Janet CollinsPart IV: Lights, Camera, Action!
March 3rd 2007 11:11
“Cut, Cut Cut !! What the hell was that?”
A young woman, tall, blonde and typically pretty tossed back flowing locks in mock frustration. Her silky hair and soft complexion seemed made for her well-defined yet delicate features.
“Again? Are you sure, Lucifer? I thought that one was quite good.” It was, of course, a statement of opinion and was treated as such. Lucifer never did have patience for the fanciful.
“Yes again, Audrey. Why would I waste my time saying something I didn’t mean?”
Audrey paused. A perfect reply danced, seductively across her lips, arousing a fantasy in which she may very well speak as she felt necessary. Her fantasy, however, was cut abruptly short by reality – for her time on the set, she was obliged to the whims of this man. Invariably, she settled for a snide, under-the-breath soliloquy: “You waste a lot of time talking crap.”
Her emotional turmoil had manifested itself in tracks of irrigation across her forehead.
“You right?” Phillipe - a voice of genuine concern swam vaguely into a mind consumed by thoughts of petty revenge.
“Huh.. Yeah, Phil. I’m fine.” Audrey relaxed visibly, her shoulders easing back from a slight hunch and a gentle smile playing naturally across her supple lips.
“Okay. All ready? 3, 2, 1…”
Beneath the soft hessian of the director’s chair, a phone rang – once, twice…
“Keep the cameras rolling. I won’t shoot this one again!” Lucifer’s voice rang high and echoed throughout the brightly lit studio, causing barely a stir amongst busy crew, discussing the type of coffee used in their lattes. Near the vibrant posters of yesterday’s pin-ups and on-screen prodigies, the director spoke tender words laced with honey. The scene was rich with a political cartoonist’s thick satire and it did not without recognition. Lucifer felt it too –his small stature, face aged and sick from worry and frustration, eyes bloodshot and hands unstable all in stark contrast to a voice so sickly sweet it could not have been his own.
“Okay, honey. I really have to go, this is really important. Bye b … I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m not being short. Okay… Okay. Love you too. I love you. See you. Bye.”
“And that’s a wrap. Well done, people.”
Phillipe didn’t feel finished. Nothing could feel more unfinished. What was that in Chestnut’s pocket? And why did he deny it? He had looked, and felt edgy. It was unsettling…
A young woman, tall, blonde and typically pretty tossed back flowing locks in mock frustration. Her silky hair and soft complexion seemed made for her well-defined yet delicate features.
“Again? Are you sure, Lucifer? I thought that one was quite good.” It was, of course, a statement of opinion and was treated as such. Lucifer never did have patience for the fanciful.
“Yes again, Audrey. Why would I waste my time saying something I didn’t mean?”
Audrey paused. A perfect reply danced, seductively across her lips, arousing a fantasy in which she may very well speak as she felt necessary. Her fantasy, however, was cut abruptly short by reality – for her time on the set, she was obliged to the whims of this man. Invariably, she settled for a snide, under-the-breath soliloquy: “You waste a lot of time talking crap.”
Her emotional turmoil had manifested itself in tracks of irrigation across her forehead.
“You right?” Phillipe - a voice of genuine concern swam vaguely into a mind consumed by thoughts of petty revenge.
“Huh.. Yeah, Phil. I’m fine.” Audrey relaxed visibly, her shoulders easing back from a slight hunch and a gentle smile playing naturally across her supple lips.
“Okay. All ready? 3, 2, 1…”
Beneath the soft hessian of the director’s chair, a phone rang – once, twice…
“Keep the cameras rolling. I won’t shoot this one again!” Lucifer’s voice rang high and echoed throughout the brightly lit studio, causing barely a stir amongst busy crew, discussing the type of coffee used in their lattes. Near the vibrant posters of yesterday’s pin-ups and on-screen prodigies, the director spoke tender words laced with honey. The scene was rich with a political cartoonist’s thick satire and it did not without recognition. Lucifer felt it too –his small stature, face aged and sick from worry and frustration, eyes bloodshot and hands unstable all in stark contrast to a voice so sickly sweet it could not have been his own.
“Okay, honey. I really have to go, this is really important. Bye b … I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m not being short. Okay… Okay. Love you too. I love you. See you. Bye.”
****
“And that’s a wrap. Well done, people.”
Phillipe didn’t feel finished. Nothing could feel more unfinished. What was that in Chestnut’s pocket? And why did he deny it? He had looked, and felt edgy. It was unsettling…
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Comment by katyzzz
Photography Tips
MS Paint Art
It seems to me that you are writing for a boutique market, am I right or am I wrong?
You are very clever.
katyzzz
Comment by AnthonyB
I've also resigned myself to the fact it may not be particularly good, either. Creative writing is hard
I hope it gets better, and thank you for the compliments. You are far too kind.
Thanks again;
Anthony