Barbara Jacksha's Editor's Pick
A Short Review
by Antonios Maltezos
I enjoyed the way this writer stretches the boundaries of flash, showing us snatches of a scene, of theme, while playing with darkness and light the way a photographer might. An innovative, creative piece.
Darkness!
I've got my sweater bunched up like a pillow at the small of my back, and my eyes are wide open because this is the best kind of dark, totally safe, though I know something unexpected is about to happen. But there's a yap, yap to my left, nearer the front than I'm sitting, more in the middle. As always, the voice is deep, a cutting deep, boardroom deep with a slight edge, a rasp – theatre deep. He's talking his bullshit to anyone who'll listen because I know he can't see the person sitting next to him. You'd think the dark, the sudden blindness, would make a difference, bring us closer together, but with a voice like that, who can blame him?
He shuts up mid-sentence because of his season tickets, his ear for theatre. It's still dark, but there's a squealing coming from somewhere backstage, the rafters, under my seat. It sounds like a mouse caught on sticky paper – just a luckless mouse in shock trying desperately to tear itself free. Must have been the prolonged darkness, that loudmouth droning on and on with his deep, rich voice, and that mouse was off darting. Poor little soul, his squeals are agonizing. Where's the concierge, I wonder? Someone should step on the mouse – should be the loud mouth.
Spotlight!
It isn't a mouse, after all. It's an actor collapsed on her legs center stage. She's rocking back and forth. Her pain, that horrible squealing, has given way to a soft, child-like whimpering. Poor mouse of a woman. I have to adjust the sweater at my back, get as comfortable as possible.
I love this kind of light.
We all do.