Oscar Night

“And the Academy Award for Best Picture goes to…”

The drum roll started. Spotlights and cameras converged upon the nominees, who all nervously smiled in anticipation, except for one. Manuel Hernandez looked particularly haggard, his face beaded with sweat and looking pale and ill. He held in his hands a worn piece of lined paper with handwriting on it. He turned the folded paper over and over in his hands as he looked down at his feet. He breathed deeply but slowly.

The woman on stage, standing in front of a microphone stand, holding a large red envelope in her hand, flashed her perfect white teeth as she broke the seal on the envelope. She left ample time for suspense before she read the text on the inside: “The True Cost!” Most of the audience excitedly rose to their feet, applauding. A group of people that worked on the film was already walking up to the stage, giving each other high-fives, celebrating amongst each other. Manuel closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. His face was still drooped into a frown when he slowly stood up and approached the stage. He climbed up the steps and accepted the golden idol that was offered to him. Many of the people on the stage smiled and congratulated him, shaking his hand and slapping him on the back. He politely thanked them and stepped up to the microphone. The applause slowed to a dead quiet as he unfurled his handwritten piece of lined notebook paper.

“I am so grateful for this amazing award. We all worked very hard to make it here, and I want to thank my cast and crew for doing such an incredible job.” He paused for a round of applause. “I’ve been in Hollywood for a few years now, and I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for the people I’ve met and who have helped me along the way.” His voice began to waver and his hand had a slight tremor as the paper rustled in his hand. “I’d like to quickly read off this list of names:”

The cameras scanned the audience’s smiling faces as he read off the first few names on the list. After a few more names were read, a few smiles faded. The further Manuel went down the list, the more people were no longer smiling and some looked horrified. A soft murmur rose from the crowd that grew louder and louder. One of the celebrities in the audience looked directly into a television camera and ran his finger across his neck, signaling to cut. The music began to play, signaling his speech time was up. There were people panicking now, screaming for Manuel to stop, but he only raised the volume of his voice until he had read every name on the list.

Manuel looked straight into the television camera and stated shakily, “I have sent this list to every news publication and law enforcement agency. This is a list of the people running a major pedophile—” A gunshot echoed through the auditorium and Manuel clutched his chest and slumped to the floor. More gun shot rang out as people screamed and stampeded in a mass confusion. Manuel Hernandez succumbed to his wounds in a matter of minutes.

The next day, the mainstream media reported on the event. “Terror at the Oscars: Crazed gunman kills acclaimed director Manuel Hernandez, injures as many as 30 in a tragic attack at the Oscars during a commercial break. The police and FBI are investigating this as a potential hate crime, as there seems to be no other clear motive. We will have more details as this story develops.”