I stomp stage left and swing my feather boa dramatically around my neck, glancing back at my onstage husband, Ronald, giving him a look that could kill.

“All this time, Ronald. How could you?”

He approaches but I turn away, sticking my nose defiantly up in the air.

“Helen, I-“

Before he gets his sentence out, I spin around and slap him across the face. The audience gasps. The slap is a bit harder than on other nights, but overall not a bad stage slap. We did have a lot of fun and giggles rehearsing it.

“You bastard! I trusted you!”

I squint and scrunch up my eyes, intimating crying. I’ve never been able to cry on demand. Frankly my crying could use some work. But the audience is less able to detect fake crying when it’s up on a stage than if it’s on a screen right in front of them, so I’m not worried.

“Please, my love, it only happened once.”

The stage lights glare down on us. We can’t see the audience because of it, but we can hear them. Tonight’s audience has been pretty good so far. Laughs in all the right places, applause at every appropriate moment. The grease paint on my face feels like it’s melting, and my nose is itchy. But, impeccable actress that I am, I resist the urge to scratch it. Instead I face the audience and gaze into the distance.

“Ronald, since we’re being so honest with each other…” I pause, to give the audience a moment to wonder what the heck kind of a bomb I’m about to drop. “I should let you know one thing…”

He grabs my arm but I don’t move, I just continue to look past the stage lights and into the dark background of the theater. He is holding onto my arm, and it feels like it’s been there too long.

“Yes? What is it?” He asks dramatically. This is not actually his line, but his way of prompting me to speak my next line, which has suddenly escaped my mind.

“I… I…” Now sweat is really dripping down my face. My heart begins to flutter, and my mouth goes dry.

He grabs my arm a little bit tighter- his way of showing support and saying, “you can do it.” But the gears of my brain have come to a screeching, rusty halt. Nothing is happening and there are no words. There are not even thoughts of words, of ideas of the types of words one might say in a situation such as this. I couldn’t even improvise a line, fumble over it and move onto the next one. I couldn’t get any words out.

This sweet man, I love working with him, I really do. He presses, “Oh, Helen, please don’t tell me that you have fallen for…” He wants me to catch on and say someone’s name. Whose? I have no idea. “Fallen for… my brother!”

Things start to snap back into place but I am still strangely disoriented. “Yes!” I say. “It’s true, your brother.” That is definitely not my line, but it’s all I can come up with. My body feels shaky and frozen, and my breaths become shallow and quick. My fingers and toes feel cold and tingly, and I think I might actually be getting dizzy. Something is wrong with my mind, with my body. I don’t know what’s happening. This is more than just stage fright or forgetting a line.

I figure that I had at least better get off stage before I pass out, so I feign that I am too upset to talk, and I whirl myself and my fluffy boa through a stage door and into the wings before my costar knows what’s happening. The director rushes to me, concerned.

“Is it happening again?”

Cold sweat drips down my face and I nod.

“Oh god. Okay, Sarah, I need you to call Franklin’s team, stat! Joe, help get her onto a couch!”

I look down at my hands as Joe supports/drags me towards an old musty theater couch. My fingernails have grown sharp and long, and they are now an unpleasant shade of taupe. It hurts, feeling my nails coming in like that. Suddenly my spine seems to tear itself apart and the pain is immense. I start heaving like there are worms in my stomach I need to throw up, but nothing is coming out.

And that is the last thing I remember until the next day when I was awoken to Franklin gently shaking my shoulders.

In real life, television sets always seemed cardboard and crepe paper. Edison Slate sat ramrod straight, the picture of calm. Inside she roiled. Again and again, Eddie went over her lines. Jorn had had her practicing her interview answers until two a.m. Her boyfriend/partner/mentor had her up again at six to mediate and self actualize. A PA with a messy brown bun was hooking a small microphone to Edison’s lapel.

Edison’s stomach rumbled. Jorn always insisted she practice intermittent fasting before an investor speech or a big interview. Edison was the face of Light Tech, the next great software company poised to change the world. World changers don’t get gassy. The assistant backed up.

“Coffee?”

“Celery juice with lemon fresh pressed.”

Edison’s voice, smooth as velvet , sounded confident and commanding. The assistant vanished. Fresh from the makeup chair, the talent entered the set, all smiles. Eddie’s heart raced. She imagined the newscaster turning into a magnificent rapacious bird of prey. The edges of her vision dimmed. Quickly she downed the green sludge the assistant handed her.

