Anthropocentric by Simon Allington-Jones - HTML preview

Stop to wave at fish

The negotiations were short, both Flower and Candy were conceded all conditions they had requested, and Byron starred in the movie of the year. Despite the intended influence to guarantee the film’s success, the excitement in the eyes of Byron’s deceased protectors did not jade throughout the months leading up to the first day of shooting. Both Flower and Candy had managed to obtain background parts in each scripted life time of the lead characters, whether it be in the girl’s friends or passers by, they had secured their places beside Byron each and every day of filming. The only cause for any disharmony amongst the three of them was the selection of the leading lady.

Byron admitted that he was in a no win situation, he could no more say that he liked his lovers’ choice than say he disliked it. Present at all meetings with their selection of wish list leading ladies, both Flower and Candy remained more pragmatic than they thought they would be able to, their hearts within the success of the film, their jovial and quiet jealousy composed and ignored in favour of rationality. Byron, on the other hand, helped no one with his fixed face of paranoid apathy. His ego bruised once or twice by actresses asking constantly what he had been in before, remaining silent when he admitted again and again this was his first role. That and ‘was he wearing contact lenses for they couldn’t see his eyes’. All of which was to the humour of both the dead. Finally their leading lady had been cast, reported in a magazine to be the coolest, cutest, cleverest, and classiest actress in Hollywood, she was the correct age and her filmography was impressive to say the least. Avoiding the big sell blockbusters for the equally big sell quirky cult making films. Well-made cult making films. She was beautiful, that was undeniable, her smile was free and unconsciously honest, and her blue eyes swam with dolphins. She stood before him in an old pair of jeans, half a t-shirt and sunflower decorated flipflops, she shook his hand in greeting and tip toed to kiss his cheek. Byron liked her. It was hard not to, he still suffered from being star struck on a daily basis since this project had started, but he found her to be instantly more than a culmination of her previous roles. She read with him, and didn’t ask what he had been in before. All the readings were filmed to record what degree of screen chemistry the actors had together, during this process Candy mentioned more than once that it might have been a bad idea to script a film about love. The exercise also acted to ease Byron into what should ideally represent functioning normally in front of a camera. It made him summon selfcontrol he hadn’t realised he possessed. Being used to not existing in other’s eyes for so many years, and then suddenly being the focus of a camera’s unforgiving gaze, was uncomfortable for him, to say the least. The actress seemed to ease Byron’s nerves instantly and the resulting chemistry danced across the celluloid for all to see. This was the only choice Flower and Candy could make, and with maturity past their years they agreed to ask her to sign. The actress herself had admitted to liking the script when she arrived at the studio to meet them, and on reading with Byron she agreed she would like to take the role. Byron’s paranoid apathy slipped briefly and he smiled. There was of course a question of timetables, most films being unavoidably and annoyingly detained in the planning stage for over a year before filming. However, the intervention of a higher power than Hollywood, speeded decisions with the money-providers, quickened assembly of a crew, and put the fear of Death into the rapid organisation of making this film.

Finally it was here and Byron woke slowly, the first day of his film career, soft skin touched him in waves of warm pleasure. He drifted on the edge of dream and it felt like swimming a warm enclosing sea. The heat covered him in liquid movements as he floated in its water, the throb of blood familiarly aching around his lap. As he drifted he felt the beginnings of warm rain splash gently upon his face and he smiled into his sleep, he felt secure, warm, aroused. He woke upon this last thought, opening his eyes slowly feeling Candy make love to him before he saw her. Flower kissed his eyes tenderly in small endless declarations of love, her body pressed as close to him as Candy’s, her legs entwined tightly about him and her best friend’s slowly undulating rhythm. His hands reached for them both, his fingertips gently teasing the contrasting yield between soft breasts and attentive nipples, his back pressed into the sheets beneath him in the necessity of connection, their bodies pushing against his. His ears were filled with the heart disabling sighs of love. In response he reached for the warmth between Flower’s thighs and together with Candy coaxed the whimpers of pleasure from her mouth. Without hurry or escalation they remained covered beneath the sheets, searching in the heat of the bed until the aspirations of all three were appeased. Sleep drifted back and peace washed over them like the sea. Byron continued to smile in his sleep. The next Byron knew was the impact of a pillow being flung in his face and a showered and dressed Flower and Candy stood at the side of the bed. “You need to be an actual movie star before they allow you to turn up late for shooting.” Grinned Flower. “Come on, time to get up.” Byron grinned insults at them to leave him in bed. For if he knew being a movie star was going to upset his sleeping, he wouldn’t have agreed to sign up. He attempted to turn away from them and wrap himself in a cocoon of linen. He then braced himself for the impact, and surely enough two light figures threw themselves on his shrouded form. “Come on, up.” Shouted Candy between vigorous shakes of his body. The deceased leap from the bed and pulled the sheets clear of his unvarnished form. The protests were futile and he allowed himself to be dragged from the warmth and hurled into the shower alone. The bar of soap, impacting sharply with his head, was his only company.

