Improvised play PART 3

Yossi knew something had gone wrong the moment he heard absolute silence. There’s never that kind of silence during a play—when not even the actors are speaking, and there’s no strange background noise. It unnerved him deeply.

He had gone to the bathroom about two minutes before Maor went up on stage and all the chaos began. He came back just as the torturer was in the middle of his speech.

He climbed the stairs, his steps still a little hesitant, reflecting what he felt inside. he looked up—and froze for a second. Then he turned and ran back the way he came as fast as he possibly could.

He had seen the man standing on stage—that deformed one—and was forced to freeze for a moment, as if to pay him some twisted respect.

The man looked too real to be wearing any kind of theatrical makeup. Yossi hadn’t had time to study him in depth, but he could already tell the man’s limbs were grotesquely contorted—and that he stood beside Maor, the famous actor.

He already knew Maor was in the play; he’d seen the posters. But this man was not part of the show.

It was too terrifying to be staged. But it was real.

He was certain he wasn’t dreaming. he didn’t need to pinch himself or any of that nonsense.

He just knew.

Yossi hoped no one had seen him. He hid behind the wooden wall that led to the bathrooms. He had already thought it was a nice design choice, adding character to the building. Now he thought it was brilliant.

He peeked again. Just one last time, he promised himself. He had to. Curiosity got the better of him.

It seemed like the deformed man was looking straight at him, but maybe it was just his imagination. Or worse — maybe the man had seen him and chose to ignore it. Yossi tried to convince himself otherwise. “You can’t let curiosity get the best of you,” he thought. “Curiosity killed the cat, not that guy.”

But Yossi couldn’t run. Not from the fear, and not from the feeling that he had to do something. He knew — he was the only one who could save everyone. As if someone had chosen him.

Especially Lilach. Today was their fifth wedding anniversary. They had left the kids with Lilach’s mother, a responsible and loving grandmother. At least the kids were safe. They had wanted to come to the play at first but gave up once they understood this was a night just for the two of them. A special night. And Yossi wasn’t going to let some twisted freak ruin it.

Not now. Not like this.

He would act. He would be the hero. Maybe he’d even get a medal.he worked at a bank. A gray, routine, quiet job. But now? Now his life had become a thriller.and maybe, he thought, maybe he really could retire early. funny how all our lives we just want to grow up: when we’re babies, we only want to walk and talk.

When we’re kids — we dream of school.

And in high school? We just want to finish it already.

Because kids, especially teenagers, get bored of everything.

And now, suddenly — he missed boredom.

When we finally finish school, we join the army (some of us, at least), and then all we want is to finish our service and get to the real world — to adulthood. Then we start working and all we want is to reach retirement, to rest in peace at an old age, because bureaucracy and all that stuff — it’s boring and exhausting. You have to deal with taxes, utility bills, and paperwork.

We start missing the days when we were young, and all we want is to escape the dullness of our job.and when we finally grow old, all we want is to die peacefully, because old age is hard, full of sickness and pain. Sure, there are people who enjoy parts of their lives — maybe even several — especially if you're famous, successful, or something like that.

But there’s always that feeling of progress, of needing to move forward, constantly.

It’s only the elderly who think about death. For the young, death is the worst thing that could happen.

But maybe, if we thought about death from the very beginning, we’d save ourselves the disappointment — that constant realization that the next stage isn’t necessarily better than the last. Sometimes, it’s even worse.

Well, Yossi was going to enjoy life before death.

More than that — Yossi was going to be a hero!

He was going to save the day, and everyone would thank him and him alone.

He loved the idea. He could practically feel it already.

He pulled out his phone and dialed 100 — the number for the police. His fingers moved with determination, quickly but with great caution.

“Hello?” came a voice on the other end.

“Hello,” he whispered sharply, trying to make every word as clear as possible. “Someone’s holding people hostage at the Ofir Theater. This is not a joke. Send help immediately.”

He hung up.

He felt the message had been received. Every second he spoke on the phone had been a second in which the freak could have discovered him.

Now all that was left… was to wait. The minutes dragged like hours — tense, charged, and silent. Every moment, Yossi braced himself for the maniac to find him.

Then — sounds of a violent struggle. Screams. A fight for life and death.

Then… the crack of gunfire. Sirens.

The police had arrived.

And Yossi? He stepped out into the theater. Because he knew — this nightmare was over.

The police entered the theater, prepared for the worst. Ready, heaven forbid, for someone to jump out at them, to ambush them — maybe even hurt them. They were already on edge.