Amanda Dean was saying something. Eddie nodded her head and made pleasant sounds. The first mobile medical units were scheduled to launch for the Christmas season. NightinGale, a handheld blood testing device, was touted to be a doctor that fits in your pocket.

Eddie had rode the techs night and day and despite all her carefully composed speeches on the future of medical testing NightingGale did not work. When the devices turned on at all the testing results were wildly inaccurate.

“Edison Slate, medical technology guru, the Wall Street Journal says you could be the next Steve Jobs. What do you say to that?” Dean said.

Eddie chuckled. Jorn has quizzed her on this question. She was supposed to answer, “I think Steve Jobs was just the beta version of me.” Instead Eddie just opened her mouth and closed it.

Amanda Dean looked nervous. "What I really want to know is if your iPod breaks you buy another but if your NightinGale malfunctions that’s life and death. How do you live with yourself if something goes wrong?”

Eddie woke up. She had the funniest dream that she had thrown up on national televison and covered American favorite tv show host in green celery goo. Eddie shot awake. Back in the green room, she was on the television studio’s sofa. The production assistant handed her a bottle of water and a chocolate chip cookie. Eddie closed her eyes and took a bite.

(This story is not about the audition, it’s the play)

I had done this before, but for some reason I had stage fright! I peeked through the big velvet curtains to see what I think is around 100- no.. 200 people. It was time, I quietly stepped into the center of the stage where the spotlight shined. My skin glistened under the spotlight. But suddenly while I was about to speak, my memory went blank. It started getting very hot in the freezing room, I was sweating. I wanted to cry, but it was impossible! I could hear my heart pumping out of my chest. The laughs surrounded my head, dancing around. A tear after a tear dropped down on to the floor as I ran backstage. I thought of how tomorrow at school would be the same.

Clammy hands sweat as they fumbled, pulling on fingers wringing the anxiety from my body. I feel a drop from my forehead, a tear of nerves trailing down my brow and across the bridge of my nose.

A reminder of the bright lights and piercing gaze of the casting director. Their eyes are void of emotion- of the tell.

Did they notice? Did they see me fumble, my pause just a moment too long, the loss of my character’s emotion a buffer into a waiting hint or tip.

I shuffled through the files of my mind.

Bills. Birthdays. Funerals. Weddings. A calendar pulled and torn apart in attempt to fish the lines from the grooves of my mind.

Or perhaps it was flat, devoid of human volume, of an actor’s certainty in their skill.

A light bulb came and went with a flicker before finally the generators kicked into gear and amongst the false crescendo of sadness and hyperventilating lungs the words spilt from my lips.

My tongue tied, as a traumatised girl’s would, stumbling over the sentence I had practiced time and time again.

I tried to see the mirror, my black eyes focused and determined despite the tears pooling in them.

I inhaled a sharp breath before a waterfall that was her scene rumbled into concocted rapids of part acting and genuine desperation.

Did they see me in the girl I was meant to be? Did they catch the blip, the glimmer of me I had tucked deeply away.

She was me though. A girl lost and thirsty for safety as nonexistent CGI creatures approached with a haunting crackle of scales and groans of their supernatural existence. I pounded on the single door they had blocked before me, my feet pressed firmly upon the yellow line as I pleaded entry.

Please They are coming I cannot hide I am alone Take my child Only my child Take the child

I saw my mother towering above me, her hand squeezing the circulation from my tiny fingers. It was too real and the monsters, when I turned behind me, that were figments of my imagination suddenly morphed into my grandfather.

He will kill us They will kill us These creatures That monster I beg of you

I went on without the script, my mind a flurry as I grew lost in a distorted picture of my memories and reality.

“Stop!” The casting director halted with dead eyes assessing my heaving shoulders, fear tacked hair and streaming tears. Mascara was surely dripping and smudging around my eyes.

I left as soon as I entered when the door creaked open. And I, big and small, without my mother, with the girl’s child, I came through into an actor’s talent.

Stammer Hammer Laughter Giggle

Forgot my lines Right in the middle. Tessa🦋

“Floris, they’re ready for you.” I nodded and took a deep breath, my lines running circles in my head as I walked out to the stage.

10

I stepped up to the microphone and gave a smile to the judges. “Hello, I am Floris Jansen and I am auditioning for Prior Walters.” “Alright, we’re ready when you are.”

9

I took a deep breath and when I went to speak nothing came out. My thoughts had stopped running, they had come to a complete halt. I didn’t know what to do.

8

My thoughts started to pace as sweat started to slowly drip down my face, I wanted to run i wanted to hide. “Floris? Whenever you’re ready.”

