Sylvia sat on one of the park benches by the lake, reading her script for her next play. Her jade green eyes sparked with interest and she smirked softly, sitting back.
“It is true,” she put on a posh accent “that I left the table to take a call but it was only for a minute or two. You couldn’t possibly perhaps think that I’m the murderer, Monsieur Villeneuve.”
With a small chuckle, Sylvia crossed her legs and continued reading the script, humming to herself happily. Sylvia was a theatre actress and loved her career dearly. All her friends and family had always told her that she was such a drama queen and her mother even sent her to some drama lessons. Sylvia eventually admitted the fact that she was slightly overdramatic but she never let it stop her from being herself. Tilting her head and widening her eyes when she reached the last act, Sylvia felt her breath hitch.
“So my husband is the murderer?” she murmured “Wow, talk about clichéd drama. At least it isn’t the butler. But come on, the writer could have at least made a twist so the detective’s friend or someone close to him is the murderer.”
Oh, and she often criticised some of the drama works that she got involved in. Really, there was no pleasing this woman whatsoever. Sylvia clicked her tongue and flicked through the final act and stopping at the last page.
“Ah-ha!” she slapped a hand on the page “See what I mean? The husband commits suicide when he gets caught, like a lot of murder mystery murderers do! Really, hasn’t this writer ever heard of originality? Ugh, I really need to get around to writing a script myself to show everyone how it’s done!”
A though occurred to her and she sighed in disbelief, leaning back and staring at the swans that swam in the lake in front of her.
“Of course I can’t really get used to any of the stage directions,” she muttered “Perhaps Seth could help me out on that. Oh no, wait. Maybe Erik could help more than Seth, he’s pretty tactical and theoretical with a lot of things. He must have some idea on how to make a play dramatic.”
No, Sylvia had never been very good at theory in her drama lessons and she didn’t really understand what made things more dramatic. And all the techniques and strategies and medias and themes and stuff just made her head all dizzy, she didn’t even understand why she had to know everything. All she needed to know was her character, her character’s story and her character’s relationships. That way she could step into her character easily and act like her. Nope, Sylvia was a practical person and she didn’t need special theory lessons to learn how to be someone else. She could switch so easily, it was as if she had a multiple personality disorder which she most certainly does not have. Clearing her throat, Sylvia sat back with a content smile.
“Alright, from the beginning,” she said and cleared her throat for her posh accent “Dear, someone is at the door, be a dear and send Wilfred over to answer it please.”