A Way to Look Back
Lightning comes in a flash.
Thunder follows in a Howl.
Roar of the storm tuned out.
One Might Key a prayer.
Chapter Three: For Lack of a Better Word
This room was much smaller than the area where the main production happened and rectagular. And significantly less spectacular than the almost all encompassing white of the production set. Whereas one could possibly lose themself there, as one might looking into an abyss, these walls weren't being illuminated by powerful stage lights and were significantly easier on the eyes.
There wasn't much furniture in the room. A small glass table running perpendicular to the length of the room, ran parallel to the two loveseats on either side of it. The couches were the same length as the table, pushed to the back wall and corner. There wasn't enough room for chairs on the side of the couches, however, there was both enough space for someone to walk around the side of the couch that wasn't on the wall, as well as enough space in between each couch and the table to be comfortable to walk through as well.
Three different styles of chairs filled in the floor space between the back of the closest couch to the door; one a white, who would've guessed, leather chair that didn't come with the set of couches, a blue leather couch that may have come with the couches, and the other was a stool sitting adjacent to a nook, where an actor or performer could apply makeup or touch up their appearance in the larger mirror before leaving the room and going around the corner to the stage. The mirror had those Broadway style light bulbs, that weren't lit right now, however, one could imagine that they were glow in a more natural yellow light.
There were four other people in this room, all five pieces of furniture occupied by someone who was here for the production.
One of them, seated on the couch furthest from the entrance, was an eccentric individual who made absolutely no qualms about who he is. Braggadocious in almost everything that he does and says, he doesn't seem to understand shame or humility. Or perhaps he does more than anyone.
Across the glass table from him, another participant was much more muted compared to his eccentric neighbor, however, that isn't saying much. An avid sports fan, thankfully, as the table was naked other than his phone, which laying on its length, was streaming the fight at the nation's capital. A circus act on the symbol of our nation orchestrated by green. While the general discourse is the fight shouldn't take place there, a fight is a fight, and we're drawn to it like moths to flame.
Behind the couch and to his right, another participant sat in the white leather chair, a thin man, clearly well groomed, and someone who takes his appearance seriously. His uniform-colored outfit clashed with the white leather, the blue outfit, a thin continuous blue line the height of the chair. Eyes fixed on the screen, him and the more muted man spoke at length about what was happening on screen, and other topics such as records and histories of the fighters.
Just over an open door's length into the room, a shorter man with personality to spare, wearing a leather jacket, spoke proudly of his victories and what they mean to him; those victories ranging from stocks to women. To him, the world was something to be conquered, and his by any means mindset has arguably served him well, if one were to believe his stories of victories.
One by one, each of the men were called to the main production area, the conversations shifting with the occupants of the room. The muted man was called first, the eccentric man followed. The thin man was third and the man in the leather was fourth taking with him well over half of the personality left in the room.
Afro picked. Check.
Collar fixed. Check.
Nothing in the teeth. Check.
A mirror this size would be nice to have in the bathroom. The doorknob turned, breaking the pin-drop silence that comes with a single occupant. It was the host, announcing it was time for the next contestant.
"Follow me sir," the host, an impeccably dressed younger man, called in a calm but confident tone. The host of this talk show, and one could argue the last of its kind, was very hands on with things, preferring to interact with the participants while delegating the infrastructure work to his exceptionally capable team.
The host led the team through the hallway, though he opted to take a different route as to not spoil the main cast with a peak of the participants. This route had a much different feel than the initial route taken to the white rectangular room. Here, there were no ceiling high satin curtains to add suspense to a reveal. The candy red backdrop of the off-stage, vibrant and loud, hushed into a drab functional backdrop akin to the kitchen in a church.
Almost tactically, the next group of contestants was ushered into the smaller room by a member of the front staff. The sounds of women talking amongst each other quieted by the door to the room closing.
Everyone stopped next to where the main production area was. The same makeshift door that everyone took to leave. After explaining the rules one more time, the host led everyone into the main area to begin the shoot.
