Gates of Hell
Prompt words in red.
High above the stage I walk along the catwalk, my hand sliding smoothly along the guardrail. There had been a casualty last season, one a few years before. I didn’t feel like bringing that number up to three.
Below me I could feel the rhythm of the dancers’ steps, moving in unity. The powerful music rose and fell, an aural ebb and flow.
It was the premier of the new musical, Gates of Hell, debuting at the Furnace Festival at Leeds Playhouse. The sets were all glass
of fiery color befitting the festival’s
name. It took seven weeks to forge and hand blow all of the pieces, but it was worth it. They flickered and glowed, or flamed to flare
up into the rafters. The lighting tech was a genius!
I should have kept my eyes off those glass fires, for at the moment the music reached a dynamic peak, I slipped, my hand useless to stop my fall between the railings.
They do say that bad news comes in threes.
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