Dopoorly
Short Story #0021
The audition was today. Tori sat dry-mouthed in the auditorium seat, sandwiched between two other women, trying desperately to forget her clammy hands and perspiration. It was a community play, just a reenactment of the Christmas Carol. The part she was trying out for was Belle and wouldn’t go longer than five minutes. Yet despite its insignificance, it caused her to shake at the thought. A well-meaning friend had talked her into auditioning, and had it not been for this friend being her only current mode of convenient transportation, she might well have left.
“Sorry, guys, our schedule is a bit off today.” The assistant director smiled from near the stage. “As mentioned in the email, we will be assigning parts after auditions. We will start on a volunteer basis. Raise your hand when you’d like your turn. Of course, waiting until the current auditioner has finished theirs before doing so. When you come up, state your name and what part you’re trying out for, and then let it rip. Before we begin, are there any questions?”
“Oh, I have a million of them.” A masculine voice called from far in the back, a hoarse laugh following the comment.
“No? Alright then, are there any who would like to go first?”
A few people raised their hands and were assigned a quick order. The first to go up was a woman behind Tori, who stood briskly, going on stage in a jaunty jog. She was trying out for Mrs. Fezziwig; her general look didn’t seem to suit the character as much as her personality. With a robust expression of self-confidence, she opened her mouth to begin reciting when, from off stage, a stone hit her square in the throat. A glittering green ball dripped out of the corner of her mouth, and as if in response to this, instead of clearly stating her lines, she screamed out the first few words. Reflexively, she clamped her mouth shut, turning red.
“That’s alright, try again.” The assistant director instructed from the first row.
A peal of laughter echoed from the back of the room, choked with mirth.
“Did you see that thing hit her?” Tori dared to ask the woman beside her.
“I didn’t see anything hit her.”
“Oh… maybe it was a trick of the light.” Hot embarrassment ate its way across her face.
The laughter was muffled and then disappeared as the woman finished her bid and left the stage with a marked reduction in enthusiasm. A second volunteer went up, a man going for Marley.
“Ah, I’ll have to get closer for this one.” That voice came again. “Oh, wait, he moves fast, a wide gate. Let’s try this.”
The man going to the stage suddenly slipped, barely catching himself without hitting the stairs. The director, assistant director, and several others, including Tori, stood at his sudden fall. The man reassured that he was fine, and all of them returned to their seats. The only one who remained standing was Tori, entranced by a lithe man who came skipping from the back of the room to collect a glittering set of red beads left where the stumbling auditioner’s foot had last been.
“They’re perfect. Look at them, they sparkle so wonderfully. Oh,” An unfortunately wide smile slit across his face. “Oh no, can you see me?”
A compressed sound slipped passed Tori’s lips, instant hot horror emanating up from her intestines into her head. In the space of a breath, he was sitting on the seat back in front of her, practically up against the man’s head who was occupying it.
“Cats got your tongue, little songbird?”
“Do you see him?”
“She’s not going to answer you, I’m afraid you’re no longer riding the line between our worlds.”
“Line? A-am I having some kind of mental break? Is this schizophrenia?” She fell back into her seat, which seemed to amuse him.
“You wish, no, as I said, you’ve just stepped on the line. It’s not easy to do, I give you credit. But I just dragged you over the rest of the way. That’s why none of these little showmen notice you talking to me, or me to you. But though this is fun, your intrusion is also rather annoying.”
“Intrusion?”
The lights went out, and an instant later came back on with her in the front row alone and him on the stage with the spotlight bearing down all around him. Dressed as a gentleman background actor for the play, he cocked his silk top hat with a smirk. “Well, my dear, you have ill-advisedly found yourself caught in the middle of a burglary, a stickup, a heist.”
“What is there to steal here?”
In response, her eyes were drawn to a small, beautiful green ball at her feet. Entranced, she retrieved it.
“I’ll take that.” He snatched it from her with a long pair of culinary tweezers. “This would be wasted on you, after all, you have no idea what to do with it.”
“What is that thing?”
“I’m not sure just yet. I haven’t had a chance to assess it. It could be talent, charisma, or confidence. Any lovely and good emotion. They make such beautiful gems; it puts rubies and diamonds to shame. Don’t get me wrong, negative emotions have their charms too, but they don’t shine as bright.” He dropped the ball into a leather bag at his waist, the tongs disappearing into thin air.
“Were you going to do that to me? Whatever it was you did to them that made those things happen.”
The figure of the man seemed distinctly feline as he slunk to the edge of the stage, the spotlight following him. “There would be no point. You have nothing to take, or at least nothing I want,” he dropped from the stage with dexterous ease, “Miss Tori Archer.”
“You know my name?”
“Of course, I know a lot about you. I know all about those whose gems I’ve taken. See this,” he presented his left hand, on the pinky glittered a vibrant princess cut stone that showed pale blue with its own internal fire, “this was yours a long time ago. I think I got it in nineteen ninety - oh excuse me, let’s not mention the date.”
“Who are you?”
“Me, who am I? Well, that’s not an easy question to answer. Wait, I got it, call me Mr. Dopoorly, or just Dopoorly if you’d like. I like the ring that has. Dopoorly. Nice, don’t you think?” He admired the jewel on his pinky.
“If that is mine, Dopoorly, I want it back.”
He laughed. “Of course, let me just give it right back to you. Come, my little songbird, you don’t take me for a fool. Don’t look like that, I’m not greedy. You just don’t understand very much about what this is, what it could mean to get it back.”
“If that’s mine, I want it back, no matter what it is. You have no right to it.”
“What a little firecracker you can be. Fine, how about this? I’ll make you a bet. I’ll let you cross back over the line, and when I do, you volunteer to go next. Read your part and perform to my satisfaction, and I will give you back the stone. Don’t, and I’ll keep it and continue my larceny. How about that?”
“That’s not fair when it’s mine to begin with.”
“Not fair, not fair. I don’t have to offer you this opportunity, deary. Do you think I’ll offer Steven Richards, who dropped that lovely string of red beads, an opportunity to get them back? Here’s the answer to that: I won’t. Take it or leave it. Yes or no. Make up your mind, you’re boring me, Miss Archer?”
“Fine. I’ll take it.”
“See, that was easy.”
The light blinked. Tori was standing before her previous seat several rows back, all eyes on her.
“Do you want to go next?” The assistant director inquired from the front.
“Yes.” The word choked her.
The walk to the stage felt ten miles long. At the top, the light compressed down so she could hardly see her feet when her eyes fell, the bodies in the chairs somehow too striking, too difficult to maintain contact with. Words spilt out, her tongue viscous as it pronounced them. It was a flash from the moment of commencement to the end. When she was sitting in her seat again, Tori felt as if all her organs had been scooped out, replaced with sawdust, not a thought going through her mind.
The rest of the audition came and went. They were told they would get an email with the assigned parts, as well as the details on rehearsals and fittings within the week. When all was said and done, Tori sat there, the only occupant of the auditorium stuck as the truth of her own actions began to sink in.
Slow, deliberate, clapping echoed through the empty space. Mr. Dopoorly stood just a row in front of her. He had changed into a vintage plaid suit with a begonia in the lapel, a gentle smirk on his deceivingly proportionate lips. “Well, you did it. I am impressed.”
“I did horribly.”
“But you did it, and I doubted that you would, so I stand impressed. And as per our agreement, this I return to you.”
Pinching the stone, he pulled it from its setting, placing it in her outstretched hand. On contact, the flashing blue gem melted into her skin, leaving no trace behind.
“That’s strange.” Standing, an instant sense of lightness brightened her mood, and even her reflections on her audition seemed improved. “Amazing even.”
“It feels good to have that back, I suppose?”
“It does. You know, there’s something I have to do.”
“Is there now?”
“Yeah. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Dopoorly, I have to go.”
“Of course, I would hate to keep you from something important.”
A thousand things were running through her mind as she left the auditorium and went through the front of the community theater out into the open air of the city. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but she felt she could finally say it, finally do what she had wanted to for so long. Without a thought, she began to cross the road, a wide smile brightening her face.
A loud screeching, a horn. Tori glided across the road, still and seemingly lifeless, her bag thrown down the street, shoes in the gutter.
Mr. Dopoorly clicked his tongue from the theater door, looking at the crumpled mass. “Blind confidence is such a double-edged sword. Well, what can you do? Too bad.”
Special Thanks
Unsplash artist who have provided some of the wonderful images throughout this post: Alice Yamamura, Ahmed Zayan, Anh Tuan To, Sonder Quest, and R. G.
And to all the artists on Canva for all the great images that were used in the body of this post.
All of you help other small artists (especially literary artists) provide visual aids to their work. Thank you so much!