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deejalyndon · 2 months ago

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I wrote a short story for a final project in a class and this was so fun! @duckietie I know you’ve been wanting to read it. @magical-mystery-tour1967, @deejalyndon, @sadnuggetsworld, and @fetchmearum420 there’s a little reference you guys might like in this. (We all share the fave movie.)

City of Starlight

“Action!”

“Get these cameras rolling!” We moved like chess pieces upon the board, our roles crucial to everyone around us.

“Miss Estelle, bring in that seductive energy.” I smirked, shooting a glance at my newest co-star, Martin Woodvine, winking at him flirtatiously. He and I were starring in a new flick, a fantastical romance set in Hollywood itself. I was the young starlet, a hopeless romantic and Martin was the mythical fairy prince from a world beyond. He sure looked the part without any enhancements. His platinum hair flowed down his back in waves, a little below the shoulders. His eyes, a piercing amber haunted anyone who saw him on the street. On camera, his hair shimmered like starlight, white as snow. He defied traditional masculinity, but since he was absolutely beautiful, he suffered no consequences, like the unfortunate ones did. I began the scene for the camera, melting into a character that was not so far off from myself.

“Oh Rhys, you charm me.” Martin laughed, moving closer to me, placing his dainty hand along my waist.

“How can you refuse me? How can you refuse such power?” I twirled my loose brown hair, biting my lip.

“I can never. Now kiss me, Rhysand. Kiss me now. I beg of you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the director smile. I was doing the scene perfectly. “Kiss me.” Martin pressed his soft lips against mine, engulfing me into a passionate kiss. He pulled away from me.

“How would you like to be my queen?” he asked me, his voice dripping with sweet and dastardly desire.

“You have to win me over first.”

“Playing hard to get? I see. I will win you over. I have your name, Irene. You gave your true name to one of the fae. What a dastardly thing to do.” Martin chuckled darkly, his eyes moving up and down my body in a lustful gaze.

“I suppose you’re right,” I replied with a cheeky tone. “You’ve won.” The director gestured for us to move into another kiss and we followed each direction effortlessly, ending the scene with our lips moving against each other, a kiss of tongue and cheek in front of the Hollywood sign.

“And cut!” yelled the director. The cameras clicked off and the lights went back to normal. “Miss Estelle! That was brilliant! You will wow the entire country at the premiere!” I blushed and glanced down shyly. It still took getting used to, receiving all these compliments like this. I was raised all the way in New England and no one expected me to star in a few hit films. It was the 40s, and women like me were not always allowed to make it big.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I couldn’t have done it without Martin.”

“That is true in lieu of the film, but your talent is raw. My, you are our next starlet! Three of our films have featured you previously, and everyone adores you!” The director moved over to Martin. “You did so well, Martin. Rumors swirl that you are mythical, not just in acting. If you are, then you have stunned the entire nation with your beauty, charm, and talent.” Martin smiled, his eyes blazing with pride.

“Why thank you,” he responded confidently.

“You both are free to go. We will give you a call if you are needed for a retake. We have every scene finished.” I nodded politely.

“It has been a pleasure working on this film with you. If I am not called back, I will see you at the premiere.” Martin joined me as we walked out of the recording studio at Paramount. The blazing California sun blinded us; our sunglasses were our saviors. The Santa Ana winds whipped through the horizon, warm and dangerous.

“Ice cream is on me. Come with me tonight?” Martin asked in his sultry voice.

“Of course,” I said. He opened the door to his sleek car for me, with all the chivalry I could ever ask for. I prayed to God each night that he would ask me out and give me the starstruck romance I had dreamed of since I first watched the films of my childhood. It was only a matter of time, I was sure of it. Martin slid into the driver’s seat and ignited the engine. He lived in a manor on Sunset Boulevard, from what I had gathered. I had never been, but it was probably more extravagant than my little abode. I was a rising star, unlike him, who had captivated Hollywood like a siren luring sailors to sea.

“Now, what ice cream would you like?” he asked me.

“A chocolate malt. My favorite.” He extended his graceful hand, his skin glimmering porcelain in the sun. His fingers wrapped around mine as he gently guided me from the car.

