“Action!”

  “Emmeline!” an old, heavyset man shouted, his voice a mix of anger and panic, as he rushed toward a young girl standing near a berry bush. “Take them berries outta your mouth!”

  He grabbed her jaw firmly and pried it open with his thick fingers, forcing her to spit out the berries she had eaten in innocent ignorance.

  “Spit ‘em out! Come on!”

  From behind one of the fixed cameras, I was recording the scene, my focus locked on the old man’s face. A few feet away, Eddie manned another camera, his lens trained tightly on the girl’s expression.

  Right on cue, the girl began to cry.

  “Don’t cry,” the man said in a gruff tone. “I ain’t mad at ya! Them berries is poisonous. You eat ‘em, you fall asleep... and you don’t wake up again.”

  The girl kept crying, her face red and splotchy with emotion. But the man didn’t try to stop her again. Instead, something in his eyes shifted. He understood that her tears didn’t matter as much as her safety.

  “Well, just leave them berries alone now. Come on,” he muttered, then took her hand and pulled her away from the bush.

  “Cut!” Randal called from behind the monitors. “Let’s do it one more time, everyone.”

  I gave myself a small nod, understanding why we needed a retake. Randal hadn’t explained, but he didn’t need to. It was obvious the actor had overplayed the emotion. His delivery was too intense for the tone of the scene.

  We ran the take three more times, but the results were the same each time; too much shouting, too little empathy.

  By the fifth take, something finally changed.

  “Leo,” Randal called out calmly to the older actor, “maybe bring it down a bit? I want your character to come across like an understanding uncle, not a tyrant.”

  Leo, a seasoned character actor, gave a small nod of acknowledgment. He didn’t argue. He just reset and prepared for the next shot.

  This time, the difference was striking.

  Where the earlier takes made him seem harsh and domineering, this one captured a man deeply worried for a child he cared about. His voice held urgency, but it was gentle. Protective. The kind of tone that told you he was scared for her, not angry at her.

  “Cut!” Randal called out again, this time with satisfaction in his voice. “Perfect shot, everyone. Let’s move on.”

  As the crew busied themselves prepping the next setup, I turned to Nestor beside me.

  “Didn’t you think it was strange that Randal didn’t correct Leo during the first four takes?” I asked.

  Nestor shook his head. “Not really. Some directors hold back on purpose, especially when they’re working with veterans like Leo. They want to give the actor space to explore and self-adjust first.”

  He glanced at me meaningfully. “Didn’t something similar happen to you on your first day of shooting?”

  Now that he mentioned it…

  “The hardest part of being behind the camera is having patience,” Nestor said, his tone drifting into lecture mode. “When you’re a cameraman, you’ll notice the flaws in a performance or a shot before the director does. And you’ll be tempted to think that the actor is terrible, or looks terrible, or both. I feel that way almost every day.”

  “Same,” Eddie chimed in from beside me. “That’s why all the big productions employ directors who aren’t operating the camera. They can stay objective, even when we can’t.”

  I nodded quietly, letting that sink in. After a moment, I asked, “Wouldn’t this scene look much better if it were shot with a handheld camera?”

  Nestor paused, considering the idea before offering a shrug. “Hard to say. If the choice were mine alone, I probably would’ve gone handheld for this one. It would bring out the emotion better. But ultimately, the decision rests with Randal.”

  Before I could ask anything else, Nestor straightened up and pointed toward the far end of the set. “Enough talking. Let’s get ready for the next shot.”

  I picked up the camera and tripod and followed him to the new setup location. As I walked, my eyes drifted toward Peter, my best friend, who was trailing behind Randal with a clipboard clutched tightly in his hands.

  “Hey, Eddie,” I whispered, careful not to be overheard. “What’s going on with Peter? I thought he was learning camera work with you guys a few days ago.”

  Eddie shook his head. “He doesn’t have the patience for it. He bailed after the first day. Some people just aren’t cut out for this side of the job. And honestly, you can’t force someone to do something they don’t enjoy.”

  That made sense. Peter was still bouncing around the set, shadowing different crew members and trying to find his place, while Ash, my assigned assistant, was the complete opposite. He wasn’t fascinated by the movie business the way Peter and I were. He hadn’t tried any jobs on set, nor did he seem interested in doing so. Since I didn’t have any scenes to shoot today, Ash had taken the day off to relax.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  As I adjusted the camera and checked the angles for the upcoming scene, I realized something that made me grin to myself.

  I was enjoying this whole filmmaking process far more than I ever expected.

