This Is My Show By Adam Rutter

I stand in the wings. The stage is pitched black. A light “clicks” on, lighting up the chair. I walk on - casually. I sit down, slowly. I cross my legs, and look at the dark, empty auditorium. I begin by performing this monologue to my so-called phantom audience. Oh, and... er, speaking of phantom audience, I hear footsteps. It seems to be coming from behind the seats in the back row. The sound of the footsteps subsides. As I was saying... A woman screams. Who is that? The screaming. It's coming from the box office. Wait a sec. There is no one else here. No one but me. A door slams. I jump. My eyes flash at the right side of the stage. I hear my heart banging as loudly as the door. I gather my composure and turn my head to face the auditorium. I sat on this same chair yesterday. And you know what? It was peaceful. There were no noises. In the bar, a glass smashes. The door that leads into the bar is shut. Yet the smash sounded clear as though it came from the balcony. But it didn't. The noise from the smash was too dull to be heard inside the theatre. You know I thought I was the only actor performing on this stage. It would appear there are also phantom actors, in a manner of speaking. A violin plays a sad tune on stage. But I don't see the violinist. Where is it? Nowhere to be found. All right, whoever you are, whatever you’re doing - you can stop this charade, because I am not going to have my performance ruined by a practical joke. I have been rehearsing this monologue for three days, and if you intend to destroy it by continually interrupting, you have failed. Besides, the music is not the right tone for the performance. Could you at least play something more uplifting? The violin repeats the same mournful tune over and over. Look, I know this theatre is alleged to be haunted, but I don't believe in all that claptrap. The light goes out. I'm off!