The relationship between the sequence of filming and the storyline was the first disillusionment Byron was to discover in the chaotic organisation of making 120 minutes of movie. Why you start at the end of a story and progress to the start with the final days of the middle at the end, or some elaborate combination of the three, Byron could not fathom, how do you make a story without a structure, and make it believable? You’re in love with the girl but in fact you had only spent two days of filming with the attractive stranger. And how much celluloid did it actually take for 120 minutes of movie? Was somebody tarring an airfield with it? Both Candy and Flower revelled in the experience, describing it as like swimming with killer whales whilst dressed in a seal costume during the wrong time of the lunar cycle, hallucinogenics, all round bar keep and the horse will have a beer. To which Byron stared blankly, feeling an ever-smaller part of an attendance not required big picture. His head swam with scripted words that made him into somebody else. But this was the first day, it was a scene from the civil war lifetime, to be placed somewhere in the first half of the film. A soldier is chased into a township by the pursuing army, turning his capture and death into something of a sport, with money riding on his head. Stealing clothes he takes refuge in a house of ill repute. And whilst hiding in one the perfumed bedrooms, she comes in, begins to wash herself at a small vanity table. He is scripted to be mesmerised, identifying himself and turning his back in politeness before her pale skin becomes too exposed. His manners are maintained and they talk briefly, she taunting him with comfortable jokes at his courtesy. Outside the soldiers stand before the building, the sergeant making some declaration of a profanity to the God fearing gentleness of the town folk before he orders the house to be burnt to ground, all occupants inside, before the cheers of the gentle townspeople. Inside the girl sits beside him, her hand holding his, contemplation’s of touching lips should appear on their faces, but before they can kiss the house is alight and a flaming bottle crashes through the window burning them to death.

The location of the first scene was somewhere in the south of America. It had been cheaper, and less time consuming, to use a previously constructed set. Byron would recognise the set from the movie immediately, but slightly disappointed said later, that it had looked a lot smaller than when he saw it on film. The travel time to the set was non-existent for them and the route from their home in England to work in America was cunningly disguised as their back door. There were a hundred and something people on the set, running and preparing whatever it was that should have been ran or prepared. No one noticed their arrival and they walked about the set for nearly twenty minutes before someone connected with the director found them. His face red from the stress his doctor had told him to avoid he huffed and puffed them into the make up and costume caravans. An hour of preening and decorating later they were shown to their trailer and asked to wait until called. Candy and Flower were scripted as background extras: girls of loose morals, much to Byron’s amusement. On the way to the trailer Byron dropped back from Flower and Candy, indicating that they should go on as he took the opportunity to say hello to his leading lady through the door of her own almost identical trailer retreat, stood only a few dozen yards from his. In between her personal assistant’s flurry of protectoral organising, obtaining everything from bottled water to promotional dates and diaries. She noticed him hanging in the doorway and leaning in to the trailer, hoping to be seen yet, too polite to interrupt. “Byron, come in, come in.” She beckoned smiling with natural ease at his somewhat surprised face. She busied herself at the trailers kitchen counter and poured him a glass of a substance that had once been orange juice. She too was in costume, or half dressed which may have been her costume. The whale-boned corset over the white cotton undershirt, frilled panties and tied up black stockings, classic cowboy movie whore. He grinned as he looked her up and down. With some embarrassment he raised an eyebrow, his mind racing on its own. “It is isn’t it?” The actress laughed back. Shit, Byron thought, had he said that aloud? He began to make excuses, apologising bashfully but only succeeded in making the actress laugh harder. Undeniably breathtaking, her smile lit her face with honeyed beauty and Byron felt his ribcage thud as his heartbeat quickened. He felt embarrassed and a little startled at his body’s reaction to her, he changed the subject. “Do we need to run through some lines or something?” He asked, aware of the naivety of his question. “We can, but I don’t think we’ll get to the scene together today, I think I’ll be waiting around for most the day whilst you do some of the running, chasing, and hiding scenes. I don’t know what you expected, but this isn’t a quick process, movie magic is only magic when on a thirty-foot screen. Before that, it’s waiting around and stuttered flashes of inspirational acting.” Byron missed the intentional sarcasm, the actress laughed again. He hadn’t expected her to be so… real.