Chapter Six: You Don't Know What You're Talking About
Everyone had left, save for the remaining participants of the show. This number was closer to 9 people remaining and counting down; the core members of the show were there, and each person was pleasant to be around individually, and collectively the synergy they have is always a pleasure to be around. It was always worth staying around and being able help set up and tear down the set just to engage with good people and good energy.
Good people and good energy are the key to a long life.
The theme of this show was different almost every time, though the core concept was the same, and the panel for this episode was a line of Queens. These were the women ushered into the smaller room earlier and now they were speaking to a contestant, so the door to the production floor was closed off, as to not make any excess sound to edit around. From outside of the production area, the vantage point into the main production room was a collage of screens and things to block the light.
For a time, the only sound in the church kitchen style room, was the sound of the heels of boots pacing the floor at a steady pace before being joined by the sound of the door to the main production area being opened, and the second to last contestant walked out and away from the area. With the production area open, and the kitchen style room emptied, everyone was on the production floor.
At this time, the panel of women had already been veiled, as to maintain the anonymity of the contestants. The host, much taller than the man he was walking next to, led the contestant adjacent to the panel of 5 women. Position wise, they formed an L, with the women being the longer edge of the letter, with the host and the contestant making up the rest.
Across the room from them guiding the cameras, the crew was at work, making sure the details were being attended to; sound checks, camera work, refreshments, and the like. One of the camera operators, sitting to the left of the set, was a sibling to the host. A recent grad, they've always had an incredibly soft air about them, almost matching the hosts charisma with how carefree they are.
To their right, the second of the three camera operators is fortunately, an avid sports fan, and is streaming the fight at the capitol on their phone. A circus act on the symbol of our nation orchestrated by green. While the general discourse is the fight shouldn't take place there, a fight is a fight, and we're drawn to it like moths to flame. He keeps in high spirits, always quick with a smile or laugh and an infectious energy that, cannot be understated, is refreshing to be around.
Lastly, the last camera operator was serving a dual purpose tonight and he was stationed directly across from the panel. Initially, he started the shift as the man guiding the contestants through the area, however, as the last contestants were in this room, he helped with the other duties. A relatively stoic individual, he's a good man to have in your corner if things boiled down to it.
"Quiet on the set," the host spoke aloud, hushing the room.
After saying his introduction to the episode, the host started to unveil the women that were on the panel. The first woman to the hosts right had multi-toned colored hair, a skintight black shoulder cut dress, pretty, and had a warm smile that matched her personality. The host introduced her to the contestant and her emphatically shook his hand and explained pleasantries.
"Alright, can we introduce our next Queen?," the host spoke in the same loud but calm voice.
A moment not too dissimilar to a moment just 15 seconds ago, the host unveiled the second woman on the panel; this time a women in a low-cut white dress. And the moment the veil was lifted, everyone else disappeared.
In the moment the veil was lifted, everything stopped.
She smiled, and glanced around the room, meeting eyes with every one of the crew members. Doelike, beautiful, expressive, eyes. Two horizons, each adorned with its own star, each start as bright and as blinding as the last. And there, standing next to the lighthearted cameraman, I saw with eyes that had never seen before as her gaze made its way to me as she looked into my eyes.
A glance. Couldn't have been longer than a blink. I felt the blood rush to my ears, my heart pounding to the drums of liberation.
Doom dut da da.
Doom dut da da.
Doom dut da da.
Her hair was brown and curly, the bounce of each curl bouncing to those same drums.
Doom dut da da.
Doom dut da da.
Doom dut da da.
She smiled, not at me, but at everyone, and while I know it would be selfish and conceited to think that her smile was made for me. OI that I'm sure.
However, I'm confident I have eyes to see her.
I searched for breath that would take its time to get there, no doubt stifled by the pounding of my suddenly racing heart. I searched for a sound other than the pounding of the blood in my ears. A deafening, visceral sound, the beating of my heart.
Then, speaking to no one else, because I don't remember anyone else being in the room, she sang,
"Hello."
And I gasped.
