Creative Writing: "Films"

Needless to say, this was written for Folktales, broadcast 3-4.30pm on LSRfm.com every Sunday. It was written to "Films" by Pengilly's.
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It’s dark in here, all black walls and dim lighting but for the silver story sheet that hangs, semi-concealed, behind swathes of red velvet. The floor is sticky from generations of spilt drinks and dropped popcorn, the carpet worn through by the tramping feet of a million clumsy fantasists. Tiny pinpricks guide our way into the rafters towards the formerly plush cushioned seats; they’re now threadbare through years of hard labour, though the rows remain as neat. Soft, unrecognisable music drifts from a hidden speaker, murmuring words we can almost catch from songs we almost remember. We are quiet; something in the air demands hushed tones.

Amongst this we huddle, we dreamers and escape artists. Waiting, waiting. Those romantics and realists, sceptics and visionaries united in one, dramatic, over-reaching desire: 

“Hope it’s a good film.”

It feels good to be here, in this room, amongst stifled giggles and the covert holding of hands. It’s cosy. Safe. 

Suddenly, the cessation of noise. Music stops, lights doused, the curtains drawn back. Hushed voices die in throats and silence descends, punctuated only by the odd cough or low whisper. We rustle our expensive sweet papers and think that that’s what anticipation must sound like. 

Waiting, still waiting. Any second now...

A burst of sound, a stream of light. Gems flood the silver, creating pictures from jewels: rubies, emeralds, sapphires - all spiralling into each other with blinding clarity. Is there anything more beautiful than this? 

"Please remember to turn off your mobile phone."

Oh. Well, that killed the mood a little bit. 

Advertisements drip on and unrelentingly on. Cars, sofas, energy drinks - all troop depressingly by in a haze of high definition colour. We dreamers all agree that this was not what we had in mind. We were promised another world, and not one sold to us at half-price. Where is the adventure, the soul scorching emotion, that bit that makes everyone cry? Our rubies and emeralds are being transformed into something plastic and worthless. What a tragic waste of magic. 

We’ll just have to wait a bit longer, that’s all. 

Look! The director’s signature, in all it’s six-foot scrawled glory, signalling the end of this hellish corporate interlude. Signalling the beginning of something wonderful. Something bright and perfect and alive. It’s the one we’ve all been waiting for. Let’s give those gem-stones back their value. 

Cue music. Marker. Places, people!

Are we rolling? Good. Ok, then. 

Lights. 

Camera. 

Action.