~this is a story that is best served with some ambiance. I have created a playlist that embodies the story. please enjoy~
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7FXHPZn43LQjcMbOZNXRu9?si=a1f46db6c9a74b64
Deep in the Mojave Desert, there is an abandoned town. In that town, you will find the normality of an old town: a bar, homes, a few shops, and even a brothel. Each used some type of oil lamp or candle for light.
I know you are not interested in urban exploration. No, you are looking for the theater, just like I was.
If you make your way inside that cold, desolate, dark, lonely theater you will find the only source of running electricity in this oil-lamped-western-looking town through a light bulb on a metal pole atop the creaky oak stage. That is the ghost light.
Fun fact: The ghost light steams back to burning gas to relieve stress on the gas lines. The tradition continued in most performing theaters as a safety feature that allowed one to make their way across the stage in the dark without falling into the orchestra pit. However, some believe in a more mystical use for them. One example says every theater has a spirit, a ghost, and each theater performs a different tradition to appease these spirits. This theater, however, doesn’t just have one spirit, it has a whole ensemble, and they can only be seen when the veil between our world and theirs is thin. To alleviate these spirits all you have to do is take your seat. Watch their show. Just like I did.
I walked into the theater just before the night fell over the town. I was looking for a place to rest before I headed back out in the morning. Despite an eerie breeze slithering through the rafters, I had decided this was as good a place as any. Once I found an acceptable seat that hadn’t been overtaken by dust and spiders I sat and rested my eyes. The ghost light, however, had plans all of its own.
Only once my eyes started to collapse did the ghost light begin to pulsate. Sometimes it would become as bright as the moon and faint as a star. Soon, I began to hear instruments, an orchestra tuning their sinister tools. When I stood up to investigate the orchestra pit the music stopped and the pit was empty.
I sat back down and the ghost light stopped pulsating. I was about to close my eyes and rest, ready to blame my experience on the exhaustion of exploring the desert when something confined my attention, not on the stage, but on the curtains. A shadow came into sight from stage right.
She danced across that stage. No, not dance, she glided. She moved like the wind, a gentle summer breeze. And with her, a piano too flowed and glided filling my ears with an ethereal sound.
The music only grew when a bird flew in. She was portrayed as a smaller woman and was accompanied by a flute who both fluttered and danced with the wind. Eventually, the music gained a hardy base by a cello as a tree emerged from the wooden stage. She, the tree, was a larger woman; tall and strong who allowed the small bird to make her nest on her. The three together made a song that was both light and delicate. I couldn’t help but smile. Soon after, the music began to slow to silence leaving remnants echoing off the walls and leaving room for something a bit earthlier to emerge.
Before my ears could taste silence, a low hum began filling the theater. The sound crescendoed to its climax, gripping me, making every last bone in my body vibrate; I was a prisoner inside of my own skin. As quickly as it filled these four walls it ended faster and with an enormous crash. The crash of a gong. The gong roared with so much authority it pushed the forest to the far right of the stage. The forest was left scared and confused.
With the gong came another dancer, this time from stage left, a man. With the forest out of the way, the man paraded around stomping his feet and waving his arms as if he was a storm. He was a storm, a sandstorm. To me that only meant one thing, the desert was encroaching. With the sandstorm, two other dancers moved into the light and were accompanied by an instrument adding to this chaotic track.
A snake crept in with a clarinet producing an eerie sound I wasn’t aware a clarinet could make. A cactus plucked up using a violin’s bow to make sharp and precise strikes as it moved. The chaoticy of their song was matched only by the movements of the desert. Their ilk danced a dance that resembled flames atop candlesticks.
By the end of their malicious melody, the serpent had crawled its way to the cowering forest. He snuck around the tree, tried to take a bite of the bird, but she took off with a tweet of the flute right before he could strike. The wind slapped the snake with a ping. The sandstorm rushed the wind. The tree blocked the storm protecting her sisters. The cactus appeared behind the tree and pricked her back. The tree in shock snapped the cactus leaving the tree in more pain from the thorns. The six erupted running all along the stage chasing each other. All the while the six instruments, chaos and harmony, came together to make a haunting tune until that tune was broken up.
She floated down from the ceiling like an angel. She separated the desert from the forest, sending the creatures of the sand back to the left of the stage.
I know what you’re thinking. “What instrument played for this woman?” It wasn’t just one instrument, nor was it two or even three. A whole harmonious orchestra from heaven announced her presence. Horns blared as she entered. A harp guided her down. Once her feet landed on the floor, a brilliant succession of instruments created what felt like an entire score dedicated to this woman every time she moved. The music poured out of her every being, and I wanted to be swallowed up by it. Utilizing the orchestra, she circulated the stage dancing. As she danced the desert looked like it was in pain. It became clear that she was taking the power of the desert and giving it to her forest. She did not stop dancing until she drained the very force from the desert. The desert was left practically transparent. Satisfied with the punishment she awarded the desert, she walked towards the right edge of the stage before gesturing to the forest to leave with her. And the song faded leaving the theater cold.
