Only the beginning
This is my concept for a new story I am thinking of writing, however I want it to be completely, if not mostly, in first person perspective. Now this will be hard to achieve, and Im still deciding if I should do it or not. Even if I dont get enough people saying I should do it, I still might write the rest of the story, and even start again, in third person. So.... enjoy I guess, and please leave helpful comments below. Also, I might continue this into a series if the first story kicks off, and who knows... I might even get a kind comic drawer, *cough cough* to do this story in comic form. But never the less I hope you enjoy the first part of the story, and... Yeah. Thanks!
11:36: pm, Tuesday 6/7/08 Studio 9 Walking through that door, still brings up butterflies in my stomach, I really wish I wasnt here, not tonight at least. Why couldnt I put this off? Why cant I just procrastinate with this like I do with a lot of things in my life? I cant... not now anyway. Ever since I went for that acting job position ten years ago, thats whats made my life in-escapable.
"... and now can you give a warm welcome to the one and only... Mr. Simones!" Larry Berg, the host of the late night show called out. Without even thinking, I started to walk out onto the stage, waving at the crowd, smiling as the bright lights of the studio blinded me. Oh this chair feels so comfortable; it reminds me of the chair I used to have back in university. I have had that chair a lot longer mind you; I can still remember getting it as if it was yesterday. Dads work place had folded, they went bankrupt, and this seemed to be a ritual for my dad. Work for a company for six months, have it go broke, and then get free stuff from the office. It was a small chair, it was green, round, and most people tended to lay on the arms. But not me, I treated the chair with respect, it was so comfortable, it was the only thing I had taken from home. And the chair Im in reminds me so much of that chair, it makes me feel safe.
"... Threat One, The Cat next door, Captain Bishop, and countless action thrillers that have kept the audience on the edge of their seats. How do you manage to do it time and time again?" I can hear Larry talking, and I can even hear myself talking, but it doesnt feel like me, its not me. But I have said something that must be funny, the audience is laughing. And staring, they are looking into my soul, judging me from every aspect, the opinions like knifes to my heart, I cant let these people down, its my job. The faces of the audience, they are whispering, whispering about everything I have done. But not good things, they know, they know my darkest secrets, my worst fears, how can they pear into my soul?
"So Robert, can I call you Robert? I just nodded without realising it. How has your past influenced your current career?" How did that slimy little rat know my secrets? Just looking at Larry is making me sick. His long whiskers, his grey rat fur, his long pinkish tail captivating my interest. No, stay focused Robert, just answer him and then we can leave this place of discomfort. Just focus on the chair Robert, think of those days when life was simpler. And we have time for just one more question, and well pick someone from the audience... a black Doberman wearing a shirt that said staff is walking up to one of the audience members, and is giving them a microphone. The lights, they are too bright, I cant see who is talking, but that voice, I have heard it before, but from where? "Robert, Who was your first lover, and how old where you?" They know, its over. That person knows me, and they know my secret, but who is it?
This chair is so comfortable, but Im not answering the question, I need to think of something clever, quickly. "Ok well we need to cut to an add break, but dont go away and well find out the answer to this question." Larry said. I want to punch him in that brown nose of his, he knows too much. But we are on an add break now, and I dont want to be here anymore, Im leaving.