A social horror project with my american neighbor Kirk Douglas Sample,
whom I in a video train to become a killer. The project was written into a
fictive crime novel and published in the danish reader's digest
magazine 'Hjemmet' in June 2009.
Mixed media installation, magazine with crime story and illustration, a fake marble montre,
key chains with inscription "you're gonna die bitch", private letters, photo book and video.
Illustrations by Stig Stjernvik and novel by Dorte Roholte.
Download novel in danish Rolleskift
ROLE CHANGE
Crime
novel by Dorte Roholte
When
they started the shooting of the day in front of the
property in low-end Los Angeles, where Stine was neighbors
with Kirk Douglas Sample, the afternoon heat had been
almost unbearable for her. But now, when it was over, she
felt much better, even though the artificial blood, which
was all over the breast of her T-shirt issued a nauseating
odor. It was the last recording. Kirk did not have to
repeatedly pretend to surprise her and cut the throat on
her again.
- It's
in the box and it was the last thing she said and nodded to
Kirk. He still clung hard on the fake theater knife, his
breathing was fast, and the sweat dripped from his upper
lip. Stine had an uncomfortable feeling that it had nothing
to do with heat. The role as a murderous assailant, who had
been so difficult for him to play in the beginning, had
gone in the blood of him.
-
No,
it came from him aggressively. - It was not good enough. We
have to reshoot it!
Stine
shook her head and tried to radiate the peace and strength
that she had felt when she began her artistic film. But it
was as if the roles had been reversed between them during
the project. Initially, he had been awkward and uncertain,
and she had felt on top and in control. Now it was almost
reversed, because something had happened to him when he
finally got a grip on his movie character. The last days,
he had pushed to get started with the recordings, as if he
almost could not wait to enter the killer role. Now she
understood very well why her new American friends had
warned her against being too much alone with the strange
neighbor. Fortunately she had enough footage to cut the
film together.
- It was
perfect, she said and meant it. Then she turned her back to
him and went to the expensive camera pill down. An old lady
passed them with a shopping bag squeezed in her hand, she
hardly reacted at the sight of Stine's bloody appearance
and the man with the knife. In city of the film industry
one is used to a bit of everything, Stine thought, while
she tried hard not to turn around and see what Kirk was
doing. However, a drug addict type of a young guy had
stopped and started studying them with his hands stuck in
his pockets. He wore a hooded sweatshirt, even though there
were at least thirty degrees in the shade. Stine quickly
glanced at him, maybe he froze because of symptoms. She got
free of the camera and took a deep breath before she turned
around. Then she breathed a sigh of relief . Kirk had
disappeared, and had left the theater knife on the roof of
her old car. While the young guy continued his attention,
she carried her gear into the apartment. Then she locked
the door, put the safety chain on and considered whether
she should slide the window up. There was air conditioning
in the apartment, but it did not work particularly well.
She stood at the window and considered. Initially she had
not locked the door and put on the safety chain, and she
had without concerns left the window open. It was different
now, and she knew not whether it was Kirk, or the much
crime in the city, she was afraid of. She neither knew
whether she had reason to fear anything. Hopefully not. She
decided to leave the window closed, and she shook it a bit
to ensure that it was locked. Although she did not trust
the locks on that kind of sliding windows, it was not until
recently that it had started to worry her.
*
...
the intent of my project is to break with the usual
Hollywood male-female patterns, as the female protagonist
will remain unaffected by the neighbor's vigorously and
repeatedly attempted murder of her and thus making herself
an immortal manipulator in the video.
Darkness
had fallen, while Stine was editing her written statement.
She tapped her fingers against the paper and visioned Kirk.
Actually she had a bad conscience about intervening in his
somewhat past eventless life. It seemed as if she had
roused a sleeping monster in him. Or was it just her
imagination, that ran off with her?
An
unexpected sound made her jump, and she listened tensely
and started to sweat. No, it was nothing. She got up and
went to the window to draw the curtains. About an hour and
a half she had to meet a sound guy in a restaurant, and she
did not have too much time if she wanted a bath. And it she
had to. Still she took the time to once again make sure
that the door was locked.
The
water rays of the shower were few and hard and it made a
loud cluncking sound down the drain when the water passed.
