The Haunted Stage: A Play for Justice
A haunted theatre story for upper levels
Chapter 1: The Theatre Reopens – A haunted theatre story
It was a damp evening in Rivenden, the rain tapping persistently on the windows of the long-abandoned City Theatre. The building had been silent for three years, its doors shut due to a redevelopment program. Lynne Rawley, the new Public Relations Officer, was tasked with the grand reopening, but there was something unsettling about the place.
The box office had been reoriented, now accessible from the side of the building instead of the main foyer, as if to guide people in through a less conspicuous entrance. The old entrance, with its grand double doors and carved stone arches, remained sealed, a ghostly reminder of the theatre’s troubled past. Rumors had circulated for years about strange occurrences—lights flickering on their own, shadowy figures darting behind the curtains, and whispers echoing through the empty seats.
Lynne dismissed the stories, focusing on the improvements. The foyer had been repainted in a vibrant green and gold, the once dark and cramped dressing rooms had been transformed into airy spaces, and state-of-the-art sound and lighting systems had been installed. But the changes seemed to do little to banish the theatre’s eerie presence. There was still an unshakable coldness in the air, one that sent shivers down her spine every time she stepped inside.
The opening night was set for October 13th, with a production of The Royal Hunt of the Sun, but the closer they got to the date, the more unsettling things became. First, there were the whispers—low, indistinct murmurs that seemed to come from the stage even when the theatre was empty. Then the equipment would malfunction, despite being brand new. The lifts, which had been upgraded to sleek, efficient models, would stall between floors, trapping people inside for hours.
It wasn’t until the night of the first full rehearsal that Lynne began to truly worry. As the actors took their places on stage, a low rumbling noise echoed through the theatre. The newly installed air conditioning had been set to prevent the space from becoming too hot and stuffy, yet a sudden chill swept through the auditorium, making the temperature drop so sharply that their breath fogged in front of them.
Lynne rushed backstage to check on the system, only to find one of the old lifts—the one that had supposedly been removed and replaced—standing in the corner of the dimly lit corridor. The door creaked open on its own, revealing a shadowy figure standing inside. Lynne froze in place, her heart pounding, as the figure stepped forward, its face obscured in darkness.
From somewhere deep within the walls, a voice whispered her name.
“Lynne…”
She turned to run, but the lift doors slammed shut behind her, and the lights flickered out.
The theatre had reopened, but something else had returned with it.
..
Chapter 2: Whispers in the Walls
Lynne’s footsteps echoed as she sprinted through the darkened corridors, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The lights of the theatre continued to flicker, casting brief moments of eerie illumination before plunging her back into darkness. She reached the stairwell, gripping the railing as she descended into the bowels of the building. There, deep below the stage, lay the theatre’s forgotten spaces—the storage rooms, old costume closets, and the basement that had long been sealed off.
Behind her, the whispering grew louder.
“Lynne…”
Her name echoed through the narrow halls, carried on a chill wind that seemed to come from nowhere. She glanced back, her pulse quickening at the sight of shadows moving along the walls, twisting and writhing in ways that seemed unnatural. She knew these halls; she had walked them a hundred times during the theatre’s renovation. But tonight, they felt different—longer, more labyrinthine, as though the building itself were shifting around her.
At last, she reached the basement door. It stood ajar, though no one had entered it for years. The rusty hinges groaned as she pushed it open. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp and decay, and the weak beam of her flashlight revealed the disarray that had been left behind—old costumes draped over broken furniture, torn curtains lying in heaps of dust, and props from forgotten performances scattered across the floor.
But something else caught her eye.
In the center of the room, illuminated by a faint, unnatural glow, stood an ornate wooden box, its lid slightly open. It wasn’t part of the renovation, nor had it ever been recorded in the theatre’s inventory. The box was ancient, carved with intricate symbols that Lynne couldn’t recognize. Despite the dread creeping over her, she felt compelled to approach it.
As she knelt beside the box, the whispering seemed to focus, the disembodied voices swirling around her. Her hands trembled as she lifted the lid. Inside was an old playbill, yellowed with age, from the theatre’s opening night decades ago. It advertised a production that had never made it to the stage—a cursed play, rumored to have caused the theatre’s first closure, after a series of accidents claimed the lives of several actors.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped again, and the whispers rose into a cacophony of voices. Lynne stumbled back, dropping the playbill, as the box began to shake. The air around her thickened, pressing in on her, as though the room itself was alive.
Then, from the shadows, figures began to emerge.
Pale, translucent shapes—actors in costumes from another era—drifted toward her, their faces frozen in masks of anguish. Their eyes, hollow and dark, locked onto hers as they slowly encircled her. The whispers turned to moans, each ghostly figure repeating the same word over and over again: justice.
Lynne’s back hit the wall, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of their collective grief, the suffocating sorrow that had seeped into the very bones of the building.
“What do you want?” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
The nearest figure, a woman dressed in a torn Victorian gown, stepped forward. Her eyes, empty yet full of unspeakable pain, met Lynne’s as she spoke, her voice a hollow echo.
“We were wronged,” the ghost said, her voice barely audible. “And we cannot leave… until the truth is revealed.”
Lynne’s mind raced. The cursed play, the accidents, the tragic history of the theatre—it all began to fall into place. Something terrible had happened here all those years ago, something that had been covered up, and now the spirits were trapped, bound to the place until their story was told.
Before Lynne could respond, the ground beneath her feet trembled. The figures vanished, and the basement door slammed shut with a deafening bang. A cold gust of wind swept through the room, and then, as suddenly as it had started, everything was still.
