Torn Curtain

I watch from behind the torn curtain. Minutes pass. I hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall in front of me. The pitch-black room closes in on me.

I hear soft footsteps coming towards me. As I peer through the ripped material, my eye darts from right to left, scanning as much of the room as possible. I crouch lower in case Esh sees my eye. The footsteps stop.

I raise my body, eye level with the opening in the curtain. The air, heavy, sucks at my breath. My lungs narrow. I take in a short breath. My whole body shakes, my skin crawls. I rub my arms to smooth out the goose bumps.

Is it Esh? I can’t see. I hear soft footsteps, again. My heart races; beating against my ribs. My blood rushes, pulsates – pounding my eardrums. Will Esh find me? The tap of feet cease their contact with the floor. I hold my breath. I let it out slow, quiet. My forehead beads. I should run.

The drapes glide to the left in slow motion. I raise my eyes to the dark form towering me. Esh glares, his gaze stabs my heart. Oh no. It’s him. He's going to kill me.

Black-coal eyes afire with hate pierce my soul. I dash to the right of him, but his gloved hand grabs my arm and pulls me to his chest. He grabs my neck with his viselike claws. He squeezes pressing his fingers into my throat. I gasp. He jerks me to the left, then right; my head bobs, rolls and flops backward. I drop to the floor.

I lay there on the cold-planked floor. Seconds pass. I wait. I don't hear anything except heavy breathing.

Then, I hear applause. Esh grabs my arm. I’m under his spell, he pulls me towards him. I allow him to lift me from the floor. I have no choice.

More clapping. We bow in unison, raking in the applause, hearing, “bravo, encore". I scan the crowd, glance over at Esh, smile and bow again.