| Short Story |
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THE SECOND ATTEMPT
by Elliot Richard Dorfman
Somewhere that was neither heaven nor hell, the frustrated spirit watched as
the new school season started at Manuel High. In Mr. Thomas' twelfth grade
English class, the students already looked depressed.
Mr. Thomas was puzzled. "Why such sad faces, I thought you were all happy
to work as a group and present a short Halloween play for the PTA Meeting at
the end of October instead of writing a book report."
Marie, a pretty brunette, shook her head. "It sounded like fun at first, but we
can find a decent play. Most of the productions we've read require lots of
complicated stage effects that we'll never be able to do."
Andy, the class geek shook his head. " I still don't see what's wrong with the
one I picked out?"
Jeanette, the most popular girl in class, moaned. "Give me a break, that play
is as scary as Cinderella. The audience would laugh us off the stage."
"Did you check out at any plays from the list I gave you?" the teacher asked.
Freddy, who thought of himself as the class intellectual, nodded. "The stories
are too simple. The audience would guess the ending way before the play was
over."
Mr. Thomas shrugged. "It's better than nothing. If you people don't start
getting started soon, you won't have adequate time to rehearse."
Len sighed. "That's just great. It looks like we won't be doing anything."
"I think the play about the kids who get locked up overnight in the classroom
may have possibilities," Ellen suggested, hopefully.
Discouraged, some of the students started becoming disruptive.
"Hey Ellen, I wish someone would lock you up and then throw away the key,"
Roger quipped.
"Then where would they put you?" she retaliated.
Inez, one of the more consciences students, became angry. "Come on, let's
cut the crap and try to figure out something. We've already committed
ourselves for that night."
Just at that moment, Austin, a handsome youngster who fancied himself the
next Leonardo DiCaprio because he actually had done a TV commercial,
cheerfully walked into class holding a script.
"Our problems are over. I found a great play in the school library called `The
Secret Hour.”
Marie looked puzzled. "In the school library, I thought we already checked out
all the plays there?"
"Almost all," Austin responded. "By sheer luck, I found this script wedged
behind one of the shelves in the bookcase near the front window. The theme
is very spooky, and what blew me away were the notes attached to the last
page of the script. The play was written by Bret Chasen, a Senior in the class
of nineteen-thirty-six. It was supposed to be performed for a special
Halloween assembly. Unfortunately, Bret was killed in some kind of an
accident a day before the show."
"I wonder what kind of person he was? Do you think we can get a hold of his
records and find out something about him?" one of the students asked.
Mr. Thomas shook his head. "I doubt it. All the records of that time were
microfilmed and filed somewhere in the basement of the Central Board of
Education."
Copies of the play were made and passed out to the class. Mr. Thomas had
never seen the class read something so intently.
"It's really good." Freddy said after everyone finished. "It's actually better than
lots of the movies we see now."
"It gave me the chills," Inez remarked. "It's perfect for Halloween."
The class enthusiastically agreed.
Mr. Thomas smiled. "Then, I guess this project is finally off the ground. I'll
arrange for you to use the stage auditorium a few times a week after school.
Right now you'd better pick a director."
There were no volunteers until Austin spoke up.
"I'll direct, Mr. Thomas, but there is a part in the play I'd really like to do."
"Do both," the teacher suggested, "unless there is someone in the class who
objects."
No one seemed to mind, especially with Austin's professional experience. Now
extremely motivated, the group began working on the play that very day.
***
With just over a month to prepare, `The Secret Hour' was shaping up nicely.
But there was a big concern, Austin was becoming a tyrant.
"Come on Doris," he screamed out at one of the rehearsals, "Give more
emotion. You look like some kind of zombie on stage. And Mandy, can't you
talk any clearer? You sound like an over zealous monkey chattering away. I
know this play is not being performed at the Empire theatre on Broadway, but
surely you people can do much better than this! Am I the only one who has an
ounce of professionalism?
Mandy had taken enough. "Hold it, Austin. I think we're doing pretty well,
under the circumstances. What's with you? Maybe being the director has
gone to your head. Your sarcasm isn't appreciated, and if you keep pushing
us, we'll all quit."
For a moment, Austin looked stunned, then he composed himself.
"Sorry, everyone. Let's call it a day."
He quickly walked off the stage as Mr. Thomas, who was standing in the
wings, pulled him over.
"Austin, I appreciate your dedication, but ease up. By the way, how do you
know about the old Empire theatre on Broadway. It was ripped down in
nineteen-fifty-three. Have you been studying the history of the American
stage?"
