Stagefright — a short story for English reading and speaking

It was easy, Ray told himself. There was nothing to it.

All the others had done it. He could do it too.

Standing at the side of the stage, he stared out at the vast, empty space. Bill Martinez was speaking. Ray could not understand a word he was saying. The sound seemed distorted, echoing through the venue as if he were shouting into a tunnel.

“It’s the angle of the speakers,” said Bill, before he had gone on stage himself. “They are directed to the audience, so from where we are standing, we can’t hear anything at all.”

Ray took little relief from this. He had never liked the sound of his own voice. Any time he heard his own voice in a message or on one of the training videos they had to do at work, he always sounded like he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

He didn’t like the way he looked.

He had shifty eyes. It made him look untrustworthy. Unreliable. At best, someone that could not do the job. At worst, the kind of person that would stab you in the back and pull the ladder up.

The audience out front burst into laughter.

Ray jolted. He tilted his head to get a glimpse of them. Bill by the mic, a self-deprecating smile on his face. A shrug of the shoulders. Ray could only make out the first row of people. Their teeth shone white and gleamed under the lights. Their eyes cartoon-like and freakish.

He shrank back into the shadows.

Soon it would be Ray’s turn to speak. He would have to go out there and speak.

He looked behind him. A light tech stood to the side. He wore a bored expression on his face. He didn’t want to be here either. But not out of the same sense of fear and sheer terror that Ray had in his chest. No, this guy found all of this tedious. This was no fun for him.

His jaw chewed at the gum in his mouth in a meditative rhythm and his eyes stared out, not focusing on anything at all.

Another laugh from the crowd. This one bigger and accompanied by some cheers and a smattering of applause.

Ray jerked his head to find Bill. Where was he?

He had taken the mic out of the stand and walked to the far end of the stage.

Confidence oozed from him.

He was in control. He looked so at ease. He was like one of those seasoned stand-up comedians who just knows, absolutely knows, how to control the audience. He owned them. They were sitting right in his pocket.

The way he moved. A slight swagger. The crooked grin. It worked like a charm.

They loved him and they wanted more.

When Ray goes out there, they will hate him. He knew that much.

They will clear their throats in embarrassment for him. He will stand on the stage and stare back into the big, dark space and mumble and bumble through his lines and no one will understand what he is saying as he stops to clear his throat and wipes a bead of sweat from his face.

A tap at his shoulder and Ray jumped out of his skin.

It was the stage manager. A woman who chain-smoked and wore a permanent look of disdain on her face.

“You’re up next,” she said.

Ray stopped breathing. His hand clutched at his chest. Maybe he could tell her he was not ready? Maybe he could just slip away?

And if his manager asked him on Monday morning where he had gone, he could say that he felt ill. He had to go to the bathroom. He was vomiting.

Or he could just not go to work on Monday and leave the company altogether. He could find a new job. Jobs were scarce these days, but he could do anything. Clean the streets, work in a factory, drive a taxi. Anything.

His wife would hate it and go mad. She would probably leave him, take the kids and go and live with her mother. But all of that was better than going out onto the stage.

The audience let out a roaring cheer. They clapped and applauded and then a second wave of cheering.

Bill stood in front of them, doing that half nod/half bow motion, smiling back at them. Then he raised his hand and waved at them and turned to walk off the stage.

“Let him off first,” said the stage manager, her breath reeking of cigarettes. “Then they will announce you. I will give you the nod when to walk on. Piece of cake.”

Suddenly, Ray’s throat constricted. He needed water. He needed a bucket of water.

Bill came into view and gave Ray a grin.

“They’re a great crowd out there tonight,” he said. He tapped Ray on his upper arm. “Go out there and do your thing.”

He brushed past the stage manager, and the tech guy pointed a finger at him.

“Good job, man,” he said.

“Okay,” said the stage manager. “You’re up in about thirty.”

A voice boomed out from above. The Voice of God. It sounded ominous and threatening. Like it was about to strike down with fury and wreak havoc upon the tuxedoed masses below.

“And fifteen…”

Now, we have a very special speaker talking to you about the importance of product design, Mr Ray…

Ray could not hear the rest of the introduction. His throat was stuffed full of wires. He couldn’t swallow.

“And you’re up.” The stage manager pushed him between his shoulder blades onto the stage.

Ray could not feel his legs. They moved but did not belong to him.

He walked towards the mic stand. The audience gave him some polite applause.

He came to the mic and turned. There, in front of him, hundreds of people waiting to hear him speak.

Ray’s hand reached up to his throat. He tried to clear the thick glob of fear stuck in his throat, but nothing came out.

He opened his mouth to speak.

The audience glared back at him.

None of them smiling.