Too Close to the Flame

(And now STEPHEN WARD is back in his house in Wimpole Mews; his manner is calm, serene almost

He starts gathering what he needs: a bottle of whisky, a glass of water and a couple of handfuls of barbiturates. He also lays out some writing paper and envelopes.)

[WARD]
When you stand
Too close to the flame
It's your own fault
No one else is to blame
There's no sense
In fooling yourself
With lies
Self-gratifying
Self-justifying
Lies

When you fly
To close to the sun
Just be aware
Of the risks that you run
So-called friends
Are waiting to shoot you down
Watch your wings crumbling
As you come tumbling down

I won't let them get me
I know what I have to do now
All because I came
Too close to the flame

(He starts to take the first handful of Nembutal. In the distance, outside in the Mews, CHRISTINE appears and slowly and hesitantly begins to approach the house.)

I will miss
The softness of skin
That moment when conversations begin
Capturing the beauty of someone new
Helping and healing
That's a good feeling, too

Yes, I stood
Too close to the flame
But let me say
I'm not dying of shame
I don't think
I did anybody harm
Did what I could
So maybe some good
No harm

This is very easy
Hope I haven't disappointed
But you see, I came
Too close to the flame

(He continues taking the pills, washing them down with alternate swigs of water and whisky straight from the bottle. Meanwhile, CHRISTINE approaches, until she's right outside the front door. She raises a finger to press the doorbell - but at the last minute, her nerve fails her, and she turns and walks sadly away

WARD finishes swallowing the pills, lights a cigarette, sits down and starts writing. After a time, he puts his letter in an envelope and seals it up. Then he rises, turns and strolls back to take his place in the Chamber of Horrors line-up.)

[WARD]
(to the audience)
Found me guilty
As I knew they would
British justice...
Envied everywhere
Too late, though
To save the government
Which, it seems to me
Is only fair

Now I'm in the House of Wax
Instead of Paradise
A forty-caret bonafide
Human sacrifice

(He steps back into the line of waxworks, gives a wry smile, and freezes.)