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IMG_1051Wannabe Wednesday produced a whole host of responses this week. They were all very good indeed and eventually the judge (not me) narrowed it down to a choice of two. For obvious reasons I can’t judge them, after all, I know who wrote them, so I am going to ask you to vote for passage one or passage two below.

If you don’t want to write you name in the comments below then just send an email to author@carolewyer.co.uk saying 1) or 2) or message me on Facebook.

Entry One:

Where was he? Completely exhausted, she leaned at the lamppost. She’d been waiting longer than four hours in this heat, being barefoot hardly a relief. So bleary-eyed she was by now, she was completely unaware she’d walked right into a movie scene. ‘Stop, stop, stoppety stop,’ yelled the camera man. She didn’t hear him. Tears trickled from her eyes, she swiped her hair out of her face with one swift movement. ‘Wait, just wait,’ shushed the producer, ‘she’s perfect! She will transport the audience exactly where I wanted them. Much better than whats-her-face.’ The camera filmed it all: her tears, her break-down, all her emotions. When she lay in a heap next to the lamppost, having cried her heart out, the producer whispered: ‘Magic! That was really magic! Give her a check over fifteen grand – nobody could’ve done that better!’

*     *     *     *     *

Entry Two:

They catch you by surprise at first. When you come upon the scene out of the corner of your eye you expect the actors to move. You hear the director shout “Cut”.

The figures don’t move, don’t talk. It’s a trick of lighting, of the audio system. You smile, remembering. The stage, the lights, the audience, the standing ovations. Those were the days.

You study the wax scene. That woman’s pose is way too dramatic. You would have been more subtle, more believable. It’s what you were famous for, your dynamic interpretations, your understated deliveries. And that director. He looks too relaxed. Max used to wave his arms about trying to impart exactly what he needed from us. He was great.

You read the plaque on the plexiglass barrier. “Gloria Maynard in her lead role as Misty in Holiday in Paris” The shock brings it all back in a rush. Had you forgotten? Of course, there’s the Arc De Triomphe, the long blond wig. But the gown was wrong and you had worn your hair curled in the style of the period. This one was from another role, what was it again? Oh, yes, “Forbidden Romance.” That’s where you met Ray. You feel the glow again. The on-screen romance had blossomed into a real one. For a while. But that was so long ago.

You catch your reflection in the window beside you, wrinkled and bowed, and offer it a rueful smile. Oh, yes, so very long ago.

*     *     *     *     *

Over to you and the results will be announced next Wednesday.

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