u/Xerios_Skull

Hi! I landed an interview tomorrow at my local theater. I wanted to make sure I was well prepared. I'm 18 and have availability all the time, all year (including holidays). I prepared a button up shirt and black slacks with dress shoes to match. This is a theater I really enjoy going to and I did my research on their policies too. However, my previous experience is extremely limited (volunteer work and a 2 day shift at a taco stand) and I have zero references too. I would like to note that I listed both of these during my application and was still called for the interview. Any more advice is greatly appreciated!

A cold bland room with a prisoner. I stared at the floor while a heartbeat monitor beeped, the sound competing with my parents’ cries. Tears wouldn’t come to me, I felt subhuman, being unable to display any sign of grief. The sight of my brother made me sick, I could barely stand to be in the room while he was held captive in sleep. He looked so calm in comparison to before. His face calm, his forehead scarred, and his mind gone. It was barely a week after I found out that he had broken. His mind had completely shattered.

That day I found him was one that would be engraved permanently upon my brain. It was dreary out and a search party had been put together to sweep the forest. My brother had gone missing after a violent fight with his girlfriend. She had described him as insane. Barely a remnant of himself. It was something I couldn’t wrap my head around, my brother had always been reserved and helpful. The type that wouldn’t hurt a fly. So it came as a shock to my family when we learned of his outburst. His snap had led him to run. The first place to look was a forest on the back of his property. I decided to search elsewhere.

During old summers, we used to frequent abandoned buildings to hang out. Our parents both worked and we didn’t have much in the way of entertainment besides our own imaginations. We were left alone after school and exploration was one of our favorite activities. The best place we found was a nearly twenty floor building with an entrance covered in caution tape. Inside contained basic concrete structures and rooms. It made for a great place to invite friends and hangout. We loved to play tag and hide and seek. We did so for years.

The last day we hung out there always stuck out in my mind. We were playing hide and seek when my brother came across a door. An anomaly among the empty slots where doors were planned to be placed. It was located through a small crawl space we had never dared enter. My brother, however, thought someone could have been hiding there. He called out to the rest of us while we hid.

“Hey, guys! Come look at what I found!”

“You better not have called us out just to win.” A younger kid mumbled.

“No, look! A door. It’s locked though.”

“What’re ya thinkin is on the other side?” Another kid asked. 

“Maybe some treasure! Any ideas on getting in?”

Unfortunately, curiosity and creativity have always been my best traits. I pulled out a metal pin I found at school that day. I jammed it into the door lock and fumbled it around. After a minute had passed, a click emitted from the wooden door. My brother decided to take the lead into the room. He looked around at us before opening the door. The room was about the size of a single office. Televisions lined the walls. I remember we were in awe.

“Look! The TVs are showing the inside of the building.” I noted. 

“Seems like our hideout is better than I thought.” My brother quipped

One of the televisions was scrambled with static and there were hundreds of tapes on the floor, each labeled differently. I picked one up. It was labeled as “Children’s Playtime 2/6/98.” I popped it into one of the many VCRs. The television displayed us hanging out and playing tag together. I thought it was neat, and so did the other kids. 

I had only seen my mother scared twice. The day my brother went missing and the day I told her about our hideout. She only let it show for a moment before returning to a calm demeanor and ushering us off to bed. During a trip to the bathroom, I heard her talking to someone.

“Is this 911?”

“Yes, I need to make a report.”

“T-there’s been someone in the old Graves building watching my children.”

“My kids… they said they found recordings of themselves.”

“Yes, recordings.”

I decided to peek in on what was happening. My dad came into the room and gently asked her what was happening. His face went cold. My parents had never acted this way, this, paired with the fear of being found eavesdropping, made me decide to tip-toe back to my room. 

We weren’t ever allowed back there. My brother and I were driven home the next day and I remember seeing the police outside that building. It was this building that I believed my brother currently resided in.