Shaked kicked the door open forcefully — it nearly flew off its hinges. As I said, peak physical condition. But nothing happened.

Silence.

That sounds good? No. It's the worst sign.

In that moment, Shaked understood in his gut that something truly bad had happened. Silence was bad. He paused, listening closely, hoping to pick up on something — anything. He hated this kind of silence. It interfered with his work. It was unnatural. Terrible. Nerve-wracking.

Suddenly, a sharp scream rang out from the upper floor.

Shaked signaled to his team, and they sprinted toward the source of the sound. They arrived at a hallway with wooden walls that ended in a turn leading directly to the stage.

This place is actually pretty tastefully designed, Shaked thought. He’d never been to the Gesher Theater before. He preferred soccer and watching TV. That was fun to him.

They reached the turn.

They were ready.

He felt it.

They had to be ready.

Yossi heard the sounds of a struggle — now clearly audible. Another sharp scream.

Now's the time.Yossi signaled to the officers with his fingers.

3... 2... 1... And they charged in.

Well... this he hadn’t expected. Yossi looked and saw Maor David, the actor. Of course he recognized him — from TV and all that.and above him crouched a man restraining him. A very strange man — though Yossi couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly was off.

Until the man raised the iron chain in his hand.

Then Yossi understood. All the man’s limbs were grotesquely twisted. Pitifully so — yet the man didn’t look like someone who needed pity. In fact, he looked like someone who turned others into pitiful creatures.

He looked like a killer.after all these years, Shaked had learned to recognize criminals. That fact alone froze him in place.

He stood motionless for a second, as if his own limbs had been twisted too. Then, he snapped out of it — and fired. The bullet hit the deformed man. Shaked had a feeling it would. He always trusted that feeling deep in his gut.

The man fell, screaming, and Shaked motioned for his team to rush the stage. He ran fast — but carefully. Maybe the guy had accomplices. Who knew?

They reached the stage, and he looked around at the aftermath. Maor David was lying there, breathing heavily, starting to get up and back away — his gaze shifting between the deformed man and Shaked.

The stranger lay on the floor, blood pouring from several places — but mainly from his side, where the bullet had hit.

He was motionless, eyes closed. He seemed unconscious — but still breathing. There was blood all over the floor, and the iron chain was lying at the edge of the stage.

The audience was loud and Panic Most people had already begun fleeing the scene. Shaked ordered half his men to secure the perimeter and calm the crowd — he still feared the man might not have been working alone.

He crouched beside the man and studied his face.

For a few seconds… nothing happened. and then — the man leapt up and struck him. and just like that, the world stopped.

Everything turned black.

He grabbed the officer’s hands. “Don’t worry,” he said softly — but his voice was filled with malice and a thirst for blood. “Nothing will happen to you.”

The policeman opened his eyes at the sound and stared in horror at the spectacle above which he was moving, but before He could think of moving, he grabbed the torment in his arms and , he ripped them .

The officer screamed — a pure, raw scream of unimaginable pain. Blood spurted everywhere. He tossed one of the arms aside and, with the other hand, crushed the officer’s face.

One strike — the officer screamed again.

Second strike — the screaming stopped.

Third strike — the officer stopped breathing.

His head was smeared across the floor.

People in the crowd shrieked in horror and revulsion. Some kept running, some vomited, some fainted. A few tried to help the officers, calling desperately for reinforcements.

No sane person would try to fight him.

He saw reinforcements arriving and sprinted toward the door. He was nearly there, just steps away from freedom — when he heard someone call out to him.

He could’ve kept going.

He could’ve vanished that very moment. But curiosity got the better of him. He turned around and saw that it was Maor David who had called out.

Ah… how he hated him.

But now wasn’t the time to finish it. Not yet.

Maor looked badly injured — but after their brutal fight, he assumed he didn’t look much better himself.

Maor said:

“Who are you? Just… tell me who you are. Please.”

“Me?” he replied.

“I’m the Tormentor.”

Then he took off his sunglasses.

He saw Maor go silent. Completely still. Everyone was frozen. No one could move under his gaze — and he knew it. He turned and walked out the door. The Tormentor left the theater behind, leaving two dead, one wounded, and 2,000 terrified people.

He continued walking, an iron chain soaked in blood dangling from his hand — his face still expressionless.

He walked into the dark night, which this time felt darker than ever — walking into the unknown.