SHORT STORY SECTION
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The Cross
To have a change of heart can be somewhat of a mystery. It sometimes is a thirst or a hunger
for what is right, and other times it takes the shape of being a plan for ourselves that we as mere
humans know little of. And we ask, who is the master of this plan? Well that is left to our own free
will to judge, but again who would laden us with a free will in the first place? This is a question you must
answer for yourself, and I hope you can answer it correctly. So as for this story, it is a tale of a man that holds
the emptiness of self in his heart and darkness of pride in his soul. Many of us at one time or another have
lived within in these realms of human nature, but as for the case in point as Collin Adams will soon find out
you sometimes must experience what another man has done to actually see the light.
ACT I
"Let's run through that scene one more time!" Cried a short, burley man from the directors
chair.
His impetuous nature kept everyone on their toes as they scurried amid the stage to their
assigned positions. The bold glare that flowed from his eyes spoke volumes more than the movement
of his lips keeping the players on their toes. Many of the actors in this production fell prey to Max
Stern's intimidating directorial methods as they stumbled across the creaking wooden stage floor. But
though all of this nervous confusion that hung in the air of the fifth avenue theater, stood a lone
confident figure. The egotistical smirk that washed across this persons face , belonged to none other
than Collin Adams. In his mind, all of this enthusiasm was for the less experienced actors . Collin had
always placed himself above this kind of behavior. He was too seasoned, too confident to let a mere
manager of entertainment control his actions. Though he found it amusing to see the chastising of the
less experienced players, he would never stand for it if directed at him. Max also was aware of this
trait, snuffing off any chance to single out a rare mistake in any of Collin's performances. It was not
anyone's wish to prompt the temperamental side of Collin Adams nature. It was asking enough for
him to play the part of Jesus in the passion, a part he felt long worn out, and also a story that took very
little method. In Collins mind, the only motivation of this role was it being unbelievable. This was
always a challenge to him, to take a part and try to make it real. To the insatiable Collin Adams, this
was the measure of his success.
The time crept toward the ninth hour of the evening. With one week left before the show
opened, the level of stress among the cast grew. This would be the largest live production of the life of
Jesus in twenty years and Max Stern was dead set on making it the best. Max had directed many
famous plays on Broadway in his time, but had no recent successes to show for his efforts. Critics
from around the country had begun to question his abilities, dismissing him as outdated and now
second rate. But Max was out to show them what he was made of and his tyrannical methods of
direction had never been better. All the well known critics in New York would be here for the opening
and Max was leaving no stone unturned.
"Well I'm outta here," Collin suddenly exclaimed, turning toward the rear of the stage.
"Wait a minute Adams!" Max yelled out toward him, "We're not done here, where do you
think your going?"
Max's deep throaty voice echoed around the darkness of the empty theater. The uneasiness of
the cast grew casting a shadow on their waning enthusiasm. The crystal chandeliers that hung silent
high above seem to vibrate at the sound of Max's impatience. Over the last month of rehearsals Max
was beginning to have quite enough of Collin's attitude and it was beginning to show.
"You talking to me?" Collin answered in his egotistical manner.
"Okay everyone, take five, that is all but you Adams!"
Max jumped from his chair that sat on the floor below the stage and moved quickly to the
steps that led to Collins position. His movement toward the stage showed the mounting pressure of the
situation. As he approached Collin and was about to speak, Collin put his hand out and exclaimed,
"Remember little man it was you that wanted me to play in this silly stupid story anyway, so don't go
laying any of your pressure onto my shoulders."
Max, being somewhat shorter than Collin glared up at him with his weathered eyes, "Just
remember mister big time actor, it was the production company who has you under contract that
obligated you for this part, so until this is over, your mine! I've been putting up with your premadonna
attitude and I'm sick of it!"
"Well," Collin replied lightly, "I guess you'll just have to put up with me just a bit longer."
Collin could see Max seething under his thick skinned demeanor. Max opened his mouth to
speak when Collin cut him off sharply.
