Shades of Fear

by D. L. Scott

  Smile, wink and wave.

  Her mind was a whirlwind and she couldn’t focus on anything except the final outcome. A few more hours, and few more dog and pony acts, and she would be holding the statue in her hands. She just knew she was going to win.

  Everything was leading up to this point. She looked breathtaking in her custom designer dress from Carolina Herrera and borrowed jewels from Harry Winston. A diamond and gold bracelet, worth a quarter million glowed on her wrist and even though she would have to return it with the papers, for the moment it was hers.

  Flowing like a river of dark mocha, her hair couldn’t have been more elegant in a partial up do with cascading curls. The red in her strapless dress brought out her olive complexion, while her eyes sparkled like amber jewels.

  Although she was nervous, she didn’t show it. It takes a lot of self-control and discipline to control the nerves, but being cool under pressure was her forte. Being a Latino growing up in the Bronx, pressure was her middle name. Well actually Marina was her middle name, but she never used it. Ever since she was a little girl growing up she always imagined this moment. What would she say? How would she react? There isn’t anything that will prepare someone for this journey.

  The surreal experience of being at the Academy Awards is an event to marvel. This would be the last one of its kind since the government implemented new rules for celebrity functions and award ceremonies. The lights of the Chinese theater were still the same for now as well as the enormous amount of people watching, and the media. It was almost as she always imagined, with the exception of the watchers. Rows of people from the balconies bellowed out to their favorite actors and actresses while the paparazzi caught every smirk and smile.

  There was American militia posted at various checkpoints with their AK-47’s in plain sight. Staffers were investigating badges, scanning wrist cards, and keeping track of every move.

  The cameramen and the photographers had their own section in which they conducted photo spotlights while the reporters from the entertainment industry tried to unveil a Cinderella story in every nominee. Nominee.

  The mere word was music to her ears, but Academy Award Winner sounded much better. There was always someone watching. Today felt different though, she felt like eyes were on her at all times. Living in the public eye, there is no privacy. One blunder here could ruin a career. She savored every minute of it. She had nothing to hide and everything to gain. Just before she entered the building, she heard an ecstatic fan scream out “We love you Frankie!” She acknowledged with a wave and blew a kiss, and then she and her date were ushered into the auditorium and directed to their assigned seats.

  “Wrist cards please?” uttered an usher, whose monotone voice almost seemed inhuman. Her date politely showed his wrist card. The name read Maximus Heffner. He is of no relation to the Playboy Mogul, but he does get asked that often. They have an on again, off again relationship. This year they happen to be on. Hollywood relationships are short lived, just like the fame that accompanies them. Her agent would say, “the only day you’re famous is today, and tomorrow is my job.”

  Maximus has co-starred in a few films with her, “The Man on 36th Ave”, a dramedy about a dysfunctional couple and “Montana Moon” the western in which they were both previously nominated for Golden Globes, but snubbed for an Academy Award. They have amazing on-screen chemistry.

  He is tall, with blonde hair and curls that kiss the edge of his ears. He has a strong jaw line and is handsome with sex appeal that drips off his broad shoulders like every other famous actor. Maximus on screen is electrifying; he reads well, he interprets his characters with ease. He is a director’s dream puppet.

  The only exception is that he has a scar on his left cheek now. He insisted on doing his own stunts for a action film and the blade of the knife sliced his left cheek. He toyed with the idea of cosmetic surgery, but his scar is now famous because the director used the actual footage, and was able to edit the scene, so it wasn’t a total loss for Maximus. He is learning how to embrace his scar and open himself up for new endeavors. At least that is what he is telling her. She is a fan of plastic surgery, anything that can prolong the fountain of youth.

  Frankie reached into her small wristlet purse and pulled out a black card made of recyclable plastic. She handed the usher her card. It was not bigger than a credit card, but more valuable than a credit card. This was her existence. Everything about her was on this card including her financials, her health records, her important documents, title to her home, even pictures of her childhood.

  Most people were embedding these chips into their wrists, but Frankie hadn’t had the time to perform the out of office procedure since she just got out of post-production and her schedule has been hectic. She had approval from the Academy to attend since there was a grace period for actors who were overseas during the transition. So for now, she would use her black card. These cards were inserted into a reader, this would only extract pertinent information needed for a specific event. There were security measures built into the reader with backdoor passwords, codes, and numerous other encryptions to maintain ones identity. Since the phase out of cell phones and eventually mini phones, and then iPhone technology, this was advanced tracking.

  Technology took advantage of all those Facebook check ins, and Twitter tweets and new developers came up with a way to revamp the old driver’s license system and reduce the use of paper products in a more green effective way. Medical researchers lobbied for the data to be encrypted into a chip and then placed into the wrist. The President of the United States is still using his black card. She was certain he had many cards.

  She wondered if he transitioned to wrist chip technology, but her mind wandered again. She looked down at her toes, which had red polish to match her dress. Was that a chip? Certainly an expensive pedicure could not have a chip. Oh, it was just a smudge. Were her heels too high? She had gotten those weeks ago, and managed to break them in.

