Richard Midwinter arrived early at the Garrick and on entering the theatre was struck by a large eighteenth century painting in the foyer of a man with his arm around a stone bust of Shakespeare. Quite a striking image, he thought. Midwinter, himself an actor, stood for a moment staring at the playwright, in the embrace of the famous child of Thespis. Shakespeare had inspired, and fed, more than one generation of actors, and the fact there has been no better writer of the inner life of the mind gave the painting an extra gravitas. \u201cHis shadow casts no end. Or at least, no foreseeable end\u201d he said to himself, echoing Jonson. He recalled what one of his teacher\u2019s had told him at drama school \u2018you don\u2019t read Shakespeare, he reads you\u2019 and smiled to remember it.<\/p>\n
He stared up at the silent painting for a while, somehow caught in its net. The actor in the painting was David Garrick, for whom the theatre is named. He knew that David Garrick had been famed for developing a new, more natural style of acting which relied on authenticity and emotion. He had revolutionised the theatre of his day. Midwinter took in the face in the painting, the large brown eyes and a faint flair of the nostrils around the noble nose, two maverick souls of the theatre joined in perpetuity, and he wondered what it meant to be a theatre man in those half-remembered days.<\/p>\n
The actor turned and walked down the staircase to the stalls where he entered the auditorium by the stage. There was nobody there. He had the strange feeling he was being watched. Maybe by someone hiding, or maybe by the theatre itself, who he always saw as a kind of ghost, and said so often. He was surrounded by invisible remnants again. He looked up and saw the theatres balconies adorned with golden cherubs with their cheeks puffed (possibly to give those on stage enough wind for their sails? He asked himself) and he wondered about the things they must have seen, the changes they had registered and the applause they certainly echoed. He sighed and then climbed back up the stairs to get a drink. The audience was beginning to arrive in earnest downstairs. Gin and tonic in hand, he decided to explore and went up the carpeted staircase to the grand circle, the highest tier of the theatre, where, finding himself alone, he looked down on the quiet, empty stage.<\/p>\n
The safety curtain was still lowered. He thought back to the time he had acted on that very stage many years before. It brought back an avalanche of memories. He knew the Garrick theatre well indeed. As he looked down at the stage, he remembered hearing the theatrical story that the term \u2018break a leg\u2019 isn\u2019t referring to the breaking of a human leg. It refers to a mechanism in the old days by the stage which lifted and lowered the curtain called \u2018the leg\u2019. If the performance pleased the crowd they would shout for the curtain to be lifted up and down, cheering the actors back to the stage for more applause. Through incessant lifting and lowering to placate the ecstatic crowd \u2018the leg\u2019 could break through overuse. Hence, \u2018break a leg.\u2019<\/p>\n
Midwinter sat down in one of the comfortable red chairs, resting his empty cup on the floor and slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them moments later, he was full of alertness. And that was when he saw it. An open door and a dimly lit flight of stairs that seemed to be inviting him to approach. He walked over slowly and when he reached the doorway he looked around. Now was his chance to explore the old theatre. He reckoned he could claim ignorance if he was caught by one of the members of staff and say he was lost. As if some strange force had taken over, he found himself walking up the staircase and soon he arrived at the top, in a long Victorian corridor. The wall paper, the carpet, the light fittings, everything spoke of a bygone era. There were ornate silver gas lamps decorating the walls. He felt a dim glow of adrenaline as he looked up and down the corridor and made the decision to turn right where there was a door at the end and a flight of stairs. He walked down confidently and then suddenly, and without any warning, all the lights turned off.<\/p>\n
He stopped still where he was, motionless in the pitch black. He thought he had made a bad mistake coming up here, that maybe he was indeed being watched<\/em>, and turned to go back down the way he came. In the darkness, he put his hand out to feel the wall as he couldn\u2019t even see his quick moving fingers an inch in front of his face. He carried on walking with his left hand dragging the wall but when he looked back, the staircase he had come up wasn\u2019t there anymore. He began to distrust his senses. He put it down to faulty depth perception and continued on his way. He looked ahead and at the end of the corridor a light came on behind a closed door and a rectangular beam of white light shone out at him. A moment later the lights flickered back on in the corridor and the door at the end swung open.