I’ve just woke up. My eyes, they sting I try not to touch them and just open slowly like a broken camera shutter. I just rub them as I shuffle in the bed. I’m wriggling around and hear a clink, it’s the glass. I pull it out slowly opening my eyes trying to read the red label. It’s Russian, the good stuff. I sit up clasping the bottle and twist the top holding it to my mouth but nothing, not a drop. It’s all gone so I throw it out the bed and wriggle back under the covers annoyed and depressed.
I suddenly hear a noise coming from down the corridor. I’m slowly moving my way out the bed then the crack in the curtain blinds me. I cover my eyes whilst positioning myself for that first foot on the floor. I place it on the ground, something sticks. Lifting my foot it’s a polaroid. Scattered everywhere between the empty bottle of drink and the messy clothes this one stood out, it stuck to me it’s a part of me. I remove it from my foot and just stare. It’s that night. 2009. New years eve. Me and Sarah. I just pause and it’s that moment again. That frozen sensation of not knowing what’s what. I stay perfectly still then gently place the photo on the bedside table. I pull the draw towards me pulling out a half drank bottle of vodka. It’s the cheap stuff but it’ll have to do. I crawl back into the black pit of a bed. that endless depression. I wrap myself in the duvet shaking at the thought. That thought of what happened that night. I twist off the cap and drink.
The above is an elaborated extract from a screenplay I wrote and recently directed. I’m extremely excited to be working on this and might put the full script/story online at some point or more elaborated extracts. The film is currently in production and shall be released via Vimeo and the ‘Polaroid’ website (currently being made) in the coming months.