The coolest, cutest, cleverest, and classiest actress in Hollywood had turned out to be correct. Most of the long day was taken up with him not speaking, but diving about in the sandy, or dusty, or dirty ground. But finally in the last scene of the day, he was to sit crouched behind the newly manufactured old bed and she had to walk in. The scene was to be filmed in a dusky light, almost dream sequence surreal. It was to be lit to quicken the heart beat and offer a prelude to something that would only happen at the end of the film. Byron was called to the set, a room within the house of ill repute, though actually a large purposely constructed building that belied the magic it was supposed to contain. To his naive surprise only three walls of the room existed, the fourth stood on coasters behind the second wall. The attention to detail, if you closed you ears and placed your back to the cameras, was inspiring. It was decorated in the period, using chipboard and plastic. The remainder of the large building currently housed a dozen onlookers, cameras, and sound people of varying size and shape, it was supposed to increase the intimacy. The director took him to one side and took him thorough the scene briefly before instructing him where to position himself and then calling for silence on the set. The set went quiet on demand, and the man with a vision (worth 5 million dollars in paycheque) called action and the actress took her cue. She walked slowly into the room shutting the door firmly behind her, shutting the world away, she appeared tired and used and Byron felt drawn to her, he knew there was a camera on him to record his expression, though acting didn’t seem required. His face expressed sympathy, and a desire, also embarrassment as she went to shed her clothes before the mirror. She dropped the shoulders of her cotton vest smoothing a well-used sponge across her neck and cascading droplets of water across her collar bones, to slip gently where gravity demanded it go, her face was saddened and vulnerable. She wiped at the back of her neck easing the fictitious tension held there. Improvisation to Byron’s missed cue urged her to place a foot on the porcelain wash stand and began to let the tie from one of her stockings, rolling it gently and slowly down her smooth cream pale leg. Byron sat mesmerised from the corner of the room, he was aware of someone in the background nodding furiously for his cue. Bought out of his stupefaction he almost bounded into action, he stood quickly and immediately turned his back. “I’m sorry Miss.” His accent was perfect. He surprised himself, but had merely drawn on a dead soldier of the time for his elocution lessons. Her face expressed shock and she went to yell out, but was scripted not to. She fell silent her face falling toward compassion and some obvious connection between the two of them. “No it’s alright.” She exclaimed, her accent also perfect, she was a good actress. Byron was aware of Flower and Candy watching the scene from behind the cameras, it clarified his mind and the words fell from his mouth as they should have done. “There are soldiers looking for me. My name is Captain Jonathan Barnes, I bare you no threat Miss. Please believe me.” He gave his best imploring look. An odd look of reality sparked the actresses face, confusion almost, it seemed Byron was a better actor than anyone had given him any credit for, he looked genuinely sincere in a way she had always wanted to see but had given up hope in accordance to her chosen profession. She stuttered slightly but the cameras continued to roll, finding herself once more she continued, “Teresa.” She said slowly in introduction, holding her hand out delicately to be taken by his. She felt as he did, some form of shock race through her body, the acting was in the eyes and the director had a habit of using multiple cameras for multiple shots at the same time. It was his belief that if you were lucky there would always be one good take, but if you failed to get all your angles it would have to be cut and pasted to inferior takes, and he was renowned for re-taking until he got it right. However long that took. “Please sit down,” She said quietly, her eyes fixed to his. Byron had no idea whether she was acting, he could no longer tell. He felt her eyes search inside him, his ego rejected true feeling and pushed admiration of her acting ability forward as the only rational option. He realised they still held hands as they sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes followed her one bare leg from her toes to her shoulder to her face again. He heard his heart thump in his chest for a second time, and hoped again that she couldn’t hear it. “Have we met before Captain?” She said, pushing the scene ever forward. Byron stared in to her crystal blue eyes, his pause longer than scripted he failed to find his voice for long moments. “I don’t believe so Miss,” “Teresa.” She interrupted. “Teresa.” He repeated. “Suddenly I feel embarrassed at how you find me Captain.” Teresa indicated to her attire and more deeply to her profession, she pulled the shoulders of her cotton vest back to where decency should have them. Byron managed to stutter his lines, his feeling of bashful attraction more honest than Candy or Flower would have liked. “No Miss, it is me that should feel embarrassed, I shouldn’t have barged in here, I should go.” Byron went to stand. “No.” The actress said more firmly than Candy or Flower would have liked. She kept hold of his hand pulling him back to the bed. “Please stay, at least until the soldiers have gone away.” The background noise would be edited in later, but at this present time the Captain of the other soldiers would be shouting at his men to light the touches. Somebody on set yelled out the lines, Byron again as scripted, looked up only briefly and toward the window. He looked back to the actresses’ eyes. He indicated to say something but she pressed her finger to his lips, her hand brushing his face, the lead up to the kiss. The cameras rolled and the kiss looked inevitable, the Captain leaned in and Teresa reciprocated, Byron forgot his captaincy, the actress forgot Teresa, and their lips crept slowly toward each other. Byron saw the actress wet her lips quickly with her tongue realising he had done the same, there was not supposed to be a kiss.

