The Old Theatre

   The old theatre was empty. It had been that way for decades. The collection of natural filth covered its past splendour; its luster now muted. For generations it had been the heart of the community but they both died together.
   Sitting in the aisle the old man cried, recording his last etching of his childhood memories. His mind filled the seats, the stage and the screen. He saw his Grandfather, still alive, taking tickets and at once lying still in his casket. Then he saw his Father scolding him again for hanging from the balcony; the day his Father handed the keys of the theatre over to him; his Father's casket sitting next to his Grandfather's. His aging children grew before his eyes until they too were old. They did not want the keys to the theatre and he was too old. The old theatre was empty and tomorrow it would disappear.