the abandoned theatre (continued...)

The sound of clapping awakens the darkened stage, the eclipsedghts, and the dank curtains. There was most certainly no one else there... and yet... there most certainly was. I turn and manage to catch a brief glimpse of the Woman of Optimism's image fading away behind a fluttering, frayed ribbon. Resting gently on the raised floorboard was a bokay of healthy, blue roses.

I stay long enough to watch the ribbon float to the ground before I turn and walk away from the stage. Up the seated aisles I see ghosts plead with my seer eyes to stay behind and collect the dust of time with their tin hearts. My pace remains strong as the rusted double doors approach. The right brass handle met my palm and it remembered the wombat behind me and begin to resist. I turn my head slightly to the left as the hinges come alive and scream. A beam of light blinds me anyways and I disappear from view.

The wombat's vision recovers as the door sighs shut. Seconds later a loud clang echoes and a small object rolls away from the door. The wombat waddles over and waits beside the door where the tiny, tin heart stopped ticking.