You walk right into the centre of the stage, into the middle of the large circle marked on the floor. From here you can see everything, or nearly; you resist the urge to shout a ‘hello’ to test the acoustics of the room.
There is something about being on a stage that makes a person incredibly self-conscious of their actions. You twirl on the spot, then bow to an imaginary audience. That’s when you hear a groaning, a cracking, coming from right beneath your feet.
You look down, only to see hairline cracks spreading out from directly beneath you towards the edges of the stage. The wood groans, the cracks deepen and part to expose blackness underneath. The stage is collapsing.
“Help!” The word is barely out of your mouth before the floor crumbles entirely beneath you. Your hand catches against a wooden beam as you fall; you cling on to it but the wood pricks needle-like into your skin and then gives way with a horrifying snap.
Plunging down into darkness, the last thought you have is at least you’ve made it below ground once more.
THE END. (Try again?)