A familiar towering concrete corpse stood against the pounding rain. It was nothing but a shell, abandoned during construction due to budget cuts. The appearance of the building had barely changed in the years since I left the city. I pulled into a nearby parking lot, grabbing a flashlight and umbrella. I remember my hands were shaking, scared this was an empty lead; but even more scared of seeing his deterioration.

Going in, the echo of the past remained without light as it did years ago. Its pitch black nature could only be penetrated by my guide through the dark. The building was devoid of sound and life outside of the moss that had begun to infect the cold walls. Unfinished windows let the rain fall onto the cracked flooring.

As I slowly made my way to the fifteenth floor, I started to hear a pulpy sound like someone was throwing fruit at a rock. Fear ensnared my body, the door now stood before me. The sound emanated from behind it.

I slowly pushed open the door. It creaked open like it was warning me to leave. Televisions were placed surgically in their own square alcoves that lined from the bottom of the wall to the top throughout the entire room. Each screen displayed the past. That footage that had been confiscated by the police showed us playing. This room of memories made me sick.

At the end of the long concrete room, a spiral was painted in a deep crimson. A creature stood in front of the spiral. Its head slammed into the center of the spiral, again and again. Blood dripped on the floor and blotched where its head collided. My flashlight guided me here and now I desperately wished it could guide the beast before me. The light shone, a bare figure turned around and stared at me. Bones jutted and poked beneath its skin where it shouldn’t have. I gagged. Under the caved-in forehead and fleshy pulp, tears began to form. It looked at me, terrified. It whimpered and backed away. The beast fell to the ground and I knew, despite its hellish appearance, it was my kin. A television began displaying a deep red. I looked at the screen and saw my own tainted reflection staring back.

I called the police and everyone who was searching.

Now I sit in a cold bland room with a prisoner.

Wires and Chains (Part One)

A cold bland room with a prisoner. I stared at the floor while a heartbeat monitor beeped, the sound competing with my parents’ cries. Tears wouldn’t come to me, I felt subhuman, being unable to display any sign of grief. The sight of my brother made me sick, I could barely stand to be in the room while he was held captive in sleep. He looked so calm in comparison to before. His face calm, his forehead scarred, and his mind gone. It was barely a week after I found out that he had broken. His mind had completely shattered.

That day I found him was one that would be engraved permanently upon my brain. It was dreary out and a search party had been put together to sweep the forest. My brother had gone missing after a violent fight with his girlfriend. She had described him as insane. Barely a remnant of himself. It was something I couldn’t wrap my head around, my brother had always been reserved and helpful. The type that wouldn’t hurt a fly. So it came as a shock to my family when we learned of his outburst. His snap had led him to run. The first place to look was a forest on the back of his property. I decided to search elsewhere.

During old summers, we used to frequent abandoned buildings to hang out. Our parents both worked and we didn’t have much in the way of entertainment besides our own imaginations. We were left alone after school and exploration was one of our favorite activities. The best place we found was a nearly twenty floor building with an entrance covered in caution tape. Inside contained basic concrete structures and rooms. It made for a great place to invite friends and hangout. We loved to play tag and hide and seek. We did so for years.

The last day we hung out there always stuck out in my mind. We were playing hide and seek when my brother came across a door. An anomaly among the empty slots where doors were planned to be placed. It was located through a small crawl space we had never dared enter. My brother, however, thought someone could have been hiding there. He called out to the rest of us while we hid.

“Hey, guys! Come look at what I found!”

“You better not have called us out just to win.” A younger kid mumbled.

“No, look! A door. It’s locked though.”

“What’re ya thinkin is on the other side?” Another kid asked. 

“Maybe some treasure! Any ideas on getting in?”

Unfortunately, curiosity and creativity have always been my best traits. I pulled out a metal pin I found at school that day. I jammed it into the door lock and fumbled it around. After a minute had passed, a click emitted from the wooden door. My brother decided to take the lead into the room. He looked around at us before opening the door. The room was about the size of a single office. Televisions lined the walls. I remember we were in awe.

“Look! The TVs are showing the inside of the building.” I noted. 

