The Unreel Character

Decades ago, the independent freedom liaison from the United Baltic States vanished while commuting through an American skyscraper office building that suddenly imploded in an unplanned construction accident. International reports stated the remains were found and returned to a small border village where the diplomat grew up to become a well-spoken communicator.

Exploring the rural great glorious outpost, named Dagmara, decorated stage and screen actor Franco Storm, entered The Light Maiden local diner carrying one prop, a mobility stick, experimenting, learning how his factual character, he was portraying walked.

Taking a seat, the 1950’s swivel contraption servicing the counter worked perfectly allowing Franco to theatrically clasp his hands. “What can I get you?” A middle-aged motherly figure wearing a beautiful commitment ring requested, handing him a menu straight from an establishment where the award-winning artist called home.

“Coffee,” Franco replied, surprised English was being spoke, “I thought that the United Baltic States had their own language?”

“We would starve,” the day maid role player politely mentioned, “if we did not speak English but if the enemy from the other side shows up. We gossip in our native tongue.”

Laughing Franco peered around, seeing all the past memorabilia, realizing how much influence the red, white and blue USA had on this small little peaceful village. That is when he noticed the eight and a half by eleven black, white photograph above the grill.

“Who is the good-looking guy?” Franco respectfully inquired.

“My husband,” Nina pulled out a notebook, “he never came back from a business trip.”

“I am so sorry,” Franco sympathetically apologized when a bell behind him rang, “I will have the eggs with toast.”

“Hi, Mom,” a young voice sounded.

“Good morning, Samantha,” Nina greeted, “why are you not at school?”

“It’s summer,” Samantha paused, “Mom.”

Finding a comfort zone the innocent maturing daughter twisted and turned, “Nina is your mom?”

“Yup,” Samantha answered, pointing at the still image, “and that is my dad.”

“Your Dad?”

“Never knew him, though,”

“I was pregnant with her when the unfortunate event happened,” Nina interrupted, “what can I get you my little chickabum?”

“An ice cream sundae,” Samantha screamed.

“It’s nine in the morning,” Nina honestly responded,

“Then Lucky Charms cereal,” the child winked at Franco.

Both received their dishes and quietly ate until Samantha broke the silence, “my father used one of those arch things you have there.”

“A cane?” Franco humbly chuckled, “I do not use one of those, the character I will be playing in my next movie does,”

“And who is that?”

“Zediker,” Franco expressed.

“That is my daddy’s name,” Samantha giggled, “I never knew him, Mommy told me.”

“Really,”

“He was never like you Americans say handicap or anything,” Samantha explained, “he had a magical staff that brought peace. And now he no longer exists just in our memories.”

“And you got to keep those reflective moments alive,” Franco nudged, grabbing the check.

Back inside his hotel room, Franco dispensed with the therapeutic apparatus and stared out the window hearing his cell phone ding, rivaling construction style explosions. Sliding the devices pick up line, his wife answered, “honey it's you, how’s the shoot going?”

“I think I will be able to do this part,”

Upon the conversation’s completion Franco shut the wireless gadget down and placed the device on the bureau. Finding a fluffy pillow the hard-working imitator quickly fell asleep, and the peaceful rest did not last long, when loud work vehicles created a disturbance.

“Oh great,” Franco mumbled getting up and going to the door. When he opened the entryway, Samantha innocently stood. “You know what? They got green lighted to build the Zediker Memorial Garden.”

“Where?”

“Exactly, here,”

“And when are they going to begin?”

Grinning ear to ear, Samantha snickered, “they are planning to demolish this dump right now.”

“Right now?” Franco nervously repeated, noticing there was no trace of Samantha since the ghostly apparition disappeared. Seconds did not tick off the clock and Franco helplessly watch all the walls collapse around him. Leaving only ash, soot and a few identifying objects.