When I managed to secure myself a ticket for the newest play by the famously reclusive playwright Porcher, I was decently pleased. It was, of course, to be expected that someone of my station would be attending the premiere of such great prestige, but it was nonetheless advertised that seats would be extremely limited, and so it did take me some time and a bit of string-pulling to achieve it. But nonetheless, I ultimately did manage. In the meantime, I had heard many rumors about the play from within my social circles - supposedly, there had been a number of incidents during the production, with two actors even having to be replaced due to being unable to continue. While I cared little for the theater, this did add an air of mystique to the event which made me at least a little excited for the premiere.
When the evening came, it was a fabulous gala event, as could be expected. People of wealth and prestige, all arriving in their finery to witness something that would have mattered little to most of them, were it not for the exuberant price of entry. But of course, that was all part and parcel at these events, and the ability to mingle with some of society's elite was worth the admission all on its own. Once everyone had arrived, we were directed to our seats. Interestingly, there appeared to be a seating plan in place, one which was not reflected by the tickets, but rather revealed to use there and then. Another example of the eccentricity of a genius, I thought to myself. A necessity to stand out in this day and age, among the scores of other geniuses who all vied for the spotlight. All sat down, and the lights eventually dimmed. As they did, a faint chant began. From whence it came, I couldn't say - a chorus of voice would sing in unison, to which a single, immensely deep voice responded, all in a language that I was unfamiliar with. This went on for a minute, with the audience growing increasingly confused, before the chant subsided and the curtain rose.
The opening acts of the play were surprisingly banal, boring even - had I been a connoisseur of this sort of nonsense, perhaps I would be able to appreciate it on some deep, fundamental level. As it was, however, the piece was merely a piece of dialogue between three characters, presumably siblings, arguing over the funeral arrangements for a recently-diseased relative, which seemed to be their father, or perhaps an uncle. The first act merely consisted of the characters arguing over the arrangements, and then over the relative's possessions. No will had apparently been left behind, so the characters were going to search for something to indicate how their relative had wished for things to be split. The first act, despite feeling unending, was quite short, and ended then. The second, significantly longer act opened with numerous characters occupying the scene. This seemed to be the relative's funeral, with many characters grieving, and a priest giving a eulogy. However, while most characters were sitting down, crying or simply listening to the speech, one stood in the back, apart from the rest. His face was concealed by a pale mask, which revealed no discernable facial features. The rest of his body was entirely concealed by faded, green-ish robes and a hood.
None of the other characters in the scene so much as acknowledged the character, and yet I could tell that it was drawing the fascination of more than just myself - some people around me began whispering, even as they were swiftly hushed and became silent once more. As the scene went on, the masked character began moving around the room, and I must admit that I had completely given up on following the story at this point. The scene changed, and the characters were standing over the relative's possessions. My only thought were on the masked character - he did not seem to be in the scene. I started searching for him. Eventually, I found him. He stood on the rafters above, looking down at the events below. I also noticed that his clothing has only appeared green due to the lighting - now I could see that the faded color was, in fact, not what I had initially assumed it to be. I suddenly felt my attention snapped back to the events on the stage, though I could not say why. One of the characters opened a book, presumably from among their relative's possessions. In it was a letter. She began reading the letter. The words, though I could not understand them, seemed familiar somehow. I realized then that they were the chant from before the curtains rose. But before I could truly process this information, the scene changed once more.
Something dreadful began to spread among the audience. I can only really approximate what it was by calling it a mood, or perhaps an aura - a feeling that something terribly wrong was happening, or about to happen. I saw others around me nervously clutching and crushing their programs, while others yet were chewing their fingers bloody. A man with a pen and a notepad - likely a reviewer - had started scribbling furiously on the paper. I found myself pulling a thread on my suit, slowly unraveling the expensive garment. I regained control of myself, and looked down at the stage. A ball of some sort was happening down there, but there was no music. The dancing seemed eerie, almost ethereal, as the actors continued moving to something that only existed in their minds. The masked character was nowhere to be seen, not even around the stage. Then I saw him, and I had to keep myself from screaming out loud. He was here, standing a few rows behind me. He said nothing, did nothin, simply stood there. I noticed other people reacting to the same revelation, though it seemed that to all of them, he was similarly close, regardless of how far they were situated from me. I did not have time to dwell on this strangeness, though - for he began walking towards me.
I wanted to get out of my seat, to run, and indeed I saw several other people do just that. I stayed put. As horrifying as this was, I figured it was part of the experience, part of whatever the genius playwright wanted to convey. So I stayed, right up until the masked character stood right in front of me. He looked at me, not with any eyes, but with the faceless mask - and I noticed that while it lacked facial features, it was certainly not blank. Something reached out from under the cloak, and began removing the mask. As it slowly slid down his face, I felt my fear intensifying, until... The figure disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I looked at the stage. The silent dancing seemed to have reached a crescendo. All of the actors were wearing masks now. Their dancing seemed almost rapturous at this point, the movements becoming inhumanly quick and graceful. And then, as one, the actors fell to the ground. Everything was quiet. The scene changed. It was now the third act. It seemed there would not be an interlude. The stage was empty, save for a music box with a ballerina standing in the middle. A light illuminated it, and the music box began playing a slow tune.
Scene change. A number of the actors stood and chanted in unison. Behind them stood the masked one, not doing anything whatsoever. Suddenly, the actors switched to English. "A joyous day!" one proclaimed. "Truly, a day of joy!" another agreed. "A child, born into this world anew!" "Death unmade!" The statements continued, but at this point, I decided I had enough of the insanity. Expensive tickets or not, something was truly unsettling about this performance, and I did not wish to continue. Only then did I find, like many others before me, that I could not leave. The doors were locked, and pounding on them while screaming as some of the other guests had resorted to doing seemed to have no effect. I wondered to myself how I had not noticed them before - but I figured that whatever enchantment the play put me under had resulted in it. Left with no other choice, I looked down at the stage once again. The actors, still masked, were all standing in a circle around... Something. It was a raised stone altar, but my fascination came from what laid upon it.
The thing on the altar seemed like a writhing mass of flesh, with grasping arms feebly pawing at the air. A mewling sound came from it. "The child must feed," one of the actors said. "It must grow, and become strong," another answered. "Feed the child," a third one chimed in. One of the actors stepped closer to the altar. He did not resist as one of the arms felt him. Then three more shot out, and grabbed the man. He was pulled into the mass. I heard screams somewhere, but they were so far away. The other actors began moving frantically. I saw two of them strangling one another. Three of them were in the process of disemboweling a colleague, all of them seeming unnaturally calm during the process. I looked around me. Whatever madness was causing it had started spreading to the audience. And I saw that among the audience, some had begun transforming. Their faces formed into masks, while their clothes became a sickly color which spread to cover their bodies in a hooded cloak. Others were partaking in the orgy of violence that was quickly spreading from the stage. I felt warm blood splashing my face, and looked down, and saw the calmly smiling face of a man whose eyes I had just gouged out between my hands. The thing on the altar was pulsing violently, growing with each wraking movement. And with a smile, I joined the chant with the rest of my fellows, welcoming the newborn to our world.