The Voice

200ish words (1 – 2 minutes)

I steal behind the wings, and study the competitor currently on stage. Young. My age. Beautiful. Perfect. And, what a voice!

…And I will always love you…

Exactly as Whitney Houston had sung it. Better, perhaps. She owns the stage.

She stands boldly in a shimmering emerald cocktail dress, worn provocatively off-the-shoulder. With a perfect coiffure, not a single blonde hair out of place, and just the right amount of golden bling, she oozes confidence. Beige tights, and knee-length black boots complete the ensemble.

… Bittersweet memories,
That is all I’m taking with me…

She’s killing them. To rapturous applause, one by one, the judges’ chairs fizz around like Catherine wheels on Bonfire Night. A runaway success, she exits the stage in euphoric joy!

Her immaculate performance temporarily masks my own nervousness, but now she is out of the way, my appearance beckons.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome SULE BENJAMIN.” I had figured an anglicised version of my name would be easier for people to remember.

Amid deafening applause, I step beyond the screen, and begin walking towards the sweet-spot at the front of the stage. The studio is full. There must be thirty-rows-worth of expectant audience out there, not to mention the intimidating judges who lurk behind that imposing flight-deck of charcoal seats. Trying desperately to focus, I remember, at least, to smile as my backing music starts.

And then I run.

14 comments

  1. Wimbledon Town Hall many years ago, family in the audience, amateur dramatics, one of three ‘leading roles’ – for a moment I wasn’t sure where I was up to in the script. I hadn’t lost the plot, but I said to myself in that long moment ‘I’m never ever going to do this again!’ And I never did, can’t even remember why my teenage self thought I wanted to go into acting. Standing on a stage solo is my idea of a nightmare…

    Clever tale.

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