A single bare bulb flickers above cracked green tiles. The air in the dressing room is heavy with the scent of stale sweat and fading makeup. A young actor named Tobias sits at a chipped wooden table, head resting in trembling hands. Moments ago, his audition closed to indifferent applause. His dreams of roaring crowds feel as distant as stars.
From the shadowed corner, a figure steps forward. He wears a charcoal-grey suit. His eyes glitter like coal and his grin stretches too wide. There’s a heavy thud of footsteps on worn floorboards.
‘Tobias,’ the stranger purrs, ‘I know your name, your hopes, your fears. Fame and adoration could be yours tonight. I offer you success beyond your wildest dreams, in exchange for your soul.’
He produces a scroll of parchment bound with a crimson ribbon. A vintage quill hovers above it, dripping ink.
Tobias’s breath catches. The promise is intoxicating: he closes his eyes and sifts through every longing: instant fame on the world’s greatest stages; wealth to erase every worry and eternal admiration in the playbills of history.
He cares less of the disadvantage: his soul forever forfeited and damned beyond salvation.
His mind races. He pictures the cheers he’s never heard, the standing ovations he craves. The dressing room feels smaller now, walls closing in. Finally, his trembling hand reaches for the quill.
‘I accept,’ he whispers.
Tobias knows he’s in a corny play, but he doesn’t mind. It is, he dreams, the start of something big.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 