The Darkside of Acting Up: Volume Two: Volume Two

By Jason D. Morris, Joseph Maddrey and Carly R. Street

In volume one, The Darkside Of Acting Up introduced a collection of plays. The book was well received garnering solid 5-star reviews. In volume 2 the book presents an anthology of short stories and scripts. Delving back down that dark rabbit hole The Darkside Of Acting Up: Volume Two, is an exploration of isolation, fear, and the grotesque imagi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resurrection Press
• Release date: Sep 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087903927

Jason D. Morris

Jason D. Morris is a producer and director known for the feature films Dark Winter (2019), Collapse (2016), Hell House (2008) and the documentary Millennium After the Millennium (2019). After attending the Academy of Art University in San Francisco Jason went on to produce films and other media garnering a bronze Telly award in 2007 among other festival awards.

Book preview

The Darkside of Acting Up

The Darkside of Acting Up

The Darkside of Acting Up

Volume Two

Mark Francisco

Joseph Maddrey

Jason D. Morris

Carly Street

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Resurrection Press

Praise For

The Darkside of Acting Up

...they give you the feeling that you have just somehow fallen into a rich and complete world. The dialogue is concise, hard edged, and rapid fire overall with time outs for lyricism and warmth and compassion and the poetic.

- William Martin, Author of Life In An Ivory Tower

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To find out more about us and our projects visit;

www.ResurrectionFilms.co.uk

Cover artwork created by Ian Stopforth.

Sundowners, Portrait of a Lady, Forerunner, Ringo Furens, and Under Your Skin by Joseph Maddrey. Copyright 2020 by Joseph Maddrey. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission.

All other works Copyright © 2020 Resurrection Films LLC All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

EISBN: 978-1-0879-0392-7

First Printing, 2020

To all the independent creators.

Keep creating...

Contents

Dedication

Forward

I Sundowners

II Entity One

III Can You See My Reflection?

IV Don't Look

V Black Market

VI Portrait of a Lady

VII Separation of a Literary Mind

VIII A Quacky Massacre

IX The Intruder

X Chicks Don’t Bite

XI PCH

XII Forerunner

XIII Biology 101

XIV The Deserters

XV Ringo Furens

XVI Locked Out

XVII Under Your Skin

XVIII Lights Out

XIX The White Box

XX Imitation of Life

About The Author

Forward

Why do we create dark things?

Is it because some of us are more drawn to the shadowy side of life, intent on casting a light on places others might fear to tread? Are we sorting out some personal demon and making it public, therefor taking away any hold it might have on us and others? Or maybe we’re amused by it, or find a kind of honesty there that isn’t in other forms of storytelling?

No, The Darkside of Acting Up Volume 2 isn’t a self-help book or intended to be any kind of therapy. If anything, it’s an exploration of horror and — here’s that word again — dark fiction by a group of talented individuals looking for a collective way to share their art.

What you get here are stories told through a variety of mediums, including art, short stories and scripts. In their own words, it’s here for any actor looking for characters to explore, filmmakers who need material to shoot a short film, or an author in need of an idea. A noble and generous cause, to be sure.

And, of course, it’s to be consumed and enjoyed, just as I, a humble creator of such material myself, did.

But, while reading through these tales, I was struck with the question: where do stories like this come from? Why do we like being scared or disturbed and, by being so, why do we like to scare and disturb others?

For myself, I find this kind of thing cathartic; a way to let loose all the anxieties and fears a person carries around with them on a day-to-day basis. Even if we don’t like to think they’re there, lurking just underneath the surface, they are. And they need to come out in some shape or form. We can yell at our kids, hide under our covers, or finger the motorist who just cut us off, or we can release them on readers, movie fans and theatregoers who are willing participants in what we have to offer.

Doesn’t that seem so much healthier an option?

It does to me. And I hope you, dear reader, enjoy being subjected to what you are about to read just as much as I was. I can’t think of another book quite like it but, if one does, you’re holding another one in your hot little hands.

And I’m pretty sure this one is better.

Enjoy.

Jason Hewlett

Author, Podcaster, Filmmaker and Radio Personality

Sundowners

I

Sundowners

Sundowners

by

Joseph Maddrey

---

There are ghosts all around me. If you want to call them that.

I woke up this morning at 4 am. It was raining and for a while I laid there listening to water overflowing the gutters, and a metal flapping sound—the sound the American flag used to make on a windy day at my elementary school. I figured it was evidence that time had stopped. A strange thought, I know, but it was 4 am and I was only half-awake.

I gave up on falling back to sleep and went to the living room. I didn’t bother to turn on the lights. I’ve been living in the same apartment for three years now. I keep it very clean and I know exactly where everything is, so I didn’t need any light to guide my way.