Before they could make their exit, the heavenly woman halted as the orchestra turned on her, transforming into a dark orchestra playing with wicked instruments clamoring their twisted notes. A scratching violin sent a chill up my spine. The violin blended with an organ and drums. At the same time, a heat was being established all around the theater. It came from the stage leaking into the seats leading up to me. Gone was the coolness of the desert night replaced by an invisible fire that tasted the entire theater with me inside. I could feel the flames lapping at me, my skin felt on fire all the while being forced to witness the man of fire.
The man of fire rose and danced a solo waltz but where the music played the woman, he danced to the music. Dancing to his hellish orchestra he restored power to the desert making them solid once again. After his waltz, he looked around and stopped at the woman of the forest. He pointed and marched toward her.
The woman reassured the forest and then met the man halfway across the stage. Before the man could make any gesture, the woman slapped his face. Symbols crashed. The man stood frozen in shock. She started to walk away but he shouted at her with a prick of a clarinet. She stopped and strutted back. Before she could stop moving the man pushed her in retaliation like a child on a playground. She stumbled backward, left confused. The woman adjusted herself. Using a piccolo she whistled at the man who was beginning to walk off stage. He turned slowly and quickly marched towards her
Reuniting in the middle of the stage, the woman moved to slap the man again. He caught her hand in his with a crash of a gong and symbols. He moved his right arm back, I’m not sure what he was planning to do but she stopped him by putting her hand on his shoulder. He mirrored her gripping her left shoulder tight.
They began a strange tug of war; pushing each other back and forth. Both orchestras rightfully followed. They occasionally swayed in the same direction matching a mechanical music box with the two orchestras eventually merging to become a comprehensible song. A beautiful piece of light and dark that brought a comforting and alluring shiver all over my body.
Further down the song, the dance stopped being mechanical and became more congenial and turned into a waltz. The man and woman were locked in a cycle of dance coming apart and back together, but when the song reached its climax they parted and a new, smaller shadow emerged between them. The three shadows danced together with the bigger shadows showing copious amounts of affection to the smaller, child-sized one.
The mother and the child broke away dancing together in the foreground of the stage with a melodious tune. After, the music slowed as the child switched partners to the father. The music turned mechanical and bitter as the father and son danced a waltz. The father would pause every few moments to correct the child, trying to have him dance his fiery waltz correctly to no avail.
Giving up on their dance, the two returned to the mother. After a few more moments the mother would move the child to go off and dance on his own only to have the father pull him back. This went on for a small time. Eventually, they left the boy to dance among the parents’ domains, the desert and the forest, while the mother and father talked.
As the child played the mother and father argued, probably about allowing the child to go out and dance on his own. The melodious music started to become more aggressive as the fight continued. Meanwhile, the chaotic melody sounded sorrowful dragging out the notes. The was on his knees begging the mother who started to leave. She continued walking toward her child until she and the music stopped. She gasped for air. And slowly collapsed to the ground. Standing behind her was the man of fire who dropped something in his hand. He stabbed her.
The forest faded and the orchestra collapsed also breathing their last breath and efforts into their instruments leaving a plink, brum, crash and honk all as the woman fell. Eventually, she too faded with her last action reaching out to her son with a few notes being released from the piano, an unfinished song of love.
Hearing the notes, the child peaked up and looked around for that familiar piano chime. The child’s father approached. He comforted and held the child so tight. The child cried with a sad violin to mimic the tears they were shedding. As the father’s hold tightened, the desert filled the stage.
The storm pranced around with no boundaries. The sound of a gong extinguished the ghost light shrouding the theater in cold darkness before relighting back to its dim self-leaving no shadows in sight.
I stayed in my seat for five minutes not knowing if I should move or not. I eventually gained the courage to slowly get up and made my way to the exit. I was almost out. My hand was on the door. All I had to do was leave.
As I turned the knob music started up and I was left wide-eyed. I did not want to blink. I knew in my soul that if I closed them for even a moment I would be sent straight back to my seat. It might have been my morbid curiosity that made the urge to blink strong, but when I did my fear was reassured. I do not remember how I got back to my seat but there I was sitting down and eyes fixated back on that stage; enraptured by the circus displayed on the curtain backdrop.
The stage was filled with the desert habitat. There were cacti and snakes but there were also vultures, coyotes, roadrunners, walking cacti, and so many more variations of flora and fauna than I ever thought could be in the desert. So much life - so much beauty in this seamlessly lifeless terrain. To accompany the cacophony of wildlife the orchestra was playing a guttural melody that could have been mistaken for tuning instruments. Eventually, the crowd dispersed revealing something hiding. Something different.
