Beneath the Lonely Mountain

And that's it.

On Saturday night, Dragon's Breath gave its terrific fifth and final performance.  Afterwards, even as we were greeting our fans and family outside the theater, we were packing up our array of costumes and props and arranging for their return back to the various places they came from.

Sunday, after a shift at my day job, I headed back to the theater to participate in its venue strike.  Once its final Fringe performance had occurred, representatives from all the shows that took place there in this festival gathered to put the theater back the way we'd found it.  I removed the last of our scenic elements, brought a few lighting instruments from one part of the building to another, helped fold a curtain or two - and in no time at all, our playing space was gone, the room an empty shell waiting to be transformed into whatever comes next.

With that, all that remained was an end-of-festival party.  We celebrated our fellow shows and feted the Fringe production staff - one of whom took the opportunity to propose to another on stage before all of us.  (Never a dull moment.) 

And then it was done.  The 2014 New York International Fringe Festival - and with it, this show on which I've worked for a year and a half, and about which I've been pestering you for the past three months and change - is now officially concluded.

I could not be prouder of the production, or of the astonishing team of collaborators who agreed to join me on this draconic odyssey.  I am forever thankful to them, and to all of you who were able to come and witness what we created.

As of this writing, there are no immediate plans to revive Dragon's Breath.  That does not mean we've seen the last of the show, however.  If you're familiar with fantasy and myth - if, like Rocco McCafferty, you can quote The Hobbit chapter and verse - you know that dragons frequently sit atop their treasure mounds and sleep for long periods of time.  But they always awaken, ready to wreak greater havoc than ever before.

Good night, everybody.