Everyone was still. We all lay frozen in the most awkward and uncomfortable positions. From the audience, it probably looked like someone had emptied a toy chest of rag dolls onto the stage. My face was pressed up against the cool, black platform and my right arm hung off of the downstage side of the platform. I could still feel the vibration of the chains on my limp fingertips. I lay there, staring into the infinite black curtain, listening to the sound of silence vibrating from wall to wall. No one moved--no babies cried, no one jingled their keys, no one coughed, no one crinkled their programs, and some even forgot to breathe. I lifted my head as subtly as possible and there was Steve. His head hung weakly cocked to the side. Lines of anguish were visible on his sweat-soaked temples and around his cheekbones. The glow of soft pink and orange stage lights combined with the glare cast by the chains still swinging in the memory of our rattling them cast an eerie shimmer across his face. The aura reminded me of the softened glow produced by shining a flashlight through a water-filled fish tank. Suddenly burned by this image, I began to cry. So I returned my face to the cool comfort of the platform and sang our goodbyes as I watched my tears collect in the grooves of the wood like tiny rivers of sorrow.
She’s the kind of mother who cracks dirty jokes at the dinner table, uses the words “mannerism” and “euphemism” interchangeably, and reggaes with my friends on the dance floor. But at the end of the day, she puts on her red and green flannel pajamas and relaxes in the hands of a sixty-year-old lawyer named Matlock or shuffles through the pile of Danielle Steel and Mary Higgins Clark books looking for a good mystery to sink her teeth into.
I stopped running -dead in my tracks- entranced by the reflection in the lake. I could make out every detail; chairs on porches, tiny white cottages with brick red shutters, candles in windows, mothers standing in the doorways calling their children in from the rain, and a weeping willow which appeared sadder than usual as it drooped under the weight of the rain on its leaves.
As an SAEM major, attending live events in sports, arts, or entertainment, your mindset becomes more in tune with the process of how the event is run. Whether it's the productions crew, ushers, coach, or main act, you become more aware of the tasks each individual has in running the show/event. As many average spectators are in attendance for the main event, we know there is much more behind it with many crucial jobs to make the event a success.
Mrs. Sommers is a middle aged timid mother of a handful of children, and is apparently not well to do anymore after her husband’s death; Not that she probably ever was, but more so than her luck would have it now. She is small framed with tattered old clothes, as if she hasn’t been able to purchase anything in quite awhile, nor would she knowing how...
On Monday March 25, some members of the baseball team, my girlfriend, and I traveled to Murray State University to watch a concert performed by Nelly and the St. Lunatics. It was a terrible night to go anywhere because it was raining and storming the whole way, but there was nothing that was going to stop us from going to the concert. We where all so hyped up about it and couldn’t wait to head out. My brother, who attends Murray State, had gotten us excellent seats about seventy-five feet away from the stage.
We walked into the school grabbing our cases from the truck and the buses. I walked into the building with the rest of the band. Moments have passed before it was our time to go on stage. My heart was pounding and it felt like my legs would give out any second. We went out in front of the audience, standing in front of our seats waiting for our cue to sit down. A few moments later we started our first song. It went as great as could have. Now it was time for “The Witch and the Saint”. It was time to play the piece that I’ve been waiting on since we received it. It’s time. All of our hard work was about to pay off. This was our time to shine. It was our time to show everyone that we aren’t just an opening act to symphonic band. Our band was
Her walk, which could be childlike and bobbing, or languid enough to make anyone think she was hearing music in her head; her mouth, which was pale and smirking most of the time, but bright and pink on these evenings out; her laugh, which was cynical and drawling at home- “Ha, ha, very funny,”-but high-pitched and nervous anywhere else, like the jingling of charms on her bracelet. (Oates 1) Even though she rejects her role as a daughter and sister to try to develop a sexual or adult like persona, which she only uses when she is away from home. When she is at the drive in restaurant she gets the attention she wants from boys and also from Friend who wagged his finger at her and said, “Gonna get you, baby” (Oates
Marie, who is a product of an abusive family, is influenced by her past, as she perceives the relationship between Callie and her son, Bo. Saunders writes, describing Marie’s childhood experiences, “At least she’d [Marie] never locked on of them [her children] in a closet while entertaining a literal gravedigger in the parlor” (174). Marie’s mother did not embody the traditional traits of a maternal fig...
