DIRECTORS CUT

The image of burned bodies and soldiers flashed on a big screen. An older man sat in a chair, studying it. A young woman stood beside him, her eyes darting from him to the bright images beyond them. Lucia rubbed her hands behind her back studying the man’s reactions. The movie ended, and the older man stood up and fixed his suit tie. He then walked over to a projector, unplugged a USB drive, and handed it to the woman.

“Well, this was excellent work, Ms. Veriqua,” the old man began. “You and Curtis always have such informational films,” he continued.

“Thank you, professor. There was a lot to cover,” she said.

“But we came here for your film festival submission. I’d like to see what you two have for that,” he said, giving her a warm grin.

“You just saw it.” She flashed him a confident smile.

The professor fixed his glasses and straightened his back.

“I recognize your dedication, Ms. Veriqua, but this film festival will not accept a four-hour submission. Not again,” the old man said, checking his watch.

The woman held her locket necklace. “Can’t this be an exception? I need people to see this.” She gripped the USB drive tightly in her hands. It burned her skin.

The old man sighed and rubbed his chin. “I can’t pull any more favors for the Veriqua family. I’m up to my neck in personal complaints,” the old man said, sighing. He looked at the young woman’s solemn eyes staring at the floor.

“Yes, professor. How much of a grade is this again?”

“Eighty.”

Lucia groaned.

“Look, your mother had her style, and it was outstanding,” the old man started, stopping at the door to look at her again.

“She never cut corners, and neither should I.”

“But you’re someone else. Try to find your style,” he finished, leaving the theatre room. The woman sat quietly in the room for a moment, surrounded by darkness. His words repeated in her head like a mantra. A young man walked into the theatre and approached Lucia.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“You called it. It’s gotta be shorter,” she said, her eyes on the ground. The young man’s smile faded as she avoided his eyes.

“It’s just how it is, Lucia,” he said, gripping his camera.

“Whatever,” she replied. She took the USB drive out of her pocket and stared at it. It was heavy and it smelled of sulfur. “I’ll figure it out tonight. I… need some time to think.” Lucia held the USB in her hand and glanced at him. “I’ll call you later, Curtis?”

“Woah, can’t I help? I haven’t been studying editing techniques for nothing, you know. I need this grade,” he said, crossing his arms and frowning.

“Why can’t you submit something of your own?” she asked.

“We were out of the country, and I didn’t have a whole lot of back-up footage.”

“So, you’ve got nothing?”

“We’ve got this,” he said, pointing to the USB drive.

Lucia rubbed her forehead.

“I just—I need it to be perfect,” she said as her finger traced the chain of her locket, the cold metal against her skin.

“Lucia, can we worry about perfectionism when we pass?” he asked, holding his hand out towards her.

Lucia stood rigid, her arms crossed tightly.

“Fine,” she said, giving him the drive. “But I’ll only stick around for an hour or two. After that, I’m taking it.”

They went to the library, and Curtis put his laptop on a desk, plugging in the USB drive. He opened the video, and Lucia shifted her feet from side to side.

“You, okay?” Curtis asked.

“I’m fine,” Lucia responded. She avoided Curtis’ gaze, pacing across the floor.

“This is just the second submission, Lucia. There will be another festival next month.”

“I can’t sit on this for another month.” Lucia stopped and spotted a DVD case with a familiar picture on a bookshelf. “I need someone to see this.” Her jaw tightened as she turned away from it.

“Then help me figure out what to cut,” Curtis said, skimming through their footage.

Lucia stared at the screen, her hands gripping her knees.

“So, where do we start?”

“Nobody will stay awake if we keep too much of the fluff. We’re gonna make it eye-catching.”

“I’ve seen heavily detailed docs.” Lucia turned back to the DVD on the bookshelf.

“And they usually only end up making one,” Curtis said.

Lucia looked at him sharply, holding her locket tightly.

“Can’t we make it into a series?”

“There isn’t enough footage for that. Unless we go back.”

Lucia didn’t respond. Curtis began skimming through the video, and images of starving people and blazing fires flashed through Lucia’s mind.

“How about this part? I think it went on for quite a bit,” Curtis said, turning to Lucia.

