Lullabye
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Broadway Lullabye |
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Saxoness
since 1999-07-18
Posts 1102Texas 
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Broadway Lullaby The five am alarm clock aborted Michaela from her sleep. No matter how many times she rose before dawn, her body refused to condition itself. The cold New York air crept into her very bones as she splashed luke warm water onto her face. Thirty minutes and two cups of coffee later, She walked into the Majestic theatre located in the heart of Broadway's theatre section. She was early, just as always. Her rehearsal bag and purse fell away from her as she approached the center of the stage. The silence of the theatre was heavy with it's own memories. Voices of past performers caressed her ears like lullabies. She found the very center, the heart of the stage, and lay down upon it. She could feel the vibrations that echoed beneath the surface. Feet dancing in motion to rehearsed steps. The theatre spirits knew she was there. She could feel them gathering around her, pooling their energy to present to her as a gift. It was the only way she made it through each day. Their passions sang through her veins as surely as her own blood did. Her lethargy melted away and energy brought her to her feet. The day was new…the others had arrived. Once again she would sacrifice her body to her art. And love every moment of it. Michaela jumped as the director slammed down his notebook. The dancers halted their steps in awkward stumbles and the rest of the cast broke their song midline. Everyone glanced around the stage, trying to figure out who had missed a line, or a step, and praying to God it wasn't themselves. They'd all seen that stony countenance from directors before; the cold determination that surely meant someone was about to lose their job. It seemed like a lifetime before he stomped onto the stage. A cold hard knot formed in Michaela's stomach as he glanced her way. She felt as if she were staring into the eyes of the devil himself. A sheen of perspiration crawled over her skin as his steps echoed her impending doom. He stopped in front of her, but to her surprise, his gaze floated to her right. She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see one of the set construction crew twisting his worn baseball cap in his hands. "You have been late every single rehearsal thus far in this production. I've tried to overlook it, but showing up two hours late is inexcusable. Get your things and please leave." The man hesitated, appearing to want to argue the issue. But he had paused too long. The director threw down his notes and bellowed for the man to leave. He scurried from the stage as quickly as possible. The rest of the cast stood dumbly as the director walked back out into the sea of chairs. He glanced back up and with a wave of his hand signaled for the rehearsal to proceed. Suddenly there was a new driving force behind them…keeping their jobs. Michaela's heart finally slowed to a normal pace as her fear began to dissipate. This time she was lucky…next time, who knew? The house manager bid Michaela a good afternoon as he locked the door behind her. Tonight was opening, and so all of the cast and orchestra had been given the afternoon off before having to return to the theatre for preparation. She glanced around warily, half expecting to be run down by overeager fans. She sighed as no one came rushing at her from the shadows. It was a gray foggy day in the heart of New York City, as it was most days it wasn't raining or snowing. Pulling her coat more tightly around her rehearsal clothing, she decided to walk home. She needed the opportunity to stretch the sore muscles in her body. The dance director was certainly a taskmaster, but to achieve the best, you had to practice the best. At least that's what had always been drilled into her head. Michaela pictured herself as a three-year-old, taking her first ballet lessons. Just a chubby little cherub in a tutu. She had been more interested in watching herself in the mirror than trying to learn correct plies. She even remembered her first play at the age of five. Her school had been presenting nursery rhymes, and she had been forced into playing Peter Peter pumpkin eater's wife. She had cried for an hour afterwards, because little Bo peep had stolen her only line in the show. She saw her mothers face in the audience every time she appeared on stage, trying to catch Michaela's eye, pantomiming for her to smile and mouthing her lines to her, whether she needed it or not. What a stage mother. "Michaela, don't shuffle your feet while singing. Michaela, honey, you know that's not how you tie your ballet shoes. Michaela, don't you want to become a famous actress?" In truth, it wasn't until her freshman year in HighSchool that the passion actually got a hold of her. Her first leading role, piglet in the adventures of Winnie the Pooh. What a rush it had been to see the adoring faces of the young audience members. She even remembered signing her first autograph. Ever since that moment Michaela had spent every ounce of energy she had to make it to the top. And she had made it. At least until a prettier, thinner, and more eager Broadway baby made her smashing debut. Then she would join the ranks of the other starlets in the theatre vaults, only to be pulled out for a guest appearance here and there…she stopped as she realized she had wandered off the main street into an unfamiliar territory. Residents stopped their daily tasks to stare curiously at her. She resumed her pace, trying not to seem too out of the ordinary. Keeping her head down, she briskly walked past several houses, and heard several men playing basketball in a shabby court. She had almost made it back to the main street when a man appeared in the edge of her vision. He was tall, with shaggy brown hair and dark clothing. He wore a mask of indifference on his face, but when she turned to look at him, she saw that he was staring intently at her. She panicked. He was the sort of man her mother had warned her about. "Michaela, don't talk to strangers honey. Michaela, you have to be careful walking alone in this town. Michaela, if anyone ever follows you, run. Don't even ask questions, just run." She winced as he called out to her by name. "Michaela! Michaela Dillon, don't you dare move!" That was the only prodding she needed. She took off as if in the marathon of her life. After a few seconds she heard heavy footsteps pounding behind her. Several people looked on as she run, and others, recognizing who she was, took up the chase. Her lungs ached for breath, but she wouldn't stop. She screamed for a taxi as she reached Main Street. A bright yellow cab screeched to a halt and Michaela threw herself inside. "Go, go! Now! Hurry!" The cab screeched away as the man and his followers reached the street. She slumped back onto the seat as the cab drove towards her apartment complex. She gave the driver directions and let the silence surround her. Before she knew it they had arrived and she groaned as seven or eight loyal fans waited for her to approach the doors. She counted out the fee and handed it to the driver and began to exit when he stopped her with a light cough. She looked at him expectantly. "I was wondering Miss Dillon, if you would mind signing this for my wife. She's a big fan of yours. " He held out a torn piece of paper and a pen. She sighed and began to scribble a message. To Mary…thank you for your support, it is appreciated…Michaela Dillon. Glancing out of the window for the tenth time in two minutes, Michaela sighed in frustration as the minor mob lingered outside of her apartment complex. She longed to be able to walk outside without having to hide from the public eye. Her privacy was very important to her. Why do people waste their time following around perfect strangers? She pulled off the heavy coat and sunglasses, resigned to the fact that her grocery shopping would have to wait. She'd rather starve than put herself in harms way. She started as a loud knock was delivered to her door. Who was it now? And how did they get inside the building? She crept over to the door and peeked out. An unknown man stood outside, staring straight into the peephole. Unconsciously held her breath so as not to alert the man to her presence. Let him think I'm gone. He must be crazy to think I'd actually open the door. Another loud rapping sounded as she backed away. He jiggled the doorknob and pushed slightly on the frame. She sat down in a chair facing the door; her hands knotted in her lap, her mouth dry as she watched. Minutes ticked by, until finally she heard him mumble and walk down the hallway away from the door. She waited for a while then crept over to the door and slowly opened it. A sigh escaped her lips as she saw he had left. She glanced down and saw a pizza box lying near her doorstep. Pizza. It was the pizza guy. She picked up the food and re locked her door. If things like this keep happening, I'm going to go insane Don't scratch it. Whatever you do, don't scratch it. The familiar litany replayed itself in her head for the hundredth time. She wiggled her nose just enough to assuage they torturous itch that plagued her under the heavy stage makeup. Beads of sweat trickled down between her breasts, and with a skill borne of a true professional, she re-adjusted her wig as she completed yet another memorized line. The show was almost finished. In a few more moments, the final scene would end, and the audience would offer thanks for a flawless performance. From the outside, she appeared to be completely focused on her character. But on the inside, she was worrying again wondering if this life was really for her. Writing out police reports about stalkers and signing autographs at the same time bordered on the surreal for her. Every night she weighed the pros and cons of remaining an actress. Every night she made up her mind that is was time to quit. An ironic smile played on her lips…she knew her musings were only half hearted. She knew she would never willingly leave, especially since at the moment she was today's special. The papers raved about her "fresh new approach" to the stage. The roaring of the audience, the sheer rush of being admired, drew her in everytime. The lights went down and the company hurried off stage to take their final bows. She took a deep breath as the first actors went back onto the stage. She furiously scratched her nose and dabbed away the sweat. The company parted and looked expectantly towards the curtain. A thrill rushed along her spine as they eyes of theatre patrons focused on her entry. She stepped onstage and heard the two-second quiet as the house rose for a standing ovation. Tears streamed down her eyes…as they did everynight. The Theatre had once again cast a spell over her. She prepared herself for the onslaught of fans before she made a mad rush to her car. Looking at her watch, she estimated she could reach her car in about 15 minutes. The two bodyguards employed by the Theatre Company took her elbows and made sure she was ready. The doors swung open onto another world filled with camera flashes and loud screaming voices…pens and papers shoved into her face by eager fans. She pasted an automatic smile to her face and signed a few autographs for publicity purposes. A movement to her right caught her eye. Someone was pushing their way to the front of the line; she could here startled protests from people as he approached. The