Opening Night This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By
   Someone was pushing me and there was a voice telling me that it was my time to go on, saying that I needed to make my big entrance now. I took a deep breath and walked out onto the stage. The feeling of exhilaration overwhelmed me as I transformed into my character, and I stared at what surrounded me.

The stage was a rich, almost jet, black. It was marked with masking tape reminding me and my fellow actors exactly where to stand. There were four chairs and a wooden table, while a muted red curtain cloaked the remainder of the set. In the wings I could hear whispering and scurrying around as those awaiting their entrances made final costume and make-up adjustments.

I shifted my attention to the audience. The barren rows of empty chairs that stood before me just a few hours before were now waves of blue seats filled with a myriad of people watching, anticipating my every gesture. Every so often a baby's cry rang out, but was quickly muted as he or she was whisked out of the theater by an agitated parent.

Fewer people sat and more video cameras stood in the balcony area. There was a bright glare as the yellow spotlight bounced off of the scenery and back onto me. Of course, it also obstructed my line of sight, but it did not matter, I loved every second and would risk temporary blurriness for the chance to be a star.

Darting my head back and forth in order to seem enraptured in my part, I saw my fellow actors stiff with anxiety. I could smell the fear in the air. Their movements were brimming with apprehension and their expressions were forced and overdone. I tried to move my feet, but they were momentarily stuck to the floor. I briefly considered leaping off of the steep staircase that laid at the foot of the orchestra pit, but quickly discarded that thought after seeing my director grinning at me from his chair.

Trying to swallow was an almost impossible task; my mouth was dry and screaming for a glass of water. After finally uttering my first words, I saw my breath dissipate in the cold air. There was a sharp nip surrounding me and my hands were like ice. Goosebumps ran a chill up and down my back, and I was not sure if I was freezing from nerves or from the temperature of the room.

I knew that it was now or never. If I made a mistake, I would let a room filled with people down, as well as myself. I looked at the little boy who reached out to me and immediately remembered that he was my cue. Smiling calmly, I leaned over, grasped his hand firmly, and sauntered across the stage in an imperial fashion. c


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback