Ten. My heart beats faster as I glance at the count. My palms start to sweat.
Nine. My brother is stone faced.
Eight. His hand is cold compared to my warm and nervous one. I could feel future eyes on me.
Seven. Some one yells that we have seven minutes. I lick my lips and whisper to myself, "Thank you seven."
Six. I itch my shoulder where a strange thread rubs onto my skin. My dress feels too tight in the waist.
Five. Places are called. I squeeze my brother's hand and whisper, "Break a leg, bro." He gives me a half smile and says, "Same to you."
Four. I try to look at the people from between the curtains, hoping I go unnoticed.
Three. I help another girl fix her hair and whisper. "This is it." She smiles confidently and nods her thanks.
Two. Everyone is in place.
One. I hear static from a pair of headphones around a techie.
Zero. There is complete and utter silence. Everyone back stage freezes and the director walks onto the stage. He gives a quick speech.
Blackout. My heart is pounding in my ears. The lights come up. I take a deep breath and walk onstage completely confident.
"Let me tell you a story..."
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
The Big-ish Book of Writing Prompts
बेतरतीबA book full of various writing prompts that I created. Several genres are included in this collection. There are also many different lengths and styles of prompts. You are free to use them however you wish! All I ask is that if my prompt is used and...
