Sharon Tate by Andrew Yorke

Author:Andrew Yorke
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FIC000000, BIO013000
Publisher: xteamartists, LLC
Published: 2012-01-24T05:00:00+00:00

Doll

DIFFERENT SPECIES OF BEAUTY PRODUCTS lined counters, shelves, aisles, and bags of all sizes and colours. Each served a specific purpose. One was dedicated to eyes. Another concentrated on lips. There were others emphasising skin, hair, feet, and hands. Their collective job was simple: make a nonexistent world believable.

The cinematic universe required these products to work overtime. Individuals carried them in bags through different worlds and various trailers, unfolding them onto counters, chairs, floors. All were used on countless bodies. Many times, an authoritative figure would dictate which product should be used and how much should be applied. A nonexistent world would become suddenly believable.

A bag of these products made their way to a fabricated apartment in the late hours of a fabricated evening. The young woman sat in a chair, taking direction from an imperious older man. Her body was outfitted with a small, darkly-shaded wardrobe. Her legs and arms bare of fabric. Naked of censorship.

She knew the importance of this role. The picture sprung from literary success full of sordid, rebellious detail. Its story encompassed the lives of three young women. One, an observer, who naïvely dived into the cesspool of invasive cameras and broken promises. Another, the dedicated fighter, who reached the precipice of fame only to fall violently from its edge. Lastly, the martyr, a victim of superficial realities and carnal exploitations. The young woman held this role. It would be the role few would later forget.

She focused on the man's instructions. In the corner of one eye, she noted an individual open her bag of products. The lights above had interfered with those on the young woman's face. She never enjoyed these invasive products. A jar of Vaseline tucked in her purse provided quick escape.

Her eyes received another shade of beauty, her lips again coated, glossy, moist, hinting tenderness. She thought about the immediate tasks at hand during moments such as this. She would internally repeat her directions. She would recite her scripted dialogue. She would remember the small scar on her cheek and worry briefly of unavoidable failure. She then forced a sigh of relaxation. This time, duty must overcome fear.

The young woman took her position in the fabricated apartment. Her back straightened. An image, vapid and complicated, suffused her entire presence. She peered into the mirror in front of her and viewed the world others created. With authoritative direction and careful execution, the nonexistent world was now believable.

To the young woman, a nonexistent world was never believable.

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