#14 A Short Story
An unexpected surfacing of a story I had put in the drawer many years ago and thoughts about showreels.
Just a couple of weekends back, I found myself wandering through this odd, almost desolate patch of land near my house. It’s right by the sea, and it’s a mishmash of makeshift structures, old fire pits, and just general building rubble scattered everywhere. But the real draw is this fenced-off shipyard, where people store their boats for the winter. You've got all sorts in there: big, fancy yachts wrapped in tarps, and then smaller, more worn-out boats. It's always held a strange fascination for me, like it's holding onto a whole bunch of hidden stories.
Walking around there, it suddenly brought back this short story I wrote years ago, when I first stumbled on the place. I wrote it in one go, and then pretty much forgot about it. But seeing the area again, and looking back at the text and some mood pictures I'd saved, I felt a spark of something.
So, the next weekend, I went back with my camera. I knew I couldn't get inside the shipyard, but I decided to treat it like a kind of investigation, to see if I could find anything there. Maybe something that could inspire me to revisit the story, and see if it could be turned into a short film or something.
Below, you’ll find the unedited version of the original story titled “Anastasia” along with the moodboard images I gathered back then. Maybe this will evolve into something some day, let’s see.
Anastasia
My friends describe me as sympathetic, but a bit strange. I guess it's because of my habit of peeling bananas from the other end and because my favorite drink is tomato juice.
I'm not particularly beautiful, as far as I know, but in certain situations, I notice men glancing at me from under their brows, trying to hide it – as if they like something they shouldn't. Admittedly, I think I look really alluring in that one dress, but I don't wear it very often.
I live in a car that my father left me before he died two years ago. It's really nice, and I remember how proud dad was of it. It's a 1982 beige Jeep Wagoneer with a trunk so big that almost a double bed could fit in it. I only have a narrow mattress in there, though, because other necessary comforts, like a toaster and a cooler, also need to fit.
When I mentioned my friends earlier, to be more precise, I have exactly two – Ramzi and Tomas. The brothers own a large plot of wasteland by the sea, where they store and maintain other people's boats. They inherited this business from their father and are very proud of their profession and responsibility; kind of like I am of my car that my father left me. They're also a bit strange – maybe that's why we get along so well.
The brothers have never questioned or mocked my lifestyle or living in a car; in fact, they even admire it. They live on the edge of the wasteland in an old container that their father once converted into a livable space, and the only thing that distinguishes our living arrangements is that my dwelling has wheels and an engine.
However, everything changed one spring day when I drove my Jeep to the south side of the wasteland, near the fence, as usual. I noticed that there was a gaping hole in the chain-link fence, with deep tire tracks running through it.
It was inevitable. Ramzi and Tomas had always talked about something, in their words, a "life-changing event" that would change everything.
For this unlikely event, they had hidden a powerful four-wheel-drive SUV under a tarpaulin and placed the keys in the sun visor for easy access. In the trunk, they had packed a bag of clothes and other necessities for each of them, for the day when that "life-changing event" would happen and they would have to leave suddenly – leaving everything behind.
Apparently, today was that day. I stared at the hole in the fence, and my finger traced the raised Jeep logo on the steering wheel – a habit that was so deeply ingrained that it happened completely subconsciously. Suddenly, my finger stopped, and I remembered when, about a year ago, the brothers gave me a small box and assured me that I would know when the right time to open it was.
It was a small and modest wooden box, sealed with two zip ties. Inside was a set of keys and a letter with the basics of boat maintenance procedures, a list of monthly supplies to buy, and brief instructions on how to handle a few of the trickier customers.
I felt confused and empty, but despite everything, quite calm. Ramzi and Tomas never said what the "life-changing event" was, but it wasn't talked about in a very negative tone. Sometimes I toyed with the idea that their father had been an undercover secret service agent and had faked his death to conceal it, and when he had completed his mission and returned to ordinary people, the brothers would meet him in Mexico.
I started the car and slowly followed the tire tracks left by the brothers through the hole into the wasteland, and even though I had been there countless times, I now felt great guilt and uncertainty. It was as if I were in the home of someone I didn't know, who had left the front door open when they went on vacation. When I reached Ramzi and Tomas's container home, my breathing calmed. I thought that maybe the "life-changing event" was their dream, and now it was coming true.
Whatever it was, now I had to take care of the abandoned plot of wasteland and honor the responsibility left to me.
I lifted the tarpaulin that the boys had used to hide their SUV and pulled it over my own car. I carefully placed the keys in the sun visor for easy access and left a suitable amount of clothes and supplies in the trunk.
I understood that although my name is still Anastasia, everything else is going to change. One day, I will make my own hole in the wasteland's chain-link fence.
Self Promotion
After some 14 years in the (commercial film) business, this is my first ever reel. I’ve always been overwhelmed by the task of doing one, like how can one choose what to show as the best of the best?! (answer: you can’t, but I had a lot of fun editing this)
Bubbling under
🖥️ Been testing Shapr3D for CAD modeling, love that you can work seamlessly on desktop and iPad.
📚 Searching for the next thick book to consume as I’m almost done with the chunky Murakami trilogy. A reader suggested 4321 by Paul Auster, maybe that’s next.
Thanks for reading!
Juho
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