Faceclaim (ONC 2022, Completed, Shortlisted)

13: Start Over

The throne room looked magnificent when Daniel--as Prince Ramon--entered the gilded chamber. He could see it before him. Golden shimmering walls. Carpets and curtains in deep velvety red. The old decrepit king on the throne.

Daniel was Ramon and Ramon was Daniel. Just two men fighting to get out of the situation where circumstance had put them.

When Daniel thrust the imaginary sword into the invisible king's throat, he imagined it was the author who fell before him. He imagined this was how he himself won his freedom. Hopefully, his story would have an actual proper ending though. A happy one even.

An ending filled with strawberries, red braids, and sibling hugs. That's the kind of ending Daniel would write.

Perhaps a pair of purple tights would be included as well.

Dramatically, Daniel dropped the sword after he'd killed the elderly king. He looked around the theater, as confused and dazed as Ramon appeared to be in the subpar text. Minutes or hours passed. Daniel wasn't sure either. Time had lost its meaning during his captivity anyway.

Time would start moving again once he was out of there. But that didn't mean time outside this bubble of madness had stopped as well.

He turned around at the sound of a silent noise of unknown origin. Perhaps Daniel expected to see the plot magically appear behind him. But, of course, nothing was there.

And that was it. That's how far the script went. Daniel just hoped he'd sparked an ember of creativity within the author's deranged mind. But who knew what made that cuckoo nest sing in the right tune.

No reaction came. Just silence echoing across the dark theater. He waited for minutes, or maybe hours, just like Ramon.

"Well?" Daniel finally called out into the nothingness. "Do you know how it ends?"

The reply was a low whimper. "No..." the author admitted. "But could you... do the scene again?"

Daniel groaned loudly. The sound bounced against the walls and came back to him, locking him in a chamber of his own desperation. "I guess I have no choice," he muttered and picked up the imaginary sword from the ground. Because that's how in character he still was.

***

Hours later, Daniel had done the scene again about a million times. He'd played it sad, happy, elated, despondent, scared, excited, and every other emotion available on his acting repertoire. He felt numb. Like all the feeling he'd acted out had poured out of him during the scene.

"No," the author said once more after Daniel had asked them again if they had the ending.

With that answer, Daniel was done. He couldn't act out any additional emotions. They were all gone. All that remained was hopelessness.

He should have signed the Captain Universe contract by now, but instead, he was here. Locked in a modern version of Groundhog Day.

This version was even worse than Guineapig Day, a Netflix remake of the modern classic for which Daniel had auditioned. He'd dodged a bullet in not landing the part as the titular guineapig.

Unable to keep control of his limbs, Daniel slumped down on the stage, laying on his back and looked up at the blinding light above. That light had always been what he strived for. To be in the spotlight and bask in its glory.

Was it worth it? Had it really brought him anything but loneliness and misery? The thoughts whirled in his head at warp speed, making him almost forget where he was.

"Let's call it for today," the author informed him from far away. The voice sounded distorted as it reached Daniel, stuck in his own thoughts. "Go back into the room and rest, Daniel. Then we'll start over again tomorrow."

Tomorrow. If he'd counted the days right, tomorrow was Willa's birthday. And today was the day he was supposed to appear at his agent's office.

Perhaps after he'd missed both those events, someone would start searching for him. Tina and Vanessa would put their smart heads together and figure out something nefarious must have happened to cause Daniel's unexpected absence.

The thought was both hopeful and depressing. Because he didn't want to miss anything. He didn't want to stay here a moment longer. But it appeared he had no choice.

"Start over?" Daniel spitted out. "You mean like from the beginning."

"Well... hopefully, it won't come to that. Maybe I'll get an idea during the night, spurred on by your performance!"

It almost sounded like they--this obviously crazy person--pitied him. Like they wanted to make him feel better by giving him false hope. Because both Daniel and the author knew that no magical ideas would manifest overnight and write themselves down on the page.

But resting sounded good. Daniel needed rest. Although he needed freedom more.