Harper flipped through his script, rereading the lines he had gone over for the past couple of days, muttering them to himself. His leg bobbed up and down with nervousness as he frequently glanced at the clock. The time for his audition was about to occur in a couple more minutes, and tension grew in his body with each passing second.
He wasn't the only one in a state of anxiety; the waiting room was filled with actors and actresses who wanted the starring role as much as he did. The people rehearsing aloud to themselves only solidified to Harper that he was about to say the same lines to the interviewers.
He had heard that the director himself was there to oversee the audition, an unusual occurrence but not unheard of. The rumor only fueled Harper's need to get the role, a chance to impress the casting agent and the director himself, which was perfect for his dream to happen.
Taking a deep breath, he attempted to calm the butterflies swirling in his stomach. It wasn't helping like he hoped it would, it only cemented the fact that he was really here, trying to get a role that everyone else here was gunning for. As he continued to review his lines, Harper couldn't help but steal glances at the diverse talent around him. Each face carried its own story of ambition and determination, creating an unspoken camaraderie among the anxious performers. Some exchanged supportive nods, while others remained lost in their own worlds of preparation.
The rumor about the director's presence intensified the stakes. Harper couldn't shake the image of impressing the casting agent and the visionary behind the project. It wasn't just about landing a role but about making an indelible mark that could shape his entire career.
As the minutes dwindled down, the energy in the room was becoming more desperate. Harper's palms felt clammy, and he resisted rechecking his reflection in the nearby mirror. The door to the audition room loomed like a gateway to his aspirations, and he couldn't escape the sense that destiny hung in the balance.
With a final glance at the script, Harper steeled himself. The nervous energy transformed into a fierce determination. He whispered the lines again, committing them to memory, and rose from his seat. He knew that this audition could be the turning point he had been tirelessly working toward. The room pulsed with the collective heartbeat of dreams. Harper was ready to take the spotlight and give the interviewers what they wanted and more.
Just as he had finished rereading the last part of the script, he heard a voice from the door dividing him and his last shot as an actor.
"Number 13, Harper Moore! You're next!"
Harper stood up from his chair, collecting his thoughts, and walked over to the person who called his name.
"Harper Moore, that's me."
The employee stood to the side, keeping the door open with his hand on the handle. Harper gave his thanks as he walked in, later taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down further.
As he entered the dimly lit audition room, the fluorescent lights flickered above Harper. The suspense was hanging in the air, and Harper could sense that the interviewers already harbored a certain disapproval. Their looks of contempt struck Harper as he made eye contact with each person.
The current situation was not looking good.
One of them began flipping through sheets of paper before taking one out, reading through as Harper stood nervously in the limelight. The fact that he had everyone's resumes and sat in the middle of the table confirmed the rumor. The director really did show up to help pick the starring role.
"You're Harper?" The Director asked. He nodded in response. "Alright then, let's get this over with, we have nearly 20 other people to look at."
Harper cleared his throat and started reciting the lines from memory. As he spoke aloud, the interviewers exchanged skeptical glances. Harper felt their eyes on him, judging every expression, every nuance of his performance. The role demanded more than he could offer regarding looks, but he pressed on, determined to prove himself.
However, the director interrupted him before he could get to the end of his line.
"Sorry, Harper, but we're seeking someone different for this role," He explained as he placed Harper's resume face down in another stack. "You're not the type of actor we envisioned."
Harper looked up from his script, confusion written on his face as his heart sank. What did they mean by that? Was Harper's looks the reason? His tone of voice? Before he could ask, another interviewer spoke up, already prepared to answer.
"You're just not what we need. Your acting style doesn't fit the vision we have for this character."
A cold realization crept over Harper. He wasn't merely being rejected for this role; they were dismissing him as an actor altogether. One of the interviewers punctuated the rejection when they whispered to their neighbor. "Honestly, he's not even noteworthy enough to be an extra."
