Screams, wailing, people going head over heels; it was like a joyous massacre inside the hall. The decoration was a mixture of gold and white, everybody dress code followed thus. They all looked exquisite that evening as the voice came from the gigantic speakers, filling the populated room.
“And the winner of the script writer of the year goes to……. Kelvin Abbey”
I stood up with dignity but yet kept looking down as I made my way to the stage. The award was as heavy as the title, me, best script writer. It was a marvel beyond my expectation. For all those who stop believing in themselves, seeing me standing here is enough to make you believe that dreams do come true.
The after party was glamorous, pretty; God I mean awesome ladies filled the room.
There were drinks of all sorts, as the actors and actress lifted me off the ground screaming and singing “stand up, stand up, for the champion, for the champion”.
Yet in the midst of all the merry, in the midst of all the beautiful things of this world, in the middle of that dream come true, all I see is my weakness.