“Seems like our hideout is better than I thought.” My brother quipped

One of the televisions was scrambled with static and there were hundreds of tapes on the floor, each labeled differently. I picked one up. It was labeled as “Children’s Playtime 2/6/98.” I popped it into one of the many VCRs. The television displayed us hanging out and playing tag together. I thought it was neat, and so did the other kids. 

I had only seen my mother scared twice. The day my brother went missing and the day I told her about our hideout. She only let it show for a moment before returning to a calm demeanor and ushering us off to bed. During a trip to the bathroom, I heard her talking to someone.

“Is this 911?”

“Yes, I need to make a report.”

“T-there’s been someone in the old Graves building watching my children.”

“My kids… they said they found recordings of themselves.”

“Yes, recordings.”

I decided to peek in on what was happening. My dad came into the room and gently asked her what was happening. His face went cold. My parents had never acted this way, this, paired with the fear of being found eavesdropping, made me decide to tip-toe back to my room. 

We weren’t ever allowed back there. My brother and I were driven home the next day and I remember seeing the police outside that building. It was this building that I believed my brother currently resided in.

A familiar towering concrete corpse stood against the pounding rain. It was nothing but a shell, abandoned during construction due to budget cuts. The appearance of the building had barely changed in the years since I left the city. I pulled into a nearby parking lot, grabbing a flashlight and umbrella. I remember my hands were shaking, scared this was an empty lead; but even more scared of seeing his deterioration.

Going in, the echo of the past remained without light as it did years ago. Its pitch black nature could only be penetrated by my guide through the dark. The building was devoid of sound and life outside of the moss that had begun to infect the cold walls. Unfinished windows let the rain fall onto the cracked flooring.

As I slowly made my way to the fifteenth floor, I started to hear a pulpy sound like someone was throwing fruit at a rock. Fear ensnared my body, the door now stood before me. The sound emanated from behind it.

I slowly pushed open the door. It creaked open like it was warning me to leave. Televisions were placed surgically in their own square alcoves that lined from the bottom of the wall to the top throughout the entire room. Each screen displayed the past. That footage that had been confiscated by the police showed us playing. This room of memories made me sick.

At the end of the long concrete room, a spiral was painted in a deep crimson. A creature stood in front of the spiral. Its head slammed into the center of the spiral, again and again. Blood dripped on the floor and blotched where its head collided. My flashlight guided me here and now I desperately wished it could guide the beast before me. The light shone, a bare figure turned around and stared at me. Bones jutted and poked beneath its skin where it shouldn’t have. I gagged. Under the caved-in forehead and fleshy pulp, tears began to form. It looked at me, terrified. It whimpered and backed away. The beast fell to the ground and I knew, despite its hellish appearance, it was my kin. A television began displaying a deep red. I looked at the screen and saw my own tainted reflection staring back.

I called the police and everyone who was searching.

Now I sit in a cold bland room with a prisoner.

A cold bland room with a prisoner. I stared at the floor while a heartbeat monitor beeped, the sound competing with my parents’ cries. Tears wouldn’t come to me, I felt subhuman, being unable to display any sign of grief. The sight of my brother made me sick, I could barely stand to be in the room while he was held captive in sleep. He looked so calm in comparison to before. His face calm, his forehead scarred, and his mind gone. It was barely a week after I found out that he had broken. His mind had completely shattered.

That day I found him was one that would be engraved permanently upon my brain. It was dreary out and a search party had been put together to sweep the forest. My brother had gone missing after a violent fight with his girlfriend. She had described him as insane. Barely a remnant of himself. It was something I couldn’t wrap my head around, my brother had always been reserved and helpful. The type that wouldn’t hurt a fly. So it came as a shock to my family when we learned of his outburst. His snap had led him to run. The first place to look was a forest on the back of his property. I decided to search elsewhere.

During old summers, we used to frequent abandoned buildings to hang out. Our parents both worked and we didn’t have much in the way of entertainment besides our own imaginations. We were left alone after school and exploration was one of our favorite activities. The best place we found was a nearly twenty floor building with an entrance covered in caution tape. Inside contained basic concrete structures and rooms. It made for a great place to invite friends and hangout. We loved to play tag and hide and seek. We did so for years.