"Listen little man, I know what this play means to you, if it washes your done for good, so you
see, you need me more than I need you." Collin then leaned to within inches of Max's face and
growled, "So like I said, I'm outta here!"
Collin turned abruptly and walked toward the wings of the stage. Max could hear Collin's
laughing echo from the short distance, "I'll see you tomorrow, maybe."
Max stood silently on the stage. Never had he seen an actor at age of thirty become that obnoxious
as he did with Collin Adams. Maybe he was done, he thought, but being only fifty-five he refused to
believe that. To him , Collin was a young egotistical arrogant person that cared nothing but for
himself and his career. But Max knew that what Collin said was right, he needed this to work, he
knew this was to be his last chance for the respect he felt he deserved.
Max stared at Collin as he disappeared behind the stage. Shaking his head in disgust he yelled
out into the air, "Okay everyone, lets do it one more time."
ACT II
It was about noon when Collin decided to join the bustle of downtown New York city. Being
about three hours from the time he was to report to rehearsal, Collin wandered about in disgust of the
whole matter. The gray cloudy sky above reflected the feeling in Collin's heart. He fought with the
agony of his role and the control of the production company that forced him into it. Though Max
Stern's dwindling role as a big time director played on, Max still had certain friends in the business. A
few of these being in the company that held Collin's contract. He knew that the caliber of actor that
Collin was, was his best opportunity to pull off a hit, though he was beginning to second guess his
decision. Max had never worked with Collin Adams and was finding out the hard way of Collin's
demeanor.
Collin had tried every way he could to get out of , "The Life of Jesus Christ," but he had
forgotten of the clause in his contract. It stated that he must accept at least one role as designated by
the production company. Collin was payed very handsomely in his career and felt that the clause
meant very little in comparison to his salary, yet there was something about this play that he despised.
Trying not to think of it, Collin shrugged his shoulders and moved on through the sea of people going
about their daily business.
Walking with his hands in his pockets, Collin reluctantly headed in the direction of the Fifth
Avenue theater. It was still a good six blocks from where he now was, but the rehearsal didn't start for
another half an hour. As he turned a corner of a worn gray stone building to the street that headed four
blocks ahead to the theater, he came crashing into a person that had been standing motionless leaning
up against the wall. Collin stumbled frantically freeing his hands from his long over coat. As he was
just about to lose his balance, he caught himself on a window ledge that jutted out from the building.
When he looked down, his eyes fell upon an old helpless beggar woman moaning on the ground. The
woman was dressed in a ragged wool overcoat and a torn dress that did very little to comfort her from
the chilly spring air. She had been standing, begging for her days meal when Collin leveled her hard
onto the pavement. Collin gazed down at her with a disgusted stare.
"Why don't you old wastes just go away!" He said gritting his teeth.
The old woman could not move from the pain ripping through her body. She lay helpless
amid the few coins from her tin cup strewn about her.
"Please help me up," she said in a pathetic voice.
"Are you kidding me, I wouldn't touch you, your filthy," replied Collin.
A lone tear fell from the woman's eye slowly coming to rest on the sidewalk beneath her. She
laid her head silently down in defeat. Collin noticed the tear from her eye and almost felt a bit of
compassion, but the frigid shell that for years he had sown in his heart would not budge. Again the old
woman feebly raised her hand for help.
"Not a chance!" He exclaimed snapping his hand back into his overcoat.
Suddenly a sharp pain like that of a knife was laid upon his hand. Collin pulled his hand from
his coat and began to rub it.
"What the hell is that?" Collin asked himself in a bewildered state.
Collin searched his hand thinking he must have hurt it by stopping his fall against the building,
but he found no wound. By now a few people had gathered around wandering of the situation.
"Help her up!" One woman cried out, "You knocked her down, didn't you?"
Collin turned to the small gathering of people directing his comment to the women, "You want
to do a good deed you help her up!"
As quickly as he made the statement a sharp pain cut into his other hand sending the pain
through his body. He slumped over slightly, cradling his hands at his waist.
