To an Empty Stage

To an empty stage,
In an old abandoned theater,
The stage is creaky and dimly lit,
And the curtains are a dusty and faded red.
There's a single spotlight working and it's fixed on the center of the stage.

The room is filled with old, run down seats,
And they're all cast into a darkness.
There's no one sitting in them, but there's a memory of a grand audience.
It’s not an opera stage,
The room is much smaller,
And there are no balconies.
The stage is much smaller, and much quainter.
The members of the audience were a people that cared about the show and the actors,
Not money and ethics...
The walls of the room have a dark blue faded and peeling paint,
And random spots show the wooden boards in the wall.
There are bouts of graffti here and there, too.
But it seems faded...

Above the stage, is a well lit platform,
Its boards well worn,
Both the boards and the ladder that leads up to it have been used quite frequently.
This is a puppeteer's stage.

There is a single puppet on the stage,
It seems oddly stiff.
As if someone had just taken it out of an old box,
And had not taken the time to straighten it's limbs before putting it on stage.
Its small red pointy hat is dusty,
And its eyes are closed.
Its arms hand out perpendicular to the ground, and its hands are dangling.
Its knees are slightly bent,
And it is clear that the marionette is held up by the countless strings.
Countless strings leading back up to the platform.

I don't recall seeing anyone on the platform,
So I look back to see who's there,
But the platform is plunged into darkness as a light bulb gives up.
The puppeteer is plunged into gloom,
But I can still see his outline as he begins to gracefully tug at the marionette’s strings.

In the spotlight, the marionette's head perks up, and its eyes open.
It smiles vividly.
A forced smile, but good natured all the same…
It looks at out at the missing audience and at the gloom.
And sees something that we cannot.

One of its elbows loosens, and the arm bends.
The hand moves too, and now the full arm.
The puppet turns to look at its arm, fascinated by this newly found freedom.
It moves its arms in all possible directions, exploring.

The other arm is still stuck.
But slowly it comes undone.
And now both of the arms are moving.
And its head is swiveling from one to the other utterly delighted.

After a full exploration of the use of its arms,
The puppet casts a glance at its deadened legs..
And as if the use of them had been returned to it,
Both the legs collapse, and the puppet crashes to the ground.
It lands on its back, its knees still slightly bent.

Undeterred, the puppet sits up and looks at its lethargic legs.
It reaches out and pulls at one of them, lifting the foot off the ground, and bending the knee further.
The puppet takes its hands away and the leg stays in this new position.
The situation is rather comical, and the silent audience laughs.
Spurred on, the puppet smiles at them, a twinkle in its eyes (or in the puppeteer's?),
Then he moves the other leg.
The other leg stays itself too,
But the puppet barely pauses as it goes to push down on the knee to straighten out its legs.
Then he bends the knees again and straightens, bends and straightens, as if he was breaking in new joints.

Finally, the puppet tries to sit up,
He pushes himself up with his hands and balances on both legs for a minute, swaying alarmingly.
Then he falls forward,
And stays on his hands and feet for a moment,
Then he stands up straight again, and stays standing.

The missing audience smiles condescendingly,
And applauses the childlike puppet.
The puppet smiles back,
But this time his eyes don't smile.

The puppet now looks down at his feet and raises an eyebrow.
He looks back up at the audience and winks.
The audience leans forward a little.

The puppet lifts one of its legs,
This time with only the aid of a string,
And places it down a little bit in front of him;
He’s taken a step!
The audience is delighted.
And the puppet feels lowly,
This was a small task and it amazed them…

But the puppet's smile does not fade,
He lifts his shoulders, and daringly takes another step…
…And another…
…And another…
…Until he reaches the edge of the spot light.

The puppet takes one more step forward,
And trips on a protruding board.
The audience laughs wholeheartedly...

And the dusty curtain falls,
The memory of grand satin curtain falling with it.

Meanwhile, behind the curtain,
The puppet has sat back up and has brought his knees up to his face.
He sighs deeply,
And falls back into dusty dis-animation.

The light that had illuminated the platform flickers back on,
But the puppeteer is gone.
So I look back at the stage, at the puppet,
But it’s gone too.

The End