The microphone stand

(Once a young girl, a friend of mine said: "If I were a mic stand!" And voilá ... )

The microphone stand

The lights went out. The hall went quiet when the last gleam faded away. The last sound faded, and excited, dark muteness followed. But there was nothing threatening in that black, silent space, because she knew that something wonderful began in the next moment. Before her eyes could have  adjusted to the darkness, a pale, blue ray of light appeared and illuminated a microphone stand on the  stage. She swallowed hard as she came to know that she was not able to whist her sweeping blood in her veins.

Musicians didn’t play yet, but she already heard that well-known melody. She didn’t hear the singer’s silky but powerful voice that like melted chocolate flowed down to the throat, swarming across within. The artist didn’t get on the stage, but she already saw him, although, in a strange way, from the stage not from the middle of the third row.

She looked down from the middle of the stage, where the microphone stand awaited for its master. She closed her eyes, shook her head to stop that strange envision, but when she raised her eyes, she were still standing in the embrace of that blue light. When she thought it was impossible, the heartbeat was getting stronger. But that sounded differently, that was not from inside. That was not her heartbeat any longer. In that time the speakers came alive. It sounded differently than her heartbeat, but was so familiar.

The crowd came alive and sighed like one man, and then a loud shouting with joy could be heard. The tension of awaiting burst out from thousands of people. And she heard and saw all of that! But she was not one of them from the crowd, because she didn’t stand among them. She saw the excited faces in the light of the reflectors, saw them to laugh and cry and gaze at the stage … and at her.

But she saw their faces! She stood face-to-face with them! In front of them!

She was almost knocked over by the power of recognition. She stood on the stage! She, who was unable to perform to people, stood there on the stage, in front of thousands of people. She wanted to run away, but she could not do it. She could not raise her feet, found it too difficult to walk. She felt that the hot sweat of cold fear ran down on her back and she lost control over her senses.

She didn’t hear the cheering of the audience or the music anymore. There was nothing but that blue light. It was she only saw. Over that she was blind and deaf.

„Don’t give up!

It's just the weight of the world.”

A voice flew to her from the distance. The Voice! It rang to her, sang for her. Don’t give up!

She saw the crowd waving as one toward the stage, but she was interested only in the source of that voice. But the singer was nowhere to be seen.

„Don’t give up!

Because you want to be heard.”

And then she caught sight of him. He rose up under the stage like a vision. What about she dreamt before, came true. She saw the curly, brown locks; the shining, huge, brown eyes; the full lips that  formed that beautiful voice perfectly. The next second he stood in front of her and waved to the crowd, greeted the people, and continued singing. And then he moved toward her.

“Oh My God! What I am doing here? What happens now? They will throw me out! I never see him again!”

The recognition was overwhelming. She stood on the stage, but that was not for her, and she didn’t belong there. She wanted to escape, but couldn’t.

Then the singer came a little bit closer to her … and held his hand out to her.

Her senses failed. Cold flow of panic held her steadily. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to her fate.

Than a sweet spring breeze kissed her face gently. Slender, gentle, but strong fingers touched her shoulder, stroking it from top to down and up again. She opened her eyes like awaking from a dream. The song as a light breeze flew from between the singer’s lips. She felt his breath touching her lips and she shivered with pleasure. Those fingers continued to caress her shoulder, arm and waist, and she felt like melted waxwork falling to the floor, because her legs were unable to hold her any longer.

But then the man seemed to sense her faintness and grabbed her with strong hands and lifted her up. He held her with steady hand and didn’t let her to fall. He sang only to her while held her in his arms. They almost became one. She felt the smell of his perfume; his locks tickled her face: his practiced fingers were playing her body like a beautiful musical instrument.

They belonged together and couldn’t exist without each other.  They were the melody and the harmony. The singer and the microphone stand. Their sensual dance made the wonder.

The song, the singer and the mic stand :) in the story: