Chapter Text
Flyer held firmly in your grasp, your eyes gaze over the paper for what felt like the hundredth time this evening. You glance at the address neatly written at the bottom once more, before looking up at the theatre standing before you.
This is the place.
You let out a sigh, taking one final glance at the shadowy figures staring at you from the page before folding the flyer back up.
You weren't ever one to be interested in shadow plays, but this one specifically had caught your eye. Quite literally, actually, considering the fact that it had whipped right into your face when leaving work all but two days ago.
When you peeled it away, fighting against the wind that'd blown it to you in the first place, your eyes were immediately drawn the macabre, almost ancient looking art on the paper. Something about it piqued your interest, though you couldn't exactly place what. The title itself, "The Hero and the Warrior," was simple, nothing too eye catching.
Perhaps it was how the flyer was on the back of another flyer for some new Monkey Cop movie. It seemed as if the person stole advertisements for more popular viewings and created their own on the back in order to draw in more attention.
Actually, you're pretty sure that that's exactly what happened, considering the words and art weren't printed, but drawn on.
( You know this because the ink was slightly smudged after being in your pocket all day. )
As you ventured further into the theatre, you came across the counter of the ticket seller. A tired teenager who seemed like they really didn't want to be there sat at it, head resting against their hand with a computer placed beside them.
You walked up to them, showed them the flyer, and explained that you wanted a ticket to the shadow play. They narrowed their eyes at you, just barely moving as they use their free arm to click into the computer. After a moment, the familiar sound of the ticket printing reached your ears.
In response to the noise, you handed them the cash in exchange for the ticket, a nervous, albeit kind, smile on your face. You take a moment to look at the ticket once it's placed in your hand, whilst the cashier retrieves your change from the register.
Admit One
No. 567243
The Hero and the Warrior
20** - 05 - ** / 7:30pm
Quietly, you thanked the cashier as they handed you back your change.
It didn't take long for you to reach a long hallway of rooms, each displaying a different number and title. You were easily able to spot where you needed to go; Viewing room six.
The dull sound of your shoes against the carpet was the only noise you heard as you made your way down the hall. Even when you neared the destined door, there was no quiet chatter to be heard. Either the guests simply weren't talkative, or there were barely any guests at all.
Upon opening the door, you quickly saw that the latter was the answer.
You were saddened, but not surprised, to see only five other people sitting within the viewing room. A group of three sitting towards the front, and a pair of two sitting off towards the far left of the room. It appeared that most people preferred the Monkey Cop movie to an aspiring artist's shadow play.
You couldn't blame them though, of course. After all, you hadn't been interested in performances like this until. . .
Well, until that flyer hit you in the face.
After pulling out your phone to glance at the time (7:25) and turning off your notifications, you quietly make your way towards the very top row of seats.
You sit down in the middle of the top row, which allows you to see the full view of the stage. While you wait for the show to start, you read over your ticket several times, as if hoping for some new information to present itself. It doesn't, obviously, but meticulously looking at each number and letter proves to be a good time waster.
At what you assume to be 7:30, the lights in the viewing room suddenly shut off. You jump in surprise, accidentally crushing the ticket in your hands. Distantly, you hear one of the fellow guests let out a yelp, followed by another's muffled laughter.
Your eyes desperately try to adjust to the darkness, but before they can, a spotlight turns on, revealing the sight of a robed man standing on the stage. The curtains are drawn back, yet nothing stands behind him.
No props, no background — No anything.
Though he'd not yet spoken even a single word, the man stood confidently by his lonesome, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. You give in far too eagerly, unable to tear your eyes away from the figure.
And when he speaks, you know right then and there that you're done for.