The community theater in Nyack, a ten minute drive north of Piermont (the city where the actual house serving as the Williams' House is located and was filmed, so naturally the town where I've set my story thus far), is the Elmwood Community Players, Inc., but I did not want to use their name in my story for probable legal reasons, and the play I've chosen doesn't line up with their performance history (though, they did Pack of Lies in '79 and it does have a role for Sarah's age—still, don't want to use their info without their permission).
Curse of the Starving Class is a real play written in the late 1970s. The woman who originated the role of Emma was in her late 20s, though the character is young enough to have just started her period. I studied this play in an acting class.
OPEN AUDITION
Curse of the Starving Class - Sam Shepard
Saturday, May 28, 1988.
Straitham Auditorium.
Registration: 9am
Auditions: 10am - 1pm; break 1pm - 1:30pm. Overflow auditions 1:30pm - 2:30pm.
Callbacks: 3pm - 6pm
Sarah held the flyer tightly. She sat waiting in the lobby of the Nyack Community Theater amidst auditionees of various ages, ethnicities, and aesthetic. Sarah was experienced enough to not experience crippling stage fright. Yet, the familiar tickle of nerves was there in her belly. She couldn't help but be a bit worried when looking at her competition; the crowd was a bit larger than previous years' and many auditioners were dressed nicer than herself.
Sarah had showed up early and had been afforded first pick at her audition slot; she chose the very first opening at 10am. She knew this meant she would have to wait all day until callbacks, but she also knew how much a first impression was worth.
Sarah was hoping for the role of Emma. The character of Emma was young, as she was a girl who has just had her first period. Yet, the actress who has premiered the role had been in her late 20's. Sarah's build was slight; she thought she could pull off 13 or 14 years old, though she wasn't the shortest girl. She hoped the director and production team would cast tall parents.
Sarah's classical monologue was one of Hermia's from A Midsummer Night's Dream and her modern monologue was "Where do you think babies come from?" from Agnes of God. Sarah knew her modern choice was risky; Agnes was a young adult rather than a kid, but Sarah hoped the darker theme and maturity-yet-play-innocence would help her win the judges' approval.
Sarah breathed slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. She didn't know the time, but she knew she would be called any time now. She tightened and released her shoulders, working out any tension her adrenaline brought into her muscles. She closed her eyes and mentally ran through her lines.
"Sarah Williams," called a woman in her early thirties from the open stage door, left hand on the doorknob and right hand holding a clipboard. She was dressed in a black T-shirt with a walkie-talkie clipped to her belt. Sarah assumed she was the assistant stage manager; Sarah was familiar with Arlene, the head stage manager, from past shows. Sarah handed the woman four copies of her resume and headshot.
"After I distribute these to the panel, count to thirty and come on stage. State your name, role for which you're auditioning, and audition materials," said the woman with a bob of her sand-colored ponytail.
Sarah nodded and said thank you, feeling the muscles of her stomach tighten. She took a deep breath and held it tight before exhaling gratuitously.
"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty..." She counted and stepped onstage, sure of herself and poised.
"Can you believe them?!" scoffed Jareth as he chewed on a leftover meat pie crust. "Really, they dare to question my authority? I have never shown anything but direct and more than adequate leadership. How can they be so critical of my dabbling with a human? Is she not good enough for them?"
"She's a champion," said a particularly tiny goblin sitting on Jareth's boot as the king paced, particularly enjoying the ride.
"She never gave up," said another goblin, affirming his original observation he had made many years prior.
"She didn't, did she?" voiced the king with a smirk. "Just a human. She is Champion of the Labyrinth. What more does she need to be in order to gain their trust? What more do I need to do to show them she is worthy?" he continued, kicking the pint-sized goblin from his boot, causing a long, drawn-out "weeee" that brought the throne room to a boisterous amount of laugher.
"...not that I care," continued Jareth indifferently as the cacophony immediately ceased when he spoke. "How can she already not be enough for them? She has already successfully seized the certain powers I've granted her." His voice grew quiet. Dangerous.
"I'll show them."
Then his eyes brightened with an idea. His mouth, now agape, curled up into a slow and mischievous smile.
"I'll show them... Bring me the Wiseman!"
Sarah didn't know what to make of the audition. She thought she had done well. The adrenaline of an audition often erased the immediate memory of the actual process. As her nerves calmed and her head cleared she was able to evaluate her presentation. It had been authentic enough. Perhaps she had spoken a little too dramatically rather than innocently in her modern piece.
