Ticking Clock

I run back to my podium but before I can take even one step the voice calls out from the darkness below “stop” and all hurried movement around me comes to an abrupt halt. The lights some up around us again as the director of this mayhem shakes his head and addresses the pair standing on the upper platform. I sigh quietly, relived that it is not me this time

“have you even read the play?”

“do you know your lines?”
are some of the comments I hear but my attention is taken by the young man beside me who mutters bitter comments under his breath and I struggle not to laugh. We only have two and a half more weeks before we do this for real. I am not yet in a panic but I can feel it building on the set each time we arrive. Time is ticking away and I can only hope that when the time comes we can hide from his wrath and muddle on in a way the audience will not spot.

If only I can get the damned accent right!

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