burly men assigned to protect her were busy restraining fans to her left…so she simply stood and watched the stranger draw near the distracted bodyguards. He was tall, dark brown hair, blue eyes...it was the man from earlier that day. Her mind unconsciously memorized his face. He stopped directly in front of her and smiled…or was it more of a leer? The voices and commotion died around her as she looked into his eyes. He didn't have to speak. She knew what he wanted. The street light overhead glinted on the small shiny object he held in his hand. Her mouth went dry and when he raised it towards her, she screamed and scrambled to get away. The bodyguards turned simultaneously as she pointed at the man. "He's trying to stab me! Stop him, stop him!" The men grabbed the offender and wrestled him to the ground. Michaela was pushed backwards into the crowd and several hands reached out to grasp her limbs. In seconds crazed and frightened fans surrounded her. She stumbled and pitched forward, hitting her head on someones fallen camera. The bright marquee lights blurred with her vision, and then her world went dark as she passed out. Bright fluorescent lights and cold efficient monitors whirred as she slowly came out of her drugged sleep. The pain in her head had multiplied ten fold and her entire body throbbed in time to the beating of her heart. When she was finally able to pry her eyes open her mother rushed to the sides of the bed and began talking hurriedly. From what she could gather, the man who she had accused was a childhood friend, who had recognized her and was wanting to chat. He had been taken to jail with a bloody lip, and had been released after discovering his alleged knife was only a pen. Luckily, he didn't press charges. When she had fallen, she had split her head and needed stitches. Michaela tuned her mother out as she tried to grasp what had happened. How can I keep living like this, constantly in fear or ending up in the hospital, or worse, dead? The door opened and a middle aged doctor walked in with two nurses. He shooed her mother away and he prepared to giver her an injection. Suddenly she gripped the arm of one of the nurses. "Wait. I can't get a shot. I can't. I have a show tonight. They need me; I'm the star. Please. Please I have to be there." The nurse looked startled for a moment, then smiled. "Don't worry honey. We'll get you there. Just go to sleep now…everything will be ok." She lay back as the drugs began to take their affect. The needles and sterilized hospital instruments faded from her sight as the marquee sign shone bright behind her eyes. Voices faded and suddenly a calm settled over her. She could hear the magic of the Broadway lullaby as it carried her home. < !signature--> "Glory remains unaware of my neglected dwelling where alone I sing my tearful song which has charms only for me." -Charles Brugnot [This message has been edited by Saxoness (edited 12-14-1999).] |
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| © Copyright 1999 Angela Erin Burke - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Good writing here. I liked it much, I got all tense myself when she felt the paranoia of famous and all the new factors it brings. (I think that makes sense, LOL), anyways, I liked this one. Thanks for posting!  In flames I shall not be consumed, but reborn. |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Fabulous...I could only imagine how much hard work is required to be a Broadway dancer or performer. This is very well written. I'm not sure if she was more afraid of the angry director or the stranger that approached her with the knife (pen). James |
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doreen peri Member Elite
since 1999-05-25
Posts 3812Virginia |
Angela.... this piece confirms that you are a writer with a VERY bright future! Could you do me a favor? Promise you'll send me an autographed copy of your first published novel? Never ever stop writing, m'friend! You have a great deal of talent... you are going places and I'll be watching the book reviews in the news, sure to see your name as author of a best seller one day. I couldn't be more serious. Excellent job! |
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WhtDove Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-22
Posts 9245Illinois |
You are an excellent story writer my dear. You had me captivated! Very well done! The story of a broadway actor. You filled it well, described it very well! |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
I echo the accolades! I felt like I was almost there, the true signature of an artist! I do however have something that REALLY bothered me! "She lied back..." AGGGH! I'm sorry, but that KILLS me!!!  Could we perhaps change it to "She lay back... ??? Please????  |
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Saxoness
since 1999-07-18
Posts 1102Texas |
Thanks everyone! I'm really not deserving of such praise! Christopher...fixed it.  "Glory remains unaware of my neglected dwelling where alone I sing my tearful song which has charms only for me." -Charles Brugnot |
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Terrina Kethryveris Member
since 1999-12-06
Posts 53USA |
Saxoness wonderful tale. I enjoyed the read and was totally captivated from start to finsh. Terri< !signature--> Truth be known, fantasy is much more appealing than reality. [This message has been edited by Terrina Kethryveris (edited 12-19-1999).] |
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Saxoness
since 1999-07-18
Posts 1102Texas |
Thanks Terri! It's much appreciated. "Glory remains unaware of my neglected dwelling where alone I sing my tearful song which has charms only for me." -Charles Brugnot |
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