Austin looked puzzled. "I guess so but I don't remember when."
After Mr. Thomas left, Austin was putting away some things when he thought
someone was snickering behind his back. Turning, there was nobody in the
auditorium. Shrugging, the young director shut off the lights and left.
***
After that unsettling rehearsal, Austin calmed down considerably and there
were no more problems with the cast. By the time of the dress rehearsal,
everyone felt this show was going to be something special. There was even
talk that Mr. Thomas had invited some of his showbiz friends to come and see
it. Like usual, Austin was the last to leave the stage. As he moved to the exit,
a strong force pushed him back. He fell to the floor as a boy about his age
appeared out of the darkness. At first the tall, thin figure was transparent, but
quickly its form became solid. His dark brown eyes shone with intensity. He
had a scowl on his face. Frightened, Austin rose.
The supernatural specter angrily spoke. "The Secret Hour' is my play. The
role you took was meant only for me to perform."
"What? Say, who are you?"
The phantom's laughter echoed throughout the empty auditorium. "Don't play
dumb. You know who I am."
Austin took a breath. "You can't be Bret Chasen."
The ghost nodded, obviously enjoying Austin's fear. "Oh, but I am. I've been
watching you ever since you found my play in the library. Do you think you
have been actually directing my play? I am the one who has been putting all
the ideas into your head. But it's not enough. I must perform and make sure
`The Secret Hour' is a success."
"That's impossible. You're dead."
Bret began pacing back and forth on the stage. "What do you know of death,
Fool? My body may have ceased to exist a long time ago, but not my soul.
Oh, how I remember the accident that ended my life. I was deep in thought as I
left the school after the final rehearsal. It was raining heavily. I crossed the
avenue and didn't notice the approaching bus. It was all over for me in a split
second."
"Sorry," Austin compassionately replied.
"Sorry? Saying that doesn't help me. After dying, my soul landed in some
kind of lonely purgatory. From there, I have observed events on earth. While I
want to move ahead to a higher plain, it's impossible because I am too full of
anger for not getting a chance to succeed in life. When I saw you direct my
play and take the role that was intended for me, my rage intensified. It was
then that an angel came to me."
"An angel?"
"I think so. He promised to let me live again if I could find someone to
exchange places with. That was easy. You were my choice."
"But it wouldn't work. People would notice a change in my personality.
Besides, you don't know enough about my life to function as me."
"Don't give yourself so much credit. I've studied you extremely carefully for
the past few weeks and have mastered your personal habits. As for your life,
it's simple enough. You live with your mother, have only a few living relatives,
and are friends with the same people you've known all your life. As for your
acting talent, I can easily match it. No, Austin, it will be an easy transition when
I take over your life."
Austin began backing away, looking for a way to escape from this evil
phantom.
"This isn't really happening," he tried rationalizing. "I'm imagining all of this,
It's some kind of a joke the kids are playing on me."
"Goodbye Austin, and thank you for giving me a second chance."
The figure of Bret walked straight to Austin and merged within his body.
The school custodian cleaning the floors outside the auditorium heard a
terrible scream. He rushed in and saw Austin standing in a trace on the stage.
"Are you all right?" he called out.
Austin immediately snapped out of his stupor and smiled. "Yes, everything is
fine, now!"
***
The next night, the play went smoothly and was a huge success as expected.
"You were terrific, Austin, "Mr. Thomas told Austin as he took off his make-up.
"One of my friends who came to see the show is an agent and wants to meet
with you tomorrow."
"It's all worked out just as I wanted," thought the possessed actor as he
walked from the auditorium to the school cafeteria where a cast party was
being held.
Suddenly, Bret was a spirit again, returned to his isolated purgatory.
"I fulfilled my commitment. What's happened?" he called out.
From somewhere in the endless void, Chris appeared
"Remember the old heavy chandeliers that hung in the auditorium. Well, one
of them in the back broke loose from its moorings and fell, fatally crushing my
body."
"That's not fair. I was just getting started again!" Bret exclaimed.
"You have a warped conception of what's fair," Austin replied as he began
fading away.
"Where are you going now?" Bret asked.
"I'm off to a higher plane. Unless you can rid yourself of all that tremendous
hate and anger, you will have to remain here for eternity. I hope you can work
it out."
"Perhaps that angel will give me another chance and I'll again get a chance to
live again," Bret pondered.