The last day we hung out there always stuck out in my mind. We were playing hide and seek when my brother came across a door. An anomaly among the empty slots where doors were planned to be placed. It was located through a small crawl space we had never dared enter. My brother, however, thought someone could have been hiding there. He called out to the rest of us while we hid.

“Hey, guys! Come look at what I found!”

“You better not have called us out just to win.” A younger kid mumbled.

“No, look! A door. It’s locked though.”

“What’re ya thinkin is on the other side?” Another kid asked. 

“Maybe some treasure! Any ideas on getting in?”

Unfortunately, curiosity and creativity have always been my best traits. I pulled out a metal pin I found at school that day. I jammed it into the door lock and fumbled it around. After a minute had passed, a click emitted from the wooden door. My brother decided to take the lead into the room. He looked around at us before opening the door. The room was about the size of a single office. Televisions lined the walls. I remember we were in awe.

“Look! The TVs are showing the inside of the building.” I noted. 

“Seems like our hideout is better than I thought.” My brother quipped

One of the televisions was scrambled with static and there were hundreds of tapes on the floor, each labeled differently. I picked one up. It was labeled as “Children’s Playtime 2/6/98.” I popped it into one of the many VCRs. The television displayed us hanging out and playing tag together. I thought it was neat, and so did the other kids. 

I had only seen my mother scared twice. The day my brother went missing and the day I told her about our hideout. She only let it show for a moment before returning to a calm demeanor and ushering us off to bed. During a trip to the bathroom, I heard her talking to someone.

“Is this 911?”

“Yes, I need to make a report.”

“T-there’s been someone in the old Graves building watching my children.”

“My kids… they said they found recordings of themselves.”

“Yes, recordings.”

I decided to peek in on what was happening. My dad came into the room and gently asked her what was happening. His face went cold. My parents had never acted this way, this, paired with the fear of being found eavesdropping, made me decide to tip-toe back to my room. 

We weren’t ever allowed back there. My brother and I were driven home the next day and I remember seeing the police outside that building. It was this building that I believed my brother currently resided in.

A familiar towering concrete corpse stood against the pounding rain. It was nothing but a shell, abandoned during construction due to budget cuts. The appearance of the building had barely changed in the years since I left the city. I pulled into a nearby parking lot, grabbing a flashlight and umbrella. I remember my hands were shaking, scared this was an empty lead; but even more scared of seeing his deterioration.

Going in, the echo of the past remained without light as it did years ago. Its pitch black nature could only be penetrated by my guide through the dark. The building was devoid of sound and life outside of the moss that had begun to infect the cold walls. Unfinished windows let the rain fall onto the cracked flooring.

As I slowly made my way to the fifteenth floor, I started to hear a pulpy sound like someone was throwing fruit at a rock. Fear ensnared my body, the door now stood before me. The sound emanated from behind it.

I slowly pushed open the door. It creaked open like it was warning me to leave. Televisions were placed surgically in their own square alcoves that lined from the bottom of the wall to the top throughout the entire room. Each screen displayed the past. That footage that had been confiscated by the police showed us playing. This room of memories made me sick.

At the end of the long concrete room, a spiral was painted in a deep crimson. A creature stood in front of the spiral. Its head slammed into the center of the spiral, again and again. Blood dripped on the floor and blotched where its head collided. My flashlight guided me here and now I desperately wished it could guide the beast before me. The light shone, a bare figure turned around and stared at me. Bones jutted and poked beneath its skin where it shouldn’t have. I gagged. Under the caved-in forehead and fleshy pulp, tears began to form. It looked at me, terrified. It whimpered and backed away. The beast fell to the ground and I knew, despite its hellish appearance, it was my kin. A television began displaying a deep red. I looked at the screen and saw my own tainted reflection staring back.

I called the police and everyone who was searching.

Now I sit in a cold bland room with a prisoner.