<\/p>\n Standing there in the doorway was a man dressed in a smart grey three-piece pinstripe suit with a lemon-yellow tie and a top hat in his hand. The man instantly reminded Midwinter of the face he had seen in the painting downstairs. He stared at his face intently and could have sworn it was the face of David Garrick himself. The moment filled with strangeness, so he put it to the back of his mind. The man in the doorway had a large but well-manicured moustache and was leaning on a smart black oak walking cane. His brooding dark eyes fixed on Midwinter\u2019s. \u2018Come in\u2019 said the well-dressed man ushering with his hand for him to approach, \u2018we\u2019ve been expecting you.\u2019 Midwinter looked around, confused as to how the man knew his name. He looked him up and down and immediately noted the man was wearing spats as he was encouraged into the office. The man sat down behind a fine desk and began to speak in an excitable, frantic way.<\/p>\n \u201cWonderful play. Extraordinary. This man Wilde really has captured the imagination of the public. Maybe capture is the wrong word. Stoked perhaps, will do. The new one. Marvellous. Just marvellous.\u201d Then he began to sing in a low, in-tune, baritone \u2018come into the garden Maud, I am here at the gate alone, I am here at the gate alone!\u201d And he became sentimental with emotion. Midwinter became bewildered by this man who was finely dressed, but, to him at least, evidently as mad as a carrier bag full of spiders.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you talking about Oscar Wilde?\u201d Asked Midwinter, bemused.<\/p>\n \u201cYes! Of course, who else could it be. Perhaps the other Irishman I suppose, Shaw, we have his new play \u2018Mrs Warren\u2019s Profession, showing here at the Garrick you know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. I know. New play? I don\u2019t\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you think of it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe Wilde play\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhich one?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhich one? The Importance of Being Earnest.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI liked it, but then, I only saw the televised version.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTelevised? What the devil is that?\u201d Midwinter knew something wasn\u2019t right. The man was obviously playing games. He thought perhaps he had been hoodwinked into an elaborate practical joke. Midwinter played along to see where it would go and said,<\/p>\n \u201cThe actors were good I remember. Anyway, sorry who are you? And why have you brought me here? I was just\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.\u201d Said Midwinter before the man behind the desk cut him off.<\/p>\n \u201cDalliard Talinsky. Welcome to Infinity and the Abyss, that others call our<\/em> theatre.\u201d He stressed the word \u2018our\u2019 with theatrical zeal. He put out his hand and when Midwinter shook it, he felt that it was icy cold. \u201cI am the manager here at the Garrick. Pleased to make your acquaintance.\u201d He sat back as he produced a cigar from a silver box on the table. \u201cI have brought you here Mr Midwinter to discuss a proposition. You are an actor. And, well, I need a theatre person you see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho told you I was an actor? I don\u2019t believe we have met before.\u201d Midwinter became suspicious.<\/p>\n \u201cWell. I have my sources.\u201d Midwinter looked around the room and back at Talinsky. His intrigue outweighed his confusion and the misapprehension he was feeling began to dissipate.<\/p>\n \u201cYou invited me to talk. Should I have ran?\u201d The question revealed a cunning in Talinsky\u2019s smile but he stayed silent.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy I am here?\u201d Asked Midwinter.<\/p>\n \u201cYou are here because I need you to bring the real world some news.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe real world?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. The real world. The world out there. As I said, this is infinity and the abyss. You are no longer in the realm of the living.\u201d A light flickered in Talinsky\u2019s dark brown, softly devious eyes. The room took on a silence that discomforted Richard Midwinter. He looked Talinsky directly in the eye and held his stare. He wondered what kind of man he was.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you want me to tell them. The real world I mean.\u2019 Midwinter sensed that Talinsky thought he was trying to catch him out.<\/p>\n \u201cI need you to right a wrong. I need you to expose an injustice. I need you to\u2026\u2026shall we say, liberate redemption. Then, and only then, can I be set free. I have learned many things in my time here. Many things indeed. If you live forever, a century is the blink of an eye.\u201d<\/p>\n Midwinter responded with silence.<\/p>\n \u201cYou are my way out of here.\u201d He paused and leant back in the chair, naturally at ease. \u201cHow long have you been involved in the theatre?\u201d Asked Talinsky.<\/p>\n \u201cAll my adult life.\u201d Midwinter\u2019s response was prompt.<\/p>\n \u201cAh. Then you will know P.T Yardly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t say that I do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat! You don\u2019t know Yardly?