Caitlin with the abnormally wide eyed Sarah sat in the back row in
Springwoods small theater. An audition for the brand new musical, first
time they ever did one, was today. Caitlin looked over to her obviously
disturbed companion as she leaned against the theater style velvet soft
seats, putting her feet and crossing the left over the right foot on top of
the other chair. "Are you okay?" The girl asks, while crossing her arms.
Sarah sunk back into her seat, nervously. She wore a patched pink and black
skirt, with black fishnet stockings, and black boots. Following a clear
black see-through peasant vest, and a hot pink tank top. Her hair was black
today, with some blue streaks through her bob style, banged hair cut. Sarah
blinks her dark eyelashes, which curled ever so easily. "Fine." She
manages. If you would call almost being raped by some fag in a Christmas
sweater fine, she adds mentally.
"Welcome, welcome!" The over dramatic, and probably gay, theater teacher announces the students welcome on stage. "My name is Justin." he adds his surname with a dramatic effect, his voice still very feminine like. "Moranthose! Justin Moranthose! And I shall be.your.director!" He finishes, taking a bow as if he did the best play in the whole wide world. He stood up straight, and clasps his hands together grinning widely. "The play you will be auditioning for is: Phantom of the Opera. Story of a disfigured man who loves a woman, who can't love him in return!" He sighs, for extra dramatic effect. The man wore a black jumpsuit, black shiny as hell boots, his neat spiked up brunette hair was too neat, and he wore silver shades hiding his blue eyes. "First, we will do." he pauses, again, for effect. "The singing first!"
Good god.
People of various sizes and shapes walked up the stairs to the center of the stage. All the guys had two choices: Erik's script sheet: Music of the Night. Or Raoul's: All I ask of you. The girls sang Christine's first part in the title song. Some did great, some did horrible, and others just stood in fear, frozen. This is almost what Caitlin did.
Caitlin stood on stage, her mouth agape, no sound or words coming out. The over actor/director sat in his seat, crossed leg, awaiting for her to go. To emphasis his boredom, he checks his gold watch.
Breath. Breath. Opera was probably one of the hardest things to learn, so much wind has to come through her throat out of your mouth. Sit up straight, drink tons of water so no sugar can cause your voice not to sound as well, and breathe while singing. Sopranos are much respected, like angelic silver bells. Caitlin had opera lessons as well as ballet; the ballet never went too good, since she could remember. Just breathe.
"In dreams he sang to me," the terrified five foot girl finally let out. "In dreams he came, that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name." A mezzo-soprano, just like Sarah Brightman was. Though, she could never compare herself to her, some bid to differ. Her voice was a little lower than Sarah yet still possesses a rare talent. "And do I dream again? For now I find." Her notes rise higher, as she stood up straighter. "The Phantom of the Opera is there: inside my mind." After she did that, now was the real test if she could pull of Christine Daae, The vocalization at the end. Something Caitlin has been dreading for a month. She sighs, taking breath before she begins. It required going from low to and high e-flat, while working your way there. Now, almost anyone can hit an e-flat, but to make it un shrilled is the hardest thing to do.
She stood up even straighter, running through her mind all the flats and notes then opens her mouth again. About thirty seconds tops later, her voice getting higher as she lets the notes come out of her mouth. Finally, the last flat came. The tiniest mistake could cost a lot, once it came out she was done. She sighs, breathing labouredly. She opens her eyes and looks around her. The kids, following the director of this musical, just stared at her. The first person to speak was a blue haired anti - social outcast, giggling manically. "That was fo'shezzy, fool!" She declares profoundly. The other out cast, a freshman, sat beside her. Tinier than she was, with strawberry blonde hair. "Feel my penis!"
The director clears his throat. "Very nice..NEXT!!"
It was so cold.
Maggie Burroughs sat on her bed, shivering. She threw her long legs over the side, and stood up. She found the cause, the window was left open. Sighing she shuts it and bolts it closed. Her room was very plain. White walls, only with blue trimming. Her bed was brown and white, with a extra blue quilt her adopted mother made her when she was eighteen. She crawled back into the warm sheets, pulling them up to her chin, always so cold.
The window opened again, bringing more cold air into the Room. Maggie sat up in bed in alarm. "What?" she murmurs under her breath. She gets out of the warm safeness of her bed and walks slowly over to the window. She closes it again, as it opens again. This time, a familiar burnt face pops out of the window, raising his gloved knived hand inches away from her face threateningly.
"Daddy's back!" He says in his horrible gritty voice to his daughter, whose face perspired in sweat. She backed away, her mouth agape. Her normal olive skin turned pale, her hair was down, behind her ears like he remember her. Just a tad streak of gray. Her chocolate brown eyes stare at him in astonishment.
"You're.I.I.killed you!" She manages at last, her feet moving backward against the soft blue carpet.
Freddy, now standing behind her in a place, puts his gloved hand on his daughters shoulder, making her shiver. "Kat, you should know.." He leans in closely, inchest to her ear, his breath breathing down her skin menacingly. "I'm forever." He says, grinning wickedly, his gritty voice darkly chuckles. "Say hello to Caitlin for me, Princess."
