theatre things that remind me of the hogwarts houses
gryffindor: auditioning for the first time, being alone on stage, long choreography rehearsals, the adrenaline of opening night, designing the set on the grid, hauling furniture onto the set, cue to cues, writing a play, improv comedy, waiting at the stage door after a show.
hufflepuff: getting flowers and gifts backstage, taking the final curtain call, highlighting lines, bringing snacks to rehearsal, read-throughs, pulling costumes from stock, set dressing, paint swatches, warm lighting design, perfectly blended sound, directing, waking into a theater you’ve never been in before.
ravenclaw: character analysis, memorizing lines, learning tight harmonies, having the show become second nature, stage makeup, set construction, costume fittings, mic checks, organized prop tables, writing cues, stage managing, experimental theatre, saving old playbills and ticket stubs.
slytherin: callbacks, practicing after rehearsal, selling program ads, an understudy/swing going on for the first time, fight calls, strike, production meetings, late night paint calls, cool-toned lighting design, spiking the stage, fly rails, producing, watching a bootleg, playbill giveaways.
concept: a vampire novel about a theater tech who gets bitten by a vampire and begins to turn and they have to keep it a secret and they’re like “oh no how will i ever keep this from my family and friends what will i do angst angst angst”
but no one notices for ages
and finally when someone does find out, the tech is like “how did you never notice that in the past year, i haven’t gone outside when it’s daylight, eaten anything, or let anyone take any pictures of me? or that i’ve gotten sickly and pale or that i’ve been staying up all night? or that i’ve been distant and avoided human interaction?”
- You dream of the stage. The spotlight shines on you, the audience holds their breath for you to speak. Your lines, someone mouths to you. You do not know who, you did not see them, you did not hear them. You cannot remember your lines. You look down, a cold sweat forming on your brow. You notice that you are in your underwear. The audience stares. You are not dreaming.
- Backstage, you wait. Standing alone in the darkness of the wing, a black shape shifts past you. You have no proof of them other than the breeze felt by their passing and the shadow you thought you caught in the corner of your eye. Another shape moves past, behind you. Another, in front. Perhaps they aren’t passing you, perhaps they’re coming closer, together. The techies. They move.
- You wait in center stage for the light to come on. It is only dark. It has been dark for as long as you can remember. A low buzzing can be heard, and the stage lights begin to glow, softly, growing brighter, quickly. They are so bright now. You cannot see the audience. You look down, you cannot see your hands. It is so bright. You can no longer feel your body, you are no longer a physical form.
- You shower after the show, trying to wash off the stage makeup. The water runs flesh color at first, then black. There is so much makeup. Glitter falls from your hair. Why is there glitter? You think. I will never be clean, you whisper into the dark recesses beyond the drain. Eyelashes are falling now, in clumps, whether they are fake or real you do not know. Everything falls, everything is washed away. You become faceless, and yet streaks of waterproof mascara remain.
- You are only called by your character name, you can not remember the last time you were called by your real name. You can not remember your real name. You are changing.
- Red leather, yellow leather, they chant. The step closer to you, circling you. There is no escape. They chant softly at first, growing louder, walking faster. They break into a jazz run, they are screaming now. You try to chant as well, you try to keep up. You are sweating, yelling. Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather yellow leather. They are coming towards you, waiting for you to fail, to fall. Red yellow, leather pleather, you finally slip. They close in. You have lost.
-You stare into the bright blackness beyond the stage. Someone in the shadows is moving a search light. It roves over the stage, hunting. You wonder what they are searching for. You hope it isn’t you.
-Lights pop and explode. A sandbag falls. The curtain catches you in the back of the head. The theater does not like you. The theater wants you gone. But belligerently, stupidly, you persist.
-There are two of you now. You have two names and two voices. You wake up in the morning and a voice is whispering your lines. Which one of you is the real one? You do not remember.
-Who is playing the piano? No one knows. Who is singing? Everyone is singing. No one is singing.
-You are backstage and everything is black and red. You crouch out of the light. You hide behind the prop table. If anyone sees you, something terrible will happen.
- Your face is strange and thick with makeup. You do not look like you. You wonder if the circus will take you away soon.
- Did you sleep? Did you eat? Did you go to school today? You can’t remember. Time is only real inside the theater.
- You look at the rehearsal schedule. The word “hell” stares back at you. That’s where you belong now.
-You move in carefully planned ways. You do not deviate. You move the way you are meant to. You do it again and again and again.
- Someone is sawing. Another person moves past you covered in paint. You do not know them. They frighten you. They are too strong, and they do not answer to you. “Without them there would not be a show,” you whisper to yourself. You are grateful for the set, but they dress in black and speak words you do not understand. You say nothing.
-Left is not left and right is not right. Up is down and down is up. Physics do not exist in the theater.