Read Online The Three Thorns by Michael Gibney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Gibney
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Viktor. What would he say about us if he were to see our son all black and blue?” she asked, after taking a long drag from her cigarette holder. Smoke surrounded the wrinkly and bony woman like a veil.
“My grand opening was almost ruined because of this incompetent little weakling, Greta,” snarled Viktor, spluttering from the stale smoke that irritated his nostrils.
“Punish him later, we have enough work to do and more money to make tonight.”
Viktor grunted at his acquisitive wife who kept puffing at her cigarette holder by the doorway. The woman wore heavy makeup and a lot of expensive jewelry on top of a feathered animal skin coat that covered her tall body in an attempt to disguise how unattractive she really was.
Giving another grunt, Viktor stormed out of the dressing room. Sebastian turned to his mother, hoping for some sign of empathy.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re in enough trouble, Sebastian,” Greta snapped after inhaling another mouthful of smoke. Gripping his chin between her bony fingers, she pulled his head up from staring at the ground.
“Look at me! I don’t need you ruining your Father’s big night,” she said scornfully.
Sebastian concurred, hoping his cruel mother would leave him alone in the dressing room without any further scolding.
“Clean this mess up and then wait for me until after the show,” she instructed as her smoke trail followed her out the doorway.
***
Sounds of huge applause filled the theater several hours later at the massive crescendo of a heroic soldier boy defeating an evil king and liberating all the creatures from the king’s wicked spells.
Viktor and Greta had not expected such a positive and successful response. Photographers gathered around both theater directors to take pictures of the actors and stage crew.
Sebastian stood behind the scenes and watched miserably at his cruel parents taking the credit and adulation for his play. As they soaked up the attention, posing for the press and boasting to their admirers, Sebastian picked up his broom and duster and faded into the background, pushing through the stage curtains.
The congested air cleared up, as did the crowds, until the grand theater was nothing more than rows of empty seats again. Their new stage hit had sent Viktor and Greta into a celebratory mood, which relieved Sebastian, for his punishment had been forgotten.
After a loud pop, Viktor showered his actors and crew with fresh bubbly champagne, followed by a victorious toast to a job well done.
“Here’s to theater, and to us, the real showmen…and women, of course,” he said, adding a glorious “Hear, hear.”
They all drank and laughed in celebration of their success while Sebastian watched angrily from behind the stage curtain. Viktor went on to make another boastful toast when it was abruptly interrupted by loud bangs on the theater’s side doors.
“What in blazes is that racket?” Viktor yelled, in love with the sound of his own voice. “Where’s the boy?” he snapped at Greta, who showed no sign of being in any way intimidated by the Russian’s threatening demeanor.
“Where he should be,” she replied casually, lighting herself another cigarette.
Hearing his name called just the once, the obedient prop boy arrived at his father’s side in seconds.
“Get the door,” Viktor ordered in the softest tone Sebastian had heard his father speak.
The scruffy weakling pushed the large rusted bars down to unlock the double iron doors at the side of the theater. The left door was pulled open hard from the other side, almost tripping Sebastian to the ground. A dark figure loomed over him, casting the boy in his shadow.
“I say, what the devil is going on here?” roared Viktor.
Gazing up at the dark-eyed man, Sebastian appreciated the strong sound of his father’s voice more than ever before.
“Away from me, brat,” Mr. Jennings snapped, motioning with his gloves for Sebastian to get out of
“My grand opening was almost ruined because of this incompetent little weakling, Greta,” snarled Viktor, spluttering from the stale smoke that irritated his nostrils.
“Punish him later, we have enough work to do and more money to make tonight.”
Viktor grunted at his acquisitive wife who kept puffing at her cigarette holder by the doorway. The woman wore heavy makeup and a lot of expensive jewelry on top of a feathered animal skin coat that covered her tall body in an attempt to disguise how unattractive she really was.
Giving another grunt, Viktor stormed out of the dressing room. Sebastian turned to his mother, hoping for some sign of empathy.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re in enough trouble, Sebastian,” Greta snapped after inhaling another mouthful of smoke. Gripping his chin between her bony fingers, she pulled his head up from staring at the ground.
“Look at me! I don’t need you ruining your Father’s big night,” she said scornfully.
Sebastian concurred, hoping his cruel mother would leave him alone in the dressing room without any further scolding.
“Clean this mess up and then wait for me until after the show,” she instructed as her smoke trail followed her out the doorway.
***
Sounds of huge applause filled the theater several hours later at the massive crescendo of a heroic soldier boy defeating an evil king and liberating all the creatures from the king’s wicked spells.
Viktor and Greta had not expected such a positive and successful response. Photographers gathered around both theater directors to take pictures of the actors and stage crew.
Sebastian stood behind the scenes and watched miserably at his cruel parents taking the credit and adulation for his play. As they soaked up the attention, posing for the press and boasting to their admirers, Sebastian picked up his broom and duster and faded into the background, pushing through the stage curtains.
The congested air cleared up, as did the crowds, until the grand theater was nothing more than rows of empty seats again. Their new stage hit had sent Viktor and Greta into a celebratory mood, which relieved Sebastian, for his punishment had been forgotten.
After a loud pop, Viktor showered his actors and crew with fresh bubbly champagne, followed by a victorious toast to a job well done.
“Here’s to theater, and to us, the real showmen…and women, of course,” he said, adding a glorious “Hear, hear.”
They all drank and laughed in celebration of their success while Sebastian watched angrily from behind the stage curtain. Viktor went on to make another boastful toast when it was abruptly interrupted by loud bangs on the theater’s side doors.
“What in blazes is that racket?” Viktor yelled, in love with the sound of his own voice. “Where’s the boy?” he snapped at Greta, who showed no sign of being in any way intimidated by the Russian’s threatening demeanor.
“Where he should be,” she replied casually, lighting herself another cigarette.
Hearing his name called just the once, the obedient prop boy arrived at his father’s side in seconds.
“Get the door,” Viktor ordered in the softest tone Sebastian had heard his father speak.
The scruffy weakling pushed the large rusted bars down to unlock the double iron doors at the side of the theater. The left door was pulled open hard from the other side, almost tripping Sebastian to the ground. A dark figure loomed over him, casting the boy in his shadow.
“I say, what the devil is going on here?” roared Viktor.
Gazing up at the dark-eyed man, Sebastian appreciated the strong sound of his father’s voice more than ever before.
“Away from me, brat,” Mr. Jennings snapped, motioning with his gloves for Sebastian to get out of
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