Soul in his Eyes
“Jacob Brice beware!” the black cloaked man rasped in rage as he leapt from the roof, landing
hard on the stone steps of the mausoleum. The impact forced him nearly to his knees into a crouch. The sword in his hand struck the cast iron fence on the way down with a harsh metallic clank. Quickly dislodging it, he swung about to face his opponent. With the fury of betrayal in his eyes he lifted the blade up and around his head, striking the sword of the man before him with such force that it sent him reeling backwards. The opponent stumbled off the steps and down onto the ground, landing on his back. With his sword miraculously still in hand, the opponent scrambled to regain his footing.
His cloak swirled like thick black smoke behind him as he jumped down to carry on his attack. “Stand
if you be a man.” Jerad growled, regaining his balance.
“You are insane!” Jacob countered as he sprang to his feet.
Jerad lunged at him, teeth clenched in anger and exertion. Jacob countered. They fought blow for blow across the uneven terrain of the graveyard. Jacob caught his boot on the edge of a stone pathway, falling again to the ground, this time losing his grip on his weapon. It flew, landing at a distance in the dirt.
“Damn it”, he cursed as the director shouted, “CUT.“
Erik lowered his sword and strode over to see if his colleague was all right. Reaching down, he
extended his arm to James, the actor playing his nemesis. “I don’t think Jacob would have allowed such a faux paux,” Erik jested as he helped James to his feet. “Are you all right, mate?” he asked.
“Yeah…just bloody clumsy. You’re right. My character would never have lost his sword. Too much
the classic protagonist.”
“Right, boys. Shall we try that again?” Geoff boomed from his chair behind the camera. He rose and walked over to his two male leads. “That looked brilliant…well up until your little stumble, James. Just recreate what you did before that and it will be a print.” The two actors were still breathing deeply from the exertion of the fight. Geoff looked at the expression on both of their faces and added, “Yeah, yeah…I know
the bloody swords are heavy and it’s difficult. All those hours in the gym do pay off, though.” He gave them a wink and turned back toward his chair.
James and Erik looked at each other, resignation on their faces. Erik swept his cloak up over his arm and walked back toward the mausoleum. The inevitable make-up girl met him. She began touching up his face and hair like a cleaner fish swirling around a shark. “Sorry for the sweat, my dear. Occupational hazard.” He looked at her, reached for a bit of lint on her cheek and brushed it away with his thumb.
She blushed. “Mr. Bartholomew, if you aren’t the cheeky one.”
“Turn about is fair play,” he quipped.
“All right, gentlemen. Let’s get this done properly. Take your places, please,” Geoff ordered. As Erik climbed atop the mausoleum, he smiled to himself. This shoot was a dream come true. It would most likely put his name on the actors “A” list. More importantly, he was having the time of his life.
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