Nimue

After the Singing

After the owl had finished singing, the pussy cat was silent, staring out at the softly rolling waves.

"Well, my dear, how did you like it?" the owl asked, a trifle nervously. He had been wooing the little cat for weeks, and his moonlight serenade was to be the crowning effort. He already had the ring secreted in the honey pot and the money for the celebratory dinner.

"Hmmm," the kitten purred, for she could not say anything else.

"Lovely," the owl replied, and smiled to himself, very happy in his choice of a wife.

Ghostlight

It's the first thing they taught you at the college playhouse - always leave the ghost light on. And God help you if you ever forgot - Professor Byron would call you in for one of his infamous "office chats." Undergraduates always emerged rattled; many freshman girls in tears.

Why? Whats the big deal? You asked.
People might need to get back in and be able to see. Idiot.
Oh.
Also, one of the students killed in 'Nam still wanders the stage. The light keeps him quiet.
Right, you smirk. Ha ha ha.

Nevertheless, that night you forgot to set the ghost light out, and, fearful of professorial reprimand, you jogged back to the playhouse to fix it, you had to admit the atmosphere on the old stage was decidedly creepy.

A cold breeze passed like a sigh over the back of your neck as you swiftly unwound the extension cord and rolled the rickety lamp out onto the stage. A curtain swung softly as you walked backstage a little too quickly to plug in the light.

And nothing happened.

You could hear your own breathing, but for a minute you heard (or thought you heard) an answering exhale.

Something creaks onstage.

Very intentionally, you stride in from stage left and wiggle the cord at the base of the lamp. You may or may not hold your breath.

And then, as the Bible says, there was light, and it was good.

But you still ran.

The Corner

"I'm sorry to say this, but, you really couldn't have picked a worse program to follow. This has highlighted all the wrong areas and not given you any experience actually doing the job." The recruiter looked at me over the tops of her rimless glasses. "I certainly hope you didn't pay much."

I grinned ruefully, not trusting myself to speak.

She nodded briskly, all business. "Well, best of luck to you, but we can't use you here."

I gathered my papers and walked out, slowly, unsurprised.