Curtain Call

Curtain Call


I. There are things of which I must remind you. First, illustration:
Imagine, if you will, a stage. An empty one in a West End Theatre, complete with red velvet seats and performance worn curtains. There are indentations from footsteps like a smattering of breadcrumbs, and the lights still bathe them with a warm, fading glow.

II. Now for our hero:
He isn’t much to look at now, of course, but this does call for imagination. Surely you remember him? Oh, he did this play and that show, played this role and spoke those lines. He was never a star, but surely you remember?

III. You’ll want, I suppose, a description:
His blue eyes are clouded with delusion, but every so often they shine clearly, as they once did. He stands tall with imagined grace and poise, and he has a steady handshake. That’s how you tell men apart; a steady handshake. His hair grows gray with resentment and bitterness, but he fights it with nostalgia. Oh! He fights valiantly! He is our hero after all.

IV. Every story, however, needs a good old fashioned villain:
Please allow me, if you’d be so kind, to introduce you to the past. Not everything, mind you, but enough. That moment in which our hero encountered tragedy; that moment in which our hero chose the wrong pill, so to speak. He’s beautifully deceiving, the past. But he always gets his man.

V. Now I present the struggle:
There is always one. Good and evil, young and old, tragedy and goodwill. This struggle may seem silent, but to our hero, it echoes like the thunderous applause that had once been for him. He battles the past for the better part of two acts, but now- a standstill. The enemies are face to face. A single move, and our story ends.

VI. And lastly, the conclusion:
You see, there simply isn’t one. Our hero may change, but the villain remains the same. We cannot escape the past, my dear audience, though we do try. Our hero and our villain will continue their fight long after you and I have departed. Nostalgia has no hope against what’s been done, and through our choices, we fall into the roles we were born to play.