For my Creative Writing class we had to write a fiction piece about a ticking clock and something suspenseful. For the life of me I could not figure out what to write about until about 2 hrs before my class would start. I figured that I could be the character and that the suspense could be the clock ticking on the day of my first performance in Wicked which has yet to come and is thus fiction. I wrote this in about an hour or so and I'm actually really happy with how it turned out. I hope you like it. ENJOY!
Stage Nerves
The show time clock slowly ticks down and blinks red when the time lands on 7:00:00. Wardrobe, make-up, quick run throughs and voice warm-ups had taken hours but I’d been preoccupied during those times and hadn’t had the time to really dwell on the magnitude of the event that was taking place that night. Now I stand perched at the curtain, waiting nervously, impatiently, and excitedly, my mind whirling with thoughts in all forms of emotions. Waiting for the lines that signal my entrance onto the stage, I fidget nervously with the suitcase in my hand and the glasses placed on my nose.
My colleague sings beautifully, opening the performance with her melodic, operatic voice and her smiling grace and charm. She’d given me a hug and smiled big at me, reminding me that I was going to do great and that she’d be there with me throughout the whole thing. I’d smiled back pushing away the urge to cry from all of the emotions building up for fear of ruining the perfectly completed make-up on my face. Her being there with me the whole time is mostly true; she’d be on stage alongside me for much of the performance, but all I can think about are the many times where I will be alone. I can hear all that is going on but I am unable to steal a peak at the happenings on stage.
I look to the show time clock which has continued past its red 7:00:00 and ticks slowly counting each second, every single one. It captures me in its incandescent way and for an instant it is all I can think about. Quickly I remove my eyes from the mesmerizing form and focus again on the speaking of the performers on stage. They have moved past the first musical interlude and hurry into the meat of the background storyline, setting the stage for the leap back in time. That’s one of my favorite attributes of this production: the beginning is the present in the character’s terms and then it jumps to the distant past, then back to present, and then to a nearer past. The audience gets a background story to better understand the happenings of the nearer past and the present.
A word reaches my ear and I jump, afraid I missed my cue. I listen carefully and realize that it is only a similar line. Cautiously I look to the clock. After watching the clock during rehearsals I’d calculated that my entrance comes approximately nine minutes into the show. The digital clock shows 7:06:45, so I am able to relax a bit, trying to focus again on the speaking of my colleagues. Sigh, I actually have some time to try to get rid of my nerves. From as far back as I can remember I have never gotten nervous before going on stage. I have always found it so exciting that the idea of being nervous was pushed away. But now, even with the knowing that this will probably be one of the best moments of my life, I can’t seem to remove the nervousness that causes my heart to race and my stomach to churn. What if I miss a line? What if I forget the words to a song? What if I forget a prop or… The “what ifs” continue as I absent-mindedly stroke the inexistent wrinkles in my dark blue costume, straightening the already perfectly placed glasses once again.
Some of the crew members rush around preparing to bring back the piece that they’d reeled out moments ago. I move aside carefully, not wanting to be in the way, but too nervous to really think of where I’m going. My bones jump when I bump into something that catches me. Looking back slowly I realize it is my other colleague, my love interest in the production.
“Whoa there,” he whispers, holding my arms tightly as he makes sure I’m steady. “You wouldn’t want to knock yourself out before your first performance.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I whisper back, straightening my dress again and patting the cap on my head of black hair. He takes my hand, stopping my random antics and touches my cheek with his other one, causing my eyes to finally meet his face. I smile graciously at him, knowing what he’s about to say before he says it.
“Not a problem. Just take a deep breath and relax. You’re going to do great!” He smiles at me and then hurries off to get ready for his later appearance in the show.
I fix my off-kilter glasses, looking again at the luminous show time clock. The time ticks approaching 7:08:30. Panicked, I listen for the lines and discover my entrance is seconds away. My nervous motions and bumping had caused time to fly by and here I was seconds away from the night I had been preparing for for so long. The sheer magnitude of what was about to take place nearly overwhelmed me but the excitement and joy that I was doing something I had waited so long for beat out the nervousness and a smile etched its way across my face. My suitcase tightly in hand I wait as the doors open that allow me to run onto the stage full of enthusiasm. Though my heart is still racing, the butterflies in my stomach have disappeared and the thoughts of failure wiped from my mind.
The stage clock shows 7:09:15 and I smile even more, suppressing a laugh at the hilariousness of my time guessing. My colleague speaks the words “When we were both very young.” That’s my cue. I straighten my cap once again and hurry through the doors and onto the stage, smiling at the audience in front of me. Applause resounds through the theatre and I can feel the wetness at the corner of my eyelids. I look down at my hands to make sure that I am really there and that this is all really happening. Secretly I pinch my green-skinned hand and look up at the performers entering the stage for the next scene. This is real, this is happening, it isn’t a dream anymore. I am Elphaba on Broadway. WICKED!
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