Musicals, if done with passion, are the highest form of art. Art comes in many different forms: writing, singing, songwriting, visual arts, acting and dancing. The musical is the perfect combination of all base forms of the arts! A musical needs a well written script, actors to sing and dance, a well built and painted set and well written music. When all of these elements combine, it creates a whirlwind of art and emotions that sucks its audience into its world and keeps them there for the entire performance. If one tiny part of one of these elements is not perfect, the audience falls out of the world of the musical.

Casting a musical is the most important job that the director has. The people who make up the cast are essential. They need to put all of themselves into their role. A director must carefully choose who is the best fit for each character. I believe that every musical has a perfect role for every unique person. This job most often falls flat in the corrupt worlds of community and high school theatre productions. These are two worlds that are wrought with corruption and favoritism. Getting the role one wants there is near impossible.

Every teenager who participates in theatre and in drama club dreams about landing that perfect role. However, it does not usually work out that way, and there are always just too many other teens auditioning. It is inevitable that a majority of them will be rejected from their ideal part and thrown into the chorus. Such was often my fate.

I have participated in seven productions since I started Middle School. I would always find myself in the chorus and with very few lines, if I had any at all. I never doubted my talent through all of this; I knew that I could sing and act far better than the fellow students filling my perfect role. I waited, and waited for six years for my time in the spot light. I tried to stop, and I tried to stay away from the theatre. But, I could not stay away. No matter how stressful the productions got, and no matter how much I hated it, I could not keep myself away. Those long years gave me a lot of experience, time to build my talent and time to build my theatrical resume.

I was patient, and I bided my time. From the start of my senior year, I was determined to get a part in the musical that year. I spent the year participating in all choir and drama activities that I could. The choir director played a big part in choosing the roles, and I was doing my best to show him my talent. On top of being in choir activities, I chose to be in the fall play that year, which proved to be a great opportunity to show off my acting skills. Finally, the time for my senior year musical came around. It was time for me to show our new director my singing and acting chops. I practiced my audition song like I had never practiced before. I showed up feeling as confident as a soaring eagle but still shaking like a leaf with incurable anxiety. I was one of the last to audition. I stepped into the choral room with my CD player ready to sing the hell out of my audition song, Mr. Snow!

The following Monday, the cast list was posted outside the library. I made sure to get to school early that day, and the first thing that I did was make a mad dash for the library to see what role I had gotten! There I was, top of the list as Aunt Eller, the plucky, wise old women, and mother figure to the female lead. At first, I was disappointed; I wanted the role of Ado Annie, a young licentious girl who, as her song says, “just cain’t say no.” She was a hilarious character and when I first heard about her character, I originally thought she was my perfect role.

I very quickly got over my disappointment, however, as I began the process of memorizing my lines. Aunt Eller is in almost every single scene, and she is the plot device, which is to say, she is used to move the plot forward. The other players were the planets and I was the sun. Because of this I was both extremely proud and extremely intimidated. As I learned more about Aunt Eller, I found that she was indeed my perfect role! I have a lot in common with her. She is a fun, cookie old lady on the exterior, and, on the inside, she is wise, fiery, sad and experienced. My friends and family have always said I was born with the personality of an old lady. This could not have been truer, and I have always been proud of that!

As the production went on, Aunt Eller and I became one and the same. I made sure to emulate Aunt Eller and her positive, comedic attitude at every rehearsal! I tried to lighten up the tense moments of drama with my light and positive attitude. I quickly learned my lines and put all my effort into being the best Aunt Eller there ever was! Wasting this one opportunity of having my perfect role was not an option.

Finally, the time came to bring everything that I have to an audience. I was ready to let the confident side of me shine brighter than it ever had. Sitting behind the curtain that first night, I felt no anxiety and I was truly at peace. I was in another world: The world of “Oklahoma.” The line between Aunt Eller and I had been not only blurred but erased. Aunt Eller and I were now one. To this day, we never separated. I may not talk like an old southern “womern” anymore, but her personality is a part of me now, and I even dare say she was a part of me before I had even heard of Oklahoma.

In the end, I am very happy to have experienced every performance that I have been in, even the ones where I was stuck in the chorus. Even though I was close to giving up after constantly getting stuck in the chorus, I held on to hope and onto the confidence in my abilities. All of that trying and waiting finally payed of in the most perfect way possible for me. If at first you don’t succeed, then try, try again.

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The sweltering heat beat down like the heavy, booming sound of timpani. It stung Mushember’s scarred and probably still bleeding back. He continually struggled his way uphill, slowly pulling a chained up pile of boulders. The dry heat withered at his scales and the rough cobbled ground wore away at his once clean and sharp claws. His fin-like wings were cracked and brittle from the lack of water in the air.