The Director, being a good director, either noticed something was up, or got carried away with it all, and scream suddenly at the top of his voice: “CUT! Cut! That was perfect, Byron, Kirsten. We will shoot that one again tomorrow, in case I don’t have enough shots, and that would be the only reason, that was great, we will have to shot again but that chemistry, you can’t capture that again. Guys, girls, Oscars call you.” The Director had jumped excitedly to his feet and walked toward them both with is arms outstretched. He embraced them sharply. “Good days filming eh? Would you like to see that run back?” He asked. “No.” Both Byron and the actress answered at once. Explicitly negative, neither of them wanted to relive that without thinking on their actions first. The actress glanced briefly at Byron, he returned the look and so was taken by surprised when both Candy and Flower pounced on him from a distance and sent him stumbling backwards, he embraced them both in reaction. “That was outstanding Byron honeyface, if we hadn’t have seen it scripted it would lead us to think you both meant it.” Flower laughed sweetly, throwing a glace toward the actress. Candy took hold of Byron’s face and kissed it quickly, stamping their ownership before the slightly bemused Teresa. She looked away and walked off set, not looking back once. The crew murmured about them. Why Byron appeared to be dating both girls would be the gossip and conversation throughout the making of the film. Flower stole his face from Candy and kissed him also. Without noticing Byron began the gossip and back stabbing off the set. Had he noticed, still he wouldn’t have cared. He continued to think about the actress, and the acting. The three of them retired back to the lavish comfort of the trailer, Byron sat on one of the couches, a strong drink in his hand as the girls dashed to the bathroom to remove their make up and slip into something less. When they returned to him, Byron remained unmoved, and sat motionless staring to a place on the wall that would bear no secrets. His drink had been drained long ago and he held it tightly twirling the glass in his fingers. Flower and Candy stood for long moments before him, dressed in supplied robes emblazoned with the name of the film on the pockets. They looked a little concerned at his lack of acknowledgement, Byron’s eyes flicked from the wall to their bare feet, noticing their toes, clenching in apprehension. The bright blue and green delicate nails were enough to break him from his thoughts. His sudden guilt at not acknowledging them flushed him with shame. They were his reason. Should he shut them out now…? “Come here my deceased angels.” He smiled warmly and opened his arms in embrace. Their unconscious expressions of relief cut him deeply for he had never wished to see anything but their smiles light in their faces. The deceased jumped on each of his thighs and buried their faces in his shoulder, ignoring the dust and sand that still encrusted his shirt and neck from the day’s filming. He squeezed them both tightly. After a long pause, the purposeful imprinting of a feeling in his head, Byron relaxed his embrace slightly. Flower took a deep breath, her words following a small sigh. “I don’t want to say this but the dead have no more reasons left to lie, you see we never wanted to compete for your love Byron. The lady Death was opposition enough for both of us. We can only offer ourselves…” She began. “The actress may be able to offer you more.” Finished Candy hesitantly. Byron’s mouth worked before his brain, on this occasion it was attached to his heart. “What? You can’t mean what I think you mean… if you do