7

I took another deep breath, searching for the lines that never came. My knees started shaking, my chest got heavy as my head got lighter.

6

I could feel the judges eyes burning into my soul. I kept my mouth open as I tried my hardest to form words. I started trying to talk, hoping my brain would fill in the blanks but it didn’t happen.

5

My head started getting light and my vision got blurry as I looked out at the judges. Some giving me unimpressed looks and some looking worried as if something might go wrong.

4

My heartbeat got faster, my breathing quickened.

3

I didn’t know what to do. I was frozen I couldn’t move a muscle.

2

I was so excited for this role, this had been my dream since I was young.

1

I couldn’t take it anymore, my heart hurt, my head ached, my legs felt too weak to hold me.

0

I collapsed.

…

Darkness.

…

No more embarrassment. No more nothing.

𝘖𝘬. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.

I stood on top of the metal platform while a few people sat in the first row, legs crossed and eyes looking intently. It was already bad enough that they were staring but also had pens in hand ready to jot down their harsh words about what they thought of the performances.

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵…𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳.

Thank god it was only the judges who were in the room and nobody else. It’s not as bad when there’s few people, but still intimidating. As I closed my eyes and take a breath before I open my mouth to let the words flow….

“Well, are you ready yet?” One of them asked.

𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵…𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴?! 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴!

𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠.

My thoughts rummaged through my brain to try and save me from the nightmare that was already happening. It didn’t help that I had already opened my eyes to find the judges exchanging glances and moving their hands. My hands began to shake uncontrollably as my heart threatened to burst from my chest. Was it from the embarrassment or was it from the blinding lights? Was it always this quiet? Everything started to spin. And I was about to do the one thing whenever I got too stressed.

“Ma’am you can go ahead and get off the stage now.” Another judge said.

𝘜𝘩-𝘰𝘩. 𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘵. 𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘵. 𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘵! 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦?! 𝘋𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯? 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵-

But it was too late. What could only be described as a volcanic eruption, chunks of bile and what could only be meat from Taco Bell spewed from my throat and onto the stage with the force of a pressurized hose, nearly going off the edge. While one of the judges watched wide-eyed with a mix of confusion and worry, the other two judges looked on unfazed as if this had happened multiple times.

Breathing heavily and now a little woozy, I bowed my head and mumbled an apology in one final attempt to salvage whatever dignity I had left.

“Sorry, stage fright.”

In the midst of a long and bitter war, a man named Ethan and a woman named Lila find themselves leading two opposing armies. Their hatred for each other runs deep, fueled by the conflicts that have torn their lands apart. Each battle they fought further intensified their animosity, making it seem impossible for anything but hatred to exist between them.

One day, during a momentary ceasefire, a chance encounter occurs between Ethan and Lila away from the battlefield. As they spend time together outside the context of war, they begin to see each other's vulnerability and humanity. They realize that their feelings are more complex than just hatred, and beneath the surface, there is a shared longing for peace and understanding.

In an unexpected twist of fate, they discover secret correspondences written by each other, where they have poured their hearts out about the toll the war has taken on them. Through these letters, they uncover the true feelings they have been suppressing—feelings of sorrow, compassion, and even love.

Shaken by this revelation, Ethan and Lila must come to terms with the fact that they are no longer just enemies, but two individuals who have found solace and understanding in one another amidst the chaos of war. They face a difficult choice—to continue the cycle of violence or to break free from the chains of hatred and forge a new path together.

As the war rages on, they secretly meet in hidden places, seeking refuge in each other's company. Their hearts torn between duty and love, they find themselves torn between their allegiances and their newfound affection.

Realizing that their love for each other transcends the conflict between their armies, Ethan and Lila begin to collaborate in secret, working towards a resolution that will bring peace to both their lands. They must navigate the treacherous waters of their war-torn world, facing opposition from their own ranks and deep-seated prejudices.

Their bond grows stronger as they navigate through the challenges, and they find hope in the possibility of a future together, united in love and a shared vision of peace. Their actions inspire others on both sides to question the necessity of the war, and a movement for reconciliation begins to spread.

In a momentous and risky gesture, Ethan and Lila publicly declare their love and their intention to end the war. United, they propose an alternative path that encourages dialogue and understanding between their people. The once bitter enemies become the beacon of hope for a new era of cooperation and harmony.

Through their courage and love, Ethan and Lila ultimately manage to broker a fragile peace, marked by trust-building measures and diplomatic efforts. Their story becomes a legend, inspiring generations to come to choose compassion and understanding over hatred and conflict.

