ON STAGE AND BEHIND THE SCENES | FICTION | (EN-ES)
Published on HivePostify by @neotopher · Thu Sep 03 2026
[Image created in Artguru](https://www.artguru.ai/es/create/)
When the red curtain rises, it’s my moment to show how good I am. But this time, I couldn’t find the inspiration I needed. I took a break, and that was when I saw him onstage, rehearsing my monologue.
From the dimness of the last row, the play’s director watched my understudy in amazement as he recited the lines I had memorized through endless repetition. The play is titled “Winter Dream.”
“What an ironic title,” I said to myself.
My own winter had arrived prematurely and cruelly. I hadn’t deserved it; the future onstage belonged to me by right.
I didn’t make a scene because it was only a rehearsal. The big night would be tomorrow.
“He’s only the understudy,” I thought to myself.
I can still feel the scar beneath my hair. It tends to throb whenever I feel stressed... I was the star. The undisputed protagonist. And in a single second, the universe decided to extinguish my growing brilliance.
When I close my eyes, I return to what happened that Tuesday. The past came back to crush me.
I still remember the smell of the synthetic snow scattered across the stage. I remember hearing my castmates laughing from the dressing rooms. I was merely putting the finishing touches on my elegant outfit.
I was on my way to the stage backstage when it happened. I heard a sound from high above: a sharp creak that made me look up. An intense light came toward me like a shooting star.
Everything happened so quickly, but I remember hearing a metallic whistle slicing through the air.
The show’s star must have been incredibly lucky for an enormous spotlight to fall directly on his head on opening night...
What happened after that was absolute darkness. That was my last scene onstage, and I wasn’t even seen by the audience... What a disgrace. There was no applause, no bows. Only a fade to black and the director’s stifled cry:
“Call an ambulance!” That was what I heard.
When I opened my eyes in the hospital, I learned that my understudy had replaced me in the play. Apparently, he had taken the glory after my unfortunate accident... What a disgrace... I had worked so hard, only for someone else to take what was rightfully mine. What I feel isn’t envy, but hatred.
This couldn’t have been just an accident...
“Who could have done this to me?” I asked myself, clenching my fists.
I built this reputation my entire life. I have been a theater prodigy for as long as I can remember. Now, someone has pushed me into the shadows.
I know myself well. I will rise slowly, but I won’t forget that what was done to me was deliberate. When I’m discharged, I’ll return to the stage to find the culprit behind this crime. Because the name Rodny will not go unnoticed.
I will never forget Rodny’s name. I’ll keep it in mind until the end of my days... I hated that arrogant egomaniac so much that I couldn’t stand to look at him; now I’m afraid to see him again.
I used to watch him from above, on the narrow metal catwalks near the ceiling. My job at the theater was limited to pulling light cables and plugging them into the proper places. I watched him rehearse every play. Rodny liked to draw attention, but no one could stand his attitude. He thought he was the golden boy because he was the lead in “Winter Dream.”
While he was accustomed to receiving applause at center stage, I remained in the shadows, unnoticed by everyone else. I was completely anonymous, the complete opposite of Rodny... That bothered me deeply.
“Why him? What does he have that I don’t, apart from that arrogant smile and undeserved luck?” I used to say until I was sick of hearing myself.
I created the magic in the theater. It was thanks to me that the spotlights illuminated his face, and yet no one ever took Charlie into account. I was a ghost without a presence in that place. And someone as repulsive as Rodny received all the attention.
That envy filled me with hatred. The hatred led me into negativity, and the negativity filled me with dark thoughts for weeks. A frustration was born inside me that burned my guts, and one day the anger became unbearable.
It was on the opening night of “Winter Dream,” when the theater was empty, that I climbed to my station with a heavy wrench. My hands didn’t tremble as I loosened the bolts on the spotlight positioned above the main stage. I knew perfectly well that Rodny would arrive before everyone else...
I no longer knew what I was doing. I convinced myself that I only wanted to scare him, but I was lying to myself. When I loosened the last nut, I knew exactly what I was doing... I only wanted Rodny to disappear so I wouldn’t have to think about him anymore.
Time froze. I watched the spotlight plunge from above like a guillotine; the impact was brutal, a dry and horrifying sound against Rodny’s head.
When I saw Rodny’s motionless body from above, I panicked. I was so terrified that I ran from the scene.
“What have I done? My God, what have I done?” I thought as I fled.
That’s right, I committed a crime. I’m not an ignored genius; I’m a monster. I destroyed Rodny because I made a terrible decision, but that is no excuse for my actions.
I slipped silently down the fire escape into an alley. I never looked back. From the news, I learned that Rodny had been taken to the hospital. Fearing retaliation, I fled the city, leaving the theater and my life behind, terrified of the consequences of sabotaging that spotlight.
Original version in Spanish
[Imagen realizada en Artguru](https://www.artguru.ai/es/create/)
Cuando se abre telón rojo, es mi momento para mostrar lo bueno que soy. Pero esta vez, no lograba sentir la inspiración necesaria. Me tomé un descanso, y fue ahí que lo ví en el escenario, ensayando mi monólogo.
Desde la penumbra de la última fila, el director de la obra lo observaba maravillado a mi suplente mientras recitaba las líneas que yo había memorizado hasta el cansancio. La obra se titula "Sueño de invierno".
"Qué título tan irónico" dije para mí mismo.
Mi propio invierno había llegado de forma prematura y cruel, no lo tenía merecido, el futuro en el escenario me pertenecía por derecho.
No hice ningún escándalo porque solo era un ensayo, la gran noche sería el día de mañana.
"Solo es el suplente" pensé para mí mismo.
Aún puedo sentir la cicatriz bajo mi cabello, tiende a palpitar cuando me siento estresado... Yo era la estrella. El protagonista indiscutible. Y en un segundo, el universo decidió apagar mi resplandor creciente.
Cuando cierro los ojos, me traslado de vuelta a lo sucedido aquel martes, el pasado volvía a mi para aplastarme.
Aún recuerdo el olor de la nieve sintética plagada en el escenario, recuerdo escuchar las risas de mis compañeros desde los vestidores. Yo solo le aplicaba los últimos retoques a mi atuendo elegante.
Iba de camino al escenario tras bambalinas, y fue entonces cuando sucedió, escuché un sonido desde lo más alto: Un crujido agudo que me hizo levantar la mirada, una luz intensa se acercó a mi como una estrella fugaz.
Todo sucedió tan rápido, pero recuerdo escuchar un silbido metálico cortando el aire.
Que suerte debe tener la estrella del show para que un inmenso reflector le cayera justamente en la cabeza la noche del estreno...
Lo que sucedió después de eso fue oscuridad absoluta. Esa fue mi última escena en el escenario y ni siquiera fui visto por el público... Que desgracia. No hubo aplausos, ni reverencias. Solo un fundido a negro y el grito ahogado de la director:
"¡Llamen a una ambulancia!" eso fue lo que escuché.
Cuando abrí los ojos en el hospital, supe que mi suplente me había sustituido en la obra de teatro, al parecer se llevó la gloria tras mi desafortunado accidente... Que desgracia... Tanto que me esforcé para que alguien más se lleve lo que por derecho es mío. Esto que siento no es envidia, sino odio.
Tags: #hive-170798#fiction#writing#inkwellprompt#theinkwell# inleo