then it’s my fault… I’m sorry. Flower, Candy, you are the only reason I haven’t gone out of my mind yet. There is no comparison, no competition, there is only you, my loves, my life. I am lost in blue and emerald every day and I can think of no other colours I’d rather be. If you close your eyes I want to be in there. I…” He paused, he had said it before and would say it again, and every time he would have this trouble. For his life had been empty of the emotion for so long, the words cut his tongue with a stranger’s knife each time he spoke them. “I love you.” The deceased girls smiled. Byron was not a man brimming with words for every occasion, but each word he had spoken, they had found to be true. Candy leant up from his shoulder and reached to the counter beside them, she grabbed the make up remover and a bundle of cotton wool. She broke the tension like only she could. “We not going to have sex with you with that stuff on your face, the dirt in your pores, yeuuck not worth thinking about.” She grinned back at him. “So,” He said dryly. “You’re going to have sex with me?” “Dirty sex.” Whispered Flower as she grabbed a handful of cotton wool from candy and they both proceeded in covering his face in pink baby lotion, scrubbing and fighting against his protesting arms. By the time the actress got to his trailer door the sounds of giggling and laughter were loud enough to hear from outside. On hearing them the actress hesitantly stopped her hand from knocking, her expression falling slightly at the sounds coming from inside. She had wanted to talk to him, she knew that the three of them had a relationship. On her various meetings with the production team, all had included the girls called Flower and Candy. But they couldn’t be old enough for this sort of job, co- producing a film? She had been acting since a child and she had never met them or heard of them. The actress had to admit to herself that she liked them, they were hard not to like, but Byron? On first meeting him she was taken by his shyness, he was not the jumped up egomaniac that she had conditioned herself to expect from everybody else in this town of tinsel. That way you could never be disappointed. She had been disappointed before, at an age when it stuck in your heart like a knife of betrayal formed from kind words. It would not happen to her again. But Byron seemed different, should she ignore the connection between them? Of course she should, acting was lying and lying well, maybe he was just better at it than people had given him credit for. But his eyes…those strange, almost unseeable, eyes. Grey, she thought, or dark green. Anyway, she just wanted to tell him she would see him tomorrow, and just satisfy herself than the connection was on celluloid only. But the sounds from inside the trailer… her curiosity took control of her conduct and she crept around the side of the trailer and to one of the windows, away from the prying eyes of the rest of set. “Which one of them is he seeing?” She whispered to herself. She tiptoed in sandal covered feet, slipping her sunglasses to the top of her head, a small smile playing on her lips. There was a big enough gap between the blinds and the sill of the trailer, the actress was just tall enough to be able to peek in on tip toes, her hands balancing her against the fibreglass shell. The actress’ smile disappeared suddenly. The teenager’s eyes widened, her full expressive mouth fell open. She dropped to the balls of her feet. Looking away, her expression indicated a feeling of slight disbelief. She returned to tip toe, just to be sure and looked through the small gap once more, staying there for long, long moments.

