The_Unexpected

DRAFT ONE It was like a picture out of one of them Mills and Boons books. It was a flawless, balmy midsummer’s night evening with just a hint of a breeze. And I was standing in the queue that snaked around an entire block for the So You Think You Got Talent talent show Finale. I took a deep breath in and instantaneously felt the air that was filled with the heady sense of promises and success. As a veteran of entertainment shows I find shows like these entertaining and spectacular but in the recent past I have not witnessed anything grand that has captivated me. But as I looked up into the starlit skyline I noticed a shooting star flash discreetly above and I wondered whose dream was going to be a reality. Eventually I held the flimsy piece of paper that granted me access to a live show case of wishful performers. Suddenly I was on the ground and in a tangle of limbs with someone who was in frenzy and an obvious state of tardiness. This vagabond looking- being barley mumbled an apology and flurry made his way towards his desination, as I watched him go through the performers entrance I convinced myself that it could never be. I got to my feet, still shell-shocked, and imagined the scene backstage…crew fighting the clock and the contestants with sweaty hands and pounding hearts who will jump at any utterance directed at them for they are all waiting in line for that “You’re next!” I continued on my journey towards my allocated seat which was, thankfully, quite uneventful. The judges were out in full force and would have put the most sarcastic and heatless critics to shame. You couldn’t blame them I, myself, for most part of the show was shaking my head with despair and cringing. Subject to a series of Elvis impersonators which made me think I was in Vegas and then the Michael Jackson- moonwalker wannabe’s. Then came the hopeless singers and talentless dancers. Finally it was time for the last act; relief filled every cell of mine. The drum roll played out. The audience fell to a hush. There was pin drop silence in the arena. The lights were dimmed. His footsteps rang clear when the made contact with the cold marble floor. Total silence. Everyone holding their breath consciously and unconsciously. The spotlight shone down on him. I gasped. It was my vagrant creature. How this tramp made it to the stage and in the spotlight was incredulous. And I wasn’t alone. The proof was in the pudding. His crumpled shirt looked like it had curry stains on it. He clearly did not wear a tie to school for it looked horrendous. There was an unidentifiable object hanging of his pocket and the pants was two sizes too big. The matt and fur was evidence that the barber was not on speed-dial. And then he started singing… It was an angel from the heavens above had played their music. The strong vocal chords rang through the arena. The energy and power that radiated from him was extraordinary.