Behind The Scene Novels & Stories

“We’re behind schedule.” Behind schedule was the anthem of the night. It carried me forward before my mind could catch up. I let myself be pulled. We moved fast through the narrow corridors backstage, past racks of garments sealed in plastic, makeup artists crouched on stools, models pacing with eyes closed and lips moving silently as if rehearsing bravery. Orders were barked in three languages. Music throbbed faintly through the walls, a distant heartbeat. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded as we turned a corner.

The energy backstage was electric. I peeked through the curtain. The theater was filling up. I saw Lily in the front row with Aria. I saw Sophia and Claire sitting together. Richard Shaw was there. Agent Park and her wife. Victoria and the Nott Designs team. Dr. Chen from the museum. Survivors from the Reborn Foundation. Everyone who mattered. And Marcus. In the very front. Camera ready. Waiting to document my final bow. The lights dimmed. Music started playing. My heart pounded so hard I thought everyone could hear it.

Narrowing her eyes in confusion, Desiree went back to her seat and sat down with the others here for the interview. As the man arrived through the hallway, many people surrounded him at once, informing him of today's projects and other supposedly important things. Curiosity piqued in Desiree, and she tried to catch his glimpse, but the crowd around him didn't let her. Soon, he was out of her sight, and everybody released the breath they were holding in unison. Is it too late to run now? For the next few minutes, Desiree kept sitting there like a statue, too anxious to even breathe. After about fifteen minutes, her name was called for the interview, and her heart started racing in her chest.

Hours went by, activities were unfolded and slowly the event came to an end gradually. "Next up, would be a short clip from Gold Fox's new rookies," the host said, he walked away from the stage, the large red curtain at the stage was gradually and slowly pulled open, a large big screen stretching from one end of the stage to the other came into view, glowing with a brilliant intensity as the lights around the hall dimmed. The chatter of the crowd slowly died down as they all turned their attention toward the massive screen at the front of the room. As the screen flickered to live, a hush fell over the crowd. The image on the screen was crystal clear, with vivid colors and sharp details that

"Stage plots?" "Here," I turned to the tab marked "Scene 7." "I copied my diagrams of the blocking for you. I've broken the scenes down into beats, as best I could. Your movements are marked in blue. I figured maybe the reason you were struggling with blocking might be that you were having trouble seeing the forest for the trees. Instead of notes in a script, maybe this will help give you a different perspective." He traced the colored drawings with his finger. "You did all this?"

The thought made my hand shake, and the cake fork slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I was about to pick it up, but Jerry was already on his way out. "Pack business came up. I'll drive you another time," he said, then he was gone. Alone, I headed to the clinic on crutches. Somehow, I felt all those eyes on me, heavy with pity. On my way to the medication room to grab some medication, I overheard whispers from inside.

The VIPs who had been mocking Luke and me just moments ago stood frozen, mouths hanging open. Crescent Bay fell into a strange, suffocating silence. I reached out and helped Archer to his feet. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly across the beach. "You've worked hard, Archer. Lock down Crescent Bay. I don't want a single image or sound from today leaking out. Am I clear?" Archer snapped his head up, his voice sharp and resolute. "Yes, sir. You have my word. No one who talks about today will walk away from it."

Was my presence a jinx or was this God’s way of telling me that i shouldn’t take this job? To be honest, i was crushing out on myself, having a panic attack and an anxiety breakdown all at once. I had to put myself together and be strong because no one was around to help me with that. Yes, this is very rare, but that also means the security team would work extremely fast to get this elevator to work, I reassured myself.

Helena peeked in with a warm smile, followed by Greg balancing a tray of pancakes and juice, and Leo carrying a speaker on his shoulder like a hype man. “No one’s allowed to be nervous on an empty stomach,” Greg announced. Helena placed a soft scarf around Tessy's neck. “For warmth... and luck.” “You guys,” Tessy whispered, voice cracking. Leo grinned. “We’re not just your support system, Tess. We’re your fan club. VIP section, front row.” Tessy exhaled, finally smiling. “Okay. Let’s go win this thing.” Scene – Springfield Auditorium, Afternoon Backstage buzzed with activity. Finalists warmed up their voices, producers checked sound, and stagehands darted around like bees. Tessy stood in fro

So I moved. I slipped out of my seat and headed for the side exit before the crowd could fully regroup. Security noticed me but didn’t stop me. They knew my face. They knew who I was. They also knew better. The doors closed behind me, and the noise dropped to a dull hum. Backstage smelled different. Fabric. Heat. Coffee that had gone cold hours ago. It wasn’t calm, but it was quieter. All I could see was controlled chaos everywhere. Crew members rushed past with headsets pressed to their ears. Assistants whispered into phones, their eyes darting everywhere. Models stood near garment racks, pretending not to stare while clearly doing so.