Naked and unaware of an audience Candy remained on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at Byron. Also unaware of the voyeur Byron remained behind her, and Flower remained sitting on Candy’s back melodiously wriggling and kissing Byron with a passion beyond her years. Or representational of her years, unjaded.

The actress dropped back to the soles of her feet and walked slowly away, not noticing if anyone saw her emerge from behind the trailer, and with her preoccupied and racing mind, really not caring. She felt shocked, but not appalled. Bemused and, despite herself, a little more attracted to the stranger Byron than before. The only emotion left was a smile, and the actress walked to the makeshift parking lot laughing out loud.

The trouble with sunflowers

The closing weeks of filming were at a location somewhere in New Zealand. They were filming the first and last scenes there. Required of Byron was a sex scene, a drowning, and possibly the most bold use of his gift to date. The last scene was first, obviously. The sinking ship. The ship itself would be added in postproduction using the latest computer graphics. Byron would ensure later that its addition would be completed well before schedule. Byron had already taken the special effects team to one side, they had been instructed to go along with whatever he said, and they would be compensated and be given the credit for the end result, and there would be credit. He was again marvelled by the scale of this small production, again awed at the illusions of film. The end product was usually spectacular, but the actual creation of film was something else. The end scene required rain, and a machine on floated scaffolding that looked like a precarious insect of multi limbed instability was bought in to rain on cue. The sheer scale of this savage looking beast was a triumph of engineering and the many faceted use of duck tape. Further harness equipment was bought in and placed at the top of the cliff. The concept of which was to pull both Byron and the young actress from the ocean, at controlled speed, to grip the cliff ledge and give the finale it’s stature in one smooth shot. The wires to be used were called invisible, they were not however worthy of such a description. Byron, by now very much a part of the filming, gave the technical effects department an ultimatum. They were not to use any wires, Byron would take care of the leap himself, not much of an ultimatum, more a demand. After some small persuasion the bemused effects team unanimously decided they would be more than happy to accept. They were to get the credit after all. The harness was fitted to the actress, attaching her by clips and hooks to Byron and binding them uncomfortably close together. With some small charade the non-existent wires were fitted to Byron also, the rescue divers were in place and the scene slowly commenced.

The clever young actress looked to Byron, the connection by the failsafe harness bonded them together tightly at the pelvis. It was an attachment that had briefly indicated to the actress Byron’s true feelings toward her. As he unfortunately, and most uncontrollably, nudged at her pelvic bone with a face more crimson than blood. She had dined with Byron, Flower, and Candy a number of times throughout the filming over the last few months, and had caught them by determination and fore planning through the window of the trailers a few times more. She had become close to the two girls, or as close as she believed they would allow, for they always seemed to have this special little secret between them. One that she knew she would never learn, and it wasn’t that they were both the Byron’s lovers. It annoyed her to be excluded. Herself and the girls were around the same age, so she understood. It had made a pleasant change having people her own age on set and not being scripted kissing older men or playing a chaste young virgin, surrounded by her peers in every direction. But Byron, this strange looking man boy intrigued her. He was always quiet at their dinners, in some sort of contemplation almost. She had caught him sometimes looking at her as if she was something he had never seen before, something different from him. A complementary opinion she hoped to assume, but it drew her to him by keeping her away. She would have to be half-naked before this man-boy in the next few weeks, and the prospect excited and terrified her. And the appalling scar on his arm, where had it come from? Did it have anything to do with his demeanour now? Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar bellow of action and her mind became full of trepidation as she took a deep breath was pulled beneath the water with Byron for the forth time that morning. There had been three drenching practises as they were bobbed from just beneath the surface to above it, and this was the first take. She was freezing and the thin wet suit she wore beneath her clothes was beginning to lose its warmth. She clung harder, as scripted, to the surprisingly not insubstantial form of Byron. She hated this part, the force of the wrench from the water, someone would be sued if she couldn’t bare children she joked to herself. It was the first full take of the leap from the bay to the cliff ledge and she hoped to god this new “invisible” wire was as good as the effects team claimed. She closed her eyes squeezing the skin toned peg tighter to her nose, and all of a sudden she was yanked from the ocean beneath her. The scream from Byron “No” was supposed to be dubbed later but as the water cascaded from her terrified body the sheer volume of it in her ears was phenomenal, she believed it might be heard for miles. Unseen around her each member of the film crew was equally shocked, more so considering their distance. Each of them jumped and tensed, feeling a crawl of uncomfortable fright on the backs of their necks. Even Flower and Candy watching from one of the rescue boats in the bay tensed slightly. More in surprise at the volume from their quiet Byron however, than the unnerving pain in his voice. The soaking wet, but still beautiful actress kept her eyes tightly closed and she wondered briefly why she hadn’t agreed with the lawyers on this one, and let the stunt doubles take over. Perhaps she had been looking forward to being this close to Byron a little too much, perhaps she was a little too competitive when Byron said he would do the stunt himself - she felt she must also. The power of the winch above her propelled them exactly to the cliff ledge twenty-five feet above them with perfect precision. And then they stopped suddenly, through the small squint of her closed eyes she saw Byron’s arm reach upwards and grab the ledge. His other arm was wrapped around her in such a protective way that if she had had the nerve to look down it wouldn’t hav