Twice she was quite sure she could hear a sound in the
apartment, and she turned off the water and stood naked,
wet and with a thumping heart, and listened without daring
to breathe. But the bathing curtain was not torn to the
side, because there was of course no one else than her in
the apartment. She turned back the water and forced herself
to wash her hair properly and rinse it through without
turning off the water again. If she were to continue like
this, it would become unbearable for her to live in Los
Angeles.
When she
came into the room with the bath towel around her, she made
a short cry. The curtains were not hanging in the same way
when she left the room, she was quite sure of that. In a
matter of no time she looked through her apartment. There
was nothing missing, and there was noone else who should
not be there. It was of course Kirk, she had expected to
see.
She took
a glass of cold water and drank it to calm down. Then she
suddenly looked at the car keys. Did she really put them
that way next to the sink? No, now she had to stop.
Fifteen
minutes later she locked her apartment and walked towards
the car without looking back towards Kirk’s windows. She
was almost sure that he kept an eye on her and she thought
that the heels of her sandals made a too much noise against
the tiles. Not until she put the key in the lock of the
car, she allowed herself to turn her head and look. She
could not see him in there, the apartment was unlit and the
curtains were not drawn..
The
car's cabin was like an oven when she got in. There was
also a strange smell, almost like sweat mixed with dust.
She put the key in the ignition and was going to roll down
the window when she suddenly felt something behind her.
Something in the back seat, a movement at realm of her eye.
At a fraction of a second her small hairs raised on her
neck, and the pulse increased with rocket speed. She turned
her head slightly and saw a horrific vision in the rear
view mirrors. She was not alone. In the narrow mirror was a
face behind her, an ugly, distorted face, which now shot
forward. She screamed, so much pained in her chest as an
iron hand grapped her chin. Something flashed at same time,
it was the street lamp to the right of the car, which was
reflected in a knife blade. Then she felt the familiar
sensation of a dull blade, which was held over her neck.
- That’s
how it’s supposed to be, Kirk whispered excitedly and
triumphantly in her ear.
Stine
grasped for breath, while a mixture of incandescent rage
and strong relief washed through her.
- What
the hell are you doing, you idiot! she screamed and turned
around in the seat.
Kirk had
gone a little further back, he rolled the nylon off his the
face and laughed at her.
- Can’t
you see that it is the way it should be? he repeated. - If
we had had the camera on now, it would have been the best
recording of them all!
Stine
tried to calm herself.
- Get
out of my car, she said. - And how did you get in?
Kirk’s
eyes shone at her. – I took your car keys while you were
showering. You probably don’t know, but I can hear the
water in the drain when you take a shower. I only opened
the side door, so you didn’t suspect, cause then it
wouldn’t be as real, right?
And
how did you get into the apartment? she
wanted to ask, but stopped herself. Maybe he had a key? It
was not unthinkable. Tomorrow she had to get the lock
replaced.
- Get
out, she said as calmly as possible.
- Aren’t
you glad that I did not use blood this time? he asked and
looked triumphantly. - Then you would have had to change
clothes again, before you went to the restaurant. I heard
you over the phone.
Stine’s
lips were dry, but the tongue also, when she tried to
moisten them, it did not help.
- Out!
she said, turned around and tried not to squeeze too hard
on the wheel.
The
smell of sweat got stronger, as he bent forward and
whispered in her ear: - Are you not afraid that I one day
by mistake will take a very sharp knife with a blade ?
With a
little laughter he left her car and slammed the door hard
behind him.
*
At
midnight a violent thunderstorm broke out out as Stine was
returning from the restaurant. During no time the pavements
were deserted, and she just made it inside running from the
car before the violent rain began. In passing, she saw that
the Kirk’s windows were dark. But as she gradually moved
the curtain aside, the lights were lit inside. She
immediately let go of the curtain and moved slightly back.
Was it a coincidence that he came home right after her, or
had he followed her? She took a few deep breaths to calm.
Now she had to turn these thoughts out of your head,
otherwise she would not be able to sleep tonight.
