Asyiqin: Directed Writing

The crowd burst suddenly into a mighty roar. I found myself blindly screaming at the top of my voice but it sounded like a mere squeak compared to the cries of exhilaration from the sweaty crowd. The humongous screens hovering over the stage showed, finally, the face of the mysterious, long-awaited figure. As soon as he moved his lips to start his first song, the crowd silenced themselves as if a dagger was thrust upon each and every one of them, a dagger granting sudden death. His tender, husky voice was like a gentle breeze which blew them away from the clammy, cramped confines of the crowd and into the baby blue sky where they felt free and strangely enlightened. The crowd was brought back into the suffocating reality when their hero paused to acknowledge and study the crowd with deep, amber eyes as if he was determined to achieve a certain goal. They waited in anticipation. He continued and they were lost in the melody of his voice yet again.