“Oh my goodness! Is that…? It is! It’s Martin Woodvine!” A gaggle of girls gawked and swooned as the paparazzi flashed their cameras.

“Who is he with?” one of the girls murmured.

“It’s Miss Estelle Houghton! Oh my gosh! It’s her!” My face went hot. I was still disoriented from the cameras that often followed me around. I was so private back home. Shy and reserved, lost in a book or a world of my own. My sisters thought I would become a writer in New York, but I surprised them. Perhaps I will still write later on. I do have a few ideas after all. Martin and I ducked into the ice cream parlor, attempting to ditch the crowd.

“How may I help you two today… Holy smokes! It’s Martin Woodvine! We will serve you, no cost at all.” Martin smiled, too charming in a way.

“Thank you,” he said smoothly. For a moment, his eyes seemed to be glowing a golden hue. Why would they be glowing? I shook off the thought of it all, taking my seat next to him. “Miss Estelle will have a chocolate malt. I will have a caramel swirl.”

“Of course, Mr. Woodvine. I will do just that for you.” Within minutes, the server brought the ice cream.

“I wonder what the papers will say about us,” I said quietly to Martin.

“That we’re dating I assume. I wanted to ask you something. Would you be willing to attend the premiere with me?” I grinned, a little too eagerly before reeling myself back in.

“Yes!” I took a bite of my ice cream, savoring the flavor as the icy texture chilled my mouth.

“The premiere is in a few weeks.”

“Yes, I know. Before that picture from Sunset Studios gets released.”

“Which one is that again?”

“The one about the two rivals who are fighting over a viscountess. I believe it’s called The Italian or something like that.”

“Oh! Starring Tom Hammerstien as Count Amadeu von Devilus and Fabio M. Alessandro as Baron Silvo!” Martin exclaimed! “I am friends with both of them. Wonderful men, I should say!” I giggled.

“Both of them are so attractive. Aren’t they actually fighting in reality over the woman who’s playing the Viscountess?”

“Yes, they are. Fabio is the one who's the angriest. Those Italians.”

“Well they’re both good actors. I just hope that things don’t get too out of hand.”

“It would be a shame if something happened to one of them. Now, how is your malt?”

“Delicious. How’s your swirl?”

“Scrumptious.” We spent the rest of our time together making small talk as we ignored the photographers the best we could. I just had a feeling that the papers would say we’re dating. It wasn’t official yet but him asking me to go with him to the premiere along with a little ice cream date was a very good sign. Once he drove me back to the studio to retrieve my car, I headed home, my mind reeling. So much had happened in the past few hours.

“Dear God, if you are listening, please let me have a romance with Martin. I think I love him. Amen.” I only had to wait.

“I look stunning,” I told myself as I posed in front of the mirror in my deep green evening gown. Tonight was the premiere and Martin was supposed to be here any minute. What if he said he loved me? I twirled in front of the mirror and smiled brightly. My jewels glimmered along my pale skin. The doorbell rang. “Martin!” I dashed down the stairs and threw open the door.

“Why hello,” he said seductively. “Are you ready, darling?” I tried not to gasp. He had called me darling, which likely meant he would confess this evening.

“Let me put on my shoes and grab my purse, then I will be ready,” I managed to reply. “Come in if you wish. I know it isn’t the best abode, but I do find it charming.” Martin came in and sat down in one of the loveseats. I went back upstairs, slipped on my shoes, and grabbed my golden clutch purse. Martin gasped as I emerged at the staircase, gliding down, my dress trailing behind me.

“Stunning,” he gaped, “absolutely stunning.” He stood up and extended his right hand. “Come with me, darling. To the premiere.” I took his hand and we slowly got into his car, his black Cadillac. My heart hammered in my chest, pulsing with passion and nerves. Martin pulled up to the Chinese Theater, the cameras flashing wildly. He opened the door and got out.

“It’s Martin Woodvine!” the crowd cheered.

“It’s him!!” a young teen swooned. “What a heartthrob!” The teen’s friends giggled and joined her, pointing and whispering.

“It’s Miss Estelle Houghton!” Men catcalled me as I emerged from the passenger seat. I searched for familiar faces in the crowd. Tom Hammerstien and Fabio M. Alessandro were there, supporting us all. Next to them was Katrina Gussman, the woman playing the Viscountess. She smiled at me, her dark hair blowing ethereally in the Santa Ana winds. She slowly glided over to me, her dark crimson gown contrasting her snowy skin.