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI believe not.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019ll be damned. How strange. Yardly is a real theatre man. Yes wonderful. He has a genius for crowds. For the Zeitgeist. He knows what the people want and gives it to them. Hit show after hit after hit. It seemed he could do no wrong. He had been an actor himself, then a director, but it was in the production of plays, that was where his true talent lay. He was my inspiration, in many ways.\u201d Talinsky picked up a large crystal lighter and lit his cigar, producing an oblong smoke ring with his initial lug.<\/p>\n \u201cI might as well come straight out and say it.\u201d Said Talinsky. \u201cI am unable to leave this theatre. God knows how I have tried. A century has passed me by. Maybe more.\u201d Midwinter let out a short sharp burst of laughter, thinking he was joking.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s true.\u201d His mood took on a sombre tone. \u201cI have been confined to this theatre for over a hundred, long, dark years. It is my limbo. It is my purgatory. <\/em>And now I wish to leave.\u201d His face became veiled in a deep sadness.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is nonsense.\u201d Said Midwinter \u201cI am the one that should be leaving. I\u2019m going to go now. Goodbye.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGo ahead, if you must.\u201d The look in Talinsky\u2019s scrupulous eyes changed, as if some dark brooding force, almost malevolent, had been unearthed inside his electrified expression. Midwinter stood up, perturbed by the mad intrusion, but when he turned around he saw that the door he had entered through had completely disappeared, replaced by gold and black wall paper. The two of them were in a doorless, windowless box. He span around and saw that Dalliard Talinsky was still sat behind his desk, but now with a red crow standing upon the upraised forefinger of his right hand.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is this? What\u2019s happening? Who are you?!\u201d Demanded Midwinter.<\/p>\n \u201cI told you. I am Dalliard Talinsky. I am the theatre manager here. Imprisoned for forgotten years.\u201d Again, the face of David Garrick, who he had just seen in the foyer below came into focus. The large brown eyes that could suddenly switch from doleful to sharp, to elation to melancholy, with a deft control.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean you have been here for a hundred years. Have you lost your mind?! Then let me ask you this. When were you born?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was born on the fourteenth day in the month of May, in the year of our Lord 1845, in the Oblast of Ukraine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is he talking about?\u201d He thought quietly. \u201cYou look less than 50!\u201d He said.<\/p>\n \u201cWell guessed. I just turned 49. My word, is it that year already?\u201d Thinking he was in the clutch of a con trick Midwinter\u2019s mood changed, as if he was about to be robbed. He began to feel the sense of dread a child feels walking up the stairs having turned off the lights below, and the sensation something or someone, is creeping behind, following up the stairs, and through the house, and becoming too scared to turn around. Wondering if Dalliard Talinsky might be trying to do him harm, he became hesitant to move to see indeed if his eyes had deceived him. The pull was too great and he looked again, and again no door and no means of escape. He jumped up and threw himself against the wall frantically feeling for the door edge with his finger tips but found nothing. He was trapped.<\/p>\n Reason took hold in the panic of the moment. Perhaps Talinsky was the only way out. Midwinter thought if he tried to harm Talinsky he could jeopardise his chances of escape. Been here for a hundred years?! The man was mad. Talinsky hadn\u2019t moved from behind his desk, but now the crow was standing on his shoulder, and had changed colour, to an emerald green flecked with cloth of gold. His eyes, now full of malice and cunning, fixed on Midwinter with an expression of absolute seriousness. Midwinter saw his struggling was no use and stopped dead. Then he turned around, out of breath and shaking. Moments passed by and he calmly sat down with his arms rested on the arms of the chair. Looking again at his face, Midwinter thought Talinsky could be the devil himself, and a great sense of unease went through him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you want with me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI told you. I need you to escape.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou are making no sense at all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI repeat myself. I am in limbo. WE<\/em> are in limbo. It is where you are now. The incredibility of my story doesn\u2019t make it less true. What\u2019s wrong? It\u2019s as if you don\u2019t believe me.