Tomorrow

Within the Dark

    The lights in the room flashed off, leaving me alone with pitch-black surroundings. A beaming light shot out at the wall of rustling velvet in front of me as the "herald" and his cadre marched on, beginning the funeral sequence. The words I'd once read on paper were being spoken, loud and clear, to an awaiting crowd.

    The words challenged me.

    I closed my eyes, not noticing a difference in what I saw, and let escape a shuddering breath. Beads of sweat were accumulating on my forehead, even in the air-conditioned building. I ran my white, satin gloves down the seams of my costume in an attempt to calm down. Despite my efforts, graphic images poured into my mind. The audience that paid to be entertained, to see me hobble onstage and say cheesy puns in a foreign accent, was booing. Why? I'd never know. Maybe I'd sucked. Maybe I'd forgotten my lines and stood silent and agog onstage, the spotlight burning through my very soul itself.

    I snapped back into an even more harsh reality when I felt a warm, salty tear run down my face, bringing my mascara with it. I peeked through an opening in the curtain to see, though I was rendered practically blind without the aid of my glasses, a full house of hungry-eyed spectators. Vultures preparing to judge my every move. To pick away at my decaying act and to scavenge off of my failure. My breathing suddenly became raspy. My eyes became watery. My makeup ran. My knees were buckling. The ominous world around me spun in every direction. I couldn't go on that way...

    "If I just say here," I'd thought, contemplating my decision of actually walking onstage, "the guilt, darkness, and pressure of just giving up might as well just swallow me whole. If I just suck it up and go on," I reminded myself with a cringe, "that spotlight will burn me alive. The audiences' eyes will puncture through me. I can't do it. I just can't-"

    "Hey, ready?" the stage manager beckoned and I bit my lip, the sweet tang of my pink-lemonade lip gloss attacking my taste-buds. "You'll be on soon. Break a leg." He winked and disappeared behind the curtains, like my performance would be nothing. I wasn't sure what world he was living in...

    The song kicked up, and so did my nerves. My cue would be on within seconds. I pictured the vultures again, those eyes hungrier than ever. The words contained in my script were a random cluster in my mind, mocking me. I clicked my mic on and pushed them aside, walked into the incandescent spotlight, and began saying in my best, loudest, clearest voice...