Mythlands: Mythical Origins

14. Exit Left

*** Weekend Write-In for Jan 31 2020 ***

"exit": In 500 words, tell what happens when there is an exit

PERFORMANCE ANXIETY

'You look great.'

He wasn't convinced. Everything had to be perfect. Perfect, I tell you!

Checking his cufflinks for the seventh time, he swallowed hard. Was his tie straight? Was his collar starched to crisp white perfection!

A stage elf put his head around the door. 'Five minutes to curtain, Mr S.'

S gulped. What was it he felt? Nervousness, anxiety, trepidation, even! What business had he, making a comeback after all these years! He was independently wealthy, a gentleman of means, with his own huge estate here in more palatable and civilized parts of The Mythlands.

Ah but the siren call of the stage. To tread the boards, to bring laughter, jollity, solemn dramatic artistry, even! He longed to hear the little gasps and appreciative moments where his audiences were on the edge of their seats!

A veritable smorgasbord of the theatrical arts. Nay, theatrical delights! Once more he would captivate, cajole, astound, astonish and amaze. He would flip from one turn of phrase, taking his enthralled audience with him, from comedy to tragedy, to awesome appreciation and then with a furrow of brow, a tip of a hat, a strategic lean upon his stick and an incline of his head, he would have them at his beck and call - prompting laughter, then rapt attention as he pirouetted from one form to another with the greatest of ease.

His agent caught the look. Daws knew that the hunger was upon him. The showmanship, the grandeur ... what were nerves compared to the copacious cornucopia of plaudits, rightfully deserved. Rightfully attained. Acclaim! He belonged in the spotlight, treading the boards and taking in the applause.

'One minute, Mr S.'

A steely determination overtook him. What were nerves? Nerves were for the lacklustre, the unprepared and those who did not have the x factor. He had it. He had it in spades!

Daws adjusted his cravat and massaged his shoulders. 'This is what you were born to do, old friend. Go out there and wow them.'

He would! He would! HE WOULD!

This was his element. He was like a god out there.

'It's time, Mr S!'

He strode out of the dressing room, his previous nerves fading like they'd never been. Forty years had passed since he last gave a command performance, but goodness to murgatroid, he still had it!

And if nerves grip me again, thought Snagglepuss, I can always exit ... stage left!