She walked onto the stage, as the casting director called her name. You could see the whole world in her eyes, if only you would look into them for a minute. Her eyes glistened and you could almost see the pain in her eyes, bind  the tears. It was what had brought her to this moment.

Under the stage lights, she stood there silently, staring at the back of the room.

“You may now begin your monologue,” the director said as he took out his pen, clipboard and paper.

She began, “You see…” she started to say as she motioned over to a black box, that was part of a prop “…life is like this box. Whatever you put into this box becomes your life. My life is filled with boxes like this one. Secrets, things that I tried to bury. But I couldn’t bury this one.

My Brother filled his life with more boxes than most and it was just yesterday, I buried him. I don’t want to live my life like that. All the pieces of me buried in a cold dark box, six feet under the ground. So that is why I am here.

I have no monologue, but that of my own. Here I stand in front of you. I refuse to bury my secrets and stand here on this stage, offering all that I have- what is in my heart.” She turned her head, and a single tear ran down her face.

This was the eleventh audition she had attended this week. She was hoping for a break. Anything this week of all weeks. So she decided not to preform a monologue someone else had written, but something of her own. She wanted to share all these things in her heart, however the world was just not ready for Cynthia Day. At least, not yet anyway.

“Next!” The director said.

As she walked off the stage Cynthia whispered, ” You have not seen the last of me yet.”


Published by victoriachristian2014

I hope to inspire others to write and conquer their fears. It is something I struggle with daily. I hope my blog can be a place that people can share stories. I feel that stories are like snapshots. Small insights into this thing we all call life. Welcome, these are snapshots. Snapshots of my Life.

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