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As the top student in the school's theater group, it was always Amelia's job to organize the school play. It was a busy season for the drama department, as the calls for casting went up, and as the play itself was decided. That was always a longer discussion, which is why Amelia decided to try and find the talent, and match them to the roles, rather than trying to force someone into a role they may not be suited for. Amelia loved to act, but she understood the immense pressure it could cause, which is why she never pushed or forced. She did, however, spend the day running all around the campus, putting up posters that the auditions were happening in the stage room. She was never quite sure whom to expect to attend such a call, but happily, even with an excited spring in her step, she turned to move back towards the theater.

She hoped to have a line-up when she returned, but it was, as of yet, still emptied in the hallways. No matter, she thought as she stepped back into the large room to begin setting up. They would appear, and after all, the fliers had only been up for less than an hour. As she waited for the students to begin arriving, the young brunette beauty moved flawlessly in her heels over the room, place and re-placing items to brighten up the room. Beyond their drama teacher, who also had yet to arrive, Amelia was the one who spent the most time in this room, so naturally, she had begun to make it more her style. It still belonged to the school, of course, but Amelia was the one who ran it, and it was something that most people knew and understood. Amelia was not a mean girl, by any means, but she was fierce and protective when it came to the passion of acting, and the quality of a good show.

That was why she hoped that a good group would show up this year. She already had a couple people in mind, but those were her established theater classmates. She wanted something fresh, something new. She wanted to mix the social classes, and take people out of their comfort zones, maybe teach them something new. To her, that's what it was all about, and what she was smiling about when the drama teacher, Mr Wallace, did arrive for the day. The two greeted each other before he went to his office, leaving Amelia alone once more. She chuckled to herself at this, and looking at the time now hoped that students would start arriving soon. She hoped they were ready, and she hoped they were ready to bring their A-game to her stage. She looked down at the poster she had written up, which read the following;

Casting for the School Play- Auditions.

Ready to come and experience life on stage?
Expand your horizons?
Then come down to Theater Room 2 to show us what you have.
No experience needed, we can teach you that. Just bring your best monologue and have a world of fun with it!

Please speak to Amelia Grace to audition.
Meph Norwish (played by Eros_Calls)

Meph had been at this school for about four months now. His parents had moved into this particular district for the athletics program. Meph was barely seventeen years old yet bore all the signs of a twenty-something man. He stood at six feet, five inches, with blonde hair, stormy grey eyes, and was built like a profession football player. Though you would think his sheer size and stature would make him stand out in the hallways of the high school, Meph went mostly unnoticed. He was an attentive student from the back of the classroom and grasped the material with ease. His biggest flaw was that he didn’t speak.

One teacher, in particular, Mrs. Herring, was extremely bothered by Meph’s lack of speech and made it her mission to start peeling back the layers of the unusual student. What she found the more she interacted with him was a highly intelligent, very intuitive, and shy young man. It took her time to find common ground with him that would encourage him to have full conversations when no one else was present. She discovered he had a love of books and poetry, which spurred long discussions on literature that would have been more at home in a college graduate program rather than a high school classroom.

Now that Mrs. Herring knew what a brilliant mind existed within him, she truly wanted him to show it off. She encouraged, guided, and prodded him to find some kind of outlet that would give him the opportunity to speak. Meph, stubborn in his own right, would always just give her a smile and shake his head in a shyly dismissive way. However, on this special day, Mrs. Herring decided to take Meph on a walk around the school rather than meeting in the empty classroom like normal. They walked and, when no one was around, they talked. Mrs. Herring had a plan though, and she lead him directly into the school play auditions, though she took him through the stage door entrance and walked him right out onto the stage. Meph froze when he saw where he was, his eyes wide and head turning as he took in the vast auditorium.

“Mr. Wallace?! Amelia?!” she called from the lighted stage. When she spotted one, if not both of them she explained, “This is Meph. He is a rather shy student with incredible potential. Would you mind letting him audition for the play before it gets too crowded?” Whether they said yes or no, this was the venue Mrs. Herring had been waiting for. She went over to Meph and touched his arm as she whispered supportingly, “There are only two other people here and you won’t be able to see them. Just give them some poetry. Go! I believe in you.” And off Mrs. Herring went, down the steps and into the seats, probably next to Amelia or Mr. Wallace.

Meph squinted as he looked out into the seats. It was true, he couldn’t see anyone, but his stomach was still in a knot. He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes to the stage floor as he thought about what poem to use. The only one that came to mind was a poem so personal and had so much meaning for him it would be hard for him to recite the entire thing. He took a deep breath and lifted his head as he swallowed hard. He began softly, speaking clearly but not projecting his voice. One could hear him, but only just.
“Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

He paused, taking a breath to quell the panic that had started to rise. With more volume in his voice he continued,
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!” he said.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.”

His manners then changed. He stood taller, his shoulders back and his chin uplifted. There was strength in his voice now, a command to pay attention and listen.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.”

He blinked a few times before he continued. A passion coming up in him as if he was telling a story of his own, rather than reciting a poem.
“Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred.”

His hands rose from his sides then and, mimicking holding a blade in his hand:
“Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered.
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre stroke
Shattered and sundered.
While horse and hero fell.
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them,
Not the six hundred.”

His hands dropped then, and he blinked rapidly once more, the glisten of tears on his cheeks. His stomach knotted as he finished the poem, true sorrow in his voice.
“When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!”

When he was finished, he stood there, breathing heavily and blinking away the emotion the poem had brought up. There was a story there, but now was not the time. He looked to the sides of the stage trying to find a way off.

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