Liam

Allen sat in the green room, his guitar case resting by his side. The room buzzed with nervous energy as the other contestants prepared for their big moments, each lost in their own world of last-minute practice, vocal warm-ups, or quiet self-reflection. It was a strange mix of tension and camaraderie—everyone was here to compete, but they all knew the nerves each one of them was feeling.

Allen glanced around the room. He didn't recognize most of the faces, but that wasn't surprising. The competition had attracted musicians from all over, and though some of them had a local presence, most of the people in the room were relative unknowns, just like him. The pressure was palpable, but so was the excitement.

There was a girl sitting near the far corner, tuning her acoustic guitar. She had an air of calm confidence about her, like she had done this a thousand times before. Her fingers moved deftly across the strings, barely looking at what she was doing, her eyes closed as she listened to the subtle changes in tone. She didn't seem nervous at all. Allen envied her poise.

To his left, a guy in a leather jacket with spiky blonde hair was adjusting a pedal board, muttering to himself as he tweaked the settings on his electric guitar. He looked like the kind of guy who played loud, fast music—the kind that would get the crowd going but probably wouldn't impress the more serious judges.

Allen could feel his own nerves creeping up on him again. The idea of competing against all these talented people was starting to feel more real, more daunting. But before he could dwell too much on it, the door to the green room swung open and a tall guy with a broad smile stepped in. His hair was messy, but in a deliberate, rockstar kind of way, and he carried himself with the confidence of someone who had been performing for years.

"Yo," the guy said, addressing no one in particular as he plopped down on a chair nearby. "Anyone else feel like we're about to walk into the lion's den?"

Allen couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, something like that."

The guy grinned at him, extending a hand. "I'm Liam. You look like you've got your head screwed on straight. How you feeling?"

"Allen," he said, shaking Liam's hand. "I'm good, I guess. A little nervous, but who isn't?"

"Right?" Liam laughed. "I mean, we all say we're ready, but deep down, we're all like, 'Holy crap, what if I choke?'" He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. "But hey, if we didn't care, we wouldn't be here, right?"

Allen nodded, appreciating the sentiment. Liam seemed like the type who could keep things light even in a high-pressure situation. His laid-back attitude was kind of infectious, and Allen felt his nerves ease just a little.

"So, what kind of stuff do you play?" Liam asked.

"Mostly singer-songwriter stuff. Acoustic, mellow, a little bit of folk, I guess," Allen said, scratching the back of his head. "You?"

"Rock. All the way." Liam's eyes lit up as he said it. "Big riffs, loud drums, the whole shebang. But hey, I respect anyone who can get up there and perform their heart out, no matter the genre."

Allen smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed. "Good luck with it, man."

"You too," Liam said, nodding before turning to adjust his gear.

As Allen sat back, the door opened again, and a tall girl with bright red hair walked in, carrying a violin case. She gave the room a quick glance, her sharp eyes taking in the scene before she found a chair and sat down near the center. She seemed intense, focused, like she was already in competition mode.

"Wow," Liam muttered, catching Allen's eye. "She looks like she's here to take us all out."

Allen smirked. "She probably is."

"Good thing I'm not intimidated," Liam said with a grin, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise.

As more contestants filed into the green room, the chatter grew, with people making small talk or sharing stories about their musical journeys. Allen found himself talking to a few others, learning that some had traveled from out of state just for the competition, while others were local talents hoping to make a name for themselves in the bigger scene. Everyone had their own story, their own reasons for being there, and it was clear that no one had come to play it safe.

A guy with long dreadlocks and an easygoing smile sat down next to Allen and introduced himself as Jay.

"You ready for this?" Jay asked, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

"I hope so," Allen replied, feeling the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling up again. "You?"

Jay nodded slowly. "Yeah. Been working on my stuff for a while now. Feels like the right time to put it all out there, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," Allen said, thinking about how much time and effort he'd put into his own music. "What kind of stuff do you play?"

"A little bit of everything, man. Soul, reggae, some hip-hop influences. I like to mix it up, keep things interesting."

"Sounds cool," Allen said, genuinely intrigued. He could already tell that the competition was going to have a wide variety of styles, and that was both exciting and nerve-wracking. It meant the judges would have to compare apples to oranges in some cases, and Allen wasn't sure how his acoustic style would stack up against more eclectic or polished acts.

As the minutes ticked by, the energy in the room shifted. The casual conversations started to die down, replaced by a heavier, more focused atmosphere. People were going over their setlists, practicing in their heads, or zoning out completely as they mentally prepared for what was coming. The tension was palpable, and Allen could feel his nerves creeping back in.

Suddenly, a woman with a clipboard stepped into the room and called out, "Group one, you're up. Follow me."

A group of about six musicians stood up, some of them looking more confident than others. Allen wasn't in this group, but watching them file out of the room made his heart race a little faster. His turn was coming, and the reality of it was hitting him harder by the second.

Liam gave Allen a thumbs-up as he stood to join the first group, his confident grin never wavering. "Catch you after, man. Let's see what you've got."

"Good luck," Allen called after him.

The door closed behind them, leaving the rest of the room in silence. Now that the competition had officially started, the atmosphere grew even more charged. Allen could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but he tried to stay calm. This was what he had been working toward. This was his chance.

He glanced around the room at the remaining contestants. Some were pacing, others were completely still, lost in their own thoughts. Everyone was dealing with the pressure in their own way, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were here to win.

Allen took a deep breath and focused on what he needed to do. His guitar was ready, his voice was warmed up, and his setlist was solid. Now, it was just a matter of getting on stage and delivering the best performance of his life.

The door opened again, and the woman with the clipboard called out, "Group two, you're next."

This was it. Allen stood, grabbing his guitar case and taking a final deep breath. The nerves were still there, but now they were mixed with something else—determination. He had worked too hard to let this moment slip by. He was ready to show them what he could do.

As he followed the others out of the green room and toward the stage, his mind cleared. It was time to put everything on the line. The competition had begun, and Allen was ready to face it head-on.