Now I suspected this was another trick
My defenses were up when I heard a small ‘hic’
Sat on the TKTS steps of red
Thoughts of a fight quickly left my head
Her face was flushed, a bottle in her hand
Don’t need to eat, but get drunk we still can
“The fuck” I asked, “happened out here?”
With time and slurred speech, Red made it all clear
image [https://penntoday.upenn.edu/sites/default/files/2020-06/iStock-1218841579.jpg]
I’m sure you all remember COVID-19
And the year it caused a worldwide quarantine
Schools, film sets, Broadway all were shut down
No going shopping or just out on the town
Now I was here and finally free
Just in time for the whole world’s ending
I sat with Red, swigging the booze
Gazing at the streets, taking in this news
The date was what I asked next
April 2020 ended the hex
So I was trapped for almost two years
Conflicted with anger and sorrowful tears
She told me that I burned her only home
That without Finn, now she was all alone
I only said ‘Now you’ll know how it feels’
Mounting Sandy the worm, who needs wheels?
I left Red behind, no looking back
Future meetings with her, I hoped I would lack!
If you wonder just where I would go
The Winter Garden, Beetlejuice’s former home
Running on instinct, it just called to me
There was no other place I’d rather be
It felt warm and like I always belonged
The air was filled with decades of songs
I found a striped couch, upon it I lied
And though it smelled bad, I lay there and cried
My journey thus far had been rather bleak
So don’t you dare try and say that I’m weak
Kidnapped, tortured, kept more than a year
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Forgive me if, just for a moment, dear
That I felt all the pain, despair and fear
When I could finally stop it was clear
This had damaged me beyond all repair
But since ghosts get no mental health care
There really wasn’t much else I could do
But have a look in the place I’d come to
The Winter Garden on 50th street
A classic theater that can't be beat
Seats sixteen hundred, a rather large stage
Year one nine one one to the golden age
Holding Peter Pan, Carnival, Gypsy
Funny Girl, Camelot, Cats recently
School of Rock was here but fuck all of that
Beetlejuice closed here at the drop of a hat
Now sitting empty, just like the rest
It almost felt like a bird’s empty nest
There was an energy through the whole place
Like it was crying though it had not face
This place, active for more than a century
Now, bare, dormant with no end to see
These floors which felt walking, dancing feet
Nothing but wind floated between the seats
The Garden had a spirit of its own
It welcomed me as if I’d come home
I wandered the halls just like a specter
Getting to know each room and sector
Belongings were still inside dressing rooms
Personal things, a garden, and costumes
The stage itself I had saved for the last
Ran out of places to go pretty fast
Standing in the wings that air felt alive
I could feel the shows, the people and drive
This is a place where stories are told
Eight time a week, the lights were rarely cold
Except right now, for all but one was dark
The ghostlight stood tall, casting shadows stark
Meant to keep all the theater ghosts pleased
Must not work, because I am not appeased
Am I a ghost? I keep having to ask
So, sat in a seat, I took to the task
Once again, I thought upon what I knew
Just to figure out something I could do
My body can change through power and will
Bound by my source and his character’s skill
Beetlejuice could breathe in the witch’s sea
But at the end Dewey came over me
Or some other mortal, that’s why I choked
Then locked into Finn until the cage broke
So forcing another into a role
Something, to her, at least, was possible
I escaped, or maybe she set me free
Became the demon, using my fury
I conjured a snake, threw balls of flame
Changed my appearance, easy, like a game
All this power, but most people can’t see
That very first night, nobody helped me
As I thought more on what exactly I am
I began to see what I can’t do and can
That air on the stage, that’s where I started
Feeling the eyes of the Garden imparted
Reaching out I could hear songs in my head
Focusing on it to see where it led
Like choosing a film on Netflix streaming
Figments of show’s past played like I’m dreaming
I see the theater’s recollection
The Garden seemed to have no objection
So I sat in the front, watched all the shows
Brightman performed so my knowledge grows
Across the stage phantoms of the past danced
I sat in the seats completely entranced
Seeing the changes each performance had
Dropped lines, perfect turns, both the good and bad
Learning everything of what I could do
If using this source which I am apt to
His powers, he has a rather long list
Let me say a few so you get the gist
Illusions and reality bending
The possibilities are unending
Taking a moment that was much needed
I started making rules to be heeded
Use Beetlejuice as little as I can
For I feel I’d get lost, given the chance
As tempting as the power can be
It is, to a terrifying degree
Far closer than I think that I can take
To being a god of sorrow and hate
The destruction that I could bring about
Serious scorched earth I have no doubt
I felt it that day I escaped the school
To ignore that face, I’d be quite a fool
I will not become the thing that Red feared
Though a part of me is forever seared
That wants the whole world to burn, reset
I hoped it’s a chance I would never get
I understood more the fear that Finn felt
They could not handle the hand they’d been dealt
Hoping that I can somehow do better
So my rules I’ll follow to the letter
Most of my time in the Garden was spent
Watching shows without spending a cent
Shows that played here had left their mark
I could see their echoes in the dark
These moments of time hung thick in the air
I wondered what shows I could see elsewhere
The St. James presented Frozen only
Don’t think it liked me, made me feel lonely
The Garden loved me and showed me it’s past
I knew I could see shows Brightman was cast
So I went to the Gershwin for Wicked
A munchkin was who Brightman depicted
Boq was his name, he becomes the Tin Man
This prequel of Oz for years had been ran
Full of glamor and heart I’m not surprised
Almost twenty years playing recognized
Could not see Idena or Donna V
Kerry Ellis and Marcie Dodd I’d see
Playing the titular Witch of the West
Only what Brightman was in, not the rest
Even free of Red I was held tight
Bound by my source like a parasite
He’s hovering metaphorically
Controlling my actions, haunting me!
Only so much I can see the same show
So I asked my instincts where I should go
A few blocks down to fifty four below