Collin had no idea why he was having these sudden pains in his hands. He could see no signs
of injury, not even a scratch, yet the pain was very real. One thing Collin did know was that the
people around him were not very happy with his actions. Collin decided that the best thing to do
would be to move on, and fast. Then suddenly he heard someone say, "Hey, aren't you Collin Adams?
Yeah that's Collin Adams, the Broadway star."
"Yeah, I'm Collin Adams and your Santa Claus, sure." Collin replied with his usual snide tone.
At that point Collin knew the one thing he didn't need was bad publicity. In a quick reaction
he reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He reached down and quickly yanked
the old women to her feet, holding her with the handkerchief in his hand. Two men who were standing
by had already begun to lend a hand to the woman as Collin brought her to her feet. As Collin
touched the old women's hand he noticed the pain from his hands instantly subside. Collin, though,
had no time to react, all he wanted was to be somewhere else. As Collin quickly left the seen, he heard
the women whisper to him, "Thank you."
What's she thanking me for, that stupid old hag," Collin thought to himself.
And as suddenly as the thought entered his mind, the pain returned to him. Collin immediately
turned his back to the crowd and rushed away from the scene.
ACT III
With just one rehearsal left before the opening of the show, the cast grew anxious. Max had
cast quite a few new faces, people who were receiving their first chance at a big production. His goal
was to create a high enthusiasm level that, he felt would enhance the show, and so far his efforts
seemed to be paying off. Of course there were the experienced, to whom this was old hat, but that he
needed to. And then there was one that stood in his own class,- Collin Adams. But something was
different about him. He was not his usual belligerent self. Ever since the incident with the old woman,
the pain he suffered increased spreading throughout his body. Something was troubling him. He
could not get the picture of the woman lying on the sidewalk out of his mind. He became very silent
on the stage during the rehearsals which did not go unnoticed by his peers. Max also picked up on his
change of character. It began to worry Max that Collin would purposely give a bad performance to
spite him, but Max also knew that it would be risky to Collin to turn in a bad show in front of the
critics who would be there. When Max questioned Collin on his behavior, Collin informed him to
mind his own business, so Max let it go and hoped for the best. Besides, it was too late for Max to cast
another actor.
Collin muddled through the last dress rehearsal with a noticeable limp in his step. The pain
seemed to start in his extremities and travel to the core of his body, but being the professional he was
he forged on.
Then came the night of the show. The house was packed as Max peeked out from the wings
noticing the critics sitting along the aisle. He knew them all by name. A few were his friends, but
friends with honest opinions, and that was all Max asked for.
As his eyes gazed across the front row his stare suddenly stopped on a heavy set bald man.
The man's facial features were that of an executioner. Max's brow bent as he stared at the man.
"I was hoping that son of a you know what would get lost on the way here," Max whispered to
one of the cast members standing nearby, "He would love to see me fall on my face."
The man Max spoke of was none other than Richard Sanders. In the circles of the stage,
Sander's reputation was that of liking nothing, and his love for Max was less. Max slowly shook his
head and pulled back from the edge of the curtain. He knew that if his show won the praise of vast
majority of the critics, Sanders opinion would mean nothing, but if it flopped, Sanders would nail the
coffin shut.
Max retreated to the security of the cast room. As his gazed filtered through the nervous
excitement of the cast, the room fell silent. Max was more like a coach in the methods that he used.
Constantly he pushed, hollered, and used graphical body language as he directed the rehearsals. Yet,
if he felt that his cast gave the full measure of their abilities, Max was a picture of confidence at game
time.
"Well people, " Max proclaimed smiling, his hands on his hips, "You worked hard, As a
matter of fact I've never seen a cast work harder." Max stopped, giving Collin a sarcastic glance as he
began to pace looking downward to the floor, "They say I'm done, they say my methods are from the
old school and now you know why this is a one night only performance. They were to reluctant to risk
any more money on what they call a has been." Max stopped and looked up to each of them, "I
haven't told you this before, but this is my last chance. I chose not to tell any of you before because
maybe it meant nothing to you, but I feel I have to tell you now. With my career on the line, I went
and chose the best people that I felt could save it, and you are the best I have ever directed."
