The knock against the window is loud enough to wake her. She sits up in bed looking at the window. The sound comes again. She throws back the covers and stumbles out of bed toward the window. She swallows visibly and her expression is tight with fear. Her hand touches the curtains and she pauses. You can tell she is debating whether or not to open the curtain. She does and recoils in fear, stumbling backwards, landing on the wooden floor and backing away, crablike, from the heart stopping terror at the window.

‘Cut.’ The lights come up.

‘What now?’ Christina asks irritated as she stands up. A stage hand rushes forward and hands her a robe to put on to ward off the cold of the cavernous set.

‘The T-rex didn’t move. The electronics must have frozen up. We’ll need about ten minutes to reboot it. Everyone take five.’ Simon, the director, addresses everyone.

‘Or ten or twenty.’ Christina complains as she walks off set to her chair and grabs her phone.

Someone hands her a coffee while she presses a button on her phone and listens to it ring.

‘Yes, Christina, what can I do for you now?’ her agent, Bess, says wearily. This being the fifth call from the little starlet today.

‘Get me off this frigging show is what you can do for me now. Did you read in the latest Hollywood Insider that the TV blogs are saying this show has jumped the dinosaur, not the shark? Ha.Ha. And the rumor at the network is that it won’t last until Christmas.’

‘I know. I know. Let’s just see what happens. They brought in some new writers to boost the ratings. There is a whole sweeps week coming up where they’re airing a double episode. I also heard they were trying to woo Charlie Sheen on to do a three episode arc. Let me tell you, honey, if there is anybody the audience wants to see eaten by a dinosaur he’s got to be right up there.’

Christina can hear Bess blowing cigarette smoke out of her nose (and up my ass, thinks Christina) on the other end of the line. ‘I want to know as soon as this thing is Playboy Clubbing because I want out beforehand.’ She refers to another TV show that lasted all of two episodes, if that.

‘You’ll be the first person I call, Sweetheart.’

Christina hangs up and strides over to Simon at the director’s desk. ‘How much longer? I’m supposed to be wrapping up early today to start doing interviews to drum up some viewership.’

Simon doesn’t look at her, his irritation emanates from his pores. ‘I’ve asked for a script change so it’s going to be a little while. We’ll call you in your trailer.’

‘Ugh.’ She says with venom and irritation and storms off set.

The knock against the window is loud enough to wake her. She sits up in bed looking at the window. The sound comes again. She throws back the covers and stumbles out of bed toward the window. She swallows visibly and her expression is tight with fear. Her hand touches the curtains but before she can part them the window breaks and a five foot head careens inside letting out a deathly roar as it knocks her to the ground.

‘Cut.’ Simon calls out again. ‘You just finished your last scene, Christina. We’ll CGI the dinosaur eating you in the editing suite. You’re free to go.’

*

For the Indie Ink Writing Challenge this week, Cheney challenged me with “You wake up in the middle of the night and there’s a T-Rex standing outside, peering into your bedroom window with its huge, unblinking eye. What do you do?” and I challenged Carrie with “I no longer trust you with my heart”.