The theater

         Theatre houses gather the most outrageous people. Men with the faces of birds, women clothed in animals, humans carrying the artificial guise of self-imposed angels. Tonight would be no different, the extravagance was blinding. Multicolored hues blurred together into swirling waters. The hum of conversation ebbed and flowed with the tide. The performance would not dance on the stage with a few fake scenes and overdramatic actors. The show was all around us. Why watch people pretend to be human when in the midst of the real thing?
         I came here once a week, every week, to see what humanity offered me. I was given two old men beside me. Their long faces and twisted features melted as they remembered old days of glory and wonder. One of them was probably the king of society once, dictating his aspiring followers with his elegance and passion. One of them was probably known everywhere for his quick wit and charm, disrupting entire rooms with an honest smile. Now their bovine expressions watched an empty stage, seeing nothing, waiting to see even less. It’s funny how time wastes those who waste time. I shifted to see a young couple sitting farther along. They loved each other in the way that only those who have not yet seen the world can love. She was resting her head against his shoulder, talking animatedly about a day that would never come again. He was listening intensively with his shoulder, but nothing more.
         The great river collectively quivered and whirred as the lights grew dim. Every individual among an indistinguishable crowd readied himself in his own unique manner. They twisted peculiar hats or glasses into place, legs swiveled and focused attention on the stage. I didn’t move of course, the show had already begun half an hour ago. It was a funny thing to see so many heads staring at a closed curtain in anticipation. So many lips carrying a dying conversation, so many hands running absently on their own accord. So many faces, but not all were turned to the façade on stage. There was a figure scanning the crowds, just as I was. I call him a figure because that’s all he was. No face was visible from the all concealing black robe it bore, no skin at all. You could tell it was watching though, something in the perk of its posture or the ruffle of the robe gave it away. I watched him, her, it, my friend. I call him a friend because it was so rare to find an individual that held my interest. His apparent fascination in the crowd is what ignited my fascination in him.
         The dancers now danced, their deceptively honest eyes told their lies called stories and the convincingly purposed bodies made their play. I watched him, though he was as still and silent as any statue. I watched the couples curl and the old men lost in memories. I watched the ladies flaunt their fashion and the men keep their appearances. What fascinating lives they must be hiding from to come here. Eventually when the room became too dark and the atmosphere became too thick, I  realized I was watching the play.
         There was a fool, a princess, a knight and a king. There were dragons and devils, gods and men standing side by side. Cardboard castles loomed over cowering wooden flowers. At some point there was loud talking and then screaming. Not the screaming of a human, it was screaming from a well practiced, timed and oiled machine. It was nothing. The back curtain folded curiously, and as I watched it bend I also watched the figure emerge. My friend’s black robe showed skin now, and white hands protruded awkwardly from his concealment. I started, glancing back at his seat. He was still there, watching the crowd with all his humanity hidden, still as any statue. I looked back on stage and saw the same cloak steadily rise to the front of the stage. All of the other actors didn’t even seem to notice him! My friend calmly walked forward, brandishing his porcelain arms. The play continued around him as he claimed the stage as his own. I don’t know if the audience noticed him, I couldn’t tell while my eyes were locked on where his should be. The play swirled it’s dance around him though, never disrupting his claimed space and never donating a word or glance to his cause. 
         The brandished hands opened invitingly, waiting for their response. I didn’t stir, so they withdrew into their caves in the sleeves. They did not venture out again until my friend began to speak.
         “Why won’t you come when I offer?” The voice had more texture to it than voices should. It was a child who had lived through the experiences of the eldest. “Why do you come here at all?”
         He must have been speaking to me, so I stood. I don’t know if I was noticed by the masses around me, I was noticed by my friend and that’s all that matters.
         “What do you offer me? Just bare hands?”
         “It is enough. Come onto this stage with me.” He answered fast, like a practiced figure in a play who knew the other components lines before they began.
         Of course I went onto the stage. The waters obediently parted before me as I approached my friend’s stage. I stood beside him presently. The dancers of the play stopped their dance, and they watched me. Not with the hostility of an intruder, but more of an honest curiosity.
         “What do you offer me?” I repeated. “What did you want me to do here?”
         “You’re already doing it. Thank you for coming.”
         “I don’t understand. What did I do?”
         His hands recoiled in such a violent manner that his entire body seemed to take the shock. He shot backwards off the stage, leaving me alone with the frozen play. When I thought he was gone I heard his voice as if it were beside me.
         “Thank you for joining my play.” And I was no longer in a statuary. The play swirled once more, and the princess and the knights called for my help, the gods gave me advice and the devils taunted me. The dancers danced as I danced along with them.