Maggie Burroughs sat up in her bed, sweat dampens her hair, making it wavy. Her chest heaved up and down, she puts a hand over her heart as it thumbs a million miles a minette. How? Why?
She turned to look, the window was open. But this time, she made no move to close it.
"Welcome, welcome!" The over dramatic, and probably gay, theater teacher announces the students welcome on stage. "My name is Justin." he adds his surname with a dramatic effect, his voice still very feminine like. "Moranthose! Justin Moranthose! And I shall be.your.director!" He finishes, taking a bow as if he did the best play in the whole wide world. He stood up straight, and clasps his hands together grinning widely. "The play you will be auditioning for is: Phantom of the Opera. Story of a disfigured man who loves a woman, who can't love him in return!" He sighs, for extra dramatic effect. The man wore a black jumpsuit, black shiny as hell boots, his neat spiked up brunette hair was too neat, and he wore silver shades hiding his blue eyes. "First, we will do." he pauses, again, for effect. "The singing first!"
Good god.
People of various sizes and shapes walked up the stairs to the center of the stage. All the guys had two choices: Erik's script sheet: Music of the Night. Or Raoul's: All I ask of you. The girls sang Christine's first part in the title song. Some did great, some did horrible, and others just stood in fear, frozen. This is almost what Caitlin did.
Caitlin stood on stage, her mouth agape, no sound or words coming out. The over actor/director sat in his seat, crossed leg, awaiting for her to go. To emphasis his boredom, he checks his gold watch.
Breath. Breath. Opera was probably one of the hardest things to learn, so much wind has to come through her throat out of your mouth. Sit up straight, drink tons of water so no sugar can cause your voice not to sound as well, and breathe while singing. Sopranos are much respected, like angelic silver bells. Caitlin had opera lessons as well as ballet; the ballet never went too good, since she could remember. Just breathe.
"In dreams he sang to me," the terrified five foot girl finally let out. "In dreams he came, that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name." A mezzo-soprano, just like Sarah Brightman was. Though, she could never compare herself to her, some bid to differ. Her voice was a little lower than Sarah yet still possesses a rare talent. "And do I dream again? For now I find." Her notes rise higher, as she stood up straighter. "The Phantom of the Opera is there: inside my mind." After she did that, now was the real test if she could pull of Christine Daae, The vocalization at the end. Something Caitlin has been dreading for a month. She sighs, taking breath before she begins. It required going from low to and high e-flat, while working your way there. Now, almost anyone can hit an e-flat, but to make it un shrilled is the hardest thing to do.
She stood up even straighter, running through her mind all the flats and notes then opens her mouth again. About thirty seconds tops later, her voice getting higher as she lets the notes come out of her mouth. Finally, the last flat came. The tiniest mistake could cost a lot, once it came out she was done. She sighs, breathing labouredly. She opens her eyes and looks around her. The kids, following the director of this musical, just stared at her. The first person to speak was a blue haired anti - social outcast, giggling manically. "That was fo'shezzy, fool!" She declares profoundly. The other out cast, a freshman, sat beside her. Tinier than she was, with strawberry blonde hair. "Feel my penis!"
The director clears his throat. "Very nice..NEXT!!"
It was so cold.
Maggie Burroughs sat on her bed, shivering. She threw her long legs over the side, and stood up. She found the cause, the window was left open. Sighing she shuts it and bolts it closed. Her room was very plain. White walls, only with blue trimming. Her bed was brown and white, with a extra blue quilt her adopted mother made her when she was eighteen. She crawled back into the warm sheets, pulling them up to her chin, always so cold.
The window opened again, bringing more cold air into the Room. Maggie sat up in bed in alarm. "What?" she murmurs under her breath. She gets out of the warm safeness of her bed and walks slowly over to the window. She closes it again, as it opens again. This time, a familiar burnt face pops out of the window, raising his gloved knived hand inches away from her face threateningly.
"Daddy's back!" He says in his horrible gritty voice to his daughter, whose face perspired in sweat. She backed away, her mouth agape. Her normal olive skin turned pale, her hair was down, behind her ears like he remember her. Just a tad streak of gray. Her chocolate brown eyes stare at him in astonishment.
"You're.I.I.killed you!" She manages at last, her feet moving backward against the soft blue carpet.
Freddy, now standing behind her in a place, puts his gloved hand on his daughters shoulder, making her shiver. "Kat, you should know.." He leans in closely, inchest to her ear, his breath breathing down her skin menacingly. "I'm forever." He says, grinning wickedly, his gritty voice darkly chuckles. "Say hello to Caitlin for me, Princess."
Maggie Burroughs sat up in her bed, sweat dampens her hair, making it wavy. Her chest heaved up and down, she puts a hand over her heart as it thumbs a million miles a minette. How? Why?
She turned to look, the window was open. But this time, she made no move to close it.