Sunday, February 16, 2014

Impressionism



Her heart is pounding faster and faster. Her knees are buckling and all possibilities of nervous thoughts are rushing through her head as if they are pressing for explosion. The silence of the waiting audience thickens as the bubbly announcer comes on stage to introduce the next act. Not knowing whether to run away in fear or jump for joy, the quivering vocalist tries to center her corrupt thoughts as the stage manager yells “ten seconds till curtain!” ever so urgently. Every member of the band is settled in position with big bright smiles of excitement glowing on their faces from ear to ear. The never-ending soft red velvet curtain slides back as her heart is now becoming like a bunny rabbit that has just received a lifetime supply of a veggie cuisine. The smallest speck of light begins at the base of stage. The glow spreads over her feet, slithering and snaking up the leg of her pants as if trying to attack. Her eyes clinch tight as she hopes that this is the moment where she and the gymnast in her heart can disappear to the sandy dunes of paradise in the farthest land away from this bloodcurdling stage. The glow continues to ascend and then suddenly her ear picks up a sound; a pleasant sound. A distant clap in the hindmost section of the auditorium slowly crescendos and spreads like wildfire to the front, making the singer feel welcomed. An exhale is released, and the drumsticks strike together beginning the first song of a great concert.

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