I did not know this last night, when it was happening, but this morning it just seemed so dark. Too dark, almost. I mentioned this to my wife after she woke up, I had been awake for hours.
"Is it my imagination or is it darker out?" I said.
"Yes," she said, "it's the Winter Solstice. It's the darkest day of the year."
Only fitting, then, that we had auditions for my play The Blood Countess last night and that I've been dreaming about her since the witching hour. Elizabeth Bathory, The Blood Countess, whose deds informed Bram Stoker's Dracula. This play attempts to right a great wrong but Countess Bathory has other ideas. As she sits in her bloodbath, with all in her thrall, she lets us know this only too well.
Nedless to say, the part's been all but cast. Such is the power of the Universe on dark days.
A dark play. Horrible subject matter. Murder and possibly vampirism. An audition on the darkest night. An actress' performance that haunts and a flurry of ideas on my day off. The darkest day of the year.
