Sunday, December 30, 2012

A Dire Chronical from Ian Culleton, the Publicity Manager PART II

The mysterious Mr. King, if that was indeed truly his name, withdrew from his pocket a swatch of cloth, wrapping it around his wounds.  I could see him wincing with the pain, but through gritted teeth he said to me, "We can't stay here.  Got to keep moving."  Then he drew out another swatch of cloth, holding it out to me with his only remaining functional hand.  "Now it's time for you to make a decision.  I can't allow you to see the route we'll be taking; so you can put on that blindfold, and let me guide you, or you can get the hell out of here and hope the cops never find you."

I could hear the distinctive wailing of European sirens in the distance, and highly distressed though I was, I hesitated for only a moment before I took up the cloth and my trembling hands wrapped it around my eyes.  

I cannot now recall much of that dark journey, I was still thoroughly shaken from seeing a man die and my mind conjured up all varieties of strange and loathesome apparitions which ran their gangly limbs across my blind face.  How I managed to keep pace with my companion I will never know, and it was only after what seemed like hours to me that hands behind me untied my blindfold.

I looked around.  The room they had put me in was pitch dark, and I sat at the end of a long, wooden table.  The only light in the room came directly down onto this table, which was bare save for the curling smoke trail rising from the opposite end.  For a moment I was confused as to the origins of this wisp, until a faint orange glow betrayed the darkling figure sucking contentedly on a stogie.

"So," said a voice, and I must admit to being somewhat surprised that the voice was female, "This is your man, Seb?"  With a pause and a puff of smoke, she let out a small laugh.  "Pathetic.  He's hardly worth the flesh on his bones."

From somewhere behind me, I heard the gruff voice of Mr. King say, "Don't be so quick to discount him.  I've seen his work, and it is competent, to say the least.  He's charismatic-- people seem to like him, and what's more, our enemies seem to distinctly dislike him, which says more to me than any resume ever could."

I gulped hard, and gathering myself together, said, "Is this about my work as a taxidermist?"

At that, both of them laughed.  "No, no, we have no desire or need to stuff animals.  This is about your other career."

At this I despaired somewhat, for it was clear that they knew of my somewhat less legitimate work as an artist and organizer for the shadowy internet hacking syndicate known as LulzSec.  "Look--  look, I needed the money.  If you're from the CIA--"

"No, Mr. Culleton, you've got this all wrong.  All we want is a publicity manager."  There was another pause, and another puff of smoke.  Then Mr. King said, "Well, Rachel?  is he in?"

This woman, apparently named Rachel, leaned forward into the light, her face still obscured from the brim of her fedora.  "I'll make a deal with you, Seb.  You shave that rat's nest you've got growing on your upper lip, and he's in."
From behind me came a reluctant grunt. "He's in, then."

Monday, December 10, 2012

Official Festival Schedule Released!

Hello everyone! We are pleased to announce that the official schedule for Bedlam Festival 2013 has now been released! Just follow the link here and jump to the week of 20 January - 26 January.

We've got an exciting line-up of shows and workshops for the festival, and on behalf of the entire team, I cannot wait for the week to begin.

Speaking of the line-up, we've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that Techologues has had to unfortunately drop out of the festival. However, the good news is that we have a new show, Night, Mother, taking its place.

Hope to see you all at Bedlam Theatre for the festival!

On behalf of the BedFest team,
Rachel x