“You want to cut an interview?” Lucia asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Curtis began. “It’s good, really good even, but—”

“No, we’re leaving it in,” Lucia argued. She skipped forward and stopped. “Can’t we cut this part?”

“Not really. This is exactly what we need.”

“Are explosions that important?” Lucia asked. An image of people running and screaming flashed through her mind.

“It’s not about importance. It’s about keeping eyes on the screen. That’s what got us a good grade last time.”

“That’s not why we filmed it,” Lucia responded. Her hands were shaking, and she could feel welling behind her eyes. But her brow was furrowed. Curtis noticed her uneasy hands and sighed.

“You’re taking it too personally. We’re not making this for us—we're making it for a grade. Next month we’ll make something that’ll blow them away.”

“This is that something!” Lucia shouted, making people around the library stare at them.

Curtis got up from his seat and approached Lucia.

“I’m heading to the bathroom. Just take a moment to think about what to cut, please?” Curtis asked, leaving the library.

Lucia dragged herself towards the DVD on the bookshelf and picked it up. The title read “Tusks” and had a golden seal and a best-seller headline: The Whole Nine Yards. She looked at the bottom of the case and read a name. Patricia Veriqua. She clutched the DVD against her chest, her locket pressing into her heart as she sunk to the floor. I’m sorry, Mom.

Lucia heard footsteps approaching from the side and guarded the DVD in her arms until she saw Curtis come around the corner.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting down next to her.

Lucia dropped her guard, loosening her grip on the case. “Hey.”

“I’m assuming you want a break?” he asked, pointing to the DVD.

“Oh, no I just…” she began, losing her train of thought. “I needed a little guidance.” She passed the DVD to him.

Curtis looked at the DVD and his eyes lit up. “Veriqua? Your mother made films?”

“She made a documentary.”

“What’s it about?”

“Elephants. And everything you need to know about them,” Lucia said, chuckling to herself.

“Did she teach you how to direct?”

Lucia looked at the ground, caressing her locket. “She did. I finished the ending of her documentary.”

“She wanted to give you something to work with?”

Lucia’s eyes drifted towards the bookshelf behind Curtis. “She got sick.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Curtis said, handing her DVD back.

“It’s okay. She’s strong. She just…” Lucia’s voice choked up as she began thinking about her mother.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can work on the doc another time, Lucia.”

Lucia coughed and shook her head. “No. We need this, and we should be working for it. Let’s finish it.”

Curtis nodded and stood up, holding out his hand for Lucia. She took it and he helped her up. She placed the DVD back on the bookshelf and looked at it momentarily. The picture of her and her mother on the front cover smiling together next to an elephant gleamed underneath the golden lights of the bookcase.

When she returned to the laptop, she sat down and watched Curtis skim through their footage.

“Well, now we’re back to square one,” Curtis said, holding his head as he leaned on the desk.

“Wait go back a few minutes,” Lucia said. She saw a shot of her with a group of villagers around a bonfire. They recorded stories they told amidst the blaze and the village children who invited her to play games with them. Then an image of the hollow eyes of those children, clutching pieces of bread.

“How much footage do we have in outtakes?”

“About three days’ worth. Mostly citizen interviews,” Curtis said, handing her another USB drive.

She took the USB drive and held it in her hands. It wasn’t as heavy as the other, and it smelled of jasmine.

“I think I have an idea.”

***

A slight breeze blew in the wind as Lucia looked over a hill, gazing at a big screen in the distance. She smiled softly as she heard someone shuffling through the grass behind her.

“Everything’s set up on the projector. They’re waiting for you, director,” Curtis said, his arms folded. Following Curtis down the hill, Lucia saw a crowd of people sitting in front of the big picture. In front of the crowd was a woman in a long coat with tubes attached to an IV bag. Lucia smiled as she introduced their submission and pressed play on her remote. Lucia watched the crowd as the screen flickered to life—eyes widened. Voices softened. She exhaled slowly, her mother’s words echoing in her mind. Tell them their stories. Finally, she had.

Anthony Scarpa originating from the bay of Maryland. When he is not spending time writing, he is enjoying historical media in the form of a video game.