The Nosferatu Adventures
page 341, chapter 341
Instability on Stage 5
Bryon hummed to himself as he checked his image in the mirror. Black eyeliner, check, fresh pink streak on the right front corner of his spiked jet black hair, check, black suit coat with studded skulls at the collar tips and cuff links, check. Turning sideways to admire his reflection, the short male stuck his tongue out clearly enjoying himself as he continued to sing. And why shouldn't he? He'd just signed the biggest deal of his career. A male version of Alice in Wonderland. Sure, it was a schlocky little straight to late night television, but it would be playing on Hallowe'en night with a guarantee of being repeated for the next five years. Royalties that would at lest keep rent taken care of for awhile. Checking the clock over the kitchen table, he figured if he didn't leave right then, he'd be late. Grabbing his keys Bryon headed out to the lobby of the building, and to the stairs. The underground parking lot was smelling extra filthy with an underlay of rotten seafood. He didn't even want to think what the neighbours might have been up to for it to smell that way? The less he knew the better. The short goth hit the unlock button on his keychain causing the black hearse in the corner to beep twice. The one without the company logo. Bryon had spent the last three years fixing up the company castaway. It was practically a showroom quality piece. In fact, he'd based the design on the one from his favourite movie; Curse of the Bats from the Bottom of the Hunchback's Dirty Bucket. The interior of the vehicle was slime green leopard print, the wheel a wreath of carved bats, the same pattern on the rear view mirror only in chrome, while a small coffin x-mas ornament swung from it. The hood ornament was also a small chrome coffin with a skull sitting on top of it. It was a complete replica of the one from the movie driven by the main servant. The leader of the zombie drag racers. Bryon pulled up to the edge of the studio parking lot just in time to see a swarm of people huddled in a few awkward seeming groups. The car door slammed as he locked it, clearing his throat, his eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement. Then his heart sank a notch at what he saw. Teenagers wearing fuzzy glow in the dark t-shirts with the image of Reuben Blacksmith on it. They were members of his fan club. Bryon walked past them cautiously doing his best to ignore their screams and chatter. They'd worked together a few times before Reuben became famous.Checking his hair one last time in the window, Bryon let out a deep quick breath as he stepped over the threshold of the studio's main lobby.
Leaning over the edge of the bathroom sink, Bryon touched up his eyeliner as he recited his lines from scene four. The last two hours had been nothing but going over the script and standing around waiting for the head of the television station to officially welcome the cast. Of course, when he finally did arrive he mentioned that Reuben had been there for an interview on the local daytime talk show. Once again, Bryon had to wait in line because of Reuben. The thought distracted him, causing the dark haired male to stumble over his lines. Closing his eyes in order to clear his mind, the goth slapped both palms against his cheeks to bring his mind back around to the script. Another deep breath as he opened his eyes to stare into the mirror.
"But hark, the dusk is damp with humming birds and wine. The flask overflowing with broken promises and hurtful glares." he lowered his voice as he tilted his chin downward to deliver the next sentence with as much distrust as he could towards his reflection. "Know now not for who that you bring these things, but what..." he read ahead in the paragraph that said his character lifted a tea cup to toast. Raising his empty hand made him feel silly breaking his concentration once again. The bathroom door opened just as a knight in half his armor walked in. Taking that as a cue to return to the stage, Bryon picked up his script and squeezed past the larger actor. Someone with a clipboard ran up asking him his name and if he had any allergies for the lunch order. As he turned to talk to them, a flash caught his eye in the room behind the assistant. Bryon was dying to see the sets and couldn't help himself. Once the assistant was off again their head down over the clipboard, Bryon made his way quickly to the room. The door wasn't completely closed and squeaked a little when he pushed it open all the way. Thankfully no one else seemed to be in the hallways right then. The large storage room had rows of labeled boxes and bins on large industrial looking metal shelves, and rolling hangers of costumes as one would expect. But, it was the larger props in the back of the room that really caught his eyes. Particularly the giant mirror that was partly covered with a paint stained drop cloth. That's where he figured the flash had come from; the mirror simply catching the reflection of the lights. Pushing the drop cloth to the side of the it, Bryon ran his fingers over the edges. It was a 6'foot tall mirror encased in a thin black frame. Nothing special, nothing over the top as you would expect from a television prop. Just a normal looking mirror. Licking his lips, he felt a rush of disappointment as he began to cover it up again. "Shack." he brought his hand up to his mouth sucking the crimson droplets from his palm. He'd hooked his hand on a piece of the hanging wires cutting it. Not deep, but just enough of a scratch to draw blood. "All I need." he mumbled to himself as he grabbed hold of the mirror with both hands moving it enough to see the back.
That was his first mistake.
His blood left a small print on the side of the mirror. Not much, not even noticeable at first, specially after it was absorbed into the mirror itself. Turning to make his way back out of the props room, Bryon had forgotten to secure the covering as his own reflection seemed to hesitate in the mirror before dissolving. Bryon thought he'd heard a thumping noise and turned back towards the mirror.
That was his second mistake.
He tripped, stumbling towards the mirror his hands out to brace himself. The dark haired goth swore again as he tumbled to the floor. Getting up slowly, he brushed the dirt from his black pants before looking up. There was a room full of people staring at him. "So trick door. Nice." he said nervously unsure what area of the studio he was now in. But before he could ask, a woman had appeared as if by magick across the room grabbing him, hugging him tight.
"Bryon! Oh my god!" our heroine breathed as she buried her nose in his shoulder. Reaching up to untangle himself from her, Bryon tilted back a half step on his heels annoyed.
"Hi. Yeah. Is this rehearsal? Am I late?" he pointed to the floor taking yet another step back.
"What are you doing here?" she sniffed deeply. "Wait..."
"I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere? Were we extras together on something and I just not remember?"
"You don't smell like you. Why don't you smell like you?" our heroine asked her nose practically pressed to the flesh just above his collar. Wiggling out of her grasp, he turned back towards the mirror. Only there was no mirror. There was only an off coloured patch of wall that seemed to move like steam. A panic began to build in the dark haired human as he reached his hand through the wall before walking back through.
Tune in again for another installment of the Nosferatu Adventures starring your heroine...me(straight up story. Remember back in S4 p24...)