A/N- So this is a short story I wrote for class. It's the first story I've put a finish to and come up with the idea on my own. Enjoy :)

The Last Snow Fall

By: Nikolina Vujosevic

“When my way grows drear, precious Lord, linger near. When my life is almost gone, hear my cry, hear my call,” said a small voice at the bottom of the tower. A young man stood there, looking somewhat scared and scrawny, holding his sword up high. All the while it was shaking violently, his petit muscles weren’t able to hold up the heavy sword.

“Alright, enough of this. NEXT!” called the director from the dimmed lights in the theatre. “I am tried of seeing these wimpy theatre boys,” He said to no one in particular, while muttering obscenities under his breath. As he was talking to himself and scribbling notes onto his pad of paper another young man walked onto the stage. He didn’t wait for his cue, “When my way grows drear, precious Lord, linger near. When my life is almost gone, hear my cry, hear my call.” His baritone voice went booming through the theatre. The director looked up, his eyes widened and he let out an excited squeal, “Oh how wonderful! My dreams have been fulfilled and the answer is standing here on stage in front of me. Oh my!” As the eccentric director fumbled around, making calls saying he had found his star, the young man stood there on stage. He had a confident air surrounding him, and a smug look on his face, “No need to make those calls man. I was just playin’ around. I don’t want to try out. Ha! Sorry man, it was a dare.” And with that he walked off the stage. Leaving a very befuddled director wide-eyed and crest fallen.

“Um, Hi,” called a nervous voice from the back of the stage. He walked forward, using his arm to shield his eyes from the bright spotlight.” I’m here to audition.” The director looked up at the stage, still slightly shocked by previous events.

“Alright, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” So for the third time that day he sat down, and prepared for the worst. What happened next was possibly the highlight of his day. This young man in front of him had the most melodious voice; it was deep, but gentle. It reminded him of an opera singer’s voice. His body was perfectly proportioned, which was the opposite of what he normally saw in the theatre fanatics that they found in town. He searched the list of auditions and he couldn’t find this young mans application. He dreaded a repeat of what happened earlier and so he asked.

“Young man, what is your name? Are you seriously interested in this play,” asked the director timidly.

“I’m Derek Smith, sir, and yes I am very interested in this play,” answered the young man.

As it turns out, over the next three weeks Derek was dedicated to the play, and the director could not be happier. All the extras were doing what they were supposed to and there was no friction between the main characters. He would sometimes see that young man that came in for an audition on a dare. He couldn’t imagine why this jock spent anytime at the place he could care less about. He would soon learn the relationship between the two young men, and it would be another moment he would never forget.

The character that Derek would be portraying was a duke who travels the country to find a maiden that he met only once. He travels through the dark forests, the turbulent seas and the hot desert. He comes to a cave and finds his maiden again in a stone palace. When he ventures to find her she is in the arms of none other than his brother. His brother then battles with him and ends up stabbing him in the heart, dying in his arms. The brother then swears to devote his life to the memory of his brother and forsakes the maiden.

It was about a month into rehearsals that Derek was absent for the first time. The director was worried; Derek had never even been late before. He looked around to see if the other young man was there but he, too, was nowhere to be found. He was starting to panic, such events like this rarely occurred, and when they did happen nothing good came from them. He started calling around, trying to find where Derek had disappeared. Then he heard that voice that had been haunting him for months, “Hello.”

“Um. Hello. I’m looking for Derek Smiths brother. Craig? Is he home?”

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled a deep hearty laugh, “You’re talking to him buddy. What do you want?”

“I’m wondering where Derek is,” he heard a sharp intake of breath on the other line.

“He’s, um, busy. He had an appointment,” he heard key’s being fumbled and papers swishing around in the background, “Who’s calling?”

“It’s his director,” the line went dead, “humph,” he put down the phone, “and Derek is late.”

Craig had rushed to the hospital. This was the day he had been dreading. He didn’t know what happened. All he knew was that if Derek didn’t go to rehearsal, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to go, but it was because something bad had happened. He had spent his whole life looking over his younger brother.

There was only a year difference but it had always seemed like more. Since Derek could do sports Craig was labeled the “jock” child, and Derek became the budding actor. Sports were too hard on his heart. Their father always wanted a mans man for a son, and pushed Craig to get involved in all the sports, but when it came to Derek’s performances his father was never there. Instead Craig would sit through them all, envious of Derek’s ability to express himself through acting. It was a freedom he never knew, whenever he told his father he wanted to go to drama camp with Derek he simply told him if he ever wanted to go pro that he needed some sports camp or other.

