Bad Sci-Fi from when I was 14

They had once all been equal. Each had played a pivotal role in the supplying a network of other villages with enough for survival. Long ago they had all had names. Time had faded these, much like the villagers themselves.

They were a tired people. Tired of working the land, tired of fear. Tired of trying to regain what had been lost. Once, all had a fierce pride in the goods produced and defended their village. Once, each village had been more prosperous than the next, with crowds of people flocking to each one to begin trade, or to purchase goods for their own communities. Every year, the Hub would begin to become more lively as spring grew closer and closer. Festivals and celebrations were celebrated to each village’s god of choice.

Eventually, things changed. New towns and cities offered things cheaper and faster. Trade fell off. Colors faded, as did the memory of the splendor of the country that was once Heldengust.

CHAPTER 1

Anyon walked disgustedly between the rows in his mother’s garden. His eye was still smarting from his most recent encounter with the village bully, Oram.

“Anyon. Sounds like Onion,” he muttered angrily. It was a taunt he had heard since he was a young child. He kicked at an onion shoot in dismay. It cracked and bent. Immediately, Anyon felt guilty.

Checking to make sure no one was watching, he settled himself on the ground next to the damaged shoot. He took a deep breath and cupped the shoot gently between his hands. Light flared around his fingertips. Anyon settled back, a light sweat sprouting on his brow. Without warning, his head began to throb. He got up and settled himself against a nearby tree. He glanced at the shoot in satisfaction. It stood just as it had before his attack, straight and proud.

He smiled and leaned back farther against the tree. He shut his eyes and listened. He could feel the rough bark under his scalp and heard the whisper of the leaves above him in the wind. With the song of nature in his ears, he drifted off to sleep.

Why I Do Theatre

I do theatre because I love it, and I find myself in it. I am not truly happy untill I am on a stage, or rehearsing to be on one. There’s a reason I put up with idiots, mean people, jerks and weird-os…because I love it too much to give it up.

I love the moment where your mind goes blank–you stop thinking about anything and you find yourself still singing and dancing and acting, but this time, you’re actually in the moment. You’ve reached elysium.

I love the late night drives home in the quiet, knowing that you’re superior to the other late night drivers on the road because you’ve just come down off of your post-show high.

I love having dual styles: on stage and off. I love explaining to restaurant workers and gas station attendants that I’m not a hooker, I just haven’t taken off my stage make-up yet.

I love listening to a standing ovation, even if it’s not for me. I love sitting back stage just waiting to go on, and I love the anticipation of opening nights and the bittersweet closing nights.

I love the rediculous amounts of partying that happens after the show. I love meeting the best friends I have, and being able to say goodbye (but not really because you know that in 2 months you’ll see eachother again).

I love knowing that I’ve made life-long friendships…and maybe some enemies. I love dealing with the drama that goes with community theatre. I love sitting around and listening to tales of “the good old days”, when pick-up rehearsals were a joke and the theatre was still outdoors.

I love just sitting around playing cards and laughing with my friends, or assisting with a rediculously quick costume change. I love the tension in a stuck zipper or a missing shoe, and I love the sense of being a “somebody” that happens when you get a body mike for the first time.

I love the stank-assness that happens in the dressing rooms and I love playing “spot the costume/set/prop/actor” at invited dress. I love listening to people bitch about bad reviewers, but never attempting to review themselves.

I love doing the little things that people don’t notice, like vaccuuming or taking out the trash, and just knowng that i did something for the betterment of all, as jaded and misguided as that sounds.

I love coming home to a filthy room because you haven’t had time to clean it. I love being a fast-food connesuir. I love knowing the waitress’ name at Steak n Shake because that’s our “spot”. .

I hate the blisters that are permanantly scarred onto my feet, but i love knowing that they got there doing something I love. I love coming home covered in paint and smelling like sweat and sawdust before the show starts.

I love the smell of the theatre, and I love picking the paint off the floor while we listen to notes. I love looking down into the pit and seeing my friends making faces at me whilst I try not to laugh.

I love everything about it..even the bad times. Times when you don’t get a part, or your costume sucks, or you hate the show, or everything seems to be going wrong…even then I still love it.

and I always will. and knowing that I’v found what makes me whole is a wonderfull feeling.