Horror Story Part 13: A Play Demonic (The Queen’s Idle Fancy)

Here is a tiny notice found in the local weekly concerning the Fidalgo Island Theater Ensemble and their spring drama choice. Word is spreading, and members of FITE will be recruiting throughout the winter months. People will be dying for parts to play. Rivalries will blossom. Hope will fade.

“We are all demonic!”—QUEEN STORMAG

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One of the animal portraits, few and far between, my father painted. He usually created these paintings for his kids and grandchildren . . . I loved them all.

To read A Play Demonic (The Queen’s Idle Fancy) from the very beginning, please click HERE for Part 1, or to simply refresh your memory by skimming the last chapter, click HERE for Part 12!


A Play Demonic (The Queen’s Idle Fancy) — Part 13


Justin Bog


Chapter 13


In this week’s paper, the audition call appeared for the first time, which would give over a month for most actors to prepare. The notice would run until the audition date, an expense the theater was willing to make, and begrudge as part of the game, life. Those who read the play would be part of something groundbreaking. Martin Belloon shook the paper out and read the notice a dozen times before bringing it upstairs for his wife. He opened the door to the bedroom and found Carole, eyes widening, mouth duct-taped shut, crazed, tied, locked tightly to the iron bed.

“You’ll love this, sweetheart!”

Carole could only moan.

“Are you too cold?”

Of course, he liked Carole naked, vulnerable, something that was new to their union. She’d always, up to this point, been the stronger of the two, the most demanding. Martin pulled the sheet and blankets up to her neck.

“Let me read this to you before you make us breakfast. Promise to be good, and I’ll let you join me tonight for the jazz performance at the Rockfish Grill. I know how you love your light jazz.”

And Martin began to read. He read the notice three times. Louder the last time. And then he ripped the duct tape from Carole’s quivering lips and told her to read it.

“I want you to audition, honey. You’ll be one of the spinsters of the village. One of the unbelievers. Will it bother you to play one of Queen Stormag’s tormentors? I think you have the range. You can take anything Denisov offers. And it will be Denisov. Your Leonora’s a scabrous talent, for sure, and that will help her in the long run during the audition process. She’s proven she can add a ludicrous, salacious element to her performances, and the town loves her—you love her. But she lacks that cutthroat spontaneity so naturalistic to Denisov’s style. You’ll see, and you’ll admit that I was right once again after the first performance. Can’t believe that’s seven months away. Something to look forward to. Spring. And the coming of the Queen.”

Carole nodded.

“Will you be good?”

“Yes. You know I will.”

“But how will you regain my trust? I have many ideas in that direction.”

Martin’s wife shuddered, glanced to her left where the window shade blocked her view of the neighborhood.

“Read it again. Louder.”


“FITE hosts auditions for ‘The Queen’s Idle Fancy’

Auditions for FITE’s

Upcoming spring opening drama

‘The Queen’s Idle Fancy’

will be 2-5p.m. the first Saturday

of January and 6-9p.m. the following Sunday

at the theater, the corner of 10th Street and M Avenue.

Stop by or call to sign up for a time.

To audition, prepare a two-minute monologue (you pick),

Wear appropriate clothing for the faraway 1600s . . . a time

Of kings and queens, castles, jousting, maidens, chivalry, and dragons.

Be prepared for cold readings from the script

(available at the box office)

The opening production will be May 1st

FITE will have a strong and long run.”

“Great, darling. See? Maybe you could practice enough to try out for a place in the royal court. But, again, you’d have to make me believe in your sincerity.”

A tear rolled down her right cheek, and her husband frowned. His lips pressed together in a tight line  and he tore the newspaper out of Carole’s hands.

“You better stop with that nonsense. I mean it.”

The darkness of the storm outside the shuttered room invaded, and Martin stalked out of the bedroom. His mind reeled. He took his office scissors to the article and clipped and then taped it to the front of a new clipboard, the one he’d use to keep track of the players during the actual audition.

He breathed deeply, slowing his racing thoughts. After a minute, he dropped the clipboard onto his desk and walked back up the stairs to apologize, this time obsequiously, like a sniveling fool, to his wife, to unlock her bindings. He’d rub her feet like he knew she loved. Later, he was willing to give her another honesty test. That’s what he called his actions, his wife’s actions: an honesty test. Be good.

Everything for the stage.

The wind picked apart the remaining leaves on the trees, blew to the rafters, brewing, courting trouble. People planning to leave their homes for a little light jazz decided to stay home, bond in front of the television until the power went out, play board games, cards under candlelight, read using kindles, fight battles on their iPads, talk the social media circuit, or grow closer taking honesty tests.


To read the next chapter of A Play Demonic (The Queen’s Idle Fancy), simply click HERE for Part 14!


Thank you for your loyalty to the Queen. Reading this story is fun for me, and I enjoy the interactions of the players. I hope you do too. Let me hear from you in the comments section and please share the story with your friends.




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