\u201d The flame of his lighter turned bright red, then green, then back to the yellow of a normal flame. Midwinter closed his eyes hoping this action would be able to tell him whether or not he was hallucinating. Whether he was away with the faeries, in a weird land of dreams. When he opened his eyes. Talinsky had disappeared. Midwinter was alone again. His neck twisted sharply and he saw the door that he had entered the room through had reappeared.<\/p>\n \u201cThank God.\u2019 Said Midwinter. He stood up and turned the door handle. He expected to see the corridor that led back down to the theatre, but when he opened it there was only an infinite blackness. He looked down and saw that there was nothing under his feet. The walls of the room had evaporated. In this impenetrable dark there was no floor or ceiling, no up or down or left or right, only darkness. Not even starlight, only black.<\/p>\n Then suddenly in the near distance, a candle flame appeared. It glowed brightly, but all it illuminated was the tall wax candle that had breathed it into life. Midwinter stood in oblivion. Then, through the black void, in the dim candle light, a human face appeared. At first it was just a shape, a vague image. He rubbed his eyes. Quietly, he watched the scene, by now accepting that reality had abandoned him. Like the calm man at the gallows, he had excepted his fate. Perhaps he had gone mad and this was the asylum. It was Talinsky\u2019s face appearing, and he began to speak.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease\u201d said Talinsky. \u201cLet me introduce two of my old friends. My old friends of the theatre. They have been here even longer than me.\u201d<\/p>\n Two men appeared from nowhere, magicked out of the darkness. One of the men was fat and rosy cheeked, the other thin and gaunt. The three men stood for a moment in silence watching Richard Midwinter. Overwhelmed by peculiarity, by questions, Midwinter was rendered unable to speak.<\/p>\n \u201cLet me introduce you.\u201d Said Talinsky. \u201cThis is the well-beloved Sir John.\u201d The fat man took off his hat in recognition, out of which protruded a large peacock feather. \u201cAnd this is\u2026\u2026\u2026well. We just call him The Prince around here.\u201d Two benches appeared, one from a tavern and one from a church. The fat man sat on his, and the prince lay down on his, with his hands behind his head. Midwinter looked at them both closely. All three men had the same face. The same face as the man he had seen in the old painting, in the foyer of the theatre. The three men were all David Garrick, and David Garrick was all three men. He was playing them all at the same time, as he would characters in a play.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you David Garrick? The man in the painting?\u201d Asked Midwinter.<\/p>\n \u201cI have been may people in my time.\u201d The thin, gaunt man replied. Then the fat man said \u201cLet us to the singing.\u201d He looked at Sir John and knew for certain that even though much fatter and fuller of face, belly and arse, they had the same eyes. The eyes of Garrick. The man in the painting.<\/p>\n \u201cSweet prince\u201d said the fat man suddenly bursting into life. He turned to Midwinter. \u201cAnd what manner of man are you? You drink? I hope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. I drink.\u201d Said Midwinter. More candles came on suddenly, glowing the blackness of the void.<\/p>\n \u201cNonsense young man, you\u2019re still breathing, aren\u2019t you? You look as fit as a fiddle to me, and my eyesight is better than most men\u2019s. Yes! We have heard the silence at noon, master Midwinter.\u201d The thin gaunt man said nothing as Midwinter turned his gaze on the prince but it seemed he was thinking deeply about something that had nothing to do with any of them. A conversation with himself, obscured, hidden in the dark recesses of his mind. Talinsky looked Midwinter in the eye and paused.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, what do you see?\u201d Asked Talinsky.<\/p>\n \u201cThree men in the darkness.\u201d He replied.<\/p>\n \u201cI see infinity.\u201d Said Sir John, smiling.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I see the abyss.\u201d Said the Prince.<\/p>\n Talinsky looked at Midwinter with an expression of great hope that emanated from his whole face through the prism of his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cHelp us.\u201d Said Garrick in the unison of three men. The characters all spoke as one voice.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat can I do? For Christs sake!\u201d Shouted Midwinter.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have done enough. Now I must go.\u201d Said Talinsky. \u2018To return to the world. Thank-you, Mr Midwinter. You have set me free. But now you must stay. You must replace me, until you find another. Goodbye Midwinter. And thank you for your sacrifice. You shall be remembered in heaven!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been tricked! You have tricked me!\u201d Shouted Richard Midwinter overwrought with emotion. And with that Dalliard Talinsky smiled back at him and disappeared from sight, melting out of existence, out of the void.<\/p>\n \u201cInfinity or the Abyss. Infinity or the Abyss!\u201d Went the two characters, singing together in a loud whisper.<\/p>\n \u201cI am infinity.\u201d Sang the fat man.