I'm not scared of theatre. Theatre I know. Crazy actors I know. Grumpy techies I know. Diva directors know. Sets falling apart, audience members dying, people puking onstage, I've seen it all. But this.... I couldn't believe that someone would do this to me. As soon as we bid goodnight to our director, I turned to my so-called production manager.
“What the hell?”
“I know, who would believe Paul Grayson is still directing shows? He works under an alias of course.”
“What the hell?”
“I probably should've told you this before, but Darkwoods is a supernatural theatre.”
“What the hell?”
“I know.... it's hard to believe, but the supernatural does exist.”
“The hell?”
“I thought if I told you before, really told you anyway, you'd think I was crazy and you wouldn't want to work here. I scared off three other potentials that way.”
“FUCK!”
“Do you want some sleep? We have limited space so we share cabins – you're with me.”
“SHIT!” Now Marta looked really hurt.
“I thought it would be nice – I mean yeah, we'll see a lot of each other, but at least we can keep everything consolidated.”
I snapped out of my shock just a bit. “No Marta, I'm still... well. The director is dead!”
“I know. He's not even the worst you're going to meet.”
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