Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Sacrifices *written in support of Dylan Farrow. Trigger warning*

Mallory walked into the room and beamed at John.
“You just saw it, didn't you?”
“I did.” She looked up at the ceiling, drawing her fingers through her hair, trying to gather the many thoughts and feelings that swirled in her head.
“I'm glad I went alone. I don't think I could have waited to talk about it and I hate people who talk in movies.”
John pulled back his blanket and patted the couch next to him. “So let's talk. What was your favorite part?”
Mallory dropped onto the couch eyes still up, still living through the movie in her head. “The whole thing? Everything? I mean the emotion, the focus on small conflict, the realness of it all.”
“Right? It feels like life. But life as art. It's beautiful and terrible and real and better than real.”
“Yes! That exactly.” She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. “I feel so good right now. I can't wait till he makes another one.”
John's face darkened. “Well you know it'll be a while. It takes certain things for a genius to do his work and selfish people never want to make the sacrifices.”
Mallory lifted his chin and and smiled at him.
“Don't worry, babe. They'll do it. No one wants to live in a world with his brilliance.”


The room was dark except for a single light behind the three men sitting at the table. That single light was sun bright and spotlighted a young girl in a thin cotton sundress.
The girl blocked her eyes and squinted at the men, but they were blocky black shadows in the dark.
“You're certain no one will miss her?”
“Her mother, maybe, but she's no angel. We can paint it as an unfit parent getting help from a wealthy, softhearted celebrity and then turning on her benefactor. Plus, everyone loves those movies.”
The girl couldn't tell which ones were speaking. Just that in the whole time that she'd been in here two of them had talked about her like she wasn't there and one never said a word.
“What's he saving her from? Health problems? Poverty? We can't have...”
There was more, but she didn't understand it. She looked down at her dress. It was new. A yellow dress like for the summer time with a lady bug on a leaf on it. She grabbed the skirt and looked at it closer. Cold air blew on her bare legs. There were one, two, three spots on one side of the ladybug and one, two, three, four on the other side.
She was so busy counting she hadn't noticed one of the men had gotten closer to her. The light was still behind him and he was bent over so she couldn't see his face.
“What's your name?”
His voice was softer than the other men's. He was the one that hadn't been talking.
“Myra Jean Falloy.”
“Well, Myra Jean. You're going to come with me. Isn't that nice? I make movies and my movies make people happy. Making people happy is good isn't it, Myra Jean?”
She nodded.
“You're going to make me happy, so I can make other people happy.”
He held his hand out, the long shadow of it cut her in half. She hesitated for a moment, thinking of her Mother. She hesitated, but then relents. She is a child. It's her job to trust adults.

No comments: