It had been a week since she got the job, and she only needed a week to grow accustomed to the sights of the strange shadows that lingered around every corner, the sideways glances of people with unnatural grey white irises, however she still had not understood, did not want to begin to understand, the mysterious Frost that hung in the air everywhere when she walked in to the theatre every day. Drew Holder worked for the growing theatre of a small town on the east coast. With nothing but some money in her pocket and a suitcase full of a few things, Drew had left behind a burned down town house and a deceased family to live with her aged but strong great aunt from the opposite side of her family. She had been allowed to stay on the condition that she would find a job within two weeks and on the last day, when she had sat defeated in the rain on a bench outside an old magic shop, when all her problems began. An old woman with a sly smile on her lips and beads hanging from her clothes had called her to the shop. It had smelled strongly of incense and smoke, there was no denying there would be a stash of liquor somewhere if she tried to find it. Drew had decided right then and there that she would rather live on that bench than work for this woman. The woman didn’t speak, so Drew decided to call her Beads. Beads handed Drew a flier, and Drew held it from the corners, careful not to get it wet with her hands.
The Verundin Theatre
Looking for Talented Arts director
Contact William Katin, Primary Producer and Director and Part Owner of the Verundin
Call: 547 891
There was a picture of the theatre, a map and some clip art photos of masks supposed to be representing the theatre. That they needed an Arts Director was clear, but Drew only had two years of University under her belt before she had to drop out because she couldn’t afford it anymore. It was a good thing she had some experience, but it was strange that they hadn’t put in some kind of requirements for experience. Drew bought a simple knick knack from the old lady’s store to thank her for the help. She rolled the little star-shaped locket in her hands before deciding it was actually very pretty and putting it on her neck.
It was with uncertain fingers and a desperate mind that she dialled the number in her outdated blue cell-phone. There was no way they were going to hire a kid; that was impossible. There were probably hundreds of other applicants already if the pay was decent. A soft female voice answered the phone,
“Hello, you have reached William Katin’s office”
“Hi, I’m calling about the Arts Director Job” her voice became unusually nervous whenever she was in this kind of a situation.
“Oh yes, the interviews are tomorrow”
“Oh” said Drew her hopes dying. She was too late.
“But…I guess we could fit in one more. Be at the Verundin at 10 am sharp and bring your portfolio along with your resume”
“Thank you so much”
“I didn’t catch your name”
“Drew, Drew Holden”
“See you tomorrow Ms. Holden” the phone clicked shut. Great, now she needed a portfolio. After having gone to University for Math, she did not begin to understand how she would come up with a portfolio that suggested she would be a good art director. She laughed to herself, remembering the mathematician that was her father and had pushed her into the program. Drew thought she had cast aside her paintbrush and pencils for good back in high school when her father had picked her major for her. Now that he was dead, she had landed right back where she had wanted to be from the beginning, except with a twist so cruel, it still made her cry. The father she had been angry at, had left her to be angry at no one but a memory, and you can’t stay mad at a memory of someone you loved.
After hours of preparation, she had managed to pull together a presentable portfolio and had slept in the meagre hours of the morning until the alarm on her phone woke her up. Barely taking a bite of a bagel, Drew had to literally run to the theatre, cursing every stop light while she was on the bus, and every passenger that took too long to put in their ticket. The clock ticked nearer and nearer to 10 on her watch. She fidgeted with the little star necklace that she still wore.
There was a man, or at least she thought there was a man, with strange white irises that sat at the front of the bus, he kept staring at her too. He looked otherwise normal, probably only a few years older than her, but his eyes told her there was something that just wasn’t right. Drew looked away, anywhere but there, but she still felt his eyes trained on her. She pulled the string when George Street came in to view and walked the two blocks to the theatre.
It looked like it had been around for a while. There was rust building on the metal gate surrounding it, and an old man tended to the garden, fighting with the dandelions with his hoe. He gave her a warm smile and she smiled back. She took a moment to take in the Verundin; it was large and had brilliant carvings of angels and cherubs on the front with Corinthian towers. Already it seemed too big for her. She walked in and saw the lady at the reception’s desk with her eighty’s style glasses that reached her cheekbones and frizzy curls of greying brown curls held back with a clip. Presumably, this was the woman who had given her the opportunity on the phone.
“Drew Holden?” said Drew.
The woman barely looked up and said, “Have a seat over there”.
Drew became all the more conscious of her simple black flats and her ordinary blue blouse when she sat down with the other candidates. They all looked like they had just walked out of JC Penny. When her name was finally called, she walked in the office. The first thing she noticed was the cold that sent a shiver down her spine. It was brightly lit and huge, with books lining the shelves and expensive looking velvet curtains hanging on the walls, there was also an hour glass that sat on the desk, but Drew didn’t have long to look at it before the man in the seat started speaking.
"Sit" he said gruffly.
“Hello my name is Drew Holden, how are you” she held out her hand but he didn’t take it. He seemed like he was in his mid 40s or early fifties and had built up decades of attitude.
“Your portfolio?” he asked, and she handed it to him. She looked at the growing pile on the right side of the table, all portfolios from the other applicants. While he flipped through it, she said,
“I did a lot of art in college, even though I majored in math, I helped put together the play there a couple of times. I had a four point oh GPA…” he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Great.
But for some reason, that day, the man behind the desk, William Katin, had liked her half fast portfolio and had given her the job. Everything would have been fine; everything would have been more than fine, if she didn’t looked back for that one second, if she hadn’t looked back and seen the pale white irises of William Katin.
Her job was to spend the week planning out an overall design.
When she met the director for the first time, she feared he would be like his boss, but he was nothing of the sort. He was cute and confused and very nice, kind of like a puppy. But he was smart. He could illustrate the entire scene and there would be nothing on stage but an old step ladder.
“You must be Drew right?” he said on her first day on the job. Her great aunt had been ‘thrilled’ when she heard the news, but really, her ‘thrilled’ was the equivalent to ‘okay I won’t throw you out’. And so she decided she would ignore the strange signs all together.
“Yes, I’m Drew”
“I’m Ben Katin”
“You mean you’re…” he cut her off and began nodding. He was the producer’s son.
“Here’s a copy of the working script, so you can get started on the set designs” he handed her a bulky stack of paper held together by a dying paper clip, “Oh and this is Molly” he motioned for a mousy girl, no more than seventeen probably, to come near, “she’ll help you out in any way she can.” Molly said “Hi” in the smallest possible voice, and all Drew could manage to think was, “shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Co-op, I want to be a director” Molly smiled shyly and continued taking notes on a clipboard she carried around everywhere.
Ben was needed in five other places at once and after giving Drew a layout of the production and everything he wanted he was on his way. The play was Shakespeare of course, it was Hamlet, and as usual consisted of twisted characters with both a villain and a conscience inside It seemed silly to her, how a person could not know whether they were dreaming, or insane, how they could not tell what was real.
As Drew sat down in the work space she was given, there was a shadow she noticed at the corner in the doorway. The theatre was lit almost entirely with sunlight everywhere except the main stage. She put down her pencil and followed it through the door. She thought she heard someone laugh. She followed the voices down the hallway and there she saw them again! Shadows that looked like they belonged to someone with wings danced on the sunlit carpeted floor. When she found no one, Drew realized she had better get back to work, but the laugh is what bothered her most. She decided to ignore it all, until that was no longer possible. Because the man on the bus, with the blond hair and the white irises, had showed up for auditions…