Post by Wylde Hunt on Jul 9, 2017 15:10:23 GMT -6
It was unreal to be here.
Bulgaria to begin with, five-thousand-six-hundred miles from home.
On the other side of the curtain four-thousand people were waiting.
Four-thousand and one.
The one really mattered but the lump in Honey´s stomach did not feel like a bar of lead because of the Irishman.
Nothing she had ever done had ever prepared Honey for this moment. It was wonderful and it was scary as fuck. Dreaming about that one big breakthrough was one thing. Actually being on the threshold of it was a totally different best. Honey started to think about the million things that could go wrong, about the awkward silence when the entrance theme didn´t play, the moment someone tells you it had all been a big joke cooked up by your friends and you weren´t going to wrestle after all, the moment you wake up and it was all a dream and you back in your bed in Birmingham scheduled to wrestle some fat punk with questionable hygiene in Pocahontas Town, Kansas.
But the curtain felt real. The noises from the other side sounded real.
It was all happening or it was the best fraggin´ dream Honey ever had.
Johnny Burnett´s guitar kicked in, Train Kept A Rollin´was on.
No more excuses, no more worries.
Honey stepped through the curtain into a whole new world.
Bulgaria to begin with, five-thousand-six-hundred miles from home.
On the other side of the curtain four-thousand people were waiting.
Four-thousand and one.
The one really mattered but the lump in Honey´s stomach did not feel like a bar of lead because of the Irishman.
Nothing she had ever done had ever prepared Honey for this moment. It was wonderful and it was scary as fuck. Dreaming about that one big breakthrough was one thing. Actually being on the threshold of it was a totally different best. Honey started to think about the million things that could go wrong, about the awkward silence when the entrance theme didn´t play, the moment someone tells you it had all been a big joke cooked up by your friends and you weren´t going to wrestle after all, the moment you wake up and it was all a dream and you back in your bed in Birmingham scheduled to wrestle some fat punk with questionable hygiene in Pocahontas Town, Kansas.
But the curtain felt real. The noises from the other side sounded real.
It was all happening or it was the best fraggin´ dream Honey ever had.
Johnny Burnett´s guitar kicked in, Train Kept A Rollin´was on.
No more excuses, no more worries.
Honey stepped through the curtain into a whole new world.