There, hiding behind everything in the middle of the stage was the child who now took the shape of a young man. He was practicing his dancing. I winced imagining him dancing that waltz like his father. Instead, when he danced more like his mother. Slowly the sound of light-hearted strings strolled into my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was a piano, harp, or lyre. It was so angelic. Following the heavenly melody, a cool breeze flowed through the theater. The breeze was a brilliant mix of cool and hot which perfectly hit my face. He danced with an elegance that had no business being in the desert.
In the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow move by the edge of the curtain. However, I didn’t care about that, I was enjoying the breeze too much, so I ignored it. Not until a few minutes had passed that a familiar silhouette made its way into sight with their arms folded and foot tapping disapprovingly. When the son noticed his father he slowed his dance and the music slowed to a stop and the mechanical waltz played again as the boy moved stiffly while looking over his shoulder at his father for approval.
The man of flames pushed his son making him stumble out of his dance and scolded him. He pushed him again and again and again constantly getting in his son’s face. All while the dark orchestra writhed. I can imagine the father was probably saying something along the lines of “you are forbidden to dance like that,” or, “no son of mine moves like that.” The son did not cower or quake in his father’s anger. His head hung low never staring him in the face. He just waited for him to Finnish.
The man left in a huff. Alone and in silence, the boy fell, hugged his knees, and cried. His silhouette, while in the fetal position, was rising and falling, sobbing without music.
In the boy’s silent crying, a sound started to crescendo. It was a new sound. It was a choir of angels… Looking back it might have been demons by the way it moaned… Maybe it was both. The singing was beautiful in its horror. The melody was ethereal. Soon the singing invited violins, then a somber piano and cello, and lastly a horn. As quickly as it started the music faded away.
The young man got up. Dusted himself off. Then he danced. Not his mother’s dance and certainly not his father’s. He danced his dance. He moved and every instrument played not to move the boy or to follow him, but to play alongside him. The music was a lifelong friend who joined the young man to create new plants like palm trees, lavender flowers, and sage. And new creatures to explore the desert: lions, fish, and small birds. Upon request, he even fed and gave them water by creating an oasis. This continued for several minutes.
At that point, my eyes had noticed another agent of the desert lurking in the shadows. He lingered watching the young man before disappearing. The young man danced for a minute more before the scratch of a cello echoed from somewhere in the theater stopping the boys’ choir of souls. The young man and I scanned the theater. He headed for stage left fled where the ghost light could not reach
The heat began to grow. Suddenly the boy was thrown back onto the stage by an almost mysterious force. His father marched from the shadows approaching the boy who lay there clutching his side. The man got down on one knee to be at his son’s height. He caressed his face comforting him before he slapped his son. At the same time, the ghost light and music exploded filling the theater with a blinding light and impossibly loud music. It continued and got louder and brother when the father switched to punching his son. I shut my eyes to try and block out the light. I even covered my ears with my hands to no avail. The music sounded as if it was in my head, like a parasite digging its way into my brain. It was torture.
I heard a violin taking the place of screams. A cello was used for yelling. And a drum to symbolize beating.
When the violin stopped screaming the cello kept shouting and the drum still beating. I started to cry as each beat pounded the inside of my head. I only decided to open my eyes and uncover my ears when the beating and screaming stopped suddenly. The man of flames was kneeling over a lump that took its last breaths. A small drum mimicked the heartbeat.
Bumb bumb… bumb bump… bump.. bump.. bump…….
The lump faded. The man was alone. The heat that once filled the hall was gone. It was replaced with the type of chill that always comes before a rainstorm. The subtle sound of a wind whirling through the rafters now filled the theater. He turned to face me. He looked right at me. My eyes must have adjusted to the dark because as I stared at the silhouette that was the man of flames, I could see his face. The sorrow that filled it. The man of flames gave his sorrow to grief and cried. Small beads were used to make the sound of rain as the man cried. You could see the shadow of rain on the curtain as it drenched him.
The man began to dance. Not his waltz but imitating his son’s dance. The rain stopped. The man faded. Where the man stood soon became an oasis. A dancer pooled on the floor and became a watering hole and a few more sprouted and became trees. The oasis held a song and while it was horrifying it was also beautiful. It only became more so as it was surrounded by the desert creatures, new and old. Once again, the choir’s horrendously beautiful melody played.
The music crescendoed as the ghost light grew brighter and with a final, powerful note, it all disappeared.
I stood up and applauded till my hands went numb. My eyes were filled with tears. I knew I had to write it all down while it was fresh in my head so that I may share this with you. I do not know how long it has been. I must look old and decayed now, but if you are reading this you must have been looking for the theater too. I’m so glad you found it.
I made sure to leave some space in my notebook for you to write your thoughts and share them with the person that will once sit next to you.
It must be getting dark if it hasn’t already gotten so. Please do sit back, relax and enjoy the show.