8 May 2012
Miranda Wood was channel six's local news reporter. It was her job to go out into town, and report back on all the exciting news going on. Sadly there was hardly ever any actual news. Her top story so far this year had been an old lady attempting to bake the world record for largest cookie. And she had failed. Mainly because she had only a standard oven and was held back by what could actually fit in it. Today it was the University's art contest. Six pieces had been chosen by the Dean himself. These pieces were supposed to express the journey through life. But so far had only expressed boredom in her eyes. Maybe she wasn't educated enough to appreciate the work in front of her. How did a cylinder and a pyramid show someone's journey through life? She just didn't get it. But she had to fake interest in each piece. Fake that she understood each piece and could see what the artist had been trying to get across. In reality all she was thinking about was going home and getting drunk. Numb her mind with alcohol instead of numbing it with this bullshit. The Dean was introducing the fifth piece now. A geeky looking student was stood next to him. Thick glasses and a suit which was obviously a hand-me-down. The Dean pulled the black sheet from over the piece of art to revel it in all it's glory. It seemed to be a model of a man, made out of computer monitors. Matrix like code scrolling over the screens. The geeky looking kid was now explaining how he came to develop his idea, what it meant to him and what he hoped it meant to the audience. Miranda was trying hard not to yawn. Se was struggling to keep the camera trained on the stage. Still only one more to go. Then she could go home, load it on onto her iMac, and lay a voice over on top. Then it would be ready to send off in the morning. And of course once that was done, she could concentrate on getting drunk. Not just drunk, but fucked out of mind drunk. Her partner had left her six weeks ago, and she was having trouble coping with it. Atleast the drink meant the pain went away. Only until the morning admittedly. Then she would have a hangover from hell. But she didn't really care. Finally the geeky kid had left the stage. The Dean had returned, explaining that this last piece had been done by a student that wasn't able to attend today.
"Lucky bastard." Miranda said under her breath.
"This is my favourite piece of the night," the Dean continued. "For me, this piece sums up mankind's struggle with himself, and how he sometimes feels out of control of his own destiny."
"Waffle, waffle, waffle...just get on with it!" Miranda said, again under her breath.
"Without further hesitation, I give to you, 'Mankind's Eternal Struggle' designed and pieced together by Alicia Davis." the Dean said almost triumphantly, pulling off the huge black sheet as he did so. Instead of rounds of applause, and cheering as the Dean expected, his unveiling was greeted with gasps, shrieks and screams. He couldn't understand it, as people seemed to racing away from this final piece. That was until he turned around to view it himself. It seems like Alicia had made it to the unveiling after all. Miranda kept he camera trained on the obscene piece of artwork. She thought it must be some kind of joke, until she zoomed in. Alicia seemed to be arranged as a puppet would be. Her head, torso, arms and legs had been separated, tied back together with a fine string. Each limb attached in turn to a huge cross above her. Her eyes still open as they had been, watching the monster that had butchered her rape her best friend. The cuts to her joints, separating the limbs was almost an artwork in itself. They had not been hacked off, they had been surgically removed. Her long dark hair clean, dangling over her face. At her feet there were buckets. Buckets that had been filled with her internal organs. One for her intestines, one for her lungs and heart, one for her liver and kidneys. Across her chest, a huge cross that had obviously been used to remove the organs. Stitched up with not as much surgical care. The stitches were large, and in thick black thread. Miranda could feel herself shaking as she panned around the scene. Trying to capture every single detail that she could with her camera. Trying to steady herself she walked around the human puppet, trying to get it from every angle. People all around her, running, crying, talking on mobile phones. The Dean was still on stage. Mouth wide open, unable to believe his eyes at what he was seeing. He had spoken to this very girl not more then two days ago, he had spoken to her about this very piece. Expressed his desire to include it in the art show. Now he was confronted with the artist themselves, being used as a piece of art. It was too much for him. He bent double and promptly throw his dinner up over the stage. Miranda saw this and made sure she didn't miss a moment of him revisiting his spaghetti. She turned her camera on the crowd. Nobody knowing what to do. Some had just ran and left, overs held each other, trying to comfort one another in the shadow of grotesque. Others had followed the Deans lead, prompting throwing up, on there knees, spitting vomit on to the floor. Daring not to look back up for fear of starting again. Miranda had chills running all over herself. She was suppressing her own need to vomit, and so far she was seceding. Turning the camera to Alicia once again she zoomed in on her back. Across her back, a crude number twenty one had been carved into her dark skin. It had been freshly done as well as there was blood running down from the wound. She thought she had enough footage. She flipped open her phone, and dialled not the police, as many seemed to be doing, but her Producer.
"Fuck!" she shook the phone. It had gone straight to Voice mail. "John, when you get this, ring me back. You are never going to believe what I'm looking at!"
She was almost smiling. Finally a story. A story that might get her off the local 'News' trail and into the studio. She put her camera in her bag. She took out the DSLR camera. She knew that getting photo's would be just as important as footage. She could hear sirens in the distance. She guessed she had five minutes max before the police came and made them all stand away. People in the crowd were thinking the same thing. The ones that remained had their camera phones out. Tens of iPhones and Android phones, snapping away at this poor girl in her demise after death. Miranda could see a couple of squad cars now. Uniformed officers were leading the rest of the people away. Those caught with their phones out were having them taken away.
"Shit." she said to herself, stuffing her camera away quickly. Taking her scarf off she put it over the top of the camera. Anyone looking in the bag wouldn't see it with a glance. A hand was placed on her shoulder.
"Madam, can you move away please." said a uniformed officer to her.
"Certainly officer" she replied sweetly, with a smile.
Trying not to run, mainly because of heels, partly as to not draw attention to herself, she made her way back to the car. She looked back, two uniformed officers were helping a weeping Dean to his feet. Sobbing uncontrollably. Opening the door she quickly got in and started the engine. Pulling away, she flipped open her phone again and hit redial. Again it went straight to voice mail.
"Fucking ring me back John! I have something so good on film here your not going to believe it. Ring me back!" she said into it, trying to remain as calm as possible.
Final she cleared city traffic. She had thought about going straight to the office, but she wanted to get this home quick, but her own voice over onto it before somebody could steal her footage for themselves in the edit. Just a few miles and a quick edit, maybe a shower and something quick to eat, then back to the office, to stake a claim to studio job. Maybe even as a co-anchor! If she could edit this good, there was no reason why not! She was getting excited at the thought. Her phone rang. Fumbling in her coat pocket for it, she finally pulled it out. The display on the front said 'John'.
"Fucking finally! It's only been like a fucking hour." she said to herself. She flipped the phone open. She was rushing and dropped the phone in the passenger footwell. "Shit!" she exclaimed. Venting down to pick the phone up. No sooner had she took her eyes off the road there was an almighty bang. Followed by the sound of something rolling over the top of the car. Miranda say bolt upright quickly. Eyes wide. Slamming on her brakes, the car skidded to a halt. She dared not look in the rear view mirror.
Stan: Chapter Thirteen • Opuss № I