Sarah sat at a round picnic table in the little park neighboring the theater. Young oak trees dotted the area of green grass and identically shaped wooden tables. Her watch read 1:17PM, which meant the director and audition panel were on break.
A voice cut into her thoughts.
"Sooo how'd it go?"
Sarah looked up to see Brad sauntering up with that knockout smile of his on display.
She smiled back. "What are you doing here?"
"My aunt lives in this neighborhood. Came for a visit while my cousin is back in town from college. I remembered you had your audition today, and I swung by hoping for a little luck."
"Well, it's your lucky day," Sarah remarked cheekily.
"So," he queried while sitting down, "you didn't answer; how did it go?"
"Well enough."
"That's not very specific."
"I did well, really. As a general statement anyhow. There were things I would definitely change if I could."
"That's the case with anything," Brad said as he picked a blade of grass. He slowly stripped it into hair-thin strands and flicked each one away after they contracted into tiny curly-Qs.
"Ya," said Sarah, disappearing into her thoughts again.
Brad brought her back out
"When will you know the results?"
"They should release the results for callbacks within the next ten or fifteen minutes. Maybe sooner."
"And, of course, you will be called back."
Sarah scoffed. "I don't know about that, but that would be definitely be nice."
As if on cue, the assistant stage manager (Sarah had since learned that her name was Ginger) came out to the cork bulletin board next to the entrance and tacked a sheet of paper smartly in the center.
Sarah jumped up, too nervous to be embarrassed for her candor
She respectfully brought herself as close as possible without bumping Ginger out of the way.
Callbacks:
Weston: ...
Ella: ...
Sarah scanned the list of roles and names. Her heart sunk as she did not find her name listed. The butterflies in her stomach plummeted and then turned to cold stone.
She felt Brad's hand rest on her shoulder and squeeze in reassurance.
"Always next time," he said.
She turned to go, but stopped when Ginger pulled out another piece of paper.
Casting.
Wesley: Aiden Mathers
Emma: Sarah Williams
Sarah gasped. Brad gave a little victory woot.
"Or this time," he added.
Sarah couldn't contain her ear-to-ear grin and spun around in glee, catching Brad in a tight hug.
"Oh!" she said in surprise and stepped back, a blush creeping up her neck.
Brad just stood there beaming and grinned. "Now that your evening is free, why don't we go get something to eat? I drove myself."
"You have a car?" Sarah asked incredulously.
"Well, ya," he said with a suave shrug of the shoulders.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Sarah said and linked her arm in Brad's.
In the nearby tree, a barn owl perched. It puffed up and ruffled its feathers, eyes narrowed.
"So, precious," Jareth thought to himself, "you find this mewling quim worthy of your attentions. You'll change your mind soon enough."
The Goblin King stood in the castle library leaning on a sapphire bejeweled walking cane. He picked it up and rolled it thoughtfully between his hands, admiring the many volumes in the kingdom's collection. Books of every shape and size, color and hue, topic and genre were stuffed into great, oak shelves that covered the entire walls of the wide, expansive room. This was the tallest room in the castle—even taller than the ballroom, which existed only as an enchantment.
Some members of the Gentry milled about searching for books while some sat on settees reading; they stopped to bow whenever they passed their king.
The Wiseman lumbered up to his king with an ancient book in hand. The goblin gave a bow as low as his old knees and rickety back would allow—so he simply nodded.
"I hate this room," said the hat. Neither its owner nor king acknowledged it had spoken.
"Well?" asked the king. You said you needed time to consult the ancient texts. You've had time. Can it be done?"
"I...have read—" began the Wiseman, cut off by his hat.
"I hate it because it is a library. You have to be quiet in a library. Talking is all I have."
"Will you please be quiet," articulated the Wiseman. He continued. "I have read nothing saying it cannot be done. But, I have also read nothing saying it can be done."
"Goblins and Fae have been doing it for centuries. I don't see why the magic should be any different for our situation," observed the king.
"I wouldn't quite say that," remarked the Wiseman. Jareth waited for him to continue, but the Wiseman began to snore.
Jareth stamped his cane sharply upon the floor, causing many in the room to jump or exclaimed. The Wiseman awoke with a sputter.
"E-excuse me. Now, I wouldn't say that. The change is a dramatic one. For a babies or very young children, it isn't so bad. They are growing. The change happens relatively quickly, but latches right onto the changes their bodies are already enduring. If an adult were to undergo the change...I fear, their body may not be able to endure it."