The war-torn world heals, and Ethan and Lila become symbols of the power of love to bridge even the deepest divides. Together, they continue to work tirelessly to build a lasting peace, proving that love can conquer even the most entrenched animosities.

In the distant village of Jianghu, there lived a renowned martial arts master named Le Shen. He was known for his unparalleled skills and wisdom, but a mysterious darkness plagued him. Unbeknownst to the villagers, Le Shen was possessed by a powerful demon that resided within him.

The demon's presence granted Le Shen extraordinary abilities, but it also came with a cost. As the demon's influence grew, Le Shen's appearance changed, and he became different from the rest of the villagers. His eyes glowed an eerie red, and dark energy surrounded him when he used his martial arts techniques.

The villagers, unable to comprehend the true nature of the demon, feared Le Shen and the powers he possessed. They shunned him, believing he was cursed and dangerous. This isolation left Le Shen heartbroken and burdened by the struggle to control the malevolent force within him.

Despite the villagers' disdain, there was one person who saw the true essence of Le Shen: Mei, a kind-hearted herbalist who had known him since they were children. She refused to let fear cloud her judgment and saw the pain he endured.

One fateful day, a group of ruthless bandits invaded Jianghu, terrorizing the villagers. When all seemed lost, Le Shen emerged, using the demon's powers to defend his home. Witnessing his bravery, Mei convinced the villagers to give him a chance to prove his worth.

Le Shen knew he had to confront the darkness within him and find a way to harness the demon's strength without succumbing to its malevolence. With Mei's unwavering support, he embarked on a journey of self-discovery, seeking guidance from ancient sages and wise hermits.

Throughout his travels, Le Shen faced dangerous trials and temptations, testing his will and resolve. He learned that the key to controlling the demon's power was not through suppression, but through understanding and acceptance.

As he honed his martial arts skills and delved into his own soul, Le Shen discovered that the demon was not merely a malevolent force, but a reflection of his inner turmoil and suppressed emotions. By embracing his uniqueness and acknowledging the darkness within, he found a harmonious balance between light and shadow.

Returning to Jianghu with newfound wisdom, Le Shen faced the bandits once more, this time showing compassion and mercy. He demonstrated that strength came not from domination, but from inner peace and unity with both the light and dark aspects of his being.

In the end, the village realized that their initial fear and rejection had blinded them to the true hero within Le Shen. With their hearts open, they welcomed him back as their protector and guardian.

Le Shen's journey from a shunned and tormented outcast to a revered and respected martial arts master inspired everyone around him. He became a symbol of hope, proving that one's differences could be their greatest strength, and that true mastery comes from embracing one's own unique path.

And so, the legend of Le Shen, the martial arts master possessed by a demon, spread far and wide, teaching generations to come the importance of understanding, compassion, and the power of acceptance in the face of darkness.

"Next!" Breathe. You've got this. You can do this. Just don't look too closely at their faces when you're performing. You can get this part. I keep repeating the same sweet nothings to myself, while I make my way to the audition room, but I know myself. I know that I'm going to fuck this up, just like I always do. I get to the small stage that has been placed in the front of the room, take a deep breath, and then turn around to see only one person sitting at the "judging table"--I do realize that it's not called that, but my anxiety ridden brain came up with the term and it has stuck ever since. My eyes feel like they bulge out of my skull, my jaw dropping to the floor. The sole person sitting at the table, the person who will be judging my scene, possibly casting me is none other than my ex-boyfriend Bradley. "What are you..." I try to ask, but couldn't find it in me to come up with a possible full sentence to ask the man who broke my heart into what seems like a million tiny pieces. "I'm the director for this film. I didn't know you were into acting." His face is as emotionless as a rock. Can't he give me anything to go off of? Is he in pain? Is he over me? Does he hate me in the same way that I hate him? "How could you not know I'm into acting? I went on auditions all the time when we were dating! You just never paid attention, did you?" His face stayed the same. "Is this going to be a problem? Because if you don't think you can handle this, you should probably walk right out that door." "Like you did?" "Stella." He let out a long frustrated breath, resting his head in his hands. "Fine. I'll go, but it's not because I can't handle this. It's because you don't deserve my wonderful acting expertise on your dumb pathetic film!" "You're the one who came here to audition in the first place. Do not turn this on me because you are in shock that I'm the director and writer of said 'dumb pathetic film'." I scoffed at his audacity. "You are just as infuriating as I remember. Goodbye." I walked out of the room, not looking back once. I held my head high as I heard his bored tone of voice call for the next actor to go in to complete their audition.