But the so-called angel never returned again, and Bret's tormented soul
remained in that lonely purgatory state - forever.
by Elliot Richard Dorfman
Somewhere that was neither heaven nor hell, the frustrated spirit watched as
the new school season started at Manuel High. In Mr. Thomas' twelfth grade
English class, the students already looked depressed.
Mr. Thomas was puzzled. "Why such sad faces, I thought you were all happy
to work as a group and present a short Halloween play for the PTA Meeting at
the end of October instead of writing a book report."
Marie, a pretty brunette, shook her head. "It sounded like fun at first, but we
can find a decent play. Most of the productions we've read require lots of
complicated stage effects that we'll never be able to do."
Andy, the class geek shook his head. " I still don't see what's wrong with the
one I picked out?"
Jeanette, the most popular girl in class, moaned. "Give me a break, that play
is as scary as Cinderella. The audience would laugh us off the stage."
"Did you check out at any plays from the list I gave you?" the teacher asked.
Freddy, who thought of himself as the class intellectual, nodded. "The stories
are too simple. The audience would guess the ending way before the play was
over."
Mr. Thomas shrugged. "It's better than nothing. If you people don't start
getting started soon, you won't have adequate time to rehearse."
Len sighed. "That's just great. It looks like we won't be doing anything."
"I think the play about the kids who get locked up overnight in the classroom
may have possibilities," Ellen suggested, hopefully.
Discouraged, some of the students started becoming disruptive.
"Hey Ellen, I wish someone would lock you up and then throw away the key,"
Roger quipped.
"Then where would they put you?" she retaliated.
Inez, one of the more consciences students, became angry. "Come on, let's
cut the crap and try to figure out something. We've already committed
ourselves for that night."
Just at that moment, Austin, a handsome youngster who fancied himself the
next Leonardo DiCaprio because he actually had done a TV commercial,
cheerfully walked into class holding a script.
"Our problems are over. I found a great play in the school library called `The
Secret Hour.”
Marie looked puzzled. "In the school library, I thought we already checked out
all the plays there?"
"Almost all," Austin responded. "By sheer luck, I found this script wedged
behind one of the shelves in the bookcase near the front window. The theme
is very spooky, and what blew me away were the notes attached to the last
page of the script. The play was written by Bret Chasen, a Senior in the class
of nineteen-thirty-six. It was supposed to be performed for a special
Halloween assembly. Unfortunately, Bret was killed in some kind of an
accident a day before the show."
"I wonder what kind of person he was? Do you think we can get a hold of his
records and find out something about him?" one of the students asked.
Mr. Thomas shook his head. "I doubt it. All the records of that time were
microfilmed and filed somewhere in the basement of the Central Board of
Education."
Copies of the play were made and passed out to the class. Mr. Thomas had
never seen the class read something so intently.
"It's really good." Freddy said after everyone finished. "It's actually better than
lots of the movies we see now."
"It gave me the chills," Inez remarked. "It's perfect for Halloween."
The class enthusiastically agreed.
Mr. Thomas smiled. "Then, I guess this project is finally off the ground. I'll
arrange for you to use the stage auditorium a few times a week after school.
Right now you'd better pick a director."
There were no volunteers until Austin spoke up.
"I'll direct, Mr. Thomas, but there is a part in the play I'd really like to do."
"Do both," the teacher suggested, "unless there is someone in the class who
objects."
No one seemed to mind, especially with Austin's professional experience. Now
extremely motivated, the group began working on the play that very day.
***
With just over a month to prepare, `The Secret Hour' was shaping up nicely.
But there was a big concern, Austin was becoming a tyrant.
"Come on Doris," he screamed out at one of the rehearsals, "Give more
emotion. You look like some kind of zombie on stage. And Mandy, can't you
talk any clearer? You sound like an over zealous monkey chattering away. I
know this play is not being performed at the Empire theatre on Broadway, but
surely you people can do much better than this! Am I the only one who has an
ounce of professionalism?
Mandy had taken enough. "Hold it, Austin. I think we're doing pretty well,
under the circumstances. What's with you? Maybe being the director has
gone to your head. Your sarcasm isn't appreciated, and if you keep pushing
us, we'll all quit."
For a moment, Austin looked stunned, then he composed himself.
"Sorry, everyone. Let's call it a day."
He quickly walked off the stage as Mr. Thomas, who was standing in the
wings, pulled him over.
"Austin, I appreciate your dedication, but ease up. By the way, how do you
know about the old Empire theatre on Broadway. It was ripped down in
nineteen-fifty-three. Have you been studying the history of the American
stage?"
