Challenge #03a: The Lucky One
Isabella spun wildly across the stage. The audiences’ gaze followed her from one end of the stage to next with their lips parted in awe.
Meanwhile, backstage Henry sobbed. At his desk, his shoulders shook as he scribbled his signature across the deed. Surrounding him were a mere few boxes. In a panic, they had attempted to sell everything they had before losing this theatre. The red sequined knee-length dress and matching heels that Isabella wore at that very moment was her favourite. It was also her last remaining costume. After the show, however, it was promised to the same man who was purchasing the theatre for hundreds less than Henry had paid for it.
Henry had fallen deeply in love with Isabella almost immediately. With her, he was king. He could conquer the world. Without her, he was nothing.
Isabella loved him, too, but it wasn’t the same. Isabella wanted to dance. So, naturally, Henry had built a theatre for her. Very few people came to see an unknown dancer at first, but soon Isabella’s passion and beauty won over the whole city and performances were booked solid for months in advance.
But then the Depression hit. No one could afford a luxury like going to theatre anymore and suddenly the audience was empty. Now and again, the most loyal of fans would find a way to scrounge up enough money to see Isabella dance, often at the expense of a meal or two, but it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Henry was forced to offer tickets at a discounted price, which drew a few patrons, but as the Depression continued, it was still too much for patrons to afford. It was a miracle that so many people had found a way to come tonight for Isabella’s last performance.
Isabella struck a final pose as the music came to a sudden halt. A broad smile covered her face as the curtain fell. Though the audience was only a third full, the applause was deafening.
Then, quite unexpectantly, Isabella dropped dead. The curtain rose. The audience grew quiet and uncertain, glancing at each other to see if others understood some morbid joke that they were not privy to, before terrified shrieks rose from seats and women gathered their children and ran out of the theatre.
Now, Henry, as he sat on the curb outside the apartment building he and Isabella had shared since they had gotten married, had lost everything. His Isabella. His business. His home. His life. All he had left was the few pairs of clothes, photos of Isabella, and his wedding ring, which would have saved the apartment for a bit longer, but he couldn’t bear to part with it.
Another downtrodden gentleman wandered around the corner, gave Henry a sad smile, and dropped down beside him.
“You married?” asked his companion, nodding at the ring on Henry’s finger.
“Yes,” replied Henry sadly, “but she died many months ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” said his companion awkwardly.
“She was the lucky one,” Henry said as his gaze fell upon his dismal surroundings. “She loved the stage,” continued Henry with a small smile on his face, “she wouldn’t have been able to survive without it.”
Meanwhile, backstage Henry sobbed. At his desk, his shoulders shook as he scribbled his signature across the deed. Surrounding him were a mere few boxes. In a panic, they had attempted to sell everything they had before losing this theatre. The red sequined knee-length dress and matching heels that Isabella wore at that very moment was her favourite. It was also her last remaining costume. After the show, however, it was promised to the same man who was purchasing the theatre for hundreds less than Henry had paid for it.
Henry had fallen deeply in love with Isabella almost immediately. With her, he was king. He could conquer the world. Without her, he was nothing.
Isabella loved him, too, but it wasn’t the same. Isabella wanted to dance. So, naturally, Henry had built a theatre for her. Very few people came to see an unknown dancer at first, but soon Isabella’s passion and beauty won over the whole city and performances were booked solid for months in advance.
But then the Depression hit. No one could afford a luxury like going to theatre anymore and suddenly the audience was empty. Now and again, the most loyal of fans would find a way to scrounge up enough money to see Isabella dance, often at the expense of a meal or two, but it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Henry was forced to offer tickets at a discounted price, which drew a few patrons, but as the Depression continued, it was still too much for patrons to afford. It was a miracle that so many people had found a way to come tonight for Isabella’s last performance.
Isabella struck a final pose as the music came to a sudden halt. A broad smile covered her face as the curtain fell. Though the audience was only a third full, the applause was deafening.
Then, quite unexpectantly, Isabella dropped dead. The curtain rose. The audience grew quiet and uncertain, glancing at each other to see if others understood some morbid joke that they were not privy to, before terrified shrieks rose from seats and women gathered their children and ran out of the theatre.
Now, Henry, as he sat on the curb outside the apartment building he and Isabella had shared since they had gotten married, had lost everything. His Isabella. His business. His home. His life. All he had left was the few pairs of clothes, photos of Isabella, and his wedding ring, which would have saved the apartment for a bit longer, but he couldn’t bear to part with it.
Another downtrodden gentleman wandered around the corner, gave Henry a sad smile, and dropped down beside him.
“You married?” asked his companion, nodding at the ring on Henry’s finger.
“Yes,” replied Henry sadly, “but she died many months ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” said his companion awkwardly.
“She was the lucky one,” Henry said as his gaze fell upon his dismal surroundings. “She loved the stage,” continued Henry with a small smile on his face, “she wouldn’t have been able to survive without it.”