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Folwren quietly walks onto the stage. The lights are low, and one, white light shines on her. Her dress is long, flowing, and of a simple pattern, though the simplicity only brings out the beauty more. Her black hair frames the pale, lit face like an ebony picture frame. As she reaches the center, she lifts her eyes and looks out at the people.*
Friends, I have not come to perform again. I come to withdraw myself from of the contest. I'm sorry if I disappoint anyone, and I appreciate what votes I got. I know there weren't many, and I don't want anyone to believe that I'm stepping out because I think I'll loose. On the contrary. From the support I've gotten from the judges, and the idea that I have in my head that could be used for the next song, I think I would go on for another round at least. There are other reasons I am not going to sing for you again. Those reasons will go unsaid, however. I do not want to insult or offend anyone by voicing them, and I fear that if I did, they would both insult and offend.
I'm also sorry to say that those same reasons will keep me from voting for any of the contestants. I'm sorry for that, too, as there have been songs I like sung already.
Good luck to everyone, though.
Folwren bows gracefully and silently walks from the stage.
*Do not be deceived by what I wrote concerning hair, face, or eyes. The 'Folwren' in this is based not upon me but upon one of my characters from a book.
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