My friends did follow – trust them. The backstage wasn't a door anyone could just stroll through. My friends, bless their well-meaning hearts, trailed after me like ducklings chasing after a mama duck. We were almost to the entrance, we could already see glimpses of performers flitting around the edges of the curtain, and the buzz of chatter carried through like bees in a hive.
Almost there, I thought but suddenly, a figure draped in black materialized in front of us. We hadn't seen him coming too. It was none other than Pastor All Black and his obsidian aura practically swallowed the hallway as he planted himself like a monolith in our path.
"Where do you think you're going?" His voice scraped across my nerves.
My friends had already begun to cower and stammer beside me. Suddenly, "Just, uh, cheering on our friends.—"
"Yeah, nothing suspicious, sir!"
"We wanted to go say hi to a friend who is a performer, sir."
