Illustration by David Lewis
Applications are Invited for Position of Theatre Ghost
(A House of Ushers Short Story Halloween Special)
© Peter Grehan 2020
‘As you can see the stage has the opening set from The Phantom of the Opera,’
‘Does the theatre have a ghost?’ Digby assumed the questioner was a boy; one could never be sure when dealing with aliens. They might be a party of diminutive beings with high voices. Nothing would surprise him working at the Worlds’ Mediation Centre performing arts complex. This group had an average height of around one and a half meters. Their skin was a pea-green colour and had a smoothness and texture of synthetic rubber. Perhaps their strangest feature were their teardrop-shaped heads.
‘No,’ said Digby. ‘We don’t have any ghosts.’ They were in the main auditorium of the WMC and Digby was conducting his second tour of the day. The guests taking the tour were a mixed group of humanoid aliens. Most of the party just nodded politely which was a little unsettling since he felt as though they weren’t engaging. He was quite glad that the youngsters were starting to ask questions.
‘What sort of theatre doesn’t have any ghosts?’ the boy said with obvious derision and disappointment in his voice. ‘What a boring tour.’ He folded his arms and pouted to communicate how fed-up he was.
‘Now, now, Gosfried let’s not be rude to our host,’ said a female humanoid with the same colour and skin texture. Digby presumed she must be the teacher of the group. He hadn’t linked her to the children immediately because she was wearing a hat that hid the shape of her head.
‘Well, why don’t they have any ghosts?’
‘Good question,’ said Digby. ‘Perhaps it’s because this is a very young performing arts centre. It takes time for a theatre to acquire a ghost.’ Digby thought that humouring the children this way would settle the matter. Unfortunately, it didn’t.
A young girl from the school party asked, ‘Couldn’t you find a ghost that needs somewhere to...’ she seemed to be struggling to find the right word to finish her sentence.
‘Haunt?’ suggested Digby.
‘Yes, haunt,’ confirmed the girl with a smile.
‘Hmm, that’s a good idea,’ said Digby. ‘But what would be the best way of doing that?’
‘You could put a help wanted notice on the star-web,’ said the boy.
‘Oh yes,’ said one of the male adult visitors getting into the spirit of the discussion. ‘Something like; Applications are Invited for Position of Theatre Ghost.’ He laughed at his wit.
‘I’ve just posted that as a vacancy on my employment agencies website,’ a female visitor said, putting her tablet back in her pocket.
‘What!?’ said Digby.
‘This is great!’ said a human male visitor. ‘I’m supposed to be on holiday but this is going to make a great story. My editor is going to be well chuffed. ‘WMC advertises for a ghost to haunt the theatre,’ he said trying out a headline as he typed.
‘Just a minute! We’re doing no such thing,’ said Digby. He glanced down at the tear-drop alien children and seeing their innocent round eyes staring back at him said, ‘Not, yet anyway. There are budgets and authorisations and forms to fill first.’
‘It’s already done mate,’ said the reporter. ‘ Here, love, give us the star-web address for your employment agency so we can reference it in our article.
This was turning into a nightmare. There was only one thing Digby could do. He pretended it hadn’t happened and hoped that it would all go away.
‘Shall we move on to the backstage area now?’ It was a rhetorical question since he wasn’t going to offer them a choice. He led the way down the steps between the aisles of seats and headed for the nearest exit. Fearing they might be left behind the tour group rushed to keep up with him.
‘Does the theatre have a ghost?’ Digby assumed the questioner was a boy; one could never be sure when dealing with aliens. They might be a party of diminutive beings with high voices. Nothing would surprise him working at the Worlds’ Mediation Centre performing arts complex. This group had an average height of around one and a half meters. Their skin was a pea-green colour and had a smoothness and texture of synthetic rubber. Perhaps their strangest feature were their teardrop-shaped heads.
‘No,’ said Digby. ‘We don’t have any ghosts.’ They were in the main auditorium of the WMC and Digby was conducting his second tour of the day. The guests taking the tour were a mixed group of humanoid aliens. Most of the party just nodded politely which was a little unsettling since he felt as though they weren’t engaging. He was quite glad that the youngsters were starting to ask questions.
‘What sort of theatre doesn’t have any ghosts?’ the boy said with obvious derision and disappointment in his voice. ‘What a boring tour.’ He folded his arms and pouted to communicate how fed-up he was.
‘Now, now, Gosfried let’s not be rude to our host,’ said a female humanoid with the same colour and skin texture. Digby presumed she must be the teacher of the group. He hadn’t linked her to the children immediately because she was wearing a hat that hid the shape of her head.
‘Well, why don’t they have any ghosts?’
‘Good question,’ said Digby. ‘Perhaps it’s because this is a very young performing arts centre. It takes time for a theatre to acquire a ghost.’ Digby thought that humouring the children this way would settle the matter. Unfortunately, it didn’t.
