Me, the Performer

Today’s Scintilla Project prompt that inspired my story is “What have been the event horizons of your life – the moments from which there is no turning back?” 

Even when the costumes arrived, it hadn’t quite sunk in. We spent the evening like idiots, posing for silly photographs (it was, after all, a comedy). A stressful month had been spent on rehearsals that were only just beginning to turn into fun; we’d finally reached that sweet spot where our heads were so saturated with lines that they’d begun to colonize our jokes, our dreams… our lives.

It was only on opening night that the reality of all this struck me, as I listened to a shuffling and mumbling audience from behind the green room door. So this is what it feels like, I thought, as all of us backstage made our rounds mouthing BREAK A LEG!, to the cast and crew.

And then, the lights came on. The audience went silent in anticipation, and this energy of their silence percolated the room and made my head want to explode with adrenalin. This was it. I was hooked. From the moment I stepped on that stage, I felt like I owned that room, that this was my space in the world, that I was born to perform! And though there was some unhappiness after curtain call on the last show day, for all good things must come to an end, I knew that this was only the beginning… My beginning.

Thus began my sojourn into the magical world of theatre.


One response to “Me, the Performer

  1. Ah, I remember those days. First nights never got any less terrifying, even after I’d been a jobbing actor for nigh-on ten years. I wouldn’t have given them up for the world, though. The adrenalin is something else – and coming off stage after the first scene was always a huge rush.

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