Now I suspected this was another trick

  My defenses were up when I heard a small ‘hic’

  Sat on the TKTS steps of red

  Thoughts of a fight quickly left my head

  Her face was flushed, a bottle in her hand

  Don’t need to eat, but get drunk we still can

  “The fuck” I asked, “happened out here?”

  With time and slurred speech, Red made it all clear

  I’m sure you all remember COVID-19

  And the year it caused a worldwide quarantine

  Schools, film sets, Broadway all were shut down

  No going shopping or just out on the town

  Now I was here and finally free

  Just in time for the whole world’s ending

  I sat with Red, swigging the booze

  Gazing at the streets, taking in this news

  The date was what I asked next

  April 2020 ended the hex

  So I was trapped for almost two years

  Conflicted with anger and sorrowful tears

  She told me that I burned her only home

  That without Finn, now she was all alone

  I only said ‘Now you’ll know how it feels’

  Mounting Sandy the worm, who needs wheels?

  I left Red behind, no looking back

  Future meetings with her, I hoped I would lack!

  If you wonder just where I would go

  The Winter Garden, Beetlejuice’s former home

  Running on instinct, it just called to me

  There was no other place I’d rather be

  It felt warm and like I always belonged

  The air was filled with decades of songs

  I found a striped couch, upon it I lied

  And though it smelled bad, I lay there and cried

  My journey thus far had been rather bleak

  So don’t you dare try and say that I’m weak

  Kidnapped, tortured, kept more than a year

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Forgive me if, just for a moment, dear

  That I felt all the pain, despair and fear

  When I could finally stop it was clear

  This had damaged me beyond all repair

  But since ghosts get no mental health care

  There really wasn’t much else I could do

  But have a look in the place I’d come to

  The Winter Garden on 50th street

  A classic theater that can't be beat

  Seats sixteen hundred, a rather large stage

  Year one nine one one to the golden age

  Holding Peter Pan, Carnival, Gypsy

  Funny Girl, Camelot, Cats recently

  School of Rock was here but fuck all of that

  Beetlejuice closed here at the drop of a hat

  Now sitting empty, just like the rest

  It almost felt like a bird’s empty nest

  There was an energy through the whole place

  Like it was crying though it had not face

  This place, active for more than a century

  Now, bare, dormant with no end to see

  These floors which felt walking, dancing feet

  Nothing but wind floated between the seats

  The Garden had a spirit of its own

  It welcomed me as if I’d come home

  I wandered the halls just like a specter

  Getting to know each room and sector

  Belongings were still inside dressing rooms

  Personal things, a garden, and costumes

  The stage itself I had saved for the last

  Ran out of places to go pretty fast

  Standing in the wings that air felt alive

  I could feel the shows, the people and drive

  This is a place where stories are told

  Eight time a week, the lights were rarely cold

  Except right now, for all but one was dark

  The ghostlight stood tall, casting shadows stark

  Meant to keep all the theater ghosts pleased

  Must not work, because I am not appeased

  Am I a ghost? I keep having to ask

  So, sat in a seat, I took to the task

  Once again, I thought upon what I knew

  Just to figure out something I could do

  My body can change through power and will

  Bound by my source and his character’s skill

  Beetlejuice could breathe in the witch’s sea

  But at the end Dewey came over me

  Or some other mortal, that’s why I choked

  Then locked into Finn until the cage broke

  So forcing another into a role

  Something, to her, at least, was possible

  I escaped, or maybe she set me free

  Became the demon, using my fury

  I conjured a snake, threw balls of flame

  Changed my appearance, easy, like a game

  All this power, but most people can’t see

  That very first night, nobody helped me

  As I thought more on what exactly I am

  I began to see what I can’t do and can

  That air on the stage, that’s where I started

  Feeling the eyes of the Garden imparted

  Reaching out I could hear songs in my head

  Focusing on it to see where it led

  Like choosing a film on Netflix streaming

  Figments of show’s past played like I’m dreaming

  I see the theater’s recollection

  The Garden seemed to have no objection

  So I sat in the front, watched all the shows

  Brightman performed so my knowledge grows

  Across the stage phantoms of the past danced

  I sat in the seats completely entranced

  Seeing the changes each performance had

  Dropped lines, perfect turns, both the good and bad

  Learning everything of what I could do

  If using this source which I am apt to

  His powers, he has a rather long list

  Let me say a few so you get the gist

  Illusions and reality bending

  The possibilities are unending

  Taking a moment that was much needed

  I started making rules to be heeded

  Use Beetlejuice as little as I can

  For I feel I’d get lost, given the chance

  As tempting as the power can be

  It is, to a terrifying degree

  Far closer than I think that I can take

  To being a god of sorrow and hate

  The destruction that I could bring about

  Serious scorched earth I have no doubt

  I felt it that day I escaped the school

  To ignore that face, I’d be quite a fool

  I will not become the thing that Red feared

  Though a part of me is forever seared

  That wants the whole world to burn, reset

  I hoped it’s a chance I would never get

  I understood more the fear that Finn felt

  They could not handle the hand they’d been dealt

  Hoping that I can somehow do better

  So my rules I’ll follow to the letter

  Most of my time in the Garden was spent

  Watching shows without spending a cent

  Shows that played here had left their mark

  I could see their echoes in the dark

  These moments of time hung thick in the air

  I wondered what shows I could see elsewhere

  The St. James presented Frozen only

  Don’t think it liked me, made me feel lonely

  The Garden loved me and showed me it’s past

  I knew I could see shows Brightman was cast

  So I went to the Gershwin for Wicked

  A munchkin was who Brightman depicted

  Boq was his name, he becomes the Tin Man

  This prequel of Oz for years had been ran

  Full of glamor and heart I’m not surprised

  Almost twenty years playing recognized

  Could not see Idena or Donna V

  Kerry Ellis and Marcie Dodd I’d see

  Playing the titular Witch of the West

  Only what Brightman was in, not the rest

  Even free of Red I was held tight

  Bound by my source like a parasite

  He’s hovering metaphorically

  Controlling my actions, haunting me!

  Only so much I can see the same show

  So I asked my instincts where I should go

  A few blocks down to fifty four below