The Night - Original Writing

Those girls were a division higher than my team; so, as I watched their arms gracefully swing from side to side; their legs kicking into the air in a beautiful battement; and, the nearly flawless transitions, I wondered how much hard work and how many rehearsal hours they put in to achieve those movements with such ease. The spotlight highlighting their every move had me in awe. The song slowly started to fade out and the loud, obnoxious thumping in my chest resurfaced. With shaky legs and uneven breathing I hesitantly made my way onto the stage and got into position. Looking into the crowd, I could see hundreds of faces staring back at me; some familiar, some I had never seen in my life. This gave me a feeling of nostalgia taking me back to that first day of dance class when all eyes were on me. I could not hear anything around me except my heartbeat in my chest. I remembered how aesthetically pleasing the dancers prior presented themselves on stage and told myself to get it together. I had to give it my all and not let my team down, but most importantly I could not let myself down. I looked at my friend, who posed just to the left of me, for reassurance and she gave me such a genuine smile. I could see it in her eyes that she believed in me. I looked at my surrounding and thought “This is what I’ve been working towards. This is where I want to be.” All the negative thoughts that previously invaded my mind faded. My breathing began to even out as the lights dim signaling that the song would start any

I was so into the song that I didn’t see Evy slip away into the back of the stage where she had hymned the background music. The audience erupted into a roar. Everyone in the audience stood up. A person was walking towards the stage. I recognized him immediately. His name was Ansel. He was a college scout for Juilliard. He asked to see me after the show.

As the show captivated my senses, it captured my heart, and turned from what I thought would be a trite show like the soap operas my mother enjoyed into a breathtaking experience. The dancers leaping and flipping across the stage were astonishing, and filled me with a sense of wonder. I was not consciously aware of it at the time, yet in some way, I aspired to emulate them in my own life. Now I in no way wanted to be a broadway star; however, I wished to gain even just an ounce of the talent they possessed. Exiting the theatre, I had a different attitude than when I had first gone through the doors. I had finally found something that I did not just enjoy, but that I was fervent

"I don't understand, these are all people from school." Cassady spoke out. "I thought you said you could find me someone who would help me, Melbourne?"

"I'm not interested." Drake said, watching Vince walk towards them with his girlfriend, and another girl he didn't recognize.

"Besides the part where I have to wear a rubber mouse head for 6 minutes, yeah" I responded laughing. We continued to stretch, going through our splits, and adding some relevés to get our ankles warmed up. We stretched our arms and legs, did a few push-ups and jumping jacks. All you could smell was the hairspray, and the make-up, and weirdly cookies, but that's because we all teamed up and brought snacks. We all made our way onto the stage, pitch black, to hear mumbling out by the sound booth and up in the light box. All of a sudden the lights come on, and we sit ourselves in a semi circle around the three teachers, Lauren, Gretchen, and Vanessa. I zone out as they begin speaking and focus

“You haven’t changed a bit. Hey everybody! Hope you’re all doing well!” The guy said. “You’re new. What’s your name?”

"Who exactly are we going to see?" I asked. Vanitas sighed looking at the sign.

“ Thanks for having me,” said Peyton. “Speaking of the other guests, where are they?”

Antonio gave their names and was given name tags in return. They were directed to a table where Ken, Judy, and Ann already sat.

“Alright, uh, Yavin. Nice name. I’m Mr. Hiraku. Are you ready?” the teacher asked, looking down at his chart for my name.

"Okay that's a wrap y'all," One of the choreographers announced into the most annoying object I've seen in my life. A megaphone. I've been sitting, observing, yawning from the side views of the gymnasium. A wall completely made of mirror was directly in front of the dancers, and supposedly it's there to help with spotting and spacing...other things that wouldn't really concern me. The dancers, sporting glistening sweat that lined their hairlines, were originally planned to practice on a real stage. Judging off of where my feet are located at, you could see we weren't exactly at that part in life.

The house lights went down, as did the backstage lights, and the stage lights came on. There really is an exhilarating feeling being backstage while only the stage lights are on. At first there is anyway. I was scheduled to perform near the end of the show, I want to say I was third from last. So I got the pleasure I standing backstage for a lot of show. I talked to a lot of the other performers about how they felt, if they were nervous, that sort of thing. I encouraged some of them to, not that I wasn’t nervous myself. I was able to watch most of the others perform and I remember thinking that I almost felt proud for them about how good they were at their talent, and trying to picture myself doing some of the things they did. “This Being-with-one-another dissolves one’s own Dasein completely into the kind of Being of “the Others,” in such a way, indeed, that the Others, as distinguishable and explicit, vanish more and more” (Heidegger, pg. 124). How talented they all were in their own trade made me kind of want to do it myself, and it also made me realize how different my performance would be from anyone

His father shook his head “He’s probably not friends with any of them. He talks to them because he’s a Slate and he’s expected to. You could save a fellow teenager some strife if you bothered to reach out.”

Evelyn peeked down the hall from her bedroom making sure the light to her parents’ room was off, indicating that they had gone to sleep. When she saw the darkened hallway she knew that her parents had gone down for the night. Her younger sisters, ages 10 and 8, had been put to sleep a couple hours before. There was no one watching. Evelyn tiptoed down the stairs—thank God they were carpeted, which helped shield the noise of her steps—and she grabbed her mom’s car keys carefully exiting the house, shutting the door quietly behind her. She jogged to the car, which was parked on the street in front of her house and hopped inside, starting the engine. She quickly looked back to make sure that the older car’s engine had not stirred anyone in