An excerpt from my upcoming novel where an author has an unusual opportunity to work with her muse in a new film based on her earlier writings. Though excited at the chance to work with him, she soon realizes the danger of a man’s ego mixed with the bright light of stardom.
Knock
Christine shot up, a flat sheet falling down to reveal her bare breasts. She didn’t move.
‘Just the house settling….’
She lay down again and shifted bringing the satin material back over her turned shoulder.
Knock knock……KNOCK
Her eyes were the only thing she could control, her body failing her ability to face the now-confirmed intruder. Christine held her breath but within seconds her lungs ached and forced it out with a shudder. The knocking had stopped but a metallic clink filled the vacuum the rapping had made. The knob clunked in its socket and groaned as the intruder pressed their entire weight into the efforts. Moaning, the iron bulb bent to its will and released itself from the doorframe; sending its partner on the other side to fall to the bedroom floor with a crack. Christine heard a giggle quickly smothered by the creak of the hinges.
They were now inside. Christine could feel the air mold onto her skin as it cling to her warmth; desperate for the heat that was being sucked away by this new entity present.
She waited. No footsteps followed the door being opened. She could only hear her breaths and the lack of theirs. Her body’s final betrayal was when it lifted itself up to finally look at this haunting figure. They had stepped through the door frame and were now looking at her from its entrance. Its elbows met the top of the frame and trailing up the length of its arms, Christine found a blackened shadow covering its face. The edges of its entire body were blurred as it vibrated with a now low hum. She could see no structure to look at beyond the shadow but she felt it watching her. No identity behind this figure but it hated her all the same. After a moment her heart could not take any more of looking into that void. She snapped her gaze back down to the floor, keeping her back erect all the while. The sound of it stalking towards her reached her well before its feet came into view. They were disgustingly large and strained against the fabric of the suede grey shoe it wore. Christine grew ill as the figure began to sway, all the while keeping their feet planted. Its ankles curved at the juncture of its bones together in one direction towards the left and then back towards the right. She continued to stare as the limb’s juncture began to bulge so far that she worried it would break the base of its own leg. She wondered if the skin of this creature were to be punctured, would she see red blood and ivory bone? Or would their insides be shrouded in black just as its outward appearance did? She gagged. Just as she had, the creature snagged her chin, encasing her mouth and the bottom edge of her nostrils in its hands. Christine waited, with eyes begging, and the moon from her skylight shone dimly across her eyes. Stars danced in her tears forming in the brims of them. The skin of its fingers was clammy, with each exposing a slight wetness that dribbled out from underneath the nailbeds, slickening onto her jaw to eventually dribble down the cavern in her neck. Her tooth was pulsing now as the skin of this being was so devoid of heat, that her own was siphoned through it.
Around the bend of its free hand, Christine now heard a faint metallic whir – not fast but clearly a rushed manual twisting of gears. A glimmer of puzzlement but familiarity mixed into Christine’s gaze at the interruption of their silence. Her ears straining, and Christine focused on where she had heard this noise before. A third, fourth, and fifth twist-
‘No….Oh god, no!’ Christine’s internal screams echoed throughout her body. Stretching from the base of her skull down to the top of her right tooth where she had felt the blinding pain once before. Far off in her past, under the hateful gaze of her caregiver. In that kitchen the yellow tile paired to wallpaper patterned with vines and berries over a white void. She had just nearly escaped from that nightmare as her blood splattered over the fruit and now it seemed her monster had followed her home.
The gangly hand pressed her chin down to open her mouth. Christine winced and the light covering her eyes now as a mask of false divinity found more tears produced by the audible pop in either ear. The scrape of bone against bone as her jaw left its socket. Her pupils nearly blown to the edges could only stay on her attacker’s gaze for another moment. They were soon fixated as the silver wrench was brought to fit snugly in the cavity of her mouth; clamped onto the cleft of her palette. Her smothered sobs had transformed into a gaping gash of shrieks and screams as she felt the flex of her embedded bone. Each nerve in her tooth was stretched up towards the base of her nose until the enamel moaned along with its host. The wrench ground the outer layer of her mouth as it continued to twist. Christine tasted the familiar tang of blood as her lip and palate began to pulverize under the force. Her skin burned around the assault and without another moment to breathe, the wrench had won its battle. The foundation her tooth rested in broke and allowed the bone to be forced deeper into the tissue. At least that which remained as the majority of her bone had ripped from the root and swung upward. Christine felt her throat constrict but no sound rang out from it. Her eyes pressed shut and the gathered tears flooded her cheeks. The salt and iron mixed flowing down her face and into the rest of her mouth. She felt a brisk shove of her chin and the back of her head collided with her pillows.