  (Break)

  “Why the fuck are you so happy?” Julie grumbled, her voice sharp with irritation. “Not only are we going to be stark naked, but we’ll be underwater. I don’t see a single reason to be excited.”

  I laughed, unbothered. “Speak for yourself, I love being underwater.”

  “You’re a freak of nature,” she muttered, folding her arms across her bare breasts, her posture defensive as she stood less than a foot away from me. “As soon as I’m done with this movie, I swear I’m not swimming for at least a decade.”

  I was just as undressed as she was, but I didn’t feel the slightest need to hide myself. It had only been ten days since we started shooting the film, and by now, everyone on set had grown used to seeing us naked as the day we were born. The awkwardness of the first day had long passed. No more staring, no more giggles. And honestly? I was loving it.

  There was something oddly liberating about shedding not just clothes but expectations, discomfort, and all the little pretenses that came with fabric. If it weren’t for this film, I probably never would’ve experienced anything close to a nudist lifestyle. Now that I had it, I already knew I’d miss it when it was over.

  “Noah! Julie!” Randal called out as he strode toward us, a thick folder tucked under one arm. “You two ready for today’s shoot?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, still grinning. Julie just gave a curt nod.

  “Love the confidence,” Randal said with a smirk. “For today’s shoot, I want you to go over the storyboards I’ve drawn. Use them as a reference, not a rulebook. I know things work differently underwater, so I’m not expecting you to nail every pose exactly, at least not without oxygen tanks. That’s why I’ve blocked out a whole week just for this sequence.”

  He handed me the folder, and I flipped it open to the first page. My breath caught.

  The illustration inside was breathtaking. It showed Richard and Emmeline, our characters, locked in a fierce underwater embrace, their bodies twisting together in a graceful helix as they swam. The drawing had a surreal, almost dreamlike quality. Beside me, Julie leaned in and stared at it with quiet awe.

  I immediately understood why Randal had warned us not to take it literally. Pulling off something like that without diving gear would be nearly impossible. The way the bodies curved, the angle of the limbs, it looked more like a fluid sculpture than something humans could naturally replicate. Maybe not even on land, and certainly not underwater.

  But then again, I wasn’t exactly your average human.

  “I can do it,” I said, a quiet confidence in my voice. “You don’t need a whole week. I can do it today.”

  Randal raised a skeptical brow and turned to Julie, who looked far less sure of herself.

  “Julie will do it too,” I added, glancing at her with gentle reassurance. “I’ll help her through it.”

  She shook her head slightly. “I’ll drown if I try that down there,” she said, her voice low and uncertain.

  “I won’t let you,” I said softly, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. I looked her in the eyes, hoping she’d feel the certainty in mine. “You’re not going to drown beside me.”

  I didn’t know where that confidence was coming from, but I was certain that I could help her nail this scene. Maybe not on the first try, but definitely today.

  And somehow, my certainty must’ve reached her. A few moments later, Julie smiled.

  “Alright. Let’s start then.”

  My grin widened. I extended a hand, and she took it without hesitation. Together, we walked into the water.

  “Action!”

  We kept our hands locked as we swam away from the shore. The ocean, as always, was both calming and electrifying for me, but this time, something was different. I wished with all my heart to share my water powers with Julie, just for a while.

  The moment I focused on that desire, I felt a tingling sensation pass through my hand and into hers.

  Then I saw it; an unmistakable shift in her expression. Julie, who just moments ago was uneasy in the water, turned to me and grinned. And it wasn’t acting.

  “Let’s go in,” she said with newfound confidence.

  We dove.

  The waters of the South Pacific were impossibly clear. Everything: the darting fish, the scattered shells, the coral reef, even the ocean floor, was visible in vibrant detail. Julie swam ahead of me, then playfully shoved me before darting toward the reef.

  Even though we’d let go of each other’s hands, I knew instinctively: as long as I stayed within five feet of her, she’d be able to breathe underwater without even realizing it.

  This was all thanks to Poseidon’s gift. The diving instructors and the camera crew trailing us with scuba gear wouldn’t notice anything unusual, even as Julie and I stayed submerged far longer than any normal human could handle.

  Not one to be outdone, I chased after her naked form and wrapped her in a warm underwater hug, pressing a kiss to her lips, before bringing her closer to me. Her body rubbed against mine, her hard nipples doing wonders to my skin as we explored each other’s bodies from head to toe, all the while making out. Her slender waist, shapely butt, and her round breasts were just perfect under my touch.

  The way it sent shivers down her body was a big turn on for me. Thankfully, I didn’t get a hardon this time.

