A Night to Forget
“You call that an abomination?” a heckler shouted.
“I’ve seen more fiendish visions in a bottle of absinthe! Get off the stage!”
It was a bad night at Théâtre Gran Mourguet, and everyone knew it—especially the critics. Until that dreadful evening, the reviews had been mostly positive. But spurred on by a rowdy drunk in the back row, half the audience joined in, laughing and jeering, denouncing the Entity as a pathetic fake.
The Crowd Drifts Away
The other half sensed the shift in mood and quietly drifted away, leaving behind half-empty bottles and unfinished cigars as they fled to other venues in Montmartre or Pigalle.
“Let’s go,” one fleeing patron remarked. “I hear Cabaret d’Enfer has a real devil—an Archduke of Hell who pokes the dancers with a pitchfork!”
The End of the Entity’s Run
It was clear then that the grotesque performer known as the Entity had reached the end of its career. Monsieur Laurent Beausang, owner of Théâtre Mourguet—an Englishman named Freddy Horton in disguise—sat the bewildered being down.
“Look, I don’t know how else to say this, but I can’t employ you anymore,” he said. “After what just happened, I have to close the act and bring in something new. Maybe a Mongol sword-swallower, a Tibetan throat-singer, or some accordion players—something to get those bourgeois morons back.”
A Silent Plea
The Entity pleaded silently through electromagnetic bursts few humans could perceive. Most heard only a faint buzzing like a weak mosquito in their skulls. Only Beausang truly understood the psychic shrieks.
“…Please, don’t throw me out. I did all you asked. I showed them my four-dimensional body. I inverted space and time. I danced for them every night!”
“Yes, I know, but—and I’m sorry—you are a terrible dancer.”
A Final Attempt
“Is there nothing left for me here? No other task I might accomplish?” asked the Entity.
Beausang shrugged. “Can you sing?”
Surprisingly, the Entity reorganized its bizarre physiology to mimic lungs and vocal cords. With effort, it managed to sing a little.
The Last Performance
The next night, the Entity performed at an intimate café du mort with only thirty guests at midnight. Unfortunately, the patrons did not enjoy the experience.
“Seventeen burst eardrums, and eleven were carted off to the asylum!”
“…I told you, the music of the void is an acquired taste.”
“One woman even tried to pour hot candle wax in her ears to make it stop! I’m sorry, but this is the last straw. You have to leave.”
The Entity’s Fate
“…Where will I go?”
“Honestly, I don’t care,” Beausang said. “Go live under a bridge for all I care.”
And so, for a while, that is exactly what happened…
Disclaimer:
This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. All images used are for illustration.
