Behind The Camera

Footage & Friendship

Fade in.

A young man, sitting in a chair – alone, in a dimly-lit room. The lone light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling flickers.

He's rocking back and forth slightly in his chair, cleaning out the dirt under his fingernails – deep in thought.

There are flashes of imagery; bad report cards, rejection letters, and various angered and disappointed faces. The daunting sounds of words said with such resentment are heard. "Reject", "good-for-nothing", and "failure" are amongst the words that echo around him.

He grips his head, his rocking increasing as the voices continue rising in volume.

He gets up from the chair, and starts pacing around the room, hands grasping his hair. The images flashing get more vivid, and the sounds grow all the more unsettling. It turns into a full-on cacophony and the words from rejection letters scramble across the screen in all directions, varying in size.

Flashes of disappointed faces flicker on and off, with the man slowly crumpling into a heap on to the ground with each flicker.

The lone light bulb in the dimly-lit room continues flickering, even more noticeably now. The young man lets out some heavy sobs, as if mourning the dying bulb. His sobs continue as the light goes out – leaving him in total darkness.

The voices cease, as does the flickering imagery.

Soon after, his sobs are no longer heard, as well. Only his dark silhouette can be seen, sitting still.

All is quiet and uneventful for some time.

The squeak of an opening door disrupts the quiet. A sliver of a white light is let in from the outside. The shadow of a figure is seen in the light trail that had been created from the opened door.

The young man, sitting curled up in the corner of the room, looks up at his visitor. Footsteps are heard, escalating in volume. He shakes, fearful.

Dainty hands come into view, unscrewing the dead light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Another whimper is heard from the man in the corner.

However, soon enough, the dainty hands return into view. They proceed to screw in a new light bulb. Light floods the room instantly after, reaching every corner.

At first, our protagonist shields himself from the light with his arm – squinting, his eyes burning. The visitor, a short, curly-haired young lady, walks over and reaches her hand out to him. He looks up - hesitant at first. He slowly reaches out and takes her hand. She helps him up onto his feet, and then leads him out the door.

The shot then zooms in at the shining bulb, then fades to black.

The words "my hero, my inspiration –my friend" appear in white text, against a blank, black background.

Fade out.

__________________________________________

"And that's a wrap!" exclaimed Dez as he finished editing the footage on his computer, somehow managing to complete his masterpiece within the span of twenty-four hours. He spins himself around in his office chair to face his curly-haired friend. "Thanks again for agreeing to act in it, Trish."

"Hey, you know how much the spotlight loves me," Trish gestures to herself and lets out a light chuckle. "It was fun. And I like that you sorta, kinda made me the hero in it."

"Well, you are my hero," Dez mutters, almost inaudibly.

"Sorry, what?" Trish questions, not quite hearing him well enough. Dez shakes his head.