Besides, there was already a little bit of light coming in through the blinds. Or maybe that was my imagination. Yes, at 4 am, it must have been my imagination. I can admit that now.

I didn’t notice anything unusual when I first passed through the living room. I kept going. Into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I was parched. As you know, I’ve been drinking a little too much lately. But I promise you I was stone-cold sober at 4 am. And dehydrated as hell. I couldn’t wait for the glass to fill up before I brought it to my lips. I finished the water in three quick gulps and filled the glass again.

That was when I noticed something odd. I was still half-asleep, so it took me a few seconds to realize what I was sensing. I couldn’t hear the rain anymore. I looked outside and I could see the rain-soaked street in front of my apartment. The reflections of light from the street lamps were perfectly clear. I told myself the rain must have stopped suddenly while I was standing there.

Now I was really awake. I knew exactly what was happening. I want you to understand that.

I finished my second glass of water and went into the living room to lay down on the couch. I knew I’d left a paperback book on the end table the night before. I had an idea that I might read for a while until I fell back to sleep. It was Saturday and our appointment wasn’t until early afternoon, so I figured I could go back to sleep at 5 or 6 and sleep through the morning.

As I walked toward the couch, I had an epiphany. I’m not sure what else to call it. All of a sudden, I knew that someone was already lying on the couch. I couldn’t see them—it was still dark—but I knew someone was there.

At first, this realization didn’t make a huge impression on me. It arrived as a simple fact: Someone was lying on the coach. Probably trying to sleep. A few seconds later, that could have been me. But right now, it was somebody else. I reached for the lamp on the end table. Light flooded the room and…

Nobody was there.

(In a movie, this is where a filmmaker shows the silhouette of a stranger lying on the couch in very dim light. The other person within the frame—that’s me—is not in a position to see the person on the couch. Geography is everything. He assumes he is alone. But the audience—that’s you—sees the other person and know he’s there. It’s an old suspense trick: Allow the audience to know more than the characters. That way, they will get nervous about what’s going to happen. They might yell at the screen: Don’t sit down! Somebody is there! And then, right before I sit down, the guy on the couch slowly turns his head. His movements are a little herky-jerky, a few sprockets off, making his presence look profoundly unnatural . When the light comes on, the editor match cuts this footage to an alternate take where I’m the only one in the frame, so now it seems like the guy on the couch disappeared right before I sat down. I don’t think about this until later, when I’m the one on the couch.)

I sat down, right where the other person had been sitting, picked up my book and started reading. It was hard to get into the book because it didn’t seem real. I read two or three pages, scanning the words but not processing them. Then it occurred to me: Maybe the person who was here a few moments ago is still here. Occupying the same space I’m in. Once the thought occurs to me, I know I’m right. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I am 100% convinced. Go with me.

A second or two later, I realize that I am surrounded by strangers. They are all around me: sitting in my chair, standing at my feet, lying in my bed. I pretend to keep reading but I’m not reading at all. I’m not even scanning the words anymore. I’m just sitting here, sensing the presence of invisible strangers all around me. Knowing that they can see me and hear me. Hell, they can probably read my thoughts. So I think: Give me a sign.

And that’s when I notice the smell of cigarette smoke. I don’t smoke, as you know, and I don’t like being around people who smoke, so it can’t be a residual smell on the couch or my clothes or something like that. I don’t think any of my neighbors smoke either. Besides that, what are the chances that they are smoking below my living room window at 4 am? There is no possible explanation for the smell of cigarette smoke—but there it is, all the same.

I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t just been thinking those exact words: Give me a sign .

Now I know there’s no way in hell I’m going to get back to sleep, because I know—with absolute certainty—that I’m not alone.

I know you’re here watching me, reading my thoughts.

Entity One

II

Entity One

by

Carly Street

---

FADE IN.

EXT. BUS SHELTER – NIGHT

A cold and rainy night. CHRIS KERR, 28 sits at the bus shelter. He tries to conserve heat as he hugs himself.

CHRIS (V.O.)

The others warned me not to come.

A hooded MAN, 26 sits next to him. He glances at Chris. He taps his watch. THREE more HOODED YOUTHS emerge from the shadows.

One of them slips a metal pole from his sleeve and grasps it tightly in his hand. Chris looks at the weapon, then at the youths.

A smirk creeps across the Man’s face and he grabs Chris by the collar. He throws Chris towards his friends, who launch a vicious attack on him.

Chris is kicked, punched and repeatedly stuck by the metal pole.

He tries to run but stumbles and falls onto the pavement.

The streetlight illuminates him. His shadow is projected onto the ground and towards the youths.

CHRIS

I’m sorry.

As they approach, his shadow appears to bleed across the floor towards them.

Chris sobs and closes his eyes tightly as