A Singer's Breath

I hear the drumsticks pat the drums and the soft violin music commences. I can feel my every nerve quiver and my every heartbeat grow in pace. My grip on the microphone tightens. I shut my eyes pretending it would shoo away all those eyes glaring at me and I can sing to please my own self, just like I always have. I open my mouth and a soft voice escapes my lips. I start singing and the phrases gradually start wriggling out of my vocal cords. I suddenly feel more confident. I sing as though this is the last time I will ever recite those endless words. Beleive me, it isn't that hard. All you've got to do is ignore those people watching you. I avoid all my nervousness and actually start enjoying the moment. Before I know it, it is over!

I look around at the people who heard me just now. The expressions on their faces are absolutely unreadable. Surprise? Objection? Amazement? I can't figure out. Tears well up in my eyes. I blink them away and walk out the stage slowly, my fingers forming a tensed fist. I badly wanted to run and bury my head in my sweaty palms, and end this moment as soon as possible. But, I hold my courage and walk out slowly.

Backstage, I see mom waiting for me with a cheerful feeling in her eyes. I run and hug her hard. Is this what a concert is all about? Was this what I had been so tensed about? It wasn't that hard at all. Maybe I could really overcome this tension for my upcoming concerts, if there were any to be held. Would I ever perform in the future? Did the public like me? Would I get another chance? If not, how would I go to school? Would my teachers be embarrassed of me? Would I even be liked by anyone then? Surely, my friends won't leave me. Or would they? I brush all those thoughts aside and hug mom harder.

"You just rocked the stage." I hear mom say.

I pull away from the tight embrace, "Really?"

She nods and smiles, "You make me so proud, dear."

I giggle. I'm still not very sure of how the performance went but the honour of satisfying mom is enough for me at the moment. Nothing could have given me more pleasure than to step up to mom's expectations. I start laughing. Don't know why but it seems as though laughing will help me forget all the doubts of today's concert. I laugh and laugh and laugh till there are big fat tears in my eyes.

I cuddle on the couch nearby and drift into a dreamless sleep.

I wake up by the sound of the creaking of some hinge. I open my eyes into blind darkness. I set my feet on the floor. The marble feels ice cold against my warm and soft feet. I get up unsteadily and start walking away from the bed, my arms swaying in the air in order to find some clue to where the door is. Just then, I hear a BANG behind me and light slowly starts to spread on the floor. I turn around and see a woman's body silhouetted against the bright light coming from the door. I narrow my eyes at her.

"Don't worry," she says. "I'll be your supervisor while you are training at the SPC. My name is Arlena Sherwood. This is your room. Mine is the one beside yours. And I should definitely let you know that your concert was awesome!"

"Thanks but I wasn't told that I would have to stay at the headquarters for my training."

"You are allowed to go home on weekends. You might not be made aware of it but your parents were. They said that we could keep you here five days a week if we could surely make you successful." Arlena walks into the room and turns on the lights. She closes the door and sits down on my bed. It is now that I see how this lady looks. She is a plump woman no more than five feet tall with a warm, welcoming face.

I look around at my room. It looks like just any ordinary room with white walls, a bed and a study table.

I turn around and look at Arlena, "Does that mean no school?" She nods and I smile at her.

The fun is yet to begin. Arlena takes me straight to Mr. Larros, the SPC president. Mr. Larros is a serious man just like his secretary. He is dressed up in black and is bald with little amounts of brown hair peeping from behind his ears.

"The concert went extremely well. Our experts were observing you as you performed and now you are gonna be trained upon how to carry yourself as a singer."

Seriously? They were observing the way I carried myself as I stood there struggling with how to get my voice into coming out of my throat?

Mr. Larros continues, "The blackest spot amongst your traits is your unsurity. You are very unsure of yourself and that is a major point affecting your confidence. We can definitely improve that if we get your full corporation. Arlena, could you please take Ms. Kaysha to her trainer?"

Arlena nods.

"And before you go, Ms. Kaysha, I would like to tell you that the audience you faced yesterday included all members of SPC and no real crowd. It was no real concert and was not telecasted anywhere. We were just testing your natural performance. I'm sorry but don't worry, it happens with all our trainees. We cant risk to let an upcoming singer out to perform without any formal trainings, you know."

Just testing.