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On Page 42 of Chapter Two, in which we learn of the Cursed
Theatre of Charleston, NC, they speak of the "unspeakable
play" that was performed there the night that it all went
to hell. However, we're not told too much about that play, other
than how it drove the audience to madness, rape, cannibalism
and suicide within the space of an hour.
But wouldn't you know that there was a fragment
of that play to be found? Ms. Shornheart wrote it, and intended
for it to be included as a sidebar. However, they ran out of
space in the last few days before the book went to bed, and that
sidebar - along with a few others - was scrapped.
So here it is: a piece of the unspeakable play, itself.
)0----------------VVVVVVV----------------0(
(The scene is one of a magician's
workshop, complete with bubbling retorts and strange things in
half-seen cages. On the floor, lying face-up and spread-eagled
in a summoning circle, is an Angel - his wings burned and plucked
and his mouth stitched shut. A female Cherub stands nearby, outside
the circle, weeping.)
The Master of Ceremonies enters the room from the side
and claps his hands.
Master of Ceremonies: Cherub! Cherub, the angel!
Cherub walks towards him when called.
Master of Ceremonies: Coils behind! The time hands.
Cherub holds her arms above her head, and walks over to
the circle, and then into it, and strides over the Angel, so
that she is directly above his waist.
Master of Ceremonies: Cherub. It enters in the angel!
Cherub squats atop Angel, and begins riding him, as though
they were making love. The Angel does not seem to notice.
Cherub: Aaaaaaahhhh!
Master of Ceremonies addresses audience, gesturing wildly
as he does.
Master of Ceremonies: Hour walks alone. You are not
never-mind. The walks that you have taken have left all people
oblique. Cause watches them. Can God forsake that I make?
A mass of broken, Angels' bodies fall from the rafters
and land about Cherub and Angel. She continues as though nothing
else were happening, and he does not notice, either.
Master of Ceremonies: The bodies. Perhaps... perhaps,
someone is alive.
He walks amongst the bloody ruin, and finds nothing but
torn wings, severed limbs and shattered haloes..
Master of Ceremonies: Knot sorridiamo? Hoo-ha ha ha
ha ha ha hah! A-ha ha ha ha ho ho ho... Knot.
He capers and begins picking up broken pieces of the bodies,
addressing each in turn with a fixed look.
Master of Ceremonies: Have? Has! Ahhhh... Is of right
to the side of me, you one seen, that your free body crawls to,
right through those bodies that fall. It are in the air that
we are. Stirs to you, therefore, close hour, but I do not take
care myself. It has walks on me, your cable, that of the body
tried to.
He now turns to regard the audience with the same fixed
look. As he does, the motion of the Cherub becomes more and more
agitated, as though she were building to a climax.
Master of Ceremonies: Fuoriuscirli is in your head.
I would go more best behind. They are not here. Walks to the
side of me, you fixed look! Me that hour. You are without house,
or that periods three, amazon that watched ahead. I will render
you, the talk who you are.
The Cherub reaches the climax, and the Master of Ceremonies
stands behind her as she rests, cradling the Cherub's head in
his hands.
Master of Ceremonies: Bong here! Your mind has cuts
them to you, that been, bleeding hour. Your just one fuoriuscito,
programs as an arc walks to right beyond. You that they are arrested,
and to be. Your body that finds here have... he-he-he-he... everywhere!
With that, he tightens his grip and twists, and a gruesome
*snap* is heard. The Cherub slumps over the Angel, dead,
with her neck broken. The Angel seems to not notice at all, or
at least not care.
Master of Ceremonies: Feh!
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