It had not been Guinevere’s idea to attend this show. An elderly neighbour by the name of Agnes Crutcher had purchased tickets for both of them before inviting her, making refusal an awkward proposition. After reading up on Silverton, Gwen willingly accepted the invitation because what she learned while researching the show left her afraid that it might be a bit too much for the sometimes fragile Agnes.
Now, here they both sit in the front row, almost close enough to touch Sarah Silverton. Normally, Agnes would have reserved a box, but that would keep her too far away from the medium, whom she wants to look straight in the eyes. On several occasions in the past, Agnes has tried to get a personal reading from Sarah, only to be rudely rebuffed by her staff. Because of that, the old woman intends to make damn sure she gets a public one tonight.
At first things go swimmingly. Agnes remains on the edge of her seat, enraptured by Sarah’s every move, hanging on her every word. When the medium looks in her direction and claims to feel the presence of a fallen hero whose loved one is in attendance, Agnes knows (just knows!) that it’s her beloved Wallace, who passed away nearly ten years ago. You see, Wallace had served in the RAF. Mind you, he’d never seen active duty and been discharged long before he died, but that was neither here nor there. He had served his country, and that made him a hero, full stop.
In response to Sarah’s proclamation, Agnes claps her hands together and whispers words of comfort to her dear Wallace, so grateful to know that he is looking out for her still. Meanwhile Gwen squirms in her seat, avoiding Silverton’s gaze and thinking of her late husband, Leontes, who had died in the line of duty back in January.
Unfortunately, as Guinevere had feared, the show does indeed take a turn for the terrifying. What is at first a fun albeit spooky spectacular, eventually becomes traumatic. Flickering lights give way to falling bits of scaffolding. Tales of the protective deceased give way to talk of dark spirits who foretell doom. During one particularly harrowing stretch of the show, Gwen feels compelled to use her power to sedate those within range. As a wave of fear sweeps through the crowd, those closest to her remain suspiciously sedate, serenely riding out the panic.
When intermission mercifully arrives, Guinevere breathes a sigh of relief and checks her watch, calculating how much time remains before the finale.
The Performance & Intermission (open)
Now, here they both sit in the front row, almost close enough to touch Sarah Silverton. Normally, Agnes would have reserved a box, but that would keep her too far away from the medium, whom she wants to look straight in the eyes. On several occasions in the past, Agnes has tried to get a personal reading from Sarah, only to be rudely rebuffed by her staff. Because of that, the old woman intends to make damn sure she gets a public one tonight.
At first things go swimmingly. Agnes remains on the edge of her seat, enraptured by Sarah’s every move, hanging on her every word. When the medium looks in her direction and claims to feel the presence of a fallen hero whose loved one is in attendance, Agnes knows (just knows!) that it’s her beloved Wallace, who passed away nearly ten years ago. You see, Wallace had served in the RAF. Mind you, he’d never seen active duty and been discharged long before he died, but that was neither here nor there. He had served his country, and that made him a hero, full stop.
In response to Sarah’s proclamation, Agnes claps her hands together and whispers words of comfort to her dear Wallace, so grateful to know that he is looking out for her still. Meanwhile Gwen squirms in her seat, avoiding Silverton’s gaze and thinking of her late husband, Leontes, who had died in the line of duty back in January.
Unfortunately, as Guinevere had feared, the show does indeed take a turn for the terrifying. What is at first a fun albeit spooky spectacular, eventually becomes traumatic. Flickering lights give way to falling bits of scaffolding. Tales of the protective deceased give way to talk of dark spirits who foretell doom. During one particularly harrowing stretch of the show, Gwen feels compelled to use her power to sedate those within range. As a wave of fear sweeps through the crowd, those closest to her remain suspiciously sedate, serenely riding out the panic.
When intermission mercifully arrives, Guinevere breathes a sigh of relief and checks her watch, calculating how much time remains before the finale.