Being Thespian

By Nick Jamil

Alec Thespian is a university sophomore of silver-spooned upbringing. While on summer vacation on a Mediterranean cruise liner, he hopes to find his first adventure away from home. Jason Austin is a crude but intelligent boy with extreme potential. He finds his way on the cruise liner en route to Florence where he hopes to take part in an exchange program. Although keen on his studies, the only thing on Jasons immediate mind is adventure. But the boys dont find their adventure; it, in fact, finds them and, in a place where civilization is far from reach and where ones innermost secrets begin to surface, their adventure teaches them some important life lessons. Being Thespian is a series of events in the lives of Alec and Jason during their stay on the cruise liner. Told in asynchronous order, the chapters are the primary glimpses into the story and the reader is left to fill in the details.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456701673

Nick Jamil

Nick Jamil is a freelance writer and poet with a passion for the life and works of Oscar Wilde. Although a computer programmer professionally, Nick has a deep love for literature and a particular interest and even sympathy for Wilde. It is through reading the life and works of Wilde that he learned to compose poetry and it is from there that Being Thespian finds its muse.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Alec ran through the unrecognizable streets, past unintelligible signs and crowds of confused faces. Accompanying him to his front and to his rear were Ludwig, Frederic, and several other refugees whom he didn’t have time to recognize. People turned their faces as the stampede raced by.

Jason was there too. He ran behind Alec in an attempt to escape the men and women chasing them. Alec was running faster than he had ever run, but knew that he couldn’t keep this up. He was becoming desperate and was about to lose his strength.

When he reached a square crowded with bodies, he spotted an immense building, into which he ran. His colleagues followed.

As an albino woman exited the building, Alec caught the glass doors before they closed. As he reached to catch them, he saw in a faint reflection of himself the face of a young man expressing both an old longing and a new fatigue.

He skidded left and caught a second set of glass doors. His fellow refugees attempted to follow his lead. Once inside, Alec viscerally speculated that the building was some sort of secure facility. He was lucky to have stepped inside the building at all. Alec turned his head to one side while inhaling and exhaling deeply through his mouth, desperately trying to catch his breath. He saw personnel moving about, climbing up and down some stairs, reading from documents they held in their hands, and casually striking conversations. He ignored them and continued into the elevators that lay ahead.

As he turned around to push a button—any button—Alec was surprised to find his hunters just beyond the elevator doors. They had left his colleagues and concentrated their efforts on apprehending him alone. They had somehow managed to get past the secure doors of the building just as Alec had, and they were dashing to stop the elevator doors from closing.

Alec kicked his aggressors so the doors would close while his flailing hand frantically tried to push any button it could.

He was finally successful. The elevator started moving, and he attempted to catch his breath, bent forward with his hands on his knees. He didn’t know why he was being chased. He didn’t know by whom he was being chased. He didn’t know how his colleagues were faring and what would be done with them were they to be caught.

After having caught his breath and collected his bearings, Alec looked at the elevator buttons to see on which floor he was destined to stop. But he couldn’t comprehend their labeling. It was as if the labels were in some foreign language, but Alec knew better; they were gibberish. They were in different shapes and embossed at various depths. It was as if the designers of the building wanted to keep any intruder confused.

When the elevator finally stopped, Alec quickly found an exit directly in front of him. He had never been so confused or agitated.

The young man trotted toward the egress in the hopes that it would lead to freedom. By now his flight, coupled with his anxiety, caused him to sweat profusely. He wiped his forehead with his sleeves as he headed toward the doors.

As he stepped outside, Alec was once again swept into a race as his comrades whizzed past him. He began to run with them, and the anxiety he was feeling earlier had renewed itself with an even stronger vigor. This time, though, he ran alongside Jason, who, without speaking a word, gestured that they go back into the building.

Jason led the way back into the elevators. This time, their comrades were not following them, nor were their aggressors pursuing. But the two boys feared for their wellbeing, as if they were strapped onto a set of railroad tracks and could hear the sound of an oncoming train bearing down upon them. Their hearts pounded in a tandem of fatigue and disquiet, sweat poured down their faces, and they were filled with uncertainty.

Jason pushed a button as if he knew the building. The boys gave a concurrent whew as the doors closed.

The elevator started to move laterally and then downward. It stopped. As its doors opened, Alec and Jason found themselves in a bright rotunda. It was illuminated with the natural azure of a summer’s firmament and rays of sunlight glistened onto the floor here and there. Seats