Film Solo

On break from college, and desperate to escape the mundane of her current life, Mira Marshall ignores the superstitious and paranoid nature of her family to leave the house and see the world for a few weeks. Mira wants to see a change in scenery, and roam in wide open spaces that shame the small house and city life she's been confined to. She wants to leave it all behind for a few weeks, but not everything wants to remain behind. Strange incidents and an ever growing list of questions inspire Mira to detour and venture to the area where her parents were slaughtered on a camping trip. Emboldened by a desire for answers and justice, Mira digs deeper into her family's history and into the area. She soon crosses paths with a vengeful being who's hatred of her family well surpasses a century. She doesn't know him, but he knows her.

In a country where people view being single as a sin. Some would even conclude that you have been married to the devil by your parents, others would say you have a spirit husband a d that was the reason no one was coming for you. To worsen it, you chose a profession that perpetually puts you on the limelight, people call for you, they have seen your work and they want to have you as their photographer. Such was the case for Rebecca, she was young beautiful but she feels so alone since all her mates were married, she was still single and to worsen it no one was seeing her, it felt more like she was invisible, people would always tell her she was beautiful but they never went further even when she would be the one to quickly show her interest. She wanted so much to be loved and feel loved, she wanted to know what it felt like to be inlove. She looked pretty young but she wasn't really that young which was why her mother would want her to go to church with her every now and then, she wished she was not in the same state with her mother because even if she runs away from her mother, she always finds a way to get her back. But the story changed for Rebel when she was contracted to handle Charles' wedding, her job was going just as perfect, she was doing exactly what she used to do, she was giving her best to the work. She showed them a sample of how the work would look like, but she couldn't concentrate, whenever Charles was close to her, even if he was with Sandra, she just couldn't concentrate, she was inlove with her client.

On the day our couple channel hit thirty million followers, the milestone video was supposed to be my official debut on camera. I woke up at five in the morning to do my makeup and tried on a dozen different dresses. However, right before the cameras rolled, Julian stopped me. "Willow, let's have Evangeline do it instead. She's just more camera-ready. The fans will love her." Evangeline was my best friend. I stood frozen for a long time, but in the end, I simply nodded. From that day on, Julian and Evangeline played a romantic couple on screen for three years. I stood behind the lens, writing their scripts, setting up their lighting, and editing every single frame. I watched the comment section explode day after day. [They look so deeply in love! My favorite ship ever!] And I watched Julian hold Evangeline's hand with more and more ease. Until the night of our three-year anniversary stream, when the host asked them a question live on camera. "When was the exact moment you two felt the strongest spark for each other?" Julian and Evangeline smiled in perfect sync. "The very first day we shot together on camera." In an instant, the live stream chat erupted into wild cheers and screams. Sitting in the dark corner of the studio behind the control monitor, my heart sank. They had spent three years pretending to be in love, and I was the only fool who treated it like an act. As soon as the broadcast wrapped, I logged into the channel dashboard and revoked all my admin access. Then, I opened an email invitation for an overseas film project I had received two weeks ago and accepted it. From now on, I was done writing their love story.

Among the world's female models, Julian Vance once again ranked first as the photographer they most wanted to spend a night with. And yet he had never taken a single photograph of me. When reporters asked about it, he could never hide the fondness in his eyes. "My wife is for my eyes only. No one else gets that privilege." On my birthday, I happily changed into a lace nightdress and, for the first time, asked him to record me with his camera. Several minutes passed. The shutter never sounded. Behind the camera, Julian's expression had gone stiff. "Forget it," he said. My joy collapsed into confusion. "What's wrong?" "It's just..." He laughed dryly. "Photography is work. I don't want to mix you up with work." Then he put the camera back, turned around, and went into the bathroom. The door to the darkroom where he developed his photos was half open, red light spilling through the crack. I walked inside and saw an album on the worktable titled Vivian Blair's Private Diary. I opened it. Inside were photos in every degree of intimacy and every kind of pose.

Sandra had never imagined that she would be left all alone on her wedding day. Ivy had always threaten to commit suicide due to her depression. As such, everyone would always try to please her. There was no exception even at Sandra's wedding. Sandra had had enough. She would not want to have any connection with her fiancé or her parents anymore. From now on, Sandra would only live her life for herself.

I had been with Elias, a renowned astrophotographer, for five years. With that said, I had never asked him to take me on a shoot with him, all because he once told me, "The first rule of astrophotography is to avoid any kind of light pollution. Even a flicker of your phone screen can ruin an entire night's long exposure." This was why I never even dared to send so much as a text to ask him if he had arrived at the location. I was afraid of ruining his work. All I did was wait at home. Whenever he went to the snowy mountains or the wilderness for a shoot, I would fold a paper star. In each of these paper stars, I would write down the things I did not get to say to him because I did not want to disturb him. [Make sure you layer up.] [I'll wait for you to come back.] I accumulated a thousand and ninety-six origami stars over five years, filling three glass bottles. He never opened a single one of them. Just last week, he was shortlisted for an international astrophotography competition. I was happy for him and went to the website to see his entry called “Light.” Framed at the center of the image was his assistant dressed in a red windbreaker. She was toying with a sparkler and laughing cheerily. The judges' comment read, "In this submission, the photographer voluntarily passed up the chance to capture a once-in-seventy-years comet. Instead, he dedicated the shot to the figure in the image who exuded all the light for him." This whole time, his world was never devoid of light. He simply wanted to snuff out my light. That same night, I poured all of the stars out of the bottles. I opened them one by one, to read the messages within to myself. Then, I burned them all. At dawn, after washing the three empty glass bottles, I had them neatly arranged next to the box he used for his camera lens. There were tens of thousands of galaxies in the universe. There was no reason I should linger outside the frame and wait for someone's light to bleed into mine.