The stage curtain I hid behind moved like ripples in the pond near my house, only the curtain looked blood-red and frightful. Just beyond that thin membrane lied an even more hellish sight. Critics and mongers with sledgehammers and sword tongues alike were preparing to slay me. I shivered a little at the thought; and occasionally peeked into the audience, hoping to discover that they vanished.
In my episode of anxiety, A friend touched my shoulder. I looked at her and faked a smile that was more of a nervous twitch.
"Don't worry like this. Just be yourself."
Revived by her wisdom, I slashed the bloody membrane and birthed onto the stage.