  After a bit, she giggled. Well, the underwater version of it, and pushed me away, only to circle behind me and wrap her body around mine.

  I mirrored her, adjusting our bodies into the helix-like shape from Randal’s drawing. Without the constraints of spoken directions like Action or Cut, we held the pose, again and again, until it felt right.

  Then we flowed into the next scene: I swam toward the coral reef, plucked an oyster shell, and presented it to her with an exaggerated bow.

  Hours passed. We moved through every planned sequence in a seamless rhythm; gliding, spiraling, dancing underwater as if we belonged there.

  Eventually, we surfaced. The warm air hit our skin as we waded onto the beach, followed by the camera crew and diving instructors.

  Randal stood frozen on the sand, eyes wide, jaw slack.

  “What?” Julie asked, a little too innocently.

  “You two,” Randal said slowly, emphasizing each word like he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “just shot—in one day—what we had scheduled for two weeks.”

  He blinked at us, stunned. “How the fuck is that possible? Honestly, I wouldn’t have been shocked if it took a full month to shoot all those scenes you just wrapped.”

  I shrugged, feigning innocence. “Sounds like whoever made those predictions was way off.”

  Randal could only shake his head as Poseidon’s subtle magic worked on him, clouding any suspicion.

  “You’re right. That must be it. Hell, that’s great news. If we keep this pace, we’ll finish the entire movie in three months instead of four.”

  That was good news. By that logic, we’d be back in New York by mid-May.

  Still, the thought gave me pause. I was actually enjoying this, every bit of it: the beach, the water, the freedom, the magic of my first movie.

  But if our time here was going to end sooner than expected, then I needed to act fast.

  It was time to make my next move.

  (Break)

  “I don’t remember telling you to write a script,” Doug said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

  “You did,” I insisted. “We were both drunk after the first day of the shoot. You told me about Sylvester Stallone and how he became a writer and director because no one would give him work.”

  Doug squinted, trying to recall the night. After a moment, he shook his head. “I have no recollection of that conversation.”

  I sighed. “Forget it, then. Look, I’ve written a screenplay. I modeled the style on your script for The Blue Lagoon. Would you mind reading it and maybe giving me a few notes on how to improve it?”

  He looked down as I handed over the notebook, taking it from me like it was a delicate artifact. Since I didn’t have access to a typewriter or computer here on the island, I’d borrowed one of the oversized notebooks from the crew’s stationery supply and written the entire thing by hand. I had found that I didn’t need to sleep if I recharged myself in the ocean in the morning for even ten minutes. So when everyone else was sleeping, I was working on this screenplay.

  Doug glanced at the cover. “Risky Business?” he read aloud.

  I nodded.

  He flipped through the first few pages curiously.

  I wanted to write something that suits this generation, something small-budget, high-impact, that could turn a lead actor into a household name. I narrowed it down to two '80s films: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Risky Business. I went with the latter because Tom Cruise became the breakout star of this era, and Risky Business was what launched him into stardom. It’s a teen sex comedy, yeah, with a few love scenes, which, to be honest, I didn’t think I’d be okay with until I started filming [The Blue Lagoon] with Julie. But now I get it; it’s just part of the story. As an actor, you do what’s right for the story, not what’s right for you.

  The original script was great, but some of the humor hasn’t aged well over the years. So I added more situational comedy, stuff I remembered from later films.

  Doug finally looked up. “So let me get this straight: You acted in a film, observed everything happening on set, even shot a few key scenes with Nestor, and then, just casually, wrote a full-length screenplay?”

  “It’s just the first draft,” I said quickly. “This story was in my head for a while, and I had even penned a version of it during my final year of school. But that was only for an English project. I rewrote it as a film script this time. The dialogue still needs a lot of work. That’s where I was hoping you could give me some input.”

  Doug let out a short breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Kid, listen... I’d love to help you, I really would. But I’m already knee-deep in my own script. It’s something very close to my heart. I can’t just drop it to rewrite yours.”

  “I’m not asking you to rewrite anything,” I said, holding up my hands. “Just read it. Give me your thoughts: good, bad, whatever. I’ll handle the rest.”

  He still looked unsure, like he wasn’t ready to commit even that much. But after a few seconds, he gave a slow nod and tucked the notebook under his arm.

  “I’ll take a look,” he said.

  I understood his hesitation. If someone told me they did as much as I did on the island, even I would be skeptical about it. But no one knew my truth, and thanks to godly intervention, no one ever would.

  ______________________________

  AN: Read up to 40 advanced chapters on my website, or check out my other story, Dreams of Stardom.

  Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com

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