Theatre Creative Writing

The ambient lights fill my peripheral vision. A headache from the depths of hell appeared at the most unfortunate times. Now, out of all the more convenient times that it could've showed itself, it had to be now. I grudgingly proceed walking to the stage. It's almost my time to shine and put all the people in awe. When the curtains open revealing an enormous crowd I take a deep breathe. They all stare, anticipating something wonderful. Their faces are blurry and distorted and I can't see any of their expressions. The atmosphere in the theater is ecstatic. I lift my right hand up with my palm facing them. The once overwhelming buzz has turned into a few simple scattered whispers. I twirl my hand like a sped up clock and take a bow. I stand up straight and wait a prolonged second and adjust the collar of my dress so the microphone is directly under my chin.

I would like to thank all of you, as the director and writer of the play, for being able to come to this. We've all worked very hard for this day. Though there have been many mishaps and what not we were able to pull ourselves together and create something wonderful. The actors and actresses, light and sound crew—" I jump to the ground and everybody does the same. People are screaming and children are screeching a the top of their lungs. My ears are ringing and I can't see a thing. My head is pounding and my whole body is trembling more than the building itself is. I ignored the sharp flash of pain the shot up my arm. One of the stage lights crashes and goes through the stage directly in front of me. Everything is a blur to me and I am in desperate need of my glasses. It feels like forever trying to get back stage. When I arrive they help me up and run to grab my glasses. I put all my weight on the person who's helping me up and they loose balance and fall. Two others assist them and get me standing