His
Hand Hovered Nervously Above the blood red phone in the Los Angeles
hotel. The year 1950, waiting for it to ring, when suddenly it did,
quickly he picked it up.
“Hello
Neil Fenton, Actor.”
“Neil.
It’s David Haversham the producer, There’s an audition for a man
to star alongside Lucy Wellings in her new film! I’ve suggested you
try out for the role. Now we all know how difficult she is to work
with and she doesn’t suffer fools, I mean she got the last leading
man fired from the set, so I’m hoping you don’t mess up! You
understand? This could be your chance to break into the big time!”
“Don’t
worry Mr. Haversham, He replied nervously, I won’t let you down!”
“Alright
you to go there right away, you know the address!”
“Yes
Sir.”
“Good.
Then you’d best not be late, you know how impatient she is;
“Yes
Sir.”
The
phone clicked out of existence. Quickly he replaced the receiver and
put on his coat lying on the bed. Struggling to get his arm in
correctly as he did so, all the time thinking this was his big
chance.
“Oh
please God, don’t let me be late, you don’t know what she’s
like.”
His
coat now on he ran out forgetting to close the door behind him, and
almost tripping over the stair carpet and breaking his neck. Finally
outside he fumbled for his keys. He found and entered just as dark
blue clouds began to form above the sky indicating rain, he inserted
the ignition key and turned it, nothing.
“Oh
God, please.”
He
tried it again, same.
“Please.”
He cried his voice now frantic in desperation. On the third attempt
it started.
Quickly
he began to drive. The journey soon changed from a busy Los Angeles
Road to empty countryside type road with trees and muddy grass on
either side, the only sound being that of the rain pounding heavier
against the roof of his car and distorting the vision of the
windscreen as the wipers worked automatically.
“Oh
Please God, don’t let me be late, I need this role!”
His
mind on other things he was unaware of the truck driver with his wife
next to him coming in the opposite direction, both of them tired
having celebrated round their son’s house with his wife their
first year of marriage. Each person occupied with their own thoughts
they only became aware when the truck struck Neil’s car at an
angle, causing it to swerve off the road downwards alongside a muddy
slope. Being Los Angeles the truck driver and his wife did not want
to get involved and so refused to stop. Suddenly the car smashed into
a tree and being the type not to wear a seat-belt, Neil Fenton went
halfway through the windscreen, a piece of glass embedded within the
left side of his face.
“Help
me, please.”
Nervously
realsiing this was his only chance he began to pull free. The trapped
flesh peeling off as he did so to reveal blood soaked enamel bone.
And now almost free he noticed a piece of glass had become embedded
within his left eye, the other end still attached to the car. The
pain indescribable he somehow managed to pull himself free, his left
eye falling out of its socket and sliding down his leg and landing
with a squelch like a snowball in a bloody avalanche; Even more
concerned now about being late for the audition he got out the car.
The Moon shining on the enamel side of his face to reveal what he had
become. He gritted his blood soaked teeth in determination and began
to make his way, stumbling across the rain swept muddy grass until he
was yet again on open, “if not” dry road. He walked across until
he came to a huge iron gate, the sign on the placard read:
CEMETARY
He
tried the gate, it creaked open, he glanced around, the whole place
deserted except for the freshly dug stench coming from the five open
graves. He closed the gate and began to walk towards an old wooden
door in the distance that was situated as entrance to the crypt. He
tried the handle, it turned and the door opened. Nervously he stepped
in. The only light coming from a candelabra on an old table, a
Victorian mirror hung above the wall. T The door slammed shut and he
turned to see five men in rotted clothes with skeleton faces, then he
turned away in terror catching sight of himself in the Victorian
mirror. He screamed. Then the light clicked on and Lucy Wellings
said:
“Oh
he’s perfect for our horror movie.”
THE
END
