The End Plays Itself Out Leslie

Scott Simon

2 min read

·

13-01-2025

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Leslie stared at the flickering screen, the final scene of the play repeating on loop. It wasn't the technical glitch that held her captive; it was the unsettling familiarity of the ending. The play, her play, The Obsidian Mirror, was supposed to be a masterpiece of suspense, a carefully constructed house of cards where each twist was crucial. But the ending… the ending felt… wrong.

A Familiar Failure

The climax, the revelation of the murderer, felt flat. It lacked the punch, the satisfying click that should have accompanied the resolution of her meticulously crafted plot. Instead, it felt like a deflated balloon, a letdown. She’d spent months, years even, building this world, these characters, this intricate web of deceit. And yet, the denouement felt… predictable. Like she’d seen it before.

The Seeds of Doubt

The first crack in her confidence appeared during rehearsals. Actors would stumble over lines, seemingly at random, as if the script itself resisted their delivery. Then came the tech rehearsals, plagued by unforeseen technical difficulties – lights failing, sound cutting out at crucial moments. She attributed it to stress, to the usual chaos of production. But the nagging feeling persisted: something was amiss.

A Haunting Echo

Now, staring at the final scene, a chilling realization dawned upon her. The ending wasn't just predictable; it was a mirror image of her own life. The protagonist's despair, his quiet acceptance of defeat – it echoed her own disillusionment, her own quiet surrender to the limitations she'd unknowingly imposed on herself. The play, it seemed, wasn't merely a story; it was a confession.

A Writer's Journey

The creation of The Obsidian Mirror had been a cathartic experience, a process of confronting her own demons. Unconsciously, she'd woven her anxieties, her failures, her hidden doubts into the very fabric of the narrative. The predictable ending, the unsatisfying resolution, wasn't a flaw in the writing; it was a reflection of her own unresolved internal conflict.

Facing the Reflection

The loop on the screen continued, the final scene playing out again and again. Leslie knew she couldn't simply rewrite the ending; she had to confront the uncomfortable truth reflected back at her. The play's journey, mirroring her own, wasn't over. It was just beginning, and the next act was going to be the hardest yet. The real work, the real rewriting, lay not on the page, but within herself. The Obsidian Mirror had shown her the way forward, however daunting it might be.