Faceclaim (ONC 2022, Completed, Shortlisted)

12: Spark My Imagination

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked cautiously, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. "What do you mean the story isn't finished?"

Cold drops of sweat ran down his back and his hands shook, rendering him unable to hold the walkie-talkie. The device fell onto the crumpled-up sheets and Daniel had to hurry to catch it before it bounced to the ground. He wanted to hear the answer, even though he also didn't want to hear. Because he feared it wouldn't be good news.

"Well..." A static hum followed as if the author tried to find the right words. "I can't figure out how to end it. I got that far and then... the words just stopped."

"So..." Daniel began in a weak voice, "you don't even know who just entered the throne room?"

"No," the author admitted meekly. Their voice suddenly sounded fragile. "I don't know. That's why I need you. To help me find the words."

"Why me?" Daniel asked, clasping the walkie-talkie in his hands. Perhaps there was finally time for some truth. "What do you think I can do? I'm just an actor."

"You're not just an actor, Daniel," came the reply. "You're Björn the Bearslayer, the most magnificent beast ever seen on a TV screen."

Daniel couldn't help but feel a bit flattered by that reply, even if it came from an insane person.

"I'm still just an actor," he replied flatly, trying to not let himself get carried away. "So I'll ask again, why am I here?"

"I figured..." the author started. "I figured that maybe seeing Daniel Shephard--such a magnificent actor, accustomed to playing men turning into animals--play out the scenes would spark my imagination. That I would finally see how the story ends by having you play it out before my eyes."

"And did it? Did I spark your fucking imagination?" Daniel was growing impatient now. This discussion just seemed to move in circles, with still no answer to how he could end this madness.

"No..." the author replied in a low voice like they were ashamed of this fact.

"So what then? What am I to do now?" He couldn't help but yell. Somehow, it felt like the tables had flipped and he was in charge now.

"I figured... maybe you can play out the final scene until it ends? Maybe that will help me see what happens next."

"And if you don't?" Daniel asked, in a voice that came out more high-pitched than he intended. "What if you don't see what happens next?"

"I guess..." the author hesitated. "I guess you'll just have to play the scene again then. Or maybe the whole story even. I'll see what I feel like if we come to that."

Daniel groaned, putting his hands to his forehead. This didn't sound as straightforward as he'd imagined. Freedom wasn't just around the corner, but several corners, stairs, and hurdles away. "I can't stay here.." he mumbled under his breath. "I need to get out."

"What did you say?" the author asked.

"Nothing!" Daniel replied quickly. Because he realized he couldn't show himself weak now. Not when he almost felt like he had the upper hand. Because he'd seen the author's weak spot now; the thing that made them shatter. The thing that had driven them to this act of insanity.

They couldn't finish their story, and he needed to use that to his advantage somehow. He just didn't quite know how yet.

"So could you..." once again there was hesitation in their voice. "Could you walk out on the stage and act out the final scene now?"

"Soon," Daniel replied, enjoying his newfound position of power. Because they thought he was the solution to their problem. And that meant they wouldn't hurt him, because then their problem would never get solved. "I need to shower and eat something first."

Really, he wanted to try to get this over with as soon as possible. But he also needed to establish his slight position of power. And he needed to think about how to proceed.

***

Daniel was pleasantly surprised that the shower actually worked, and wasn't just a prop in this silly game. Warm water washed over his curls, coloring the water around his feet a shade of dark gray. It seemed the hair color applied to his curls wasn't that durable after all.

A scene of herbs--rosemary and thyme the label said--surrounded him as he poured the shampoo from one of the small soap bottles over his curls. It smelled like Tina's garden back in Scotland. His sister always loved to tend to her plants and his niece loved to run around and pick the different fruits and vegetables once they were in season.

Strawberries in summer. Apples in fall. Those were the tastes of home.

Tina always made a strawberry cake for Willa's early summer birthday. The first strawberries of the season were reserved for that purpose. He wondered if Tina was picking those strawberries at this very moment, perhaps wondering why her useless brother hadn't called and told her if he would be there for the party the next day.

If only she knew. If only she knew what madness her brother was suffering. Tina would have knocked down any doors and badgered who she needed to free her only brother. Just like she had always protected him when he was younger.

But Tina wasn't here, so Daniel needed to free himself this time.

With water still dripping from his now muted brownish curls, Daniel stepped out of the shower with a newfound resolve. He didn't know how to free himself, but he knew he had to find a way.

Maybe, if he acted his damn pants off, the author would be inspired enough to finally finish their outlandish story.

It wouldn't be a good story regardless, but it didn't matter to Daniel.

And at least it would be better than Outlander.