In the dark heights of the theatre a shadow crawled down the wall. Above the stage, above the lights and the catwalk far away from any person, it heard laughter. Felt the warmth of human joy rising from below. It hadn't been to a theatre in a long, long time. Hundreds of years. But it had grown curious, hungry, and longed for the special things that only humans could make.
The way they feel...
So the shadow had come here, slipping in through a crack in the roof. The delicious aroma of human minds, so unique,
so giving,
emanated from the building below. The shadow could sense them all, seeing them connected in their complex webs of desires and jealousies. To a being like the shadow, these feelings were strings on a grand instrument, something that only
they
could make music with.
The web of want lay before them.
So the shadow began to play...
~~~~~~~~~~~
Shannon Anleigh walked into the empty theatre and felt a chill go up her spine. Her blue eyes darted over to the stage - but it was empty. Her imagination was getting the better of her.
Probably midterm stress
, she thought.
She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, still surprised at how short it was. She got a pixie cut at the beginning of the year, but hadn't visited a salon since then. It was getting floppy -
roguish
, her friends said.
Like a 90's boy band star
. She had liked the androgynous look at first, especially for the attention it got her from the other women in her theatre program. But since the weather got cold and her exams got closer, it's just felt like a sign that things had gotten out of control. She barely had time to leave the library, let alone go to a salon. She barely had time to stage-manage this show. But here she was, waiting for the lighting guy to show up -
again
.
She walked up the double stairs to the balcony, throwing her bag down on one of the seats. The lighting booth was situated towards the back, a squat white shed of a structure, with a huge curtained window. She knocked on the door, heard nothing, and opened it up. A waft of heavy, herbaceous air hit her in the face with the force of a brick. She slammed it shut, reeling back.
"Hey!" Someone shouted from downstairs. Shannon turned, and saw a bearded boy dressed all in black flailing his arms, rushing towards her. "I'll be right up! Don't - uh, I got it, just stay there."
Grant
, she thought, seething. Campus lighting guy, Junior-year theatre major, and judging from the smell, a major stoner. They shook hands. He panted as his eyes darted all around the room. "I've seen you around, yeah?" he asked.
She nodded. "You did a demonstration in Professor Sahar's seminar last year."
"Yeah?" He rubbed his neck, pulling up his t-shirt a bit. Shannon could see a handsome, round stomach and the bright blue hem of his underwear. The muscles of his arms strained. "I guess - I did? It's been a busy time..." Shannon's mind wandered, fantasies peeling his shirt off and pulling those pants all the way down -
The Shadow pulled strings no mortal could see, testing how far they could go -
She shook her head. "Yeah! I was in that class. Haha." It was unlike her to get distracted. She motioned towards the booth. "You want to -?"
"Oh, of course!" Grant said. He opened the door, froze, and turned back to her. That sticky smell couldn't be ignored. She could see him making excuses in his mind. Shannon thought about torturing him for a moment, making him squirm for being late
and
making the booth reek of pot. But something about the fear in his eyes just melted her heart. He looked so vulnerable, so pathetic. Like he would do anything to not get in trouble -
anything
.
He should get on his knees and beg you, the Shadow whispered. He will lick your legs and you'll get him stoned, so he becomes more clumsy and desperate and pant like a dog -
Shannon shook the thoughts out of her head again. What had gotten into her today? Had the anxiety gotten so bad that she had gone past stress and into horniness? "Don't worry about it," she said. She smiled and tried to wink reassuringly. "I'm the stage manager, not a cop."
His face lit up in a smile, perfectly framed by his close-cropped beard. His brown, tired eyes shimmered. "Thanks. Midterms, y'know? I'm here for so long without the faculty around, and no one believes me, but it helps me think! It normally airs out before anyone notices..."
Shannon nodded and followed him inside. The booth was cramped - two rolling chairs sat before the huge soundboard, marked with tape reading "DO NOT ADJUST" in bold sharpie, over and over again. The more modern light board was shoved awkwardly next to it. Grant sat in front of that, tucking himself into the corner, queuing up commands for the show. "So, I already programmed most of the numbers," he said. "It's pretty straightforward. We'll begin after house-down with this really cool sudden spotlight..."