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31_days2013-05-20 02:15 pm
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-05-20 02:15 pm
[May 20th] [Footprints] This Road Never Looked So Lonely
Title: This Road Never Looked So Lonely
Day/Theme: May 20th - I watched the weight of your world come down
Series: Footprints (2009 film)
Character/Pairing: Victor/Daisy
Rating: K+/PG
So I watched Footprints last week and thoroughly loved it. And just about every theme for this month looks like it was made for Footprints fics. I'm not sure if the creator would like fanfic being written for it, but since he encourages the differing viewpoints of the viewers, I'm hoping that he wouldn't mind mine being written down. It's all out of pure love for the film (and H.M. Wynant's character) and I definitely encourage the watching of it.
Some spoilers and some speculation.
By Lucky_Ladybug
“Where did you go?!”
“Where did you go?”
“I’ve been on the Boulevard all day!”
“I’ve been there every day.”
He never knew what happened to her after that night at the Chinese. The police had questioned everyone in the vicinity, from other patrons to the usher, but they could only say that the film had been sold out; she had not been able to get in. No one had actually seen her leave, but of course she had.
He had spent every day of his life since then walking the Boulevard at least once, looking into each window, behind every building, longing, hoping, fearing a glimpse of her. The possibilities agitated and twisted in his mind, blurring into an agonizing stream.
The police believed that she had simply left him, when he had admitted that she had told him she was leaving him, in pursuit of the wealth and fame that he had not been able to give her. He tried to believe that too, that somewhere far away—or perhaps not even that far away—she was starting a new life under a new name, seeking the dreams that had driven her through their marriage.
But he could not help envisioning the worst—that she had been accosted by some sick, wretched mind, violated, and left dead. And every day, as he had walked the Boulevard, he had lived in terror of finding a familiar shoe in an old alley, seeing a limp hand hanging out of a dumpster, discovering blood staining the asphalt.
He never did.
But he also never heard anything more of his beloved. And though he had looked long and hard, and had stumbled on more than a few false leads, he had never found anyone who was she under a new identity.
Ironically, he had come to know at least some of the world for which she had longed to experience. He had been a smalltime character actor, mostly claiming bit parts in movies and an occasional leading guest-star appearance on television. Some people recognized him, although by and large he was still an unknown, and towards the end of his life he had all but faded into obscurity.
Hollywood was not all it was cracked up to be. Certainly it was not a fairytale existence, as some few people still believed. Had she learned the same thing, wherever she now was? Or did she still long for that life high in the posh apartment complex they had affectionately christened The Fountainboy?
He had stopped dreaming of that life when she had left him. He had wanted it somewhat, but she had wanted it more. What satisfaction would he have being there without her? He would only always think of her, wishing she were there with him, wondering where she was since she wasn’t.
But even as the weight of her world crushed him, even as a weariness more penetrating and final than old age seeped into his bones, he still returned to the Boulevard day after day, hoping for some sight, some clue, some resolution to the mystery of what had happened to her.
And as he breathed his last one day, alone in his small house, he dreamed of finally seeing her again, on the other side of the veil.
But she was not there, either. Nor could he learn what had become of her.
That day, just as he had for the past fifty-two years, he walked the Boulevard in search of her.
Day/Theme: May 20th - I watched the weight of your world come down
Series: Footprints (2009 film)
Character/Pairing: Victor/Daisy
Rating: K+/PG
So I watched Footprints last week and thoroughly loved it. And just about every theme for this month looks like it was made for Footprints fics. I'm not sure if the creator would like fanfic being written for it, but since he encourages the differing viewpoints of the viewers, I'm hoping that he wouldn't mind mine being written down. It's all out of pure love for the film (and H.M. Wynant's character) and I definitely encourage the watching of it.
Some spoilers and some speculation.
“Where did you go?!”
“Where did you go?”
“I’ve been on the Boulevard all day!”
“I’ve been there every day.”
He never knew what happened to her after that night at the Chinese. The police had questioned everyone in the vicinity, from other patrons to the usher, but they could only say that the film had been sold out; she had not been able to get in. No one had actually seen her leave, but of course she had.
He had spent every day of his life since then walking the Boulevard at least once, looking into each window, behind every building, longing, hoping, fearing a glimpse of her. The possibilities agitated and twisted in his mind, blurring into an agonizing stream.
The police believed that she had simply left him, when he had admitted that she had told him she was leaving him, in pursuit of the wealth and fame that he had not been able to give her. He tried to believe that too, that somewhere far away—or perhaps not even that far away—she was starting a new life under a new name, seeking the dreams that had driven her through their marriage.
But he could not help envisioning the worst—that she had been accosted by some sick, wretched mind, violated, and left dead. And every day, as he had walked the Boulevard, he had lived in terror of finding a familiar shoe in an old alley, seeing a limp hand hanging out of a dumpster, discovering blood staining the asphalt.
He never did.
But he also never heard anything more of his beloved. And though he had looked long and hard, and had stumbled on more than a few false leads, he had never found anyone who was she under a new identity.
Ironically, he had come to know at least some of the world for which she had longed to experience. He had been a smalltime character actor, mostly claiming bit parts in movies and an occasional leading guest-star appearance on television. Some people recognized him, although by and large he was still an unknown, and towards the end of his life he had all but faded into obscurity.
Hollywood was not all it was cracked up to be. Certainly it was not a fairytale existence, as some few people still believed. Had she learned the same thing, wherever she now was? Or did she still long for that life high in the posh apartment complex they had affectionately christened The Fountainboy?
He had stopped dreaming of that life when she had left him. He had wanted it somewhat, but she had wanted it more. What satisfaction would he have being there without her? He would only always think of her, wishing she were there with him, wondering where she was since she wasn’t.
But even as the weight of her world crushed him, even as a weariness more penetrating and final than old age seeped into his bones, he still returned to the Boulevard day after day, hoping for some sight, some clue, some resolution to the mystery of what had happened to her.
And as he breathed his last one day, alone in his small house, he dreamed of finally seeing her again, on the other side of the veil.
But she was not there, either. Nor could he learn what had become of her.
That day, just as he had for the past fifty-two years, he walked the Boulevard in search of her.