But the whispers had not gone silent. They were in the walls, in the very structure of the theatre, calling to her—begging her to uncover the truth.
Lynne knew there was no turning back now. Something had been unleashed, and it was not going to rest until the long-buried secrets of the Rivenden City Theatre were brought to light.
The play had begun, and Lynne was now the lead actor in a story of revenge, betrayal, and a justice long denied.
Chapter 3: The Final Act – Haunted theatre
The next morning, Lynne awoke in her apartment with the weight of the night’s events pressing heavily on her chest. Her dreams had been haunted by shadowy figures and whispers that still echoed faintly in her mind. She had left the theatre in a daze, but not before retrieving the cursed playbill from the basement. It lay on her desk now, the faded ink and crumbling paper seeming to pulse with a life of its own.
She knew what she had to do. The spirits would not rest until their story was told, and there was only one way to do that: the play had to be performed.
But who would believe her? How could she convince the cast and crew to stage a production that had never been completed, a production tied to the deaths of so many? Lynne had no choice but to take a risk. She called an emergency meeting with the theatre’s director, and after much hesitation and disbelief, she convinced him to allow her to change the play. With the grand reopening just days away, they would stage The Hunt for Justice—the play that had cursed the theatre.
That evening, the cast gathered for the first rehearsal. The atmosphere was tense, thick with unease. Lynne stood backstage, clutching the original playbill, her heart racing as the actors began reciting the lines of the forbidden script. The air grew colder with each spoken word, and the lights above the stage flickered as if responding to some unseen force.
The audience began to fill the seats—locals, reporters, and a few curious tourists, all eager to witness the theatre’s grand return. But none of them knew what was truly at stake. Lynne watched from the wings, her hands trembling. As the final act approached, the whispers began again, louder this time, as if the spirits were waiting, watching.
The play reached its climax, a dramatic scene in which the protagonist confronts their betrayer. The actors performed with a strange intensity, as though something beyond the script was driving them. As the final lines were spoken, the ground beneath the stage rumbled, just as it had the night before.
Suddenly, the entire theatre went dark.
The audience gasped, murmurs of confusion rippling through the crowd. Lynne’s heart pounded in her chest. She knew what was coming.
A single spotlight flickered to life, illuminating the stage where the lead actor stood frozen in place. But he was no longer alone. Behind him, translucent figures began to materialize—the same ghosts Lynne had seen in the basement. The audience screamed in terror as the spectral actors took their places, stepping into the roles they had been denied so long ago.
The ghosts spoke the final lines of the cursed play, their voices reverberating through the theatre like a funeral dirge.
“Justice has been denied for too long…”
As the last words echoed through the hall, the spirits turned their hollow gazes toward Lynne. She stepped forward, her throat dry, her legs trembling, but she knew what she had to do. She lifted the cursed playbill in her hand, her voice breaking as she addressed the audience and the spirits alike.
“These actors were wronged. Their lives were taken, their story silenced. Tonight, we tell their truth. We finish the play they started.”
The whispers stopped.
For a brief moment, there was absolute silence. Then, one by one, the ghosts began to fade. Their anguished faces softened, the pain and sorrow that had bound them to the theatre slowly lifting. The temperature in the room warmed as the spirits dissipated into the ether, their forms dissolving like mist at dawn.
The lights flickered back to life, revealing the stunned faces of the audience. They stared in disbelief, unsure whether what they had just witnessed was part of the show or something far more sinister. Lynne could barely stand, her entire body shaking with exhaustion and relief.
The theatre was finally still.
As the audience left, murmuring among themselves, Lynne remained backstage, staring at the now-empty stage. The cursed play had been performed, and justice had been served, but at what cost?
Just as she began to walk away, she noticed something on the floor where the lead actor had stood—a single, yellowed page from the original playbill, untouched by time.
On it, scrawled in faded ink, was a single word:
“Thank you.”
Lynne smiled faintly, knowing the spirits had found peace at last. The theatre had been freed from its curse, but the memory of those who had perished would live on, forever entwined with the building’s dark history.
The final act had come to a close, but the story of the Rivenden City Theatre would be told for generations to come—a tale of tragedy, revenge, and the power of justice that even death could not silence.
Vocabulary for The Haunted Stage: A Play for Justice
Here is a list of vocabulary from the story that is above the B1+ level:
- Persistent – continuing firmly or obstinately.
- Abandoned – having been deserted or left.
- Sealed – closed tightly.
- Conspicuous – standing out so as to be clearly visible.
- Grand – impressive or magnificent in appearance or style.
- Ornate – made in an intricate shape or decorated with complex patterns.
- Unsettling – causing anxiety or uneasiness; disturbing.
- Eerie – strange and frightening.
- Flickering – shining unsteadily; fluctuating rapidly in brightness.
- Disembodied – separated from or existing without the body.
- Translucent – allowing light, but not detailed shapes, to pass through.
- Encircled – formed a circle around; surrounded.
- Anguish – severe mental or physical pain or suffering.
- Labyrinthine – like a labyrinth; irregular and twisting.
- Haunted – frequented by a ghost or something causing fear or discomfort.
- Apprehension – anxiety or fear that something bad or unpleasant will happen.
- Cacophony – a harsh, discordant mixture of sounds.
- Ether – the clear sky; the upper regions of air beyond the clouds.
- Compelled – forced or obliged to do something.
- Materialize – to appear or become actual, especially unexpectedly.
- Dissipate – disappear or cause to disappear.
- Sinister – giving the impression that something harmful or evil is happening or will happen.
These words and phrases would likely be considered above B1 level due to their complexity and less frequent use in everyday conversations at that level for the haunted theatre story.
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