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May 25, 2007

David: Enduring

I lounged on the fainting couch, listening to the scratchy old recording. It was of my first show, my big break on Broadway. The overture swelled, and I recalled my nervousness at knowing my entire career hinged on that night.

I became a star. Plays led to movies, which led to television. I’d spent my life in the spotlight, always looking forward. I'd seen the world, and every person I met loved me.

I’d only had to make one small sacrifice.

The doorbell rang. Outside, an old man was clutching a pamphlet. No, it was a wrinkled, yellowed playbill.

“Harold?”

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Comments

Ok, who is Harold? And who is fainting?

Posted by: Stacy at May 25, 2007 6:17 PM · Permalink

The couch is for fainting on, which is quite convenient if one is frequently swooning.

I say Harold is the devil, and he's got a contract written on that playbill. But it's not my story, now, is it?

Posted by: Jeff R. at May 25, 2007 6:59 PM · Permalink

I hope he was the small sacrifice, now returned after many years. But it's not my story either.

Posted by: Tanya at May 25, 2007 7:35 PM · Permalink

I was going for what Tanya said. Although ambiguity can be fun.

Posted by: David at May 27, 2007 12:03 AM · Permalink