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I am the abyss.\u201d Whispered the Prince.<\/p>\n The Fat Man looked at Midwinter straight in the eye and said,<\/p>\n \u201cJust as there is a heaven and hell on earth, so there is in all the creations of man, including the hereafter. We are the masters of punishment and reward. We are conscious of our own souls. If there were no humans in the universe there would be no God of humans. Thus, and therefore, you have a choice. Infinity?\u2019<\/p>\n \u201cOr the Abyss?\u201d Said The Prince.<\/p>\n \u201cYou live with us now.\u201d They said together.<\/p>\n \u201cNo. No!\u201d Shouted Midwinter in fear.<\/p>\n The fat man began to laugh and dance in the blackness of the void. The prince raised his bony finger and pointed it at Midwinter. \u201cI am the abyss!\u201d Said the sad faced prince. \u201cAnd I am infinity!\u201d Said the laughing fat man. \u201cAnd you are an actor! We together make up your soul, so don\u2019t be afraid.\u201d The jolly fat man pulled a fiddle out from nowhere like it was a magic trick. They sang in perfect harmony. \u201cWe are your soul\u201d and then they turned and walked away into the distance of the black void singing and dancing as they went, even the sad prince. Midwinter found it impossible to move as if an invisible force was holding him down. He held out his arm with an open hand shouting to the actors who didn\u2019t look back from there departing performance.<\/p>\n \u2018No\u2026No\u2026No!\u201d Said Midwinter until the blackness turned to the longest night and he cried himself into a deep sleep.<\/p>\n Midwinter woke up and found himself still in the infinite black void. He looked around and saw that he was alone. Totally alone in black, endless nothingness. This is what hell is like he thought, and he remembered something his devoutly Christian mother had told him when he was a child about hell not being fire and brimstone, but simply \u2018the absence of God.\u2019 In this place he could feel himself walking, and running even, but there was nowhere to go. Sitting and standing felt the same. Minutes turned to hours, hours to days, days to months and months to years. A thousand years could be lived in a minute and a minute in a thousand years. He thought, what is there new to be imagined, now all I have is imagination? His imagination would fly, pen-less. He felt a sudden, unexpected joy. And then, miraculously, he heard a woman\u2019s voice penetrating the void. It came to his ears like music.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s waking up!\u201d She said.<\/p>\n The blackness of the infinite nothingness was obliterated by light, it\u2019s brightness fierce enough to make him squint hard. Richard Midwinter blinked rapidly, the watering of his eyes coming at him like overflowing cups. He was alive and back in the world. He was home. He looked around as his blurry vision cleared and soon realised he was in a hospital ward, lying in bed. He looked around and saw all the other patients lying in their beds, waiting patiently for something to happen. He saw the voice was coming from a nurse standing over his bed.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d He asked through blurry eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have been in a coma. You fell into a coma sitting in the theatre.\u201d Said the nurse.<\/p>\n \u201cHow long have I been here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll in good time. Doctor Garrick will explain everything, don\u2019t worry, he\u2019s here now.\u2019 Said the nurse.<\/p>\n \u201cWho?\u201d Said Richard Midwinter bewildered. He looked up with his eyes becoming wilder as he acknowledged Doctor Garrick standing over him, those deep brown eyes full of thinking, full of cunning, smiling down from the bedside.<\/p>\n Richard Midwinter arrived early at the Garrick and on entering the theatre was struck by a large eighteenth century painting in the foyer of a man with his arm around a stone bust of Shakespeare. Quite a striking image, he thought. Midwinter, himself an actor, stood for a moment staring at the playwright, in the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":18183,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[26],"tags":[1385,2547,2549,2555,3262,3599,3600,3700,3701,5620,5627,8922,9064,9065],"class_list":["post-18095","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-cassandra-voices-fiction","tag-dominic-mallen","tag-dominic-mallen-cassandra-voices","tag-dominic-mallen-ghost-story","tag-fiction","tag-garrick","tag-garrick-theatre-london","tag-ghost","tag-ghost-story","tag-london-ghost-story","tag-london-theatre","tag-the","tag-the-garrick-theatre","tag-the-ghost-in-the-garrick"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18095","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18095"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18095\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18095"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18095"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18095"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nFeature Image: The Garrick Theatre by Katie Chan<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"