The black screen fades to a bright light.

A pair of broken glasses on broken ground. 

The lenses are round and cracked.

Smoke and embers floats above them. 

Ash floats above them.

A hand with a bruised wrist and scabbed

fingers reaches down and picks up the glasses.

One of the stems gets left behind. As the glasses

move through the air the lenses flicker and time begins 

to

move

backwards.

The people in the theater will see images in the lenses:

fire,

an explosion.

The images move up and down as running,

falling, getting up

happen again and again.

There is a spray of blood and the blurry face of the love interest

(the face is blurry so the people watching can insert

the face of their own love interest into the picture).

A cigarette zooms into focus as it is lifted to the Wearer’s lips,

abrasions on the fingers, blood slick down the knuckles.

Vomit.

Tears.

Rain.

There is a scream, the first

sound since the movie started. 

It is not the scream of a victim, a trapped animal, but a scream of 

thwarted desperation.

The quick stick of a knife.

The Wearer falls and is held down by a heavy body.

The ripping of clothing.

A punch to the face.

The glasses are knocked askew.

There is a television screen with a news announcement and

A social media post promising bad weather ahead.

There is the hand again, not bruised, not bloody.

The glasses are not broken anymore and they finally settle 

on the Wearer’s face.

There is morning.

There is sunlight.

*

Photo by J. E. Schoondergang on Unsplash