A new dawn had welcomed itself into the lonely American state, as it swept through the hazed morning sun, which slowly began to rise from the depths of the pacific. The beauty of the American dream trundled its way into the heart of the Californian state, as the sun’s light kissed the sacred words which read the word of fame; Hollywood.
Something had woken. Deep within its soul, a sweet bitterness began to grow. It was hungry; it hadn’t been fed in years.
The two had known each other for some time now, ever since the mids of the movie industry. It was impossible to not to recognise them, after all, they made their marks in the streets. As Hermes silently slivered into Natalie’s Nacho bar, LA’s largest Mexican dinner, he ordered himself the usually, a chocolate latte with extra sprinkles, a slight glaze for garnish, and a bubbly blue mini umbrella on the side just for decoration.
Like all directors, Hermes had preferences, and they had to be just perfect.
But the thought of snacks weren’t on his mind. Living the paradise of LA, he could be down by the beach, sunning himself in the basking sun, or treating himself to a sloshy smoothie down at Strawberry King, or taking a selfie of himself under the world’s famous word; Hollywood. But no. Instead, he’d come to meet with a man he’d known since 1987.
It silently slivered away from the shadows. It made its way into the state of LA. It’s belly bubbled with excitement as it churned and twisted. Feeding time was soon.
“Good day,” asked Hermes, making a a quick congenial smile before sitting down in his chair. A deathly silence fell between the two men, as the roaring sun hit its peak. This was going to be a long one.
“Is it ever a good day,” questioned he, the man of the 80s?
“You tell me, don’t it look it,” answered Hermes, diverting his attention towards the scorching sun.
“I don’t feel it, Hermes. I haven’t felt anything since you stole my Oscar.”
“This, again! Quentin, if you’ve just invited me to speak of your jealousy, then I’ll leave.”
“You do that, but I know of your plagiarism personality, Hermes. And when it was questioned, you did exactly what you’re doing now, running away.”
Hermes silently slurped from his chocolate latte. He knew Quentin from the back of his hand, of course he’d meet just to shun him down.
“Alright,” said Hermes wiping the froth from his upper lip. “You’re right, I am a runner. I can’t face judgement. I’m sorry, Quentin.”
Another deathly silence broke between the two directors, isolating them from one another, as if they’d become two separate islands.
“But, I will run if this wasn’t any of my responsibility,” said Hermes, breaking the silence.
“I see, have it your way, Hermes. You and I aren’t the same men of Hollywood the people of the 80s once knew,” answered Quentin in a brusque voice. He left his cash on the table, and made his way to the door.
“I see you’re now a runner too, Quentin,” smirked Hermes, as he devoured another mouthful of the chocolate latte. A small smile stretched across his face. This wasn’t Hermes, this was something else. But who?
Over the far distant shores, something evil was lurking among the clouds. As the great clouds gathered round it’s evil presence, a great spark ignited. It had seized its power. It’s rage rumbled through the murky sky, as it broke through the floors of heaven, unleashing the beast from its cage. It too was ready to feed.
As soon as the heavens had clasped their hands, it knew they’d unleashed its beast. The hunt had begun.
“I’d never plagiarise, you know me, Freda, you know I’m not a plagiarist.” Hermes lifestyle was no different to any offer self made man’s lifestyle. But there were some differences. His rewards all stood upon the wooden shelves, like saluting soldiers to a military general. They were rarely held, and spent most the days hidden in a glass cabinet. Hermes admired his glorious victories, but never saw the need to care for them.
“I know you’re not, dear,” said Freda, easing herself into the couch. “But you were jealous of Quentin. After all, you used to be close allies.”
“That was a long time ago. Besides if anything, he’s the jealous one, not me, because I have the Oscar.”
“You May have the Oscar, but you don’t have Quentin’s creative eye.”
Silence fell between the two, as Hermes took a moment to indulge her words. Soon he realised. He needed to see Quentin.
As the goodness of evil ran through the beast’s veins, its powers of evil had been restored. It pondered its fists against the dry earth, till the whole of Valhalla could heard its sinister cries. It heard it, the beast. The hunt was almost over.
“Quentin, you have your abilities too. I know this is tough for you, but you have to let it go.”
“Why should I let him take my accomplishments? You know I thought of that story line before he did. He’s a fraud, Tina, an international fraud.”
Quentin may of made is name engraved in the Hollywood streets, but he hadn’t made his fame. From the early years of his childhood, he’d always had his head lost in the cloud, a boy lost in a dream of colour. He knew Hermes well enough in those days, but he always lived in his own imagination. Something Hermes could never understood.
“I had stories in my head, I could create something, Hermes never could,” fired Quentin, slamming a magazine on the wooden coffee table. “Then he stole it from me, the fraud!”
“There is more to life then just an Oscar, Quentin,” softly spoke Tina. “If you truly cared about your imagination, you wouldn’t be comparing it to glory or a sense of accomplishment. Even you know your imagination is more important than a golden reward.”
She said no more, and left Quentin to his own affairs. Was she telling the truth? He never knew. To only know wether it were the truth was to relive his past, to seek firhonesty. He needed to see Hermes once more.
It made its was to the shores, in search of the beast. It wasn’t far from where it stood. The distant howls rattled through the skies like thunder, as the dry sand swept through its feet. It licked its lips once more. The fight was about to begin.
As the two beasts stood their ground upon the sand, their time had come to its end. They’d been rivals for long enough, it was time to put it to rest. They glared into each other’s devilish eyes, holding their guard, waiting for the moment to arrive.
The had fight began.
“Why did you call me here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
The two men stood on the dry summers sand as if it were some awkward family reunion. Quentin glared into Hermes murky brown eyes, like an eagle about to capture its prey.
“Why did you take it from me,” questioned Quentin? A small tear tickled his sapphire eye.
“You know I didn’t, you’re just jealous of my success,” answered Hermes, fighting away his emotions.
“You can speak for yourself, Hermes. You never had an imagination, admit.”
“I had some, but maybe not as powerful as yours. Besides, I have fame, what do you have?”
The battle grew bitterly cold, as the two men fought each other like two blood-curdling beasts fighting for their survival. As the clouds gathered round the remains of the battles left debris, not one was crowned the hero of Hollywood.
What happened in the past was a distant mystery. A tragedy never to be remembered, but never to be forgot. What happened to the two foes was never found. Some say they’d left for another life, whilst some say the Pacific swallowed them whole. They left no trace, just their fame engraved in a street.
As a new generation began to emerge, they still looked to their idols as equals, Hermes and Quentin, the Heroes of Hollywood, whose movies and creativity influenced a new generation.