  One thing is for sure; her dress may or may not have been perfect, a little long for her petite frame, but the shoes were absolutely perfect. Black peep toes, with red velvet piping down the sides to accent the leather. These were a gift from the Director with a note that said,

  “I can only imagine where you have been, but where you are going, you are going to need these.”

  Best Wishes, T. H.

  She adored them and what woman doesn’t appreciate a fine shoe? She probably would have loved them more if they didn’t have GPS tracking in them. But these were the times now, and everyone has to be accounted for due to safety reasons. She wasn’t used to the idea at first, but it wasn’t so bad now. These shoes would probably be retired after this event anyway, and sit right next to him, otherwise known as the golden statue, Oscar.

  She shifted uneasily in her seat hoping that with each shift, she didn’t wrinkle her dress or move anything out of place.

  The designer assured her that it would not wrinkle; the ruching at the waist with the flow to the floor would stay intact. It was also hologram compatible, which meant that the colors, design, and structure would not disappear on the hologram green screen. It was almost as if it was really her.

  Some celebrities choose to forgo the Academy Awards now, and only use footage with a hologram. But it was really her, just not the acceptance speech. Oh, her speech. The chair gave a vibration reminder, and a digital message that said “Nominee update.” She hit the accept button on her armrest, and her black card refreshed. Beep! She requested menu, and then scrolled down until she saw the word speech.

  She hit enter. Now if she were the winner, her speech would already be uploaded into the teleprompter and her hologram would make the acceptance speech, that is if she wins. Visual Media time is outrageously expensive. Time is very limited, and most of the airtime is for sponsors and marketers.

  Beep! Her speech was accepted. To even be nominated was an honor. To be in the same room with so many talented individuals, she was in heaven. The experi
ence started to bring on more anxiety. Maximus gently soothed her hand and squeezed it.

  “I won’t be jealous,” he whispered.

  She gave him a puzzled glance and he chuckled under his breath.

  “When you like Oscar more than me.” he said.

  She smiled a real smile and her nerves eased a bit. He always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better. She was convinced he was acting, but yet there was a sincerity to him that made his comments seem believable.

  Time was running out, she had managed to daydream herself through the beginning of the show, and now her category was next. She hoped that the speech uploaded.

  The cameras were like fire flames. The heat from the lights was making her lightheaded. All eyes were literally on her as well as her other colleagues. She swore there was a dragon in the building. Maybe there was, or maybe it was the hot blonde actress’ perfume. She and her Grammy-award winning husband were seated directly in front of her. Her perfume was a cross between an Elizabeth Arden Red Door and an Elizabeth Taylor Passion, strong and pungent. But it only came in waves, like when she shifted in her seat. Distracted again her thoughts came back to her.

  This is a moment when one plops or soars. Did she have eagle wings? What did the feeling of elation just exactly feel like? Would she be able to speak? Should she say a quick prayer? She did. Amongst the organized pandemonium, she mumbled a silent prayer. Whether she won or not this was an experience.

  Who is she kidding?

  She wanted to win. She was born to win. This was her moment, and she wasn’t going to have anyone or anything take it from her. She sacrificed so much to get to this point; there was a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, and hopefully not in that order. She was the Bronx beauty on Broadway who dazzled them in Hollywood.

  More flashes filled the room like flood gates. Here we go, Jimmy Fallon who has been hosting now for several years had just completed his transitional segment, and then Jimmy’s hologram disappeared and then the presenter appeared.

  Charlize Theron glowed like a Roman goddess. Her hologram flickered a little almost as if there was a glitch and then she started to speak. She spoke with such poise and elegance. She never seemed rattled. She started listing off the names of the nominees. She then opened the envelope.

  Oh, she was nervous now, the jitters, she started to shake a little. When Charlize mentioned her name, “and the winner is Frankie Juarez”.

  Charlize rolled her tongue in just the right accent that was her thought as she stood up and started to walk towards the hologram room to deliver her speech. Maximus leaned over to give her a congratulatory kiss, but he was too late. Her dress swished as she passed the seats of her colleagues.

  Time was suspended, and yet it felt that way for her. The room seemed to get smaller, and then fade to black. She remembered feeling wet in her dress, and then warm and then chaos. She tried to talk but couldn’t, all she could feel was pain. She heard screams, and footsteps like a rumbling herd of cattle, and then flashes, and then she lost consciousness and her eyes closed.

  She woke in unfamiliar surroundings. She gasped for air as it was difficult to breathe.

  Alive.

  She was alive, still in her dress and apparently confined, she felt the queasiness of her stomach roll over and over with butterflies. Was she in the air? She hated flying and knew the feeling quite well.

  She realized she was in some type of vacant hangar made of steel. Everything was foreign to her. She had seen numerous film sets, but nothing this elaborate. It was cold, very cold.

  She noticed her jewels were gone from her wrist, her designer dress torn, and yet she felt different. It was then she noticed again.

  The bandages were made of a dissolvable liquid and the longer she stared the more quickly her wounds were healing. Nothing major she hoped, just some scrapes and bruises. She had an excruciating headache and was trying to position herself better, when a deep computerized voice spoke to her from a speaker in the hangar.

  “Sdkkjkneoi40-y-9nn” said the voice.

