I was once a man on a ship that sailed aimlessly in an endless storm. My eyes would search for the stars, but the clouds ruled the sky. Nothing could be seen. The fog was so thick that I couldn’t even see the water beneath me.
An actor learns his lines. A cold reading. The actor learns his lines. Another rehearsal. Actors gather backstage. The time has come.
The lights go out in the theater. Our friend walks onto the stage in the darkness, careful not to make a sound.
The curtains open quietly.
I was once a crew on a ship. But that ship was destroyed. Or, maybe it never existed. I remember… It was a ship with no anchor. It never set sail, but it was always sailing…
The actor remembers his line.
A beam of light illuminates our friend on the stage. Now he can exist.
I’m still sailing, but not on that ship. I sail on a fragment of a ship. Maybe it was that same ship, but no one can know. I float into eternity. No place to go. No place but home. Home is this little plank of wood that floats upon the water.
“My heart cries out, but my mouth stays silent.”
The audience watches with keen eyes.
Down into the water. Down into the depths. My home has left me. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
The audience applauds.
“What a great show!”
The actor sits in his dressing room, stained by his character. Stained by something real. He drys the salt water from his brow.
The lights go out. The stars remain hidden.
– By Randall Evans.