"That about does it," Moritz said to himself, as he finished righting the cross on his grave. He brushed his hands off on his pants and stood -- then suddenly, there was no cross. There was no grave. There was no graveyard. "Where did -- where did everything go?"

Typist: Moritz Stiefel, from Spring Awakening by Frank Wedekind. Taken just after ( Read more... )

And here is a young girl, her hair long and wild, dressed in nothing but a man's shirt and clutching a bunch of freshly-picked flowers in her hand. She can't be more than sixteen, and rather than showing any signs of confusion at her suddenly unfamiliar surroundings, she is only mildly amused and smiles prettily.

"Oh."

Typist: Ilse from Frank ( Read more... )

*Enter one MELCHIOR GABOR, in very tattered clothing, looking dirty and quite tired. He could swear he'd just hopped the wall in a graveyard, faced with the gravestone of someone he did wrong -- and then he'd seen someone he'd never expected to see again. So, the look of vast confusion currently on his face is understandable ( Read more... )