"You mean they might be killed?"
"I...do not know for certain. Their body would almost definitely reject the change. It is the rejection of this change that could end them."
"Luckily, Sarah is not an adult."
"By human legal standards."
"What is that supposed to mean?" the king retorted, not minding that his voice had risen.
"She is not an adult by human legal standards. One must be 18 to have legal standing. One must be 21 to consume fermented drink. However, there was a time when 16 was considered adulthood. In some of their countries, one may marry as young as 12. Still...their bodies mature until as late as 25. Sarah's female body has already begun to perform its natural cycle, yet her anatomy has not reached its peak development."
"Well then," Jareth began, "she should be fine."
"Jareth," the Wiseman warned, using his monarch's name. Jareth shifted uncomfortably; if anyone else had addressed him in such an informal manner, he would have inflicted punishment worse than the Bog of Eternal Stench. The Wiseman had seen the coronation which preceded Jareth's, and the one before that, and even the one before that. The Goblin King gave respect to few people, yet the Wiseman earned it. He was knowledgeable and intelligent. He was thoughtful and...
Asleep. He was asleep again. Jareth sighed and knocked his cane against the Wiseman's left calf. The old goblin opened his eyes and continued as if nothing had happened.
"Jareth, she will not be in our world. Who knows if a transition can even happen outside of a magical realm?"
"I've granted her certain powers. She has championed the Labyrinth. I am certain it is nothing she can't handle."
"Know this," began the Wiseman, "it will not be swift. Once the change begins, you cannot go back. No one has ever undone the change. You risk a great deal."
"And I will gain a great deal more."
The king had spoken.
The Wiseman had seen many kings and queens act foolishly out of the fiery passion they called love. Many reaped rewards and benefits. But, for as many triumphs the Wiseman has seen, he had also seen failures. He had witnessed loss and misfortune, trials and tribulations. He prayed his king would not lose the one he held dearest in the pursuit of that very being.
Sarah threw her head back in a hearty laugh.
"I swear it," said Brad "God's honest truth. Craziest Thanksgiving ever. You can imagine, we had everything except turkey for dinner that year."
"I'm sure everyone learned their lessons: your uncles should lay off the beer and—who knew—turkeys can fly."
Brad laughed. "Yaaaa. At least they're a fun group. Love 'em all to death."
The pair were sitting with Chinese takeout in the park where Sarah rehearsed her lines. The weather seemed perfect and the park was abandoned, save for an elderly couple and their equally-as-elderly corgi on a distant bench.
A silence fell over them. Sarah became intensely aware of their thighs touching as they sat next to each other. His nearness became a palpable thing in the air.
"So," Brad said, clearing his throat, "what's your plans after high school.
A generic question; Sarah had her answer down to a script. But, she enjoyed telling people about her interests. "I plan on going to school for acting."
And just like that, the conversation was off and running again. They were two kids dreaming about the future, sharing the joys and woes about leaving their hometown. The conversation flowed easily, and the pair lost track of time.
"I guess we better get going," Brad said.
"Ya, I guess," agreed Sarah half-heartedly, sad for the end of their private little slice of time together.
"Maybe after senior year we'll end up not too far from each other. That'd be nice," Brad said, as if leading to something.
"Yes, it would," said Sarah, feeling a shift in the atmosphere, again becoming aware of his thigh touching hers, his left arm behind her shoulders resting on the back of the bench.
"Hey, we still have a whole year to worry about that. And summer." He leaned in a little nearer.
"Yes, we do," said Sarah. Her pulse began to quicken.
"I'm...glad for that," he said, a little awkwardly,
"Me too," agreed Sarah, turning her face and body towards him a little more.
Brad leaned in and kissed Sarah. She welcomed the kiss, and leaned into his embrace. It was soft and gentle, and Sarah felt time slip away as she enjoyed the comfort of such a sweet kiss.
A barn own circled high overhead. Normal owls did not circle, but this one could not take his gaze off of what he saw below.
Oh precious, it is a dangerous game you play. Do not worry; I play it better. I will not see you in your dreams tonight, but I will be there. Tonight, we begin your ascent to greatness. I will make you feel as though you belong in my world. I will make you into an equal—greater—than those who would question your right to the throne and my affections. These mere mortals will soon be beneath you. You will have no choice but to come to me, to come home.
Tonight you will start your journey as a changling.