Austin looked puzzled. "I guess so but I don't remember when."
After Mr. Thomas left, Austin was putting away some things when he thought
someone was snickering behind his back. Turning, there was nobody in the
auditorium. Shrugging, the young director shut off the lights and left.
***
After that unsettling rehearsal, Austin calmed down considerably and there
were no more problems with the cast. By the time of the dress rehearsal,
everyone felt this show was going to be something special. There was even
talk that Mr. Thomas had invited some of his showbiz friends to come and see
it. Like usual, Austin was the last to leave the stage. As he moved to the exit,
a strong force pushed him back. He fell to the floor as a boy about his age
appeared out of the darkness. At first the tall, thin figure was transparent, but
quickly its form became solid. His dark brown eyes shone with intensity. He
had a scowl on his face. Frightened, Austin rose.
The supernatural specter angrily spoke. "The Secret Hour' is my play. The
role you took was meant only for me to perform."
"What? Say, who are you?"
The phantom's laughter echoed throughout the empty auditorium. "Don't play
dumb. You know who I am."
Austin took a breath. "You can't be Bret Chasen."
The ghost nodded, obviously enjoying Austin's fear. "Oh, but I am. I've been
watching you ever since you found my play in the library. Do you think you
have been actually directing my play? I am the one who has been putting all
the ideas into your head. But it's not enough. I must perform and make sure
`The Secret Hour' is a success."
"That's impossible. You're dead."
Bret began pacing back and forth on the stage. "What do you know of death,
Fool? My body may have ceased to exist a long time ago, but not my soul.
Oh, how I remember the accident that ended my life. I was deep in thought as I
left the school after the final rehearsal. It was raining heavily. I crossed the
avenue and didn't notice the approaching bus. It was all over for me in a split
second."
"Sorry," Austin compassionately replied.
"Sorry? Saying that doesn't help me. After dying, my soul landed in some
kind of lonely purgatory. From there, I have observed events on earth. While I
want to move ahead to a higher plain, it's impossible because I am too full of
anger for not getting a chance to succeed in life. When I saw you direct my
play and take the role that was intended for me, my rage intensified. It was
then that an angel came to me."
"An angel?"
"I think so. He promised to let me live again if I could find someone to
exchange places with. That was easy. You were my choice."
"But it wouldn't work. People would notice a change in my personality.
Besides, you don't know enough about my life to function as me."
"Don't give yourself so much credit. I've studied you extremely carefully for
the past few weeks and have mastered your personal habits. As for your life,
it's simple enough. You live with your mother, have only a few living relatives,
and are friends with the same people you've known all your life. As for your
acting talent, I can easily match it. No, Austin, it will be an easy transition when
I take over your life."
Austin began backing away, looking for a way to escape from this evil
phantom.
"This isn't really happening," he tried rationalizing. "I'm imagining all of this,
It's some kind of a joke the kids are playing on me."
"Goodbye Austin, and thank you for giving me a second chance."
The figure of Bret walked straight to Austin and merged within his body.
The school custodian cleaning the floors outside the auditorium heard a
terrible scream. He rushed in and saw Austin standing in a trace on the stage.
"Are you all right?" he called out.
Austin immediately snapped out of his stupor and smiled. "Yes, everything is
fine, now!"
***
The next night, the play went smoothly and was a huge success as expected.
"You were terrific, Austin, "Mr. Thomas told Austin as he took off his make-up.
"One of my friends who came to see the show is an agent and wants to meet
with you tomorrow."
"It's all worked out just as I wanted," thought the possessed actor as he
walked from the auditorium to the school cafeteria where a cast party was
being held.
Suddenly, Bret was a spirit again, returned to his isolated purgatory.
"I fulfilled my commitment. What's happened?" he called out.
From somewhere in the endless void, Chris appeared
"Remember the old heavy chandeliers that hung in the auditorium. Well, one
of them in the back broke loose from its moorings and fell, fatally crushing my
body."
"That's not fair. I was just getting started again!" Bret exclaimed.
"You have a warped conception of what's fair," Austin replied as he began
fading away.
"Where are you going now?" Bret asked.
"I'm off to a higher plane. Unless you can rid yourself of all that tremendous
hate and anger, you will have to remain here for eternity. I hope you can work
it out."
"Perhaps that angel will give me another chance and I'll again get a chance to
live again," Bret pondered.
But the so-called angel never returned again, and Bret's tormented soul
remained in that lonely purgatory state - forever.
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