Some of the rookie players had a hard time trying to suppress the confidence that Max was
instilling into them. As for the veterans, they had heard these kind of speeches before, but some of his
words had even cracked their seasoned shells. Collin though, stood in the back corner of the room just
staring at the wall. To him, Max's words meant nothing.
"You have everything to be proud of. You all worked hard. All that is left to say is -
ACTION!"
The cast felt like a football team as their confidence in the upcoming performance soared. As
they began leaving the cast room, Max stood at the door with words of encouragement as each of them
exited. The last person to leave was of course Collin Adams. He chose to stride by Max without even
a look, but Max reached out and clasped onto his arm.
"You know if you try to screw me, they'll see through it and you might just screw yourself."
"I do this for me, not you, not anyone else!"
"Well do you still have those so-called pains?" Max then asked.
Collin shrugged Max's grip from his arm. "I have never felt better Little Man, you just watch
and see. By the way when this is a success it will be because of me, not from someone who alleges to
be a director."
Collin abruptly left the room. Max, at this point, could care less what Collin's motivation was
for success, just so he had one. As for Collin, the mysterious pains had left him and as par for Collin,
he dismissed it as nothing.
ACT IV
They had reached the halfway point in the play and so far everything was running smoothly.
Max's only concern was that they were running a little slow on the timing. He knew that if the show
ran too long audiences start losing interest. But for now it wasn't a big concern.
Max remained in the wings close to the stage never leaving for a moment. The intermission
had come and gone, yet Max continued his vigil close to the action. As the players came on and off
the stage he was there as coach, advisor, and cheerleader. His high level of enthusiasm kept the show
running like a well oiled machine. And as for Collin, His performance gave the realization that he was
Jesus himself. During one scene when it was called for Jesus to bless the children, Max smiled to
himself as he thought, "Look at him, there's a hypocrite if ever I saw one." But most importantly,
everything was going as planned.
Max took any chance he could to spy down on the front rowof critics for some type of
reaction. As each act ended, the applause from the packed house of over twenty-five hundred
thundered throughout the theater, but Max knew this meant nothing to the critics. He noticed them in
the front row giving the moderate applause and as he expected from Richard Sanders, there was
nothing.
The play was quickly coming to a close with the last scene just under way. The scene called
for Collin, as Jesus, to enter stage left wearing a white garment around his waste and the crown of
thorns on his head. A small amount of fake blood was poured onto his head as Collin waited his cue.
The lights in the theater were slowly dimmed to nothing as the sound effects began with the sound of
thunder rolling throughout the theater. As Collin slowly staggered onto the stage under the weight of
a wooden cross, he was prodded by the Roman soldiers leading the way. Max did his best to give a
real image which he did with great success. Collin though, had nothing more in his mind than to finish
this horrid job, yet he forged on at the top of his game.
This was the scene that worried Max the most. In all of the rehearsals, the crucifixion gave the
most problems. Collin refused to act on the pain someone might feel being crucified, just moaning
slightly, but Max prodded him for the look of excruciating agony. As Collin came to the middle of the
stage, the cross was laid down with Collin on top of it. The bitterness of the scene took root into the
audience. The other players on the stage were never better. The woman cried, the soldiers laughed
and the rest of the people jeered. Collin was attached to the cross with his wrists tied to it and fake
spikes were nailed between his separated fingers giving the effect of his hands being nailed. Finally
the cross was raised with Collin attached. He could see the first few rows of people in the theater as
the spotlight shone directly into his eyes. Collin began his meaningless moans all the time thinking to
himself, "Ten more minutes and I can put this behind me."
Max stood in the wings with disgust at the actions of Collin. "I can't believe him!" He
whispered under his breathe, "I knew he would do something to ruin this scene, and it won't make him
look bad, they'll think I told him to do that."
