Smeared Ashes

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS THEMES OF MENTAL HEALTH AND SUICIDE. THIS MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ALL READERS.

I took another sip of muddied mocha, a rich brown color with a little creamer heart in the middle that was half dissolved. The liquid swirled unevenly around inside, almost taunting the state of my mix-matched thoughts. I tapped my pen in my hand and spun it around, as if shaking the ink would give me the inspiration to write my next scene. I'm stuck on this cliffhanger, a line that flows on script as follows:

"I had pryed you apart from the crowd, Samantha. We had so many nights together, all the memories, but you don't care? I had loved you, gave you my sweat and blood, joy and tears, everything I could. But I guess I was just too oblivious to see the truth."

I will admit, it was a bold line. My blood ran cold as I wrote it, fearful as if the words might sting me, like an angered wasps' nest. "I loved you," tsk, what an idea. A blistering, smoldering, boring... useless... traumatis— a-actually, I gotta get back to this line. I almost set another episode, gosh I have to be careful. Stupid fragile mental health.

Love... could I actually write it? Of course I can, I've been writing the scripts for this entire show. I'm not meant to be given the credit though, I have to hide in secret. Since the real actor, Riri, is making these scenes alive.

Was he ever meant to be alive? It could've been that fate had just chosen otherwise... after all he did just kinda, fall, by himself. All alone. In the dark.

Gahhh, shut up! I can't go back there, I was too helpless. You tried looking for him, I know you did, just, get back to writing.

Before I could dwell on this though, a loud knock sounded on my trailer door, and a deafening shout followed after.

I could barely make it out, and it sounded like:

"Scene in... mphh... five... obnoxious knocking... min..."

And then nothing. And my voice is too weak to call after them, so there's no point in asking them to repeat that message. But I think it meant scene in five minutes? Is that correct?

SCENE? IN FIVE!?

SHOOT. SHOOT. SHOOT.

How do they expect a scene in five minutes when I haven't even started writing the first sentence??? I have to rush— now.

I clenched my pen and dragged it vigorously along the paper. The ink smeared with lines like blood, my thoughts jumbling the same way. Nothing felt right. An added memory, different personalities, even a giant plot twist. It didn't make sense, and it couldn't. I have to calm down immediately, or else I'm in risk of being plunged into deep water.

I took a deep breath, and regained my hazy vision. Looking around the metal trailer, I spotted a shelf with some market items we had made to earn extra money off of the show. Plushes of the characters, limited edition posters, signed music albums... and the... palm tree statues!

Oh gosh, I'm so dizzy. Why did that hit me like a bullet? Nevermind, two minutes! Go, go, go!

So off I rushed, using the lush palm tree statue as my artistic inspiration. What did I use it for, you may ask?

Wait, why am I even asking this? My thoughts are my property only... unless... no, there couldn't be some force of unseen eyes staring down at me, listening to my self conversation... right?

Anyways, the palm tree had me thinking of the sandy beaches in Hawaii. I'm gonna have her run away from her boyfriend, Evett, as soon as that question ends. Yea, it can be like a whole, "I run away from my problems, or more like fly- but you get the point, so I can live a normal life." That works splendid, actually. It gives the viewers more of a taste of her personality.

Oooo, and I should make Evett call after her with no reply. That'll make it really burn. Just like him...

Suddenly, I'm forced into the memory, and I can't avoid it this time. Why does this have to happen? It gets more painful every time I watch it.

There I am, slowly wandering through the forest at midnight, my dull flashlight barely illuminating the rocky trail. I've cut myself when going through nature this thick, and badly, but never at this level before.

Up ahead, a bridge comes into view, hovering two-hundred feet above a natural river. I can see a blurry figure, standing on top of the railing. Wearing a hoodie... his hoodie. It's him. Josh. But something's not right. He looks like he's about to jump.

And he is. I just don't know it yet.

His feet hang off the ledge as I run over to him, shouting his name.

"Josh! Wait, I'm here! Are you alright? Hang on a second, I'll be right there!"

But he doesn't listen.

He jumps, a hard boost with a fatal landing.

And just like that, he's gone from me.

Forever.

I awaken startled, with a chill of goosebumps spreading through my body like venom through veins.

"You're three minutes late already," I heard the production manager shouting at me. "Get out of there!"

Thank gosh I finished the script before having that episode. My hand is numb and sore, with a headache clawing at my brain. What a way to end a writing session.

I slip out of my trailer, swiftly hand them the script, and trudge back inside of my trailer, slamming the door behind me.

I hate this work. I hate my life. And myself.

Why couldn't I have reached him in time?

Why couldn't I just run faster?

No point now, he's gone for good.

And there's no way out of this never-ending nightmare, so I'm not finding love any time soon.

Unless...

Could I have run faster?