The Talent was directly beneath him and his bucket of rose petals, her white wig a bull's-eye surrounded by a green and poofy gown. Skyler pictured spittle glistening in the stage light during freefall, visible to all save those in the very cheap seats, making a sudden and silent impact against that wig. This was a delicious thought, no less so for knowing that he would be strung up by his eyelids if he ever acted it out.
He watched the opera unfold from his high perch, his own private balcony to which no ticket could admit another audience member, and waited for his cue.... Read more
TAGS: creative writing
, short story