Dress rehearsal tickets are double the price of opening night tickets.
There will be no coat check.
There will be no ushers.
If someone is in your seat, sit (or stand) elsewhere.
No one cares.
This is theatre.
Can you help with props?
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Keep reading
More stories from Harper Lewis and writers in Poets and other communities.
Letter to my Daughter
You have a choice to make here: are you going to continue the cycle, or are you going to break it? Keeping your son away from me hurts him; there’s no question about that. I thought you were being hurt, and I was trying to protect you, not punish anyone when I kept your grandfather away from you. I have said that I was wrong and I am sorry, but there was never any malice involved.
By Harper LewisExclusive • 2 months ago
So You Decided To Become a Nurse Practitioner:
So you decided to become an "Advanced Practice" nurse. Congratulations!... is what I would say if this was a good idea. Grad school? In this economy? What were you thinking? Likely it was something along the lines of either 1) “I've seen these other chucklefucks do it— Why can't I?” or even 2) “I've got a nice career, I should shake it up. I miss feeling like I have no clue what I'm doing.”
By Sandor Szabo8 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
This short little piece packs in a bunch. Having been in high school theater productions, I appreciated the realism of the chaos leading up to the big opening night. But there seems to be more woven in. This reminded me of a thousand events I hosted or attended that just didn't quite go to plan and suddenly guests are setting up or cooking or running errands. It also feels like motherhood. Juggling a hundred things while trying to convince them that dinner tastes the same on a regular plate as it does on the Spiderman plate. But, if ever you have need: yes, I can and will help with the props.
This one made me smile! I love that last line. It's so what would happen!! 💜
💖The authority in this piece mixed with that sweet levity makes it absolutely magnetic. I loved the antithesis of the dress rehearsals alongside the price of the opening night tickets. There was such a sharp indifference regarding whether the audience even found their correct seats.
That last line—“Can you help with props?”—really stuck with me. After all that blunt dismissal of structure and care, it suddenly feels like an invitation that’s both desperate and a little absurd, like the show only works if the audience gives up pretending they’re just watching. The “no one cares / this is theatre” bit felt uncomfortably true in a way I couldn’t shake. Is this about how much we’re asked to tolerate just to feel included, or am I reading too much of my own exhaustion into it?