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Tuesday, May 31, 2011

From "Replay" by Keira Lea

Tonight’s performance is delayed due to circumstances partially beyond my control. You see, our cast, crew, and audience have vanished, as in they were here when I closed my eyes, and then when I opened them—POOF.

I listen for telltale whispers backstage, hoping that this disappearing act is a practical joke, but I finally have to admit that I’m alone: the ultimate opening night flop.

The clock at the back of the auditorium tells me I’ve been sitting at the edge of this empty stage for half an hour trying to figure out exactly how this happened. I glare at that mocking face, daring it to melt or throw its second hand or do anything to show me this is an illusion. It just plods along, of course, measuring time as it’s supposed to be. I won’t find any answers here. I order myself to step down off the stage and push open the side door of the theater, but my legs refuse to move. I can’t face that reality yet.

What if everyone outside has vanished, too?

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