“Miss Estelle,” she told me, “congratulations. I have also heard the rumors about you and Martin. Good luck, I hope he confesses. I mean, look at him. He’s gushing at you.”

“I hope tonight’s the night. Which man are you leaning towards?” Katrina chuckled.

“I don’t know. I like them both, but I know I must choose one. Tom is so humorous and his laugh is contagious. But, Fabio is a dreamy Italian man who makes my heart race. If only I could choose them both!”

“If only.”

“Estelle,” Martin called.

“I have to go. Perhaps we will chat again.” Katrina waved goodbye and stood next to Tom and Fabio. The cameras clicked and the white blinded me. Martin shook hands with directors, and then he flinched, trying not to yelp.

“My ring is iron,” the man told him. “You yelped. Did it burn you?” Martin played a mythical being in City of Starlight, our movie, but he couldn’t actually be one of the fae. Right?

“I cut myself,” Martin said. “Your ring needs mending.” There was no cut on his hand, but rather a small welt. “So sorry for my rudeness. I apologize.”

“Good luck, Mr. Woodvine, you’ll need it.”

“Your hand,” I told Martin.

“I know,” he replied. “After the premiere, I must confess something.”

“Confess?”

“Yes, now come on. The film will begin promptly.”

The film flickered across the screen, Martin and I’s voices filling the theater. I watched myself recite my lines in awe. This was me? I had improved immensely from my first film, and that was something to be proud of. Martin grasped my hand. A chill shot down my spine. “After the premiere, we run away from the crowds,” he whispered. “In front of the Hollywood sign.” In front of the sign, like in the film? I knew that show business was often all an act, things not how they seemed to be, but a meeting in front of the sign just like in the film playing on screen blended fiction with reality.

“What happened to your hand?” I asked him. “That doesn't look like a cut.”

“The ring did burn me,” he replied. “I should have worn gloves tonight.” There it was again, the strange glow in his eyes. Martin was not who he said he was, and it allured me. “Let’s duck out now. The credits are rolling. There is a back exit.” He and I snuck out like two lovesick teenagers, darting behind the theater. “Follow me.” His car was nearby, which puzzled me, since he parked near the front of the theater. “Get in, darling.” I complied.

We drove up close to the hill with the sign and he led me out onto the mountaintop. “I have something I need to confess. I love you. I always have. When we met on our first day, I was stricken by your beauty. Your charm radiates through your body. No, I do not just value your appearance. I couldn't care less. What I love most about you is your talent, your kind heart, and your romantic essence. I read one of the poems you wrote tonight. Have you ever thought about publishing them? You have bewitched me, and it is quite hard to do so to someone like myself. Underneath this starlit sky, I confess my love. I may happen to be exactly who you’re looking for. Not everything is as it seems here in Hollywood.”

“You…You love me?” I gasped. “You love me? What do you mean about nothing being as it seems?”

“That ring burned me because it’s iron. I am one of the faeries after all. The film did not have me stray too far from myself. My name is not Martin. I changed it to fit in with the mortals. The name is Thorne, King of the Faeries. Well, at least my kingdom, the Court of Starlight.” Martin began to change before my eyes. His ears grew pointy, his fingernails pointed and long. His eyes turned more golden and his hair glittered like the stars above. He looked almost human, but unnaturally beautiful at the same time. “Would you still love me and possibly be my queen?”

“Yes, how can I refuse your offer?” I said genuinely and without hesitation. “Do you still want me to call you Martin or would you rather me call you your true name?”

“Either is fine.”

“I love you, Thorne. I love you incandescently. I always will.” Thorne cupped my cheek and pulled me close, kissing me deeply. It felt real, no facade of theatrics involved. “I love you,” I said in a breathless gasp. “I love you, I love you.”

“My love for you is as constant as the stars above us and it always will be.” We kissed once more, cameras flashing around us, our night under the stars, our love confessed, surrendering to the power of desire.

#THIS IS AMAZING #tom hammerstien and fabio m alessandro GOT MEE #uve created peak #reblorg

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