  “What? Who the hell are you and what is happening?” said Frankie.

  The voice made several distorted noises that sounded like an old frequency radio, and then became deathly silent.

  “HELLO!!! Helllllllllllo?” said Frankie.

  Where was she, why was she here, her brain almost hurt thinking about thinking. She was confused and weak, and knew she was in the air but where was she going and what about her award, what about the ceremony and Maximus?

  Her heart dropped. She started to feel sick. What had really happened in their final moments?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice again, this time it seemed to be a little more natural and less digitalized. She wasn’t nervous, she was downright petrified. She was shaking and wasn’t sure if it was her nerves, the wetness from her dress, or the cold hangar, or maybe all three.

  “Do not move, you have internal injuries and we do not know the extent of damage, a medi-bot will fix you once we land.”

  “A what?” questioned Frankie.

  “I am OSCAR427, your representative,” said the voice.

  “…Representative, I have representation, a great agent, well… uh… I’m just an actress, I want to go home, I was in a movie, a film, I know nothing about what you are saying,” she quipped.

  She could feel the energy being drained from her, she was almost to an unconscious state, was she going to die, that is all she wanted to know. Her eyes were flicking a bit as she tried to focus and listen to a voice that she couldn’t see. She would do anything and say anything just to be alive.

  “You are the Nominee,” said the voice.

  “Yes, for an Academy Award, it’s a film…Hollywood...uh, I was just pretending to be someone else, you know…acting.” She whispered.

  “Not anymore, you have been chosen for the Chameleon Program,” said the voice.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this… find someone else…I don’t do science fiction films…what about my award…what about my boyfriend…what about my”—

  “SILENCE!” said the voice.

  “You either participate, or die, you have been watched extensively. Your past life is over, in a few hours you will have no memory, you can either accept or decline the Republic’s offer,” said the voice.

  “Wait, the government is behind this…I’m confused,” said Frankie. “Is it because I won’t get the wrist card, look, I’ll do it, I’ve just been busy, this really isn’t much of a negotiation-----.”

  “SILENCE! We are on our approach to land the vessel, what is your decision?” said the voice.

  Frankie was still in mass confusion, her heart was pounding, she was going to be some freak show test subject for the government. Why did the voice say Republic, who was the Republic? The Republic of China? This was like nothing she had ever encountered before.

  A marvelous evening turned into a horrid nightmare. All these questions, with no answers. Her future was unknown. Her identity would be unknown. Without her career she would be unknown. But for right now, she was Frankie Juarez, she could do anything.

  She tried to hype herself and encourage herself that she would be okay. She swallowed hard, took a few deep breaths, looked down at her shoes, and agreed. Her biggest fear became her biggest reality because after all, she was the Nominee.

  About the Author

  Navy Veteran and Global War on Terrorism Service Medal recipient, BB Raven also known as Brandi Bennett grew up in the rural area of Summerfield, Florida. Her parents divorced when she was two years old and was mostly raised by her maternal grandparents. Her grandfather was a church pianist, so most of her youth she spent singing alongside him as a gospel songbird.

  She gave herself Raven as a pen name when she was 12 years old writing poetry, according to her mother she was named after the Soap Opera “Edge of Night” after the characters Brandi and Nicole of which Brandi liked neither.

  Her interests include songwriting, fiction wr
iting, and screenwriting. She attained her Associate in Arts degree from Florida Community College Jacksonville in the summer of 2007 and finished up her Bachelor’s Degree in Social Science with a minor in Art and Geography from Jacksonville University in the fall of 2008.

  Brandi is currently enrolled as a graduate student in the English/Creative Writing program at Southern New Hampshire University. She currently resides in Central Florida with her eight year old son and enjoys being a “baseball mom.”

  Repeat Offender: A Fictional

  By Stance A. Bingham

  Fear is a noose that binds until it strangles.

  – Jean Toomer, poet (1894-1967)

  Lester Willis had been in and out of jail since he was 14; petty theft, breaking and entering; and one count of armed robbery. That’s the charge that sent him to Mississippi’s Delta State Prison yet again. Lester was well liked and got along with others, as well as one can in prison. He made his way to the tractor barn at the back of Camp 7 with uncertain steps. After all why shouldn’t he worry; his name was said to be on the list.

  It’s 1942, and Lester knew that help would be hard to come by. A black man had it hard on the outside. In prison, Lester doubted even if he were killed anyone would give it a second thought. It was a beautiful day, not the kind of day that you would anticipate dying on, much less being murdered. Even though Lester looked around, just to make sure no one was watching him, and made his way to the tractor barn to retrieve the lock pliers the boss had sent him for.

  Lester made his way to the tool cabinets at the rear of the shop. In the dimly lit barn, he looked carefully around the stacks of horse and cattle feed before walking ahead to the cabinets. Lester was looking for the pliers through the pile of hammers, saws, and other tools forgetting he should be also listening for footfalls coming up behind him. Lester moved from shelf to shelf hoping to find the pliers quickly so he could get out of the barn and back with his fellow inmates. Sweating from the heat or from fear of being alone Lester ran his hands hurriedly across the shelves searching for the tool he needed.