Some came to be frightened, a four wizened few, the creatures of darkness, that matinee crew. We stitched our own stories of plot, scripts anew, twelve movies of summer, the acts we boys knew. Red balcony cushions and arm chair delights, the clandestine features of lovers wrapped tight. On now with this scripture of tales of the brood. That Friday of summer, ghost entered the Allen as sharp as a Shrew. What four boys in mischief, mixed life for the giving, on bar stools they still sing, of that troubled day scheme, the beauty of mind games, the day we rose matinee mice.
One Friday in August, the thirteenth seven one, our plan in the making we watched the dawn come. The prince of all darkness his scar making teeth, was entering the Allen for a long August feast. As lads we were pupils of what ole Lee did, his movies were golden, we watched his teeth kiss. The maidens had rich blood that spilled from sized cups, caused trouble in waiting with an R rating, the issue determined, what we boys should do.
On Larry, and Jacob, myself and Trey too, the whole plot in waiting to do what lads do. The Allen has Showtime’s of two and of four, the Hammer of Dracula offers you more. There was still this matter of age to view sin, we were boys most craven to enter the den. It was then a bright youth, myself so indeed, mentioned the exit vent from theatre to street. I bet in conjecture no one would know why, the large door was open with four boys inside. It could be were mice like, Trey said with a grin, avoiding capture, we’ll say that we’ve been. And so it was whispered with giggles and glee four boys, would crawl inward to see a movie for free.
What dark clouds swarmed inward with full guts of rain, at ten before two, four shadows did play, upon alley walls toward trouble did they creep, four lads with a mission a movie to see. Like mice we did make stealth, removing a door, as lightning crackled and rain soon did pour. We crawled into darkness, a tunneled abyss, behind Jacobs’s movement we moved as a list. Up on a ladder we soon made our way, the tunnel grew wider, our excitement at play. Beyond some veiled wall the undead did speak, our goal of fulfillment would soon find its peak. The door stood between us and rapture of sin, no longer as mice we moved forward as men. Into the pale we strode one as in four, the thunder of Vlad Tepes upon us did roar. Four boys with ambition, adventure and game moved in front of watchers onto a theatre…..
Stage….. 07.01.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל