The Wings

Text 1: The Waiting Door, by Ruth Ellery

An original short story extract.

The corridor behind the stage was narrow enough for two people to pass only if one turned sideways. Mira, the dresser, knew every loose board in it. She moved between the costume room and the wings with a box of pins balanced on one palm, listening to the muffled voices beyond the curtain.

Leon stood beside the painted door, still in his borrowed coat. His next entrance was due, but he had missed the last one. “I’ve ruined it,” he said. He was staring at the floor, where a length of gold braid had come loose from his sleeve. Mira knelt and threaded it back through the cloth. “Hold the cuff here,” she said, guiding his hand to it. His fingers shook; she steadied the fabric without taking it from him.

From the stage came a burst of laughter, then silence. Leon looked towards the curtain. Mira put the box down and shifted aside, leaving the painted door clear. “There’s your way in,” she said. For a moment he stayed where he was. Then he lifted his head, smoothed the sleeve himself and stepped towards the light. Mira remained in the dim corridor, gathering the fallen pins one by one.