A young girl from the school party asked, ‘Couldn’t you find a ghost that needs somewhere to...’ she seemed to be struggling to find the right word to finish her sentence.
‘Haunt?’ suggested Digby.
‘Yes, haunt,’ confirmed the girl with a smile.
‘Hmm, that’s a good idea,’ said Digby. ‘But what would be the best way of doing that?’
‘You could put a help wanted notice on the star-web,’ said the boy.
‘Oh yes,’ said one of the male adult visitors getting into the spirit of the discussion. ‘Something like; Applications are Invited for Position of Theatre Ghost.’ He laughed at his wit.
‘I’ve just posted that as a vacancy on my employment agencies website,’ a female visitor said, putting her tablet back in her pocket.
‘What!?’ said Digby.
‘This is great!’ said a human male visitor. ‘I’m supposed to be on holiday but this is going to make a great story. My editor is going to be well chuffed. ‘WMC advertises for a ghost to haunt the theatre,’ he said trying out a headline as he typed.
‘Just a minute! We’re doing no such thing,’ said Digby. He glanced down at the tear-drop alien children and seeing their innocent round eyes staring back at him said, ‘Not, yet anyway. There are budgets and authorisations and forms to fill first.’
‘It’s already done mate,’ said the reporter. ‘ Here, love, give us the star-web address for your employment agency so we can reference it in our article.
This was turning into a nightmare. There was only one thing Digby could do. He pretended it hadn’t happened and hoped that it would all go away.
‘Shall we move on to the backstage area now?’ It was a rhetorical question since he wasn’t going to offer them a choice. He led the way down the steps between the aisles of seats and headed for the nearest exit. Fearing they might be left behind the tour group rushed to keep up with him.
*
This is is what we call Set Road, along each side you will see these great metal gates. These are each 30 meters high, the same height as the proscenium arch of the main auditorium stage. Let’s go into this open one.’ Digby led the group into one of the rehearsal spaces and waited for them to filter in afterwards. ‘During opera season, which will start at the end of this week, there can be several different operas, each rehearsing in these rooms. The floor area is the same as on the main stage so we can fit any set on here and we know it will fit on the auditorium stage. When we’re ready we can move the set along Set Road onto the main stage. That way we can show a different opera for each consecutive performance.’
‘What opera is this set for then?’ asked the reporter.
‘This set is for The Turn of The Screw by Benjamin Britten. It’s a ghost story.’ Digby cursed himself for mentioning ghosts again.
‘Excuse me,’ the little girl said. Digby’s heart sank. ‘But are you a Katzin?’ The question took Digby by surprise. Technically he was a Katzin because his DNA was a close a match to a Katzin as you could get. However, he was a human, cat hybrid. A genetic condition, or rather a curse, that occurred in every few generations in his family. He really didn’t want to go into that.
‘Yes, I’m Katzin,’ he said.
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ another girl in the school party said.
‘Have you ever eaten anyone?’ the boy who had asked about ghosts said.
‘Have you got a pet dog?’ another boy said
Digby was desperately trying to process these questions when one of the female members of the tour group produced a blood-curdling scream. Digby and the others turned in the direction that the woman was facing. There amongst the shadows of the opera set, something was emerging from the shadows. The figure was very tall, with pale red skin, a grim face, and a flattish top to his head. He was also wearing an Usher’s uniform.
‘Oh, hi Frank,’ said Digby. ‘You gave us a bit of a fright there.’ Digby paused then said, ‘What ya up to?’
Frank growled, looked along the length of the scenery one more time then said, ‘Looking for something,’ in a voice that sounded like tumbling gravel.
‘Okay, tell me what it is and we’ll keep a lookout for it.’
Frank created a growl in his throat that rumbled up to his mouth and became, ‘Entity.’ He then walked past the tour group and out into Set Road.
‘Did he just say, entity?’ said the reporter.
‘What’s an entity,’ said one of the little alien girls.
‘It’s a thing with a distinct and independent existence, like a being,’ said the woman with the recruitment agency.’
‘Is it a bad thing?’ said the little girl.
‘Depends,’ said the reporter. ‘It might be.’ Digby gave the man a stare that made the colour drain from his face. ‘Or it might not,’ The reporter added quickly.
'Okay,' said Digby wanting to finish the tour as quickly as possible. Let's all move back out to Set Road. The group seemed a little hesitant, glancing back towards the Opera set in the hope of seeing the 'Entity,' so Digby decided to hurry them along a little by switching the lights off in the rehearsal space. The rehearsal space was plunged into darkness and as soon as it did so the female guest that had screamed before did so again. Digby turned to reassure her that they were going to move into the well-lit area of Set Road but when he saw the entire group with gaping mouths (those that had mouths at least) into the darkness. He followed the direction of their gaze and saw a faintly luminescent ethereal being floating not ten metres from them.
Digby could see that she was female and appeared as though she were composed of smoke or mist. Yet he could see she wore flowing robes that incorporated a hood. She looked quite beautiful. ‘Hello’, said Digby. ‘What’s your name?’
