Rewind

• Sarah Miller, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2013

“Go from the beginning of scene seven please, with more realism this time!” instructed Oliver Hughes, a phenomenal play director of his era. Oliver was a short and plump-like business man, who was always dressed formally. He had a classic moustache and wore polished shoes. He always wore a silver wrist-watch. “For Pete’s sake your character isn’t the beaming type, they’re always smirking” Oliver’s penetrating voice echoed through the theatre. “Scene seven, understudy run-through, with the doors,” Oliver’s voice trembled as it bounced off the walls and back at him. He shivered at the thought of them. Humungous doors, made by a shifty, dodgy man. He was woken from his thoughts by the buzz of the zealous understudies. “Okay, action!” he called. In silence he watched them, such enthusiastic actors he thought to himself. Then he started thinking about the doors again. The manufacturer was a man by the name of Chudleigh Creak. He was cantankerous, crotchety and inexplicable. Who in their right mind would want to make huge doors as stage props? Oliver stood up and commanded for everyone to go and get some rest. As he heaved his heavy briefcase along with him, he shut off all the lights. He started to get nervous, in just one day, his performance would be showcased to hundreds of people, including many famous, world renowned actors and play-writers.

The next morning, Oliver woke up with butterflies in his stomach. He swallowed down his goopy porridge, and then jumped in the icy cold shower. When he arrived at the theatre he walked briskly inside, dropped his briefcase and started skipping around the stage. He walked through one of the stage props, the giant doors. Oliver woke up to find himself in his director’s chair. “Scene seven, understudy run-through, with the doors,” Oliver’s voice trembled as it bounced off the walls and back at him. He shivered at the thought of them. Humungous doors, made by a shifty, dodgy man. He was woken from his thoughts by the buzz of the zealous understudies. “Okay, action!” he called. He didn’t know what was happening, he could have sworn he’d already lived this day before. As he heaved his heavy briefcase along with him, he shut off all the lights. As he walked outside, he saw a tall, slim man stepping out of a shiny limousine. Oliver thought that the man looked like a famous play-writer, who was coming to see his play tomorrow night. Why was he so early? The play didn’t start for twenty-four hours. The next morning, Oliver woke up and rethought what had happened. He thought maybe his watch had reset… but it never did. Then he realised he had traveled back in time, but the world surrounding him was normal as any day. “It must’ve been the doors” Oliver spoke aloud. He made a call to apologize for not showing up and to arrange another time to show his play. And the man on the other end said...