Exit Stage left...
To talk the talk, you must first walk the walk.
Written for the VIM 'We'z Walking on...' challenge. Word limit (350) additional Details below...
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"Blake Carson, you're next!"
My name is finally called!
I'm preparing to do something I’ve never done before—audition.
Aspirations never go away. This specific one has been with me since the dawn of time, yet nervousness is my foe, ripping my confidence to shreds.
There is no turning back. I finally have a chance to impress people in the industry. Family and friends are programmed to make you feel good. Although I appreciate their praise, it's up to the judges to determine if i'm qualified.
It takes just a few moments to reach the busy casting room full of talent scouts, most of which are sitting at a long, white, folding table. Their faces look melodramatic and blasé, possibly due to the exhaustion of endless auditions.
Bright lights accentuate the tiny stage big enough for two, king-sized beds. My eyes dart back and forth between watching where I'm going and studying the intimidating room.
This is my ticket out of the slums of Harlem...
"Mr. Carson! Do you believe you have what it takes? Don’t answer that! Just believe it! You may start whenever you’re ready.”
Relief is welcomed not to answer the question. I’m not here to talk, I’m here to dance!
With the music cued, I get into character. All is going quite well; the choreography falls into place flawlessly.
It's almost time for the finale. I dreamt it up after wondering what it would be like to walk on the moon. After many hours of practice and chronically sore legs, the end result is a dance move that defies gravity. I call it the Moonwalk. I sneak glances of the scout’s faces as I smoothly glide backwards around the stage. Their eyes come alive!
After the music ends, I’m met with growing applause, quickly followed by an offer to dance on Broadway. They don’t have to ask me twice.
I moonwalk my way out the audition with a smile that can be seen from space…
Contrary to popular belief, it was I, Blake Carson who created the Moonwalk. Not Michael Jackson, he only popularized it. Ask anyone...
And now, time for a minute of history...
About the Creator
Lamar Wiggins
Creative writer in the Northeast US who loves the paranormal, mystery, true crime, horror, humor, fantasy and poetry. Take a chance, you'll be thoroughly entertained.
"Life is Love Experienced" -LW
LDubs
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Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins30 days ago in Fiction
Comments (14)
Congratulations, Lamar! 🥳 🤩 👏🏻
Lamar, I loved this! This was inspiring and brought a smile to my face!! Nicely done!!
Can you imagine seeing that for the first time!
This scene was set to perfection! What a fun read and a bit of history!
Love it. And thanks for the history lesson.
My whole life has been a lie! Your story opened my eyes, lol. I loved both your story and the video!
Fabulous!! You ROCKED this!! I so miss him and Prince and others who died too young I love your story. Thanks for adding the video in.
Great story, it was fun to read and a unexpected history lesson, lol.
Great read! I’ve always loved the Moonwalk!🤩 Sets the scene well: ‘ "Mr. Carson! Do you believe you have what it takes? Don’t answer that! Just believe it! You may start whenever you’re ready.”
Fabulous job Lamar! You always bring electricity to your work!! BRAVO!! 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾
It's interesting that with so many things, the inventor gets recognized, but the user gets the glory. Great story, Lamar.
OMG, when I read the dreaming about walking on the moon part, I got soooo excited. BILL BAILEY! was my first thought, haha. this is such a layered and cool story. the dynamic of getting that "ticket out of the slums of harlem," gives us an interesting insight into blake's mindset. we see the perfect blend of confidence, ability, and calm in the face of high stakes, and it makes for a gripping character to read. i'm rooting for blake! the history video at the end? cherry on top. excellent challenge entry!
Great story! This line made me laugh out loud, “Family and friends are programmed to make you feel good.” Too accurate! 🤣
Heavens to murgatroyd! Thanks for the history lesson! Well-wrought!