She smiled at Digby for a moment and then her face and body shifted into the shape of a skeletal horror of the night as she rushed at the group with the scream of a harridan. The next moment Digby was outside the rehearsal space watching his tour group running as fast as they could down Set Road. ‘I think you can mark that vacancy for a ghost on your website as a position filled!’ he heard the terror-stricken reporter say. Somehow that gave Digby a momentary feeling of satisfaction
Frank moved next to him. ‘Told you,’ he growled.
‘What was that?’
2B-4 glided along side the pair of ushers causing Digby to wonder where he had been while all this had been going on. ‘It’s an energy life form,’ 2B-4 said. ‘Commonly referred to as a “Fantasma”. She’s the new security agent sent by the Daedalians to keep an eye on us and Frank.’ Frank groaned in despair. ‘The good Herr Doctor has given her the name Nebelung.’ Frank growl sighed again and it seemed to Digby that it was an especially heavy one . ‘Oh, and you may have noticed that she has a wicked sense of humour.’ Frank lowered his head and shook it while making a despairing sound in the back of his throat.
‘What opera is this set for then?’ asked the reporter.
‘This set is for The Turn of The Screw by Benjamin Britten. It’s a ghost story.’ Digby cursed himself for mentioning ghosts again.
‘Excuse me,’ the little girl said. Digby’s heart sank. ‘But are you a Katzin?’ The question took Digby by surprise. Technically he was a Katzin because his DNA was a close a match to a Katzin as you could get. However, he was a human, cat hybrid. A genetic condition, or rather a curse, that occurred in every few generations in his family. He really didn’t want to go into that.
‘Yes, I’m Katzin,’ he said.
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ another girl in the school party said.
‘Have you ever eaten anyone?’ the boy who had asked about ghosts said.
‘Have you got a pet dog?’ another boy said
Digby was desperately trying to process these questions when one of the female members of the tour group produced a blood-curdling scream. Digby and the others turned in the direction that the woman was facing. There amongst the shadows of the opera set, something was emerging from the shadows. The figure was very tall, with pale red skin, a grim face, and a flattish top to his head. He was also wearing an Usher’s uniform.
‘Oh, hi Frank,’ said Digby. ‘You gave us a bit of a fright there.’ Digby paused then said, ‘What ya up to?’
Frank growled, looked along the length of the scenery one more time then said, ‘Looking for something,’ in a voice that sounded like tumbling gravel.
‘Okay, tell me what it is and we’ll keep a lookout for it.’
Frank created a growl in his throat that rumbled up to his mouth and became, ‘Entity.’ He then walked past the tour group and out into Set Road.
‘Did he just say, entity?’ said the reporter.
‘What’s an entity,’ said one of the little alien girls.
‘It’s a thing with a distinct and independent existence, like a being,’ said the woman with the recruitment agency.’
‘Is it a bad thing?’ said the little girl.
‘Depends,’ said the reporter. ‘It might be.’ Digby gave the man a stare that made the colour drain from his face. ‘Or it might not,’ The reporter added quickly.
'Okay,' said Digby wanting to finish the tour as quickly as possible. Let's all move back out to Set Road. The group seemed a little hesitant, glancing back towards the Opera set in the hope of seeing the 'Entity,' so Digby decided to hurry them along a little by switching the lights off in the rehearsal space. The rehearsal space was plunged into darkness and as soon as it did so the female guest that had screamed before did so again. Digby turned to reassure her that they were going to move into the well-lit area of Set Road but when he saw the entire group with gaping mouths (those that had mouths at least) into the darkness. He followed the direction of their gaze and saw a faintly luminescent ethereal being floating not ten metres from them.
Digby could see that she was female and appeared as though she were composed of smoke or mist. Yet he could see she wore flowing robes that incorporated a hood. She looked quite beautiful. ‘Hello’, said Digby. ‘What’s your name?’
She smiled at Digby for a moment and then her face and body shifted into the shape of a skeletal horror of the night as she rushed at the group with the scream of a harridan. The next moment Digby was outside the rehearsal space watching his tour group running as fast as they could down Set Road. ‘I think you can mark that vacancy for a ghost on your website as a position filled!’ he heard the terror-stricken reporter say. Somehow that gave Digby a momentary feeling of satisfaction
Frank moved next to him. ‘Told you,’ he growled.
‘What was that?’
2B-4 glided along side the pair of ushers causing Digby to wonder where he had been while all this had been going on. ‘It’s an energy life form,’ 2B-4 said. ‘Commonly referred to as a “Fantasma”. She’s the new security agent sent by the Daedalians to keep an eye on us and Frank.’ Frank groaned in despair. ‘The good Herr Doctor has given her the name Nebelung.’ Frank growl sighed again and it seemed to Digby that it was an especially heavy one . ‘Oh, and you may have noticed that she has a wicked sense of humour.’ Frank lowered his head and shook it while making a despairing sound in the back of his throat.
End