“But nay, my lord. It is not you I love…” I recited my lines to perfection, once again reflecting on their irony. I was Elsa in a cliché play our class was putting on. There was a love triangle in the play- a lord who wanted Elsa to marry him, but not out of love. Then there was an artist who loved her, but would do nothing if he thought she was not amenable.
In my life, there was one guy, a jock, who thought a girl with a rich family like mine would enhance his stature. On the other hand, there was the shy, handsome art kid who I was certain liked me, but wouldn’t say anything; because he thought I was ‘out of his league’.
The three of us were in the play together. Darrin, my jock, was an excellent actor, but spent more time glaring at Steven than was strictly necessary. Steven preformed to perfection, but wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I stepped behind Steven as Darrin drew his sword, only to feel a pit open up in my stomach as I fell unexpectedly. When my mind caught up with my body, I found myself lodged in the trap door of our stage.
All of us, audience included, froze for a moment. Then our viewers, and Darrin, laughed, much to my mortification. I was near crying from the horror of it.
Steven, though, hauled me out of the hole. He didn’t laugh, just helped me out with a sympathetic smile. Then, he spoke a line that I’d never heard rehearsed before.
“My lady, I love you. If you indeed wish it, I would happily take you as my own.”
The play ended early that night, with a stage kiss to rival all others in it’s realism.
That, of course, was because it wasn’t false.
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Submission Name: Cliched Play
