And The Crowd Goes Wild – 208 words
I’ve chased her my whole life. I’ve played Romeo to her Juliet, the stage my sun. I’ve screamed Stella at the top of my lungs, Phantoms of desire spurring me on. I’ve Don Juaned my way through this theater, a Casanova to all, seducing my way into her heart.
Or so I thought.
I’ve cast seductive glances, sardonic stares. I’ve raised eyebrows in all the right places, let tears fall when the role demanded it, yet still she refuses me. She teases, playing hard to get, night after night, audience after audience.
I’m Marc Antony, Lancelot, Tristan, Paris. What more does she want? What more can I give? My love for her is constant, yet she taunts me, her fickleness evident in every performance, ever changing, ever elusive.
I’m Rhett, Rochester, Heathcliff, Darcy. I’m every lover that ever was and ever shall be. And yet never have I attained her.
I’m reduced to this.
A final effort, the last hurrah in my life-long quest. I have donned fifty shades of gray. I have entered this Red Room. I have manacled myself to woo her, to win her–that always-coveted, never-achieved standing ovation.
Is it enough? Will it get me that encore?
Call me Christian. Just call for me. Please.
After several weeks of serious FF pieces, I had to lighten it up this week, and luckily, the photo prompt and required element (theater as setting) lent themselves beautifully to this silly little tale. What do you think? Did I get you to laugh in these 208 words, or am I like this brooding fella here, begging and pleading with you for accolades you don’t wish to bestow?
Dance, stomp, glide, sulk your way on over to Flash Friday Fiction to see the other takes — maybe leave a comment or two, or heck, give it a go yourself!