Supernova||Book 1 [Wattys 2024]

Episode 1.3 - It's Showtime!

"Number 1071." The words sliced through the activity in the room, zeroing in on Jorah's frayed patience. He blinked, his thoughts crystallizing. It was finally his turn.

More than an hour had crawled by, each minute stretching torturously. Tension had built up in his shoulders, a physical manifestation of his internal debate: to stay or to leave. But quitting wasn't an option—not if he wanted his plan to succeed.

Those curious eyes tracked him as he crossed the room. Each step left behind echoes of doubt and whispers of easier choices. Upon entering the audition space, a myriad of feelings washed over him like a tide. The room was like a time capsule, taking him back to his first audition. Back then, there had been one question on everyone's brows: "Why is he here?" He knew they didn't see him, but that name.

Every room he'd walked into had been with the weight of his family name—Not a boon to his efforts, but an albatross; an invitation for judgment and misunderstanding.

His heart drummed nervously, an old battle rhythm that accompanied every performance. It mattered little that his intention was to sabotage his own chances; the ghosts of auditions past clung to him like a second skin, whispering of vulnerability and the eternal quest for validation. Jorah's breath hitched, caught between nostalgia and the trepidation.

He took his place center stage, eyes fixed ahead, projecting confidence. Yet within, the ever-present need to prove his worth and separate from the shadows of expectation, gnawed at his resolve.

At the table before him sat a tribunal of creative authority. Writers, directors, and casting managers—all poised to witness his transformation into a character born from their imagination. The soft whirrs and clicks of cameras marked another layer of observation. Technicians manned the lenses trained on his spot.

Jorah's gaze swept over the table. At the far end of the table, there was one man who caught his eye. In that man's eyes, there danced a strange light—a flicker of recognition or perhaps the spark of curiosity.

He took a slow breath, gripping the script. It was a tangible reminder of why he stood here, his mission.

"Whenever you're ready," said the woman in the center, her voice a neutral prompt.

"Action," came the quiet command.

A flicker of hurt flashed across his eyes before they hardened into a glare, the transformation sudden yet profound.As he imagined the object of his ire standing before him, Jorah's jaw clenched. His muscles tightened as he held back the torrent of words Ryder would hurl at an unfaithful lover.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" he began.Each word was a controlled strike, measured in its delivery to cut through pretense and denial of the person who'd hurt him. He took a step forward, then another, closing the distance with a predatory movement. "Why did you do this to me?" Jorah's voice cracked, "I hate you." He turned away. "I never want to see you again."

"And end scene." The man at the far end called.

Jorah faced the panel once more. In those short moments, he had traversed the thorny path of Ryder's breakup scene, navigating through the emotional brambles that were far from his comfort zone. The room's atmosphere swallowed his performance, leaving him exposed in the silence that followed.

He scanned the poker faced panel before him, their features giving nothing away. Jorah knew he hadn't nailed it, his portrayal had been serviceable at best. Emotional scenes like this one—raw and demanding—had always been challenging terrain for him, lacking the practice that would have turned his okay into outstanding.

Despite his initial intentions,a flicker of disappointment kindled within him. He had come with the desire to underperform and sabotage his own audition enough to retain a semblance of professional dignity. But as he stood there he was unexpectedly confronted with an overwhelming feeling of despair.