They’re Just Lights

The lights looked different from the stage. To an audience member they’re just lights, brightening the stage and setting the tone for the story. But to me they looked different.

Heavy, blinding. The lights struck my eyes with immeasurable force. I’ve seen them before, but never like this. Never before have such violent beams abused my eyes.

I took one step on stage, and that’s when the beating started.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. The deafening shaking of my heart. I nearly retreated backstage to safety, but it was already too late. One hundred silhouettes were already judging my every move, and ten harsh lights were depriving me of sight.

Ba-dum. A single drop of sweat leaked from my forehead. That’s gonna ruin my powder, I thought.

Ba-dum. Are my shoes tied?

Ba-dum. I can’t do this.

Ba-dum. Do I start now?

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

For nearly 80 minutes, the heartbeat wouldn’t stop. As the violent rays finally faded, so too did the jarring pumping of blood.

The applause calmed my nerves. The beating never came back, and the lights were once again just lights.