It was a dreary day. The clouds loomed as I walked the last mile to my house.I'd been dreading the entire project, ever since I heard that he was a dodgy character, but still. I couldn't pass up the opportunity--I believed in the script and I believed that we could make it work. I'd thrown my entire savings into the production.My name is Leigh David. I'd been working on a script for the past four years. Then I met Clark Hyde, the man who could make my work into a masterpiece.That day, I notice it's getting darker. Just as I come to my front door, I hear the phone inside ringing. It disconnects, but immediately starts ringing again, so I know it must be important.I shove my right hand into the front pocket of my jeans and whip out the keys to the door. I struggle to open it, but the key no longer seems to fit. I rummage in my jacket until I find another set of keys. Finally, I hear a click. Pushing the door open, I run toward the telephone."Hello.""Leigh, we have a problem."I don't want to ask what it is, but eventually I have to.Clark hesitates for what seems like an eternity, but finally says, "They can't find the film.""What do you mean? Without that film I have nothing. That's like my entire world. I will have nothing." I repeat, flabbergasted by the information. I know at this point that an argument won't solve anything. Yet I know deep down that I want answers, real answers, anything that can explain why my film has gone missing from their studio."I have to go," I say.I take my coat that is hanging over the chair and lock up. Then I walk the two blocks to his apartment.He doesn’t answer the buzzer. When an elderly lady comes out, I stop the door with my foot and slip inside, then walk up the stairs to the second floor.I am about to knock when I see that the door is slightly open. I shout for him, but he doesn’t reply. So I walk in. I don't care about trespassing at this point.I try to peer in each direction. It looks like no one is home, and nothing seems to be stolen. Everything looks the same as last night, when Clark and I toasted to our project, finally ready to be sent off for post-production in London. It was a big break for both of us. I was excited, but Clark? He was over the moon.I still remember his words, "Kid, I don't think I could have done this without you. You've given me my life back."I step into his bedroom, and everything seems in order. The bathroom door is shut and locked, but the door to his closet is wide open. Right away I see a lone roll film on the top shelf; it's got the same marks I put on the roll we sent away. I grab it impulsively and turn to leave.Just then, I hear a gunshot. Panicked, I make a run for it, not even looking around.Cut to the next day, when I hear about Clark's suicide. Shot in the head. Police making inquiries.That's when I rushed to develop the film. That's when I realized everything I’d worked so hard for was gone. There was no trace of the footage we’d shot over the past 3 months.Then the police came to talk to me about my visit to Clark's apartment. So that's how my "big break" ended--murder charges with a little breaking-and-entering on the side.
copyright Chimnese 01/03/2012
edited version
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Kameko challenged me with "A roll of film found in a dead man's closet." and I challenged Mediocre Wayne with "a wall falling down"
