Somewhere, there's a Theatre. It's hard to find if you're looking for it, since it never seems to be in the same place twice. Sometimes it's Inside, sometimes Outside, sometimes Riverside, there on a street corner one day and gone the next. The trick, of course, is setting out with the vague intent of arriving there, and meandering until it finds its way to you.
The building is dark and disused, with brick walls that look on the verge of collapse, the mortar crumbling into cracks and holes. It's hard to tell how long ago it was made, whether the quaint Art Deco styling is genuine or just meant to resemble a bygone time. A faded marquee stands proudly above the entrance, surrounded by burnt out bulbs that might once have flickered and beckoned audiences from afar. Now it's a skeleton of its former self, and the faded black letters are peeling off. They currently read:
NOW S OWING: "T E AUD ENT V ID"
Despite the broken windows, the weeds that grow along the base of the walls, the grime that covers the ticketbooth and makes it all but impossible to see inside- there's something about these features that seems somehow intentional. It doesn't feel old so much as timeless, as if it came into being in this state of dilapidation rather than acquiring it naturally through the years. It's an uncomfortable feeling, a feeling not just of being watched, but of being drawn in. The feeling a lobster might feel looking at a cage on the seafloor, if it were only more cognizant of the world around it.
There's something bitter about this place. Something hungry.
But the sun shines down, and there's no sound within. And the door stands open and inviting. Surely you want to come inside?
To See the Wizards
Darko leads his friends through the streets, turning seemingly at random. He's taken them through a number of side allies, and doubled back at least a couple times. Despite having been walking for at least a half hour, from all the twists and turns it seems like they're scarcely more than a few blocks from where they started out. Still, the boy walks with utter confidence despite the nonsensical route, his breath clouding before his face as he hums quietly.
And then, after one more turn, the Theatre is visible ahead. It's sandwiched between a general store and a bustling coffee shop, and although there's a few people walking about, none of them seem to even notice the grand, crumbling building. There's no lights visible from inside, and the jagged windows are darker than pitch.
"Here we are! No place like home," says Darko cheerfully. He leads them, not to the front door, but around the left side, in the narrow alley between Theatre and coffee shop. There's a metal side door that he walks up to. Although it doesn't have a handle, Darko knocks on it, and it swings outward of its own volition.
"After you," he says with a smile, gesturing grandly at the darkness within.