Mushember was not well adapted for the surrounding arid environment. He felt his weak knees begin to buckle beneath his weight. His vision began to blur and fade the black around the edges. No, he thought, No, Mushember, you were so close to freedom. He felt himself falling, and everything faded to black.

*^*^*

A small rock sat at the bottom of a warm, mosquito-infested marsh. Small fish passed by the curious rock, some of them stopping to eat bits of algae and microscopic bacteria off of its smooth greenish surface.

Above the water a ruff-and-tumble raccoon reached his pink tongue into the bog for a drink. After one lap of water the racoon gagged and spat out the putrid mixture of various larvae and plant spores. It wiped it's whiskers and licked off its paws indignantly and slinked away. Looking for something to eat.

The raccoon didn't notice the rock at the bottom of bog beginning to move, and, scare the small fish away. Cracks began to cascade their way down the stone, as it shifted more and more, kicking up the muck that had settled on the bottom of the pond. Finally, something poked through the cracks. It was a tiny claw. Followed by a tiny leg. Then, a whole baby dragon followed, pulling himself from the egg.

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I am no ordinary person. That's not to say that I am greater than those around me. I simply have a unique gift. That's what Sean always says. That's what Chester used to say as well.

Chester Paddington is a taller man, who always wears green, and he has soft, blue-grey twinkling eyes. His short, curly salt-and-pepper hair just barely reached the tips of his slightly pointed ears. And, his soft knowing smile can bring warmth to the coldest of times.

Unfortunately he has been missing for three months now. The police in our small town of Petersville are stumped. Chester disappeared without a trace.

I can tell his disappearance is driving both Sean and Jason mad. Sean looks like he has not slept in three months, and to be perfectly honest I don't think he has. Jason has completely lost any kind of decency and common courtesy for everyone and anyone.

And here I am in the midst of all of it. I'd like to say that I'm suffering in silence, and that my life is a hollow pit of despair, but that sound really emo and over dramatic. I, like Sean, Jason, and everyone else in Petersville, am suffering without Chester’s professional help and comfort. However, I also feel that we all need to learn to not be so dependent on him.

I'm finding a different outlet to keep myself calm and to dispel my anxiety. I chose to write you letters. Hopefully it will help in some way. And hopefully you'll respond

Sincerely,

H. L. Haynes

Thank you so much for your response! I wasn't sure that you'd actually reply.

I'm really glad that you are consorned concerned for me and Petersville. It really means a lot to me. Sean is really glad I have someone to talk to. He has been concerned for me because I don't get many chances to sit down and share my thoughts with him or anyone else anymore.

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Fred hated these semi formal parties. Anything that put him in different clothes than he was used to was beyond agitating; Not to mention he hated people in general. These parties were full of all kinds of assholes: All of them were fake, and they seemed to hate Fred just as much as he hated them, no matter how much they hid it behind fake smiles and pointless small talk. He overheard them talking, and he knew what they really thought of him.

He grumbled a few curses under his breath.

“Fred, please,” his sister scolded, folding her arms and glaring at him from across the table. “Drop the attitude and suck it up.”

“This is stupid.” Fred said flatly.

“Complaining is only going to make you more miserable…” his sister sighed, giving up on the conversation, “I’m going to go socialize, Fred. You can join me when you stop being such a stubborn ass.”

After she left, Fred took the liberty of ordering himself another drink. He sat by himself for a long while. At least, that’s what it felt like. It got harder to judge as he took in more alcohol; it numbed his senses and provided him with some form of comfort.

He felt a hand on his shoulder suddenly. He looked up, blinking a few times, and trying to focus. The gleaming teeth, bright eyes and contagious smile of Caterpillar Minister greeted his eyes. Fred forced a smile.

“Oh! E-evening, Caterpillar Minister…”

The Caterpillar lightly cocked his head to the side. “Frederick, why are you sitting alone?”

Fred clenched his teeth, a phantom pain ran it’s way up his spine at the sound of his full name. He sighed, “I’m…not very social.”

“Ah…" The Caterpillar mused."I see….” He moved around the table across from Fred, curling his tail around the table’s legs and resting his arms on it. Fred shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

After a long silence, Fred broke Caterpillar Minister’s glazed and thoughtful silence with an impatient “So….”

“So indeed, Frederick,” he prompted. “It doesn’t seem quite right to sit alone, keeping to oneself at a social gathering that is intended to break the ice and create new friends. One could almost call it rude not to participate.”

“O-oh….I ….I…...” Fred fumbled his words. Was Caterpillar Minister actually calling him rude? Man, he must have really screwed something up this time…

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