Hamlet - Hinnom

That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket! - Hamlet Act III, scene iv Minneapolis,  Minnesota - The Guthrie Theatre Snow fell from the darkened, overcast sky like a shower of angel feathers from heaven.  Great flakes joined together in the air before piling up in drifts along the streets and sidewalks of downtown.  The trees along the brick streets of Nicolett Ave were decked in Christmas lights.  On the buildings, broad posters were lit, announcing the Hollidazzle Parade that always happened during the holiday season. At the North end of the main downtown shopping district, before one crossed the Mississippi River and the streets changed from going Northeast to true North, the Guthrie Theatre of the Arts could be seen aglow in a shimmer of light.  There was a show going on tonight, a holiday favorite: A Christmas Carol. Within the building, men and women who fancied themselves rich and cultured casually chatted with one another over pre-curtain cocktails.  The women, mostly older with frizzy grey hair and shimmering dresses that hailed from 1985, showed off their wealth with gaudy displays of real diamond necklaces and vaguely matching earrings and rings. The lobby was adorned for the season.  Bright Christmas lights and bows of evergreens decorated every corner.  Beside the staircase that lead to the upper balcony, a white plaster statue stood as a life-size rendition of a Victorian gentleman.  Two elderly ladies were quite taken with this piece of art. "Art?" said the first.  "You call this art?  Why, I can't even tell which of the characters this is supposed to be!" "Not Scrooge, that's for sure," said the second.  "Much too young.  Perhaps Cratchet?" The first lady pushed the comment away with a wave of her gloved hand.  "Certainly not!  He's dressed far too well for a poor book keeper!" The lights dimmed slightly, indicating curtain call was in five minutes.  The two ladies decided the statue was likely a poor rendition of Scrooge's nephew and wandered to their seats. The statue watched them leave. Beneath the careful facade of white plaster paint and perfectly crafted white Victorian clothing was, in fact, a man.  Hinnom Rilmani waited in stillness and statuesque silence until the last of the patrons had entered the auditorium and the ushers had cleared the lobby. Certain now that all was clear, Hinnom stepped from his dais and crept soundlessly across the lobby.  Despite the fortune of jewels that each woman within the auditorium was wearing, there was something here more valuable to him. Could he have stolen each of the diamonds and made a fortune?  Yes.  But it wasn't his way.  Hinnom preferred the theatrical skills required to be invisible in plain sight. If he wanted to make himself known, he would do it with dramatic flair and style. Hinnom made his way down the hall and into the backstage area.  He smiled when he saw he was in the prop room.  Everything was going according to plan. "Fine!" cried an irritated voice.  "I will find another cane for Scrooge.  But if he breaks this one, I'll have his head!"  The man was in sight now, a grumpy, middle-aged man whose balding head made him appear a little too round.  Hinnom removed his white-as-plaster top hat to reveal hair slicked with equally white paint.  He froze amidst a sea of costume mannequins.  The prop master walked right by him without a glance.  All too easy. When he was gone, Hinnom continued his quest. He found his objective up a flight of stairs in a dimly lit corner of the prop room and gently raised it in the palm of his right hand.  Although, it had obviously been set aside carefully by those knowing what it was, it had been long forgotten since the new theatre had opened in 2006.  He examined the prop.  A human skull, a prop from the original Guthrie Theatre's very first performance.  It was a meager item, and when it disappeared it would simply be thought lost in the move from the old prop room to the new one.  But its worth was immeasurable to theatrical connoisseurs.  Hinnom looked down at it.  "Alas, poor Yorick," he spoke, his voice sonorous in the echoing cement walls. The prop master, hearing the voice, ran back and looked directly up at him.  His mouth fell open.  Hinnom smirked, his visage as pale as the ghost of Jacob Marley himself.  He held the skull aloft to draw the prop master's attention from his other hand which was slowly reaching into his pocket to draw out some of the excess plaster powder he'd brought in case the wet snow had ruined his appearance.  The prop master was watching the skull when Hinnom blew on the powder in his hand and created a sudden cloud. When the prop master could see again, the Victorian ghost and the skull were gone.