For Caitlin who helps me with everything, and inspires me, and pushes me to do things, like write this. . And for Molly, my lovely editor, friend, and supporter. You girls are wonderful.
Disclaimer: I don't own Cabaret. End of story.
The Master of the Ceremonies walked out of his dark corner of the stage, and into the spotlight.
His lips, red with lipstick, spread across his pale face into what seemed to be a smile.
"Wilkommen, bievenue, welcome! Friends, estranger, stranger."
Every night he comes out to trick the audience into not thinking. He brings them into his world. He helps them to forgot their troubles.
"Here, life is beautiful. The girls are beautiful. Even the orchestra is beautiful."
His performance was flawless. He was flawless.
"Auf weidersehen. A bientot!"
He
came and went each night. Who was he? Was he a ghost who haunted the
cabaret?
His smile certainly was ghastly. And his eyes dark, and
emotionless.
Did he have a name? Was he alive? Why was he here?
Each time he steps into the stage, I look for a weakness, but it is a hopeless quest. I know there is nothing there.
I
tell myself he comes here to escape like the rest of us. I tell
myself that he is lonely, and that he has no where else to go.
Some
nights I believe it.