The Last Performance

Chapter Two

From where she sat to the side of the stage, obscured by the thick curtain, she had a spectacular view of the show. The puppeteer, Doll, as she was called by the others in the theatre, had begun her performance the way she usually did with her dancing marionettes. Their wooden limbs intertwined in a manner that seemed an impossible feat to commit with only strings, and their movements flowed elegantly with the composed music that drifted from an unseen location. She then proceeded to sever the strings and allow the puppets to dance on their own, drifting to and fro across the stage. More and more puppets of all sorts soon found their way to the stage, dancing along in orchestrated numbers much like in a fairy tale, Doll standing center stage as the composer.

        Following her was Katrina, the songstress of the theatre. A sight to behold in her flowing red dress, her hypnotic voice captivated both the audience and other performers in such a manner that it felt as though one's mind were one with the angels. It always seemed to end too soon each time she brought a song to a close, but with it came a feeling of satisfaction, if not bliss.

        A sort of smoke flooded the stage as she stepped behind the curtain, a misty glow seeming nearly menacing. A few members of the front row edged away as it overflowed into the audience. But as soon as it spread, it pulled back in on itself, gathering in a swirling mass as it rose into two figures which soon took the form of people before solidifying and becoming the two magicians who would take the stage, Dust and Switch. They both took a bow at the applause from the audience, and Clear herself found her hands clapping almost on their own accord.

        Throughout their performance the two of them took turns playing odd tricks on one another. At one point Switch had thrust a knife into Dust's chest, taking both him and the audience by surprise, a chorus of shocked reactions filling the theatre. She had pulled it out, though, and instead of the instrument of violence she had held she now had a full red rose, which she tossed out into the audience for some lucky lass to enjoy. At another point in time, Dust had set Switch aflame, but as it died down it was revealed that there was a man from the audience where Switch had stood, unharmed. He had been in a state of confusion up until Switch climbed back up on the stage from the man's seat in the audience and guided him back to his companions.

        Not once had anyone seen the two of them rehearse.

        They had taken their leave from the stage with a flourish of flowers, and as they passed they each gave Clear an encouraging smile and a wish of success.

        She took their place on the stage, a story forming in her mind, her fingers snapping and her voice humming to music that only she could hear. And then came the lovely sound of a violin from where none could see. The apparition of a man on a horse appeared, trailing between the rows of seats. He stopped before the stage, where a woman stood singing a silent song, her long hair billowing about her. He dismounted and reached a kind hand for her to hold, and she accepted his invitation warmly, allowing him to guide her from the stage to the ground. The two of the came together with intertwining fingers and they set off in a dance of such grace and compatibility that they may as well have been the same person.

        They're story played out, the two of them finding love as time wore on, until the day came that he arrived where they often met, where the stage met the lush seats that were occupied by those watching the story go on. The woman was not there.He clambered up to sit where she usually had, intent on waiting until the ends of time for her arrival if need be.

        And wait he did, as the woman was never to return from whatever fate had befallen her.

        Clear had left the stage, leaving behind the ghost of love and loss as a few sympathetic cries arose from the onlookers. The two magicians who had taken the stage before her stood to greet the illusionist warmly.

        "You never cease to amaze me," Dust had told her with an air of wonder. Switch had nodded her agreement and slung an arm over Clear's shoulders, pulling her close.

        "Tell me, what is your secret?" she questioned, mimicking a reporter prodding at a world famous chef.  Clear smiled at her friend's mockery.

        "I'll tell you mine," she answered with a suspenseful tone, "when you tell me yours."

        Both Switch and Dust had shared a good laugh at that. Never would they dare to share their secret to another, no matter how close. Only when children asked would they give any sort of answer, it often being something along the lines of 'never listen to anyone who tells you magic isn't real' before presenting some sort of gift from thin air.

        "So," Switch started when she had regained her composure, "who wants to go on a date? There's this coffee shop that opened up some time ago down the street and I need someone to investigate with me." She put a hand up to cup the side of her face, imitating a maiden in woe. "It has been so very long since since I last had a delectable cup of coffee."

        "Well sorry for not being perfect," Clear has huffed, crossing her in arms in irritation that she didn't really feel. An apology and a laugh later, they had agreed to investigate this shop that held Switch's curiosity.

        Even if they had done different, there was no changing the events that had already been set in motion.