She was unable to move. She was unable to breathe. She was unable to fight the relief she felt as her blood and carnage clotted in the back of her throat; moments away from being free of the pain her inescapable monster had wrought on her once again.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Samuel slammed the drafted pages to be transformed into the final part of their script down onto the cold concrete. He leaped from his cloth and wooden chair, flying towards the red shed structure on the other side of the set. Utilizing the corner, he spun around the building to find author Amelia. Startled by his sudden appearance, she stood with shoulders scrunched towards her ears and with curled pages in her own hands, clenched in a tight fist, and the top edge of them fitted over her chin covering her mouth as a shield. Henry was a few paces in front of her and had turned to see what all the commotion was. Once he saw Samuel, the scriptor widened his arms blocking the actor’s path to her. Samuel’s chest collided with Henry’s now-raised hand. The two strained for power over the other, shoulders coming flush in the most angered embrace Amelia had witnessed in a long time. Samuel settled in his confided state with a huff and shot his attention back to her.
“How could you?!” He yelled with a line of spit following as punctuation. He bared his teeth and continued, “Why would you make my character so horrible? I thought I inspired you! And now…now…now you’ve turned me into a monster that has been terrorizing a broken child for twenty-fucking-years!”
“You know my stance on this”, her entire form was trembling as spoke through the paper, “you know we can’t have the audience see you. So we had to get creative on how we captured the terror of recognizing you are about to be killed!”
“BUT MINE-,” Henry shook and squeezed Samuel forcing his tone and volume down several notches. Samuel let out a small wheeze of air.
“This is much worse than that!”, he said.
Amelia blinked and stitched her eyebrows. Her hands dropped from her face and fell out open at her sides, challenging him to continue. Demanding an explanation as he had demanded her demise a moment ago.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “The entire film plays with the fear of being caught in your killer’s line of sight. The anguish of consciously experiencing your final moments before any blade slices or gun fires…”
“She had her lip broken by her parent and then the killer has a wrench to repeat such a horrible act? That’s way over the line!” Samuel retorted, his lips had curled back down over his mouth and they began to tremble. Or perhaps Amelia thought they were trembling. She wasn’t quite sure she had stopped doing so herself and perhaps she was projecting.
“I’m sorry, I’m not following. You want her to be killed by a stranger? We would have to see the other person for that to have any sort of effect, and again, we discussed-“
“You’re wrong! The scene was perfect how it was in the book!” Samuel whined.
Amelia crossed her arms over her body and pinched the ridge of her nose.
“We. Can’t. Use. It. That. Way.” she persisted.
Her disbelief that Samuel hadn’t actually been listening or believing her vision would come first over his will during their months of pain at trying to hide his face. This actor held a presence on set and within the public eye that her story would not be her own anymore. His fans would tear it from her hands before it had even been finished. They would force her to fit their own hopes and fancies of his face. He would not tarnish her art – no matter that he inspired most of her work previously. She stomped her foot to the side and shook her head free in an attempt to save some chance at productive disagreement.
With her eyes still closed she lifted her chin up to reveal her crinkled lips and nose. “Mr. Braxel, our production has been very patient with you. We have nearly bent over backward to get you into this movie – as you begged for – despite my original objections.”
“Yes, I’m aware but-“
“I’m speaking.” Amelia exposed her palm and squared her shoulders. “Your interest in this film and my work has been extremely touching. Thirteen-year-old me would be over the moon and would have given into your every demand. But I’m not thirteen anymore and this story is fundamental to me. I won’t have you fucking it up with your ego. If you can’t work with what we have given you, there is the door!”
Henry shoved Samuel out of their embrace and backed away a few paces. Now able to see around the red siding, he stretched his neck and gestured for others to come and help. While Henry’s attention was still on the approaching PAs with security in tow, Samuel took three bounding steps and now towered over Amelia. His now-clutched fist captured her arm with a pinch that threatened to pull her meat from the bone.
“You…. Will remember the power of that scene. I promise….”
Just as he hissed out his last word, the two blue-clad men clutched Samuel’s shoulders and tore him off of Amelia. The two men pivoted toward the door with the actor following suit, escorting him out of the sound stage and off of the grounds.