Saving Alice

The play

"Angelina and Marcos Conners, and my two children, Alice,  and Nicole."

The woman behind the window looks over at us from the computer screen, her face is slender, yet lovely, she has crowsfeet eyes, but so few wrinkles and gray hair,  that you would assume she's only 58 or so. I know better though, this woman is 69.

"Oh my! You're the author of 'Angel's Wear Black', am I right?! How wonderful it is to finally meet you, I'm such a huge fan!" She says in a high-pitched and clear voice.

"Oh, so you've read my book?" My mother replys

"Yes ma'am, all three! They're beautifully written, its just such an honor to see you here!" says the woman.

According to her nametag... her name is Josephine.

"Thank you, but we should be getting to our seats-"

"Oh! I apologize for holding you here madam, first row, upper level, enjoy the show Mrs. Angelina!"

"Thank you"

         My name is Nicole,  I'm a tenth grader at Brookway High School. My mom is a popular writer, shes only written one book so far, but its already a huge hit, as you can tell. We're going to see a broadway play today that one of my mother's good friends had invited us to earlier this year. Mother says she's a great friend, but lately she's been going through what you would call a writer's block, I think she just wants some inspiration for a new series she wants to write. She brought us along only because she thought it would be a good experience. Luckily for her, I actually like plays, and this might even help for when I write my own novel.

        We enter the auditorium and I'm overwhelmed by the magnificent display. The walls are a cranberry redish purple color with damask pattern printed in a slightly darker shade. Built in to the walls are creamy marble pillars. The ceiling is a high rising ceiling the color of the walls, it becomes dome shaped above where the stage starts on the ground, the ceiling above the stage has a painting of gloriously picturesque angels sitting on clouds, looking as if they might take flight at any moment and fly around the large auditorium.  The Angels sit in a ring of 7, each member preoccupied with weaving Daisy crowns,  and Laurel wreaths, playing the Harp and lute, or singing to the melody of the instruments. The angels vary  in age, from about 12 to 16, and they look different, from thick and curly dark hair, and tan skin, to wispy blonde hair with pale skin and freckles.

         Then in that moment, gentle music begins to fill through the room and quiets the crowd of people. The music plays ever so sweetly as the lights grow dim, and a blanket of silence aand darkness falls on the audience like a spell. The stage lights glow to a soft golden glow, enough light to only just see, and then the music fades out to sweet nothingness. A single man walks onto the stage from behind black velvet curtains.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcoming todays show, 'white stone', without further ado, let us give a warm round of applause to tonight's main event!" The man continues his rehearsed stride from center stage with stiff legs and a straight back, an expression of utter lack of interest has been plastered onto his face. Then the velvet curtains that were behind him slowly peel open, and the play begins.