She
forced herself to do her usual ritual of tooth brushing and
cleansing creams, before she threw herself on the bed and
put the sheets over herself. But after a while, she was
nonetheless forced to get up and check that the window was
closed properly and that the door was locked and the safety
chain too. She went back to bed again, took her favorite
sleeping position on the left side and concentrated on
thinking about something nice. On a summer day back home in
Denmark ... no, the snow. On being snowed inside the
family's old wooden summer house, with snow lying in the
big piles in the middle of the window, but with lots of
wood inside and a full refrigerator.
When she
abruptly woke up, she didn’t believe she had slept. But the
green numbers on the alarm clock said something different.
02.43 they shined to her. She was tense as a feather and
listened. Why had she woken? Maybe it was just a dream. Or
rather a nightmare. But then she heard the slight scratch
again and was aware that it was the sound that had woken
her. Someone was moving around in the dark apartment. Kirk.
In a glimpse, she was suddenly sure that it was him. That
he had penetrated to live out his role completely. Horror
got her to sweat and freeze at the same time. She strained
her ears to determine where in the apartment he was. Now,
she could also feel a wrong odeur, a smell which had not
been there when she went to sleep. It was the smell of car
exhaust and water on asphalt, and she could hear the sounds
of the traffic outside a little clearer. He must have
broken into the window. What was he doing? It sounded as if
he was still inside the room as if he were looking through
her things. Perhaps he was going to steal the movie, so
they had to continue filming.
Silently
Stine got up and just as silently she swung her bare feet
down on the floor. Strangely enough, the fear was suddenly
disappeared, and instead she felt much more angry and
determined. The floor made a tiny bit of sound as she
sneaked towards the open door, and she stopped and frowned
with bated breath. But no, the weak sounds from the room
were still there, she had not been discovered. Now she
stood in the hallway and she could clearly feel that the
living room window was open. She sensed also just as
clearly another person's presence. As she glided past the
open door to the room, she got a glimpse of a faint light
from a mobile phone switched on, and she saw the outlines
of a figure bent over her desk. But it was not Kirk. It
cleared to her when she had passed the open door and was
standing in the little kitchen. The figure there was high
and lanky, at least one head higher than Kirk.
Would
she have enough time to call the police? No, of course, she
wouldn’t. She took a knife from the drawer, it made a weak
metal sound. The eyes were already accustomed to the
darkness so much that she took the butcher knife without
having to search. She grabbed the shaft and came out again
and the three steps to the open door. The figure was now
occupied by pulling the drawers out of the work table.
The man
twitched, as Stine turned the switch down and the room was
suddenly bathed in light. He whirled around and stared at
her with eyes wide open in a lean face. The hood was pulled
up. She recognized him, it was the young, slim drug addict
type of a guy who had seen them filming earlier today. It
was obviously her gear, which had attracted him.
- Get
out! Stine screamed and lifted the knife threatening high
above her head. Every muscle in her body was tense. She
took one step forward, and the guy let her light meter fall
to the ground, crammed together and disappeared as a shadow
through the window. Stine heart was throbbing, she grabbed
so hard on the knife that it almost hurt her hand. All her
things were tossed around, but the drug addict had not
taken anything with him. Still with the knife high in the
air she went to the window to close it. She noticed that
the light was still lit at Kirk and in the very same moment
the curtain, went up and the window was opened.
He
stared straight at her and his face changed in a fraction
of a second of the purest expressions of horror, Stine had
ever seen. He took both hands up facing her in a prevention
gesture.
- Sorry,
sorry! he rambled. – Don’t hurt me, stay at your own place!
Stine
winked. It was her
who made
him look like this. Because she was here with a knife
raised high in the open window and anger shining in her
eyes. Their roles were switched.
- Stine,
I know, Kirk continued hecticly. - I ... I got to much into
the role, I know it! And I wanted to see you become really
scared, I admit it, but it is over now. Put down the knife
and fall to rest, please!
Stine
slowly let the knife fall, while she relaxed the shoulders.
Kirk did not stop looking at the knife, but was still
staring at it as Stine closed the window. She did not let
go of it until the curtain was drawn again and as she
gradually pushed it slightly to one side and looked out his
window was again closed and dark. The lock in the window
was destroyed, she would stay up the rest of the night and
clean up the mess the addict had left behind. The mobile
phone lay on the floor, she picked it up and entered a text
message: Hey
there at home. I have completed my project and am on my way
back to Denmark. See you soon.