Max knew the importance of making a lasting, good impression of the final scene. He
clenched his hands in anger. Collin, however, smiled inside himself knowing this would get to Max.
Collin turned his head downward knowing Max was looking up at him. He was just about to wink as
to twist the knife into Max's back, when he noticed something dripping from his hand. Looking
toward his right hand, he saw red droplets falling to the stage floor. "They put too much of that fake
blood on me," he thought, "those idiots!" It was then that Collin realized that it was only his head that
the red liquid was applied. Quickly turning to his left hand, he gasped as a stream of the same
substance poured onto the stage. Feeling the blood like liquid quickly trickling down his forehead,
dripping into his eyes, Collin arched his back as he screamed in sheer agony of the pain infiltrating his
body. The liquid then reached his lips and the taste of blood filled his mouth. Collin again winced
sharply from the pain, the same exact pain he realized that plagued him in the days previous to this.
Collin gazed up to the stage spotlight that shone in his eyes only to see it slowly fade into darkness.
The level of fear rivaled his agony as he looked down to see nothing that resembled a stage or an
audience. For as far as he could see, there was nothing but an arid land that lay before him. Women
below the cross that he hung upon, wailed in terror while others mocked him. The wooden stage floor
disappeared into a rocky terrain. The people below were not cast members, there was no one that he
could recognize. Blood poured down his body as he was laid waste to the pain that engulfed his soul.
Crying out in agony, his head hung from the deadly pain that claimed him. Collin tried to come to
grips of the nightmare that raged through his mind and body, but there was no explanation. The agony
he suffered removed any rationalization as his mind searched for a reason. Collin knew that he was
not dreaming. He thought someone may have slipped some drug in his food or water, but the situation
was too sudden, and all too real. Not more than a minute of eternity could have passed when Collin
hung his head in defeat of his suffering. Suddenly from below him, he heard someone say, "This one
is done, finish him off!"
Through the blood that covered his eyes, he gazed down at the soldier with the look of a
wounded animal, he saw a Roman soldier approaching him with a lance. He tried to scream as the
soldier raised his lance, but could say nothing. The soldier held the lance firm in his right hand and
thrust it into Collins side. Collin instantly blacked out.
Collins eyes opened suddenly to a roar of applause. Realizing he was playing the part of
someone supposedly dead, he quickly closed them. As they lowered Collin from the cross, the whole
theater was on it's feet. Max, still at his position in the wings, was in awe of the performance. He had
no idea of what changed Collins reaction to the scene. Max then quickly turned his head to the front
row only to see Richard Sanders standing, applauding with his hands high above his head.
Collin was then carried off stage left, greeted by some of the cast and Max, they also clapping
furiously. Collin slowly climbed to his feet looking at his uninjured hands. He reached for his head
and removed the mock crown of thorns only to see a slight smudge of the fake blood across his fingers.
Turning back to the stage, the audience still on its feet, his eyes fell upon the cross. There seemed to
be a glow that only he noticed, that he felt, and that he lived. An understanding invaded his mind and
a feeling of remorse inflicted him. Then suddenly he felt free. Free from anger and the restless
feelings that constantly gripped him. In that moment of time, Collin knew life would never be the
same.
Needless to say the morning review from Richard Sanders stated a reluctant,"MAX IS
BACK!"
And for Collin he went right on giving show stopping performances, never again to say, "I do
this for me and no one else."
Epilogue
They say that each man has and controls his destiny. Choices in life are the deciding factors
that guide us to our ends. But there must be something said for the unknown and the known that takes
it upon itself to step in and show us a reality of heart and mind. Our will is our own, but in the case of
Collin Adams, needed adjustments from a higher power were called for. For many, transforming
events such as these may not be this extreme, at least not in the physicall realm. Goodness waits
patiently for each man where evil attacks with ruthless force. Be it fact or fiction though, love as is
hate are very real. Real enough to cause someone to step and say, "Continue," or, "Enough! And as
Collin Adams found out, it sometimes takes living a moment in one mans love, to dispel a lifetime of
another mans hate.
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