When I walk into the undersized theater I see approximately two hundred seats. Straight ahead of me I see the old, wooden stage that creeks when I walk upon it. Every board is a different hue of brown that was most likely discolored from the rearranging of the sets and lighting

When the end draws near the lights again will dim, the music will softly whisper, and the stage will again stand naked. Children’s hearts are content and peaceful. The main lights come on exposing every aspect of the theater. The cast and crew come to take their bow of a job well done, and the audience jumps to their feet creating an enormous roar of applause. At the same time, realizing fantasies of the stories being told were unable to come true. The audience files out of the doors back into their world of bills, jobs, and driving. I have a chance to meet the cast, but I decide against it. I feel if I meet them, the story will never come back to life the next time I will embark on another adventure. The children crawl into their cars with half opened eyes and yawning from their hard night of make believe. As I drive off, I stopped at the hill to watch the outside lights disappear, making this magical place hide from the world until another story has to be told. I will return here next year and probably do so until I shut down or the theater shuts down. With that hopefulness in my heart I drive away.

portraying different scenes. The cool concrete floor surrounds it. The concrete is splattered with stains telling of past misfortunes. The stage itself is only about ten feet long by eight feet deep. I sit down in my red, broke in chair. The material feels like sandpaper. The holes in the seats give birth

Some topics in this essay:
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