He walked up to the nurse’s station and asked her which room Derek Smith was in. He didn’t need her to tell him why he was there, he knew, he just wanted to be there for his little brother; in any way possible. So when he saw his brother there in the hospital room he was overcome with sadness. Derek was hooked up to all kinds of machines that were meant to monitor, regulate, or alarm us about his health. The cords were like tentacles wrapped tight around his body, doing more damage than good. Derek was unconscious, they said he was in a coma and they didn’t know if he would make it. Craig walked up to his bed and held his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin reassuring him that his brother would be ok.

“Craig, I’m glad you made it here so quickly,” his father shook his hand; it was a very manly gesture. His mother came up to him and hugged him with all the strength she could muster from her small frame. She handed him a letter. It was addressed to him, “I found it in his room this morning. He also had one for his director and I sent that to him.”

Craig opened the letter and read it. Before he could finish he ran into the bathroom, he wouldn’t let anyone see him crying. In the letter Derek asked Craig to take his place in the play. He knew how much Craig secretly loved theatre. For a while he had known that his life was coming to an end and that it was only a matter of time until his heart gave out. He had been consulting with his doctor and had signed a do not resuscitate form, knowing that he would soon have to face that, and he didn’t want to put his family through any prolonged pain.

As Craig sat there crying he was having mixed feelings. He was completely torn up inside about his brother possibly dying from this. At the same time, he was so thankful to his brother for giving him this opportunity. He told his parents he had somewhere to be and gave his brother a hug. He walked out to the car, the white snow billowing around his body, enveloping him in its tingling cold. He hoped the snow would stop soon.

He made his way to the theatre, with a sense of masked excitement. Watching the white snow create almost a blanket in front of his eyes, making it very difficult to drive. He made it to the theatre and walked in through the majestic maple doors. All the actors turned and looked at him, the director looking quite happy.

“There he is. Craig, come in. We’ve been expecting you. Now we have to hurry. The play is in a week and we must prepare our new star,” stated the director with a very bubbly voice. The excitement was clearly evident in his eyes. Craig was a little hurt, his brother was in the hospital, the director probably knew that by now, and yet he was happier than ever. He didn’t understand why his brother didn’t mean more to him; he was supposed to be the child known for his acting skills. Craig was just the stand in for the true talent.

Over the next week Craig attended all the practices after classes, and as soon as they were over he went to the hospital to check on his brother and read him the lines. In case he woke up, he didn’t want his brother to have forgotten his lines, the play wouldn’t be able to go on without him. In the background, unbeknownst to Craig, the nurses were discussing how that with each day Derek lost more and more brain function, and if he were every to wake up he would be a vegetable; he wouldn’t be able to do any of the things he used to do.

The day of the performance came and there was chaos backstage at the theatre. Clothes were strewn all over the change room, make-up smeared on the mirrors, and in the centre of all this was Craig, sitting calmly. He was thinking about his brother. That night before he left for the play, he went to check on him again. He had walked into an even more chaotic room than the one he presently occupied. Nurses were running around, his mother screaming while her father tried to calm her down. His brother being prodded and zapped, the rapid beating of the heart machine connected to his brother matched his own heartbeat. Then, nothing; the noise went from the frantic beeping to a steady hum. Never in his life had he felt so numb. No as he waited to go on stage he could only think of one thing; his brother. The one he spent his whole life protecting, taking a backseat when it came to his dreams. None of it mattered, he would give up all that he had gained in this last week to have his brother back again. For him, he would perform, that was the only thing keeping him going.

“It’s time Craig,” the director called, ”you can say what you want now.”

Craig walked on stage, and in his deep baritone voice addressed the crowd, “ This performance is dedicated to the memory of my brother, Derek Smith, who is here in spirit; in my heart,”

The performance went well and Craig performed phenomenally. The memory of his brother soon motivating him to do better, rather than making him want to go off and cry. And as he stood there on stage for the final bow he looked out into the audience and imagined that his brother was sitting there in the front row, cheering him on; always his biggest fan, even in death. He realized that in all his life, this was the happiest he had ever been, and he owed it all to his brother. The smile on his face was the most sincere he had ever gave, and as they bowed, and for the rest of the night, the smile stayed on his face.

Craig looked out the window the next morning at the snow, wanting the snow to clear. Thinking about the events of the previous day. A sense of contentment replaced the numbness he had been feeling. And as the sun rose above the horizon, the snow from last night began to melt, and the green grass began to show in small patches through the white snow. Yes Craig though that was the last snowfall.