Lime Green Eyes

Creeeeeek.

Floorboards shiver and groan under feet, not necessarily yours. Over time, while your body's been growing physically, your ears have been growing to learn the sounds each board, every step, makes with a given amount of weight. Using common logic, you tell yourself that the dark is nothing but an absence of light: no monsters, creatures, or claws could be lurking within them.
But those eerie sounds, and suspicious shadows crawling across your walls tells a different story. What if...what if there is some ferocious beast just behind the closet door, that's taking it's time in opening the door, inch by inch until you go mad. What if some slimy, shark toothed lizard is snoozing under your bed, inches from your tasty ankles. Waiting for you to dangle them teasingly over the edge, so it could crunch the fragile bones, and suck out the marrow within.
One could possibly be the shadows itself. Maybe it jumps in your room to gobble up the lights so his friends can party through the night, pillaging your mind. It's furry, midnight black skin, and beedy, lime green eyes staring from eight or nine feet in the air grinning to show off missing teeth. My oh my, he'd think out loud, don't you look scrumptious...

Black Sunflowers and Green Roses

I love theater.

Then again, who doesn't? The flash of a spotlight in your eyes, the stares of hundreds (or thousands if you're lucky) to fill you entirely with adrenaline and the desperate hope that you won't ruin an entire show somehow. Even if the part in the play isn't huge, and you may only get a handful of lines, if any, it's still exciting. You spend weeks or months prepping yourself for the unpredictable, but nothing really settles in your brain until those curtains are pulled back, the lights are directed to you, and silence fills the room. 

You feel like the center of the world for the briefest amount of time, kind of like a celebrity. You almost don't want to get off stage, out of costume, and go be the real person you are afterward. From the looks on everyone else's faces, they don't really want to either. 

Flowers that you're given feel awkward in your hands, as if they were props for a scene rather than the sword from your play. Yeah, that felt like home, like...reality. Modern clothes on everybody seems almost comical for a few minutes, and their plain faces look peculiar. The martian people they were but minutes ago looked more natural, with their silly hats and clothes.

It takes time to remember that it was just a play; maybe you don't put two and two together until you step outside and are greeted by the air, and lights from the parking lot. Welcome, it says gently, as if waking you from a trance. 

Oh, you reply. 

Then silently you get in a car, and drive off, away from the theater.

You want to know if you'll be in another play, with another chance to perform, and let yourself slip into another character's shoes, even if just for a handful of lines...