Robert’s father stood blankly on the pedestal, unresponsive to the celebration. To him it seemed the sound had lasted several minutes too long, and he was angry. In a steady voice that seemed even parts whisper and growl, he called for silence, and the audience recoiled as if hit by a
Standing. Standing for so long my legs have become numb and the slightest movement will trigger the pins and needles. Waiting for something so long that I forget what I’m waiting for. I can't even think. My mind constantly being pierced with the voices of other choirs. It’s dark, except for the stage standing in the front of the auditorium, lit up with hot stage light. They could fade the color of anything that stands before them.
I want to create today and forever. Since I was a little girl, the lights of the stage have called me. Later on when I saw the Broadway night lights I knew that was the lights that were destined for me, but did I have what it takes. I proved that I did with every performance I did. I have the talent it was always how much I give. If I stepped on stage without my confidence my talent goes to waste because I didn’t give it everything I’ve got. However when I step on stage chest fully out with confidence I am giving it all I’ve got showing that I have what it takes. It is also in these moments I see not only Broadway’s stage lights but the lights all over the world shining for me. Those lights will always shine for me as long as I give it all
Ever since I started band in fifth grade, I’ve always had the capability to achieve what was given to me: a hard song, solo, or other musical challenge that most kids wouldn’t want to do. I was always the one in my section to volunteer to play the solo of a song, try out for honor bands, and play the first part. My band director looked to me when there was an issue that wasn’t being resolved in my section because he trusted that I would fix it in the correct way so that it wouldn’t happen again. Today, that still happens, and I’ve continued to grow in my musical abilities.
Felicity, is dancing before a sea of people. Felicity, is sharing evidence from a successful gel electrophoresis. Felicity, is acting as the group therapist. Since I first stood aimlessly on stage, staring into the abyss of the crowd for the support of my mom, there remains solely true bliss running through my veins when I hit the stage performing. As time crawled, my stage transformed to a gym floor, a classroom, even areas consumed by awkward silence. I find myself continuously chasing after the adrenaline and confidence that the stage lights provoke within me.
Once I let my thoughts return to the music, I knew what lie ahead of me. I tapped the nearest "big guy" on the shoulder and pointed towards the ceiling; the universal signal on the concert floor. He nodded, grabbed my foot, and pushed me on top of the crowd. Once I was up there was no turning back. Soon strong hands were surfing me towards the stage. I had the best view in the house and reveled in the moment. I was fueled by an adrenaline rush that was only heightened by the fusion of the music and the energy of the crowd.
It’s pitch dark. There’s a sudden hush spread across the room. An inhale, an exhale. One single breath fills everyone’s lungs simultaneously when a light suddenly burst through the darkness, illuminating the stage where I stand. I can hear the respiration in the room; I can feel my heart beat. I say my first line and from there, it’s golden.
As the dark stadium filled with fire, with the sounds of guns and bombs exploding everywhere, the crazed fans yelled at the top of their lungs. The enormous stage was rumbling with the sound of a single guitar as the band slowly started their next encore performance. Soon after I realized that I was actually at the Sanitarium concert listening to Metallica play "One", I thought to my self, "Is this real, am I actually here right now?" I had a weird feeling the entire time because I had worked all summer to simply listen to music with a bunch of strangers.
I wandered around the path near the lake because it was always peaceful and quiet there in the morning and the trees that hung over the wide walkway only drew me in more. The cool wind blew continuously, and some of the leaves that barely hung on to the branches were pulled along with it. They floated while dropping slowly, and one of the leaves chose my head as a landing spot. I brushed my hair with my hand, not caring if doing so messes up my hair, since the wind already accomplished that job the second I took a step outside my house.