The smell hits first. That cool, slightly earthy air that every basement has, mixed with old paint and maybe a hint of sawdust from the last time you tried to…
The wooden box is scuffed at the edges, warm from too many hands. Brass inlays catch a low amber light. You slide one panel, hear a faint click, feel a…
The room is quiet, but it is not still. Air hums through hidden vents. A strip of light leaks under a locked door. Somewhere inside the walls, a relay clicks…
A narrow alley stretches away from you under a single streetlamp. Cobblestones glisten. Windows lean in overhead. You could swear it runs on for fifty feet. Then the work light…
The panel stands under a single work light, tall and flat and utterly unremarkable. Raw cardboard. Soft edges. Those familiar corrugation lines glowing through the thin brown skin. Then the…
The house lights sit somewhere between dim and tender, soft enough that faces blur into one shared shadow. The stage smells faintly of paint and dust and hairspray. A child…
The room is almost black. Just a faint haze of blue along the floor, like night pooling around your ankles. Your audience has surrendered their eyes; they are listening with…
The first thing you feel is the weight of the room. Empty stage. Bare floor. Fluorescent work lights humming above, washing everything in a flat, unforgiving white. No costume, no…
It begins as a rustle. Fabric against fabric. A cough caught in the throat. A moment where the air holds its breath. Then someone rises. A chair scrapes. Another body…