The Ghost Of Time

Chapter 4 - "It Won't Be Long Now"

"Ok guys! So for the big finale..." Jim gave an exuberant jazz hands as he addressed the troupe. "I want my Lord Byron and my Thomas Thorne..." He pointed to Mike and Mat respectively, "front and centre please." Both men took their positions in between Jim and the group, Mat eyeing Mike warily while Mike was emanating a loathing for the other man, leering at him as if in challenge.

"Lads, lads, lads,"Jim stepped between them and clapped a hand heavily on each of their shoulders, forcing them to both unwillingly take a step closer together. Jim studied both of their faces as they tried to look impassive, "we're making history here people." He turned his face to the sky and ignored the rest of the Horrible Historians giggling at his customary dramatic speech. Jim brought his gaze back down to the troupe, "we're going to bring the story of Lord Byron to life for the unsuspecting public! They will laugh, they will cry, they will be shocked! They. Will. Be. Entertained."

At the climax of his speech he gripped Mat and Mike's tshirts and balled his fists, they both tried to wriggle from his grasp, to no avail. After a moment he let go and brought his hands up in front of his chest, pressing his outstretched fingertips together, resting both index fingers against his lips in thought.

Jim lowered his steepled hands so his index fingers now pointed at Mat, "Lets go from the top boys, I want this to be perfect." At his final word he drew his hands apart as if miming an explosion and walked over to stand with the troupe. "Places, people, places! ...When you're ready gentlemen."

Mike looked as though he was sizing Mat up before he began,

"Come now, Thorne, you must know how this is done."

Mat felt the indignity of Byron mocking Thomas as Mike was smirking at him. As Mat he was running over the lines in his head, where he needed to stand, how he should move, there was a set of instructions he was to follow. As Thomas he was reliving this awful encounter,his final moments, feeling the natural flow of the words and his actions in his mind without having to consider. There was a part of Mat that wasn't consciously thinking about the script or the plan for the show, the part of him that was Thomas, he was acting and reacting naturally – as Thomas would.

They turned their backs to one another, guns held pointing skywards. A sky Thomas glanced towards and hoped with all his heart that he would see again after today, another sunrise, another sunset,to see the sun's rays illuminating Elizabeth's beautiful face.

'It won't be long now,' Mat thought, his heartbeat racing, his hands sweating around the handle of the pistol prop he'd been so excited to buy for this purpose. It no longer seemed a good idea, Mat knew the pistols meant Thomas' death and he now felt strangely connected to his character. Mat lamented on Thomas dying this way, he regretted buying the pistol – not that it would have changed anything –'the show must go on' after all. He reflected on his pride and excitement

being cast as Thomas, but now it had come to this. He'd always known this was how it would end for Thomas, but Mat wished with all of his heart, as he gazed up at the sky, things could be different.

The call came from one of Byron's underlings after a nod from his master, "gentlemen... take your paces, twenty steps forward, turn and take your shot." Thomas felt the air grow colder against his back as Byron confidently stepped forward, he forced himself to do the same,counting his steps and gripping the pistol tightly as images of Elizabeth danced in his vision.