Harper overheard their insult, but with proper etiquette, he took a slight bow, thanking them for their time. Harper left the audition room, the weight of disappointment clinging to him like a cloak. The door closed behind him, sealing the chapter of his failed attempt at breaking into the film industry. He threw the script he had been devoting the past week into a trash can with force, along with his self-esteem.
Wandering through the corridors of the office building, deep in dejection, Harper spotted a job board adorned with various fliers. Most of them advertised future auditions, something he knew he would fail at a moment's attempt. Dejectedly skimming at the fliers, a glimmer of hope ignited as he noticed a particular flier seeking a Best Boy Grip. It demanded film school and movie tech experience, making what was Harper's years of film school pointless, useful again. This was a new opportunity, he made a compromise on his dream of being in front of the camera. His changed dream was still a chance to be part of the filmmaking process.
The sting of rejection faded as quickly as it came. The urge to defy his mother's beliefs out of spite and his newly repaired dream gave Harper a new-found determination. Harper ripped the flier off the bulletin board. Resolve flickered in his eyes as he clutched the paper, hoping that this unexpected turn might lead him to a new path in the world of cinema.
As soon as Harper stepped out of the casting building, he found himself out in the middle of the desert. The flier had disappeared and in his hands was a C4. A combat tank stood tall in front of him, the heat of the sun reflecting off the metal into Harper's face. Harper began to look around, confused by the sudden change in the environment. Before he could drop the C4 in his hands, he heard a familiar shriek from the distance.
"SIR NO DON'T PUSH THE BU—"
Realizing what he was reliving, Harper attempted to run away, but just like the first time, he got caught in the blast.
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Harper's eyes shot open, a gasp escaping his lips as he jolted upright in bed. His chest heaved with rapid breaths, his heart pounding against his ribs. The lingering echoes of his dream still clung to the edges of his consciousness, the most vivid image of the shift to his death in the movie set. He began to look side-to-side, disoriented about where he was before the two appendages on his head hit his eyes.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Harper winced from the pain, mumbling, "Stupid dread thingies." After rubbing his eyes, he began to look around. Harper sat on a pullout sofa embroidered with flowers covered in a similarly designed blanket. A coffee table decorated with a single potted plant sat in front of the sofa. Winston and Willow slept nearby in front of the unused fireplace. The living room's decor featured vintage farm tools, throw pillows, and fresh flowers. Despite the traditional appearance, modern utilities like a flat-screen TV and DVD player were seamlessly integrated into the comfortable rural setting.
~Shit… so this isn't a dream after all,~ Harper looked down at his new paws and then at his side dreads. The sudden shift of a human body in his nightmare to this body made him feel alien now that he was a riolu. He was slowly remembering what had transpired before he ended up on this sofa bed. After dying from that bomb, he somehow ended up in the Unova region and was now in the house of the ranch that was in the games.
Winston and Willow woke up from their nap after noticing Harper's movements, their heavy-eyed faces quickly shifting to one of happiness. Winston dashes out of the living room and to the front door. "Reed! Meadow! The kid's finally awake!"
Willow stayed behind, standing up and leaning her paws on the sofa's edge, staring tenderly into Harper's eyes.
"Are you feeling any better? You've been sleeping for an entire day."
"An entire day?" Harper repeated as he looked at his body. All his appendages were wrapped in bandages, he even noticed that his tail was as well when he looked behind his back. His chest area was also enveloped, lacking any sign of blood. It seemed like the bleeding had finally stopped.
"It's a good thing we found you so soon as well; if you were out there any longer with those injuries untreated… I don't want to imagine it."
Reed and Meadow walked into the living room led by Winston. The couple knelt by the sofa as Winston stood next to Willow.
"Your injuries were treatable, but if the herdiers didn't find you…" Meadow said until she started looking downward, imagining something dark.
"Thankfully they did," Reed spoke up. "And we had enough rawst berries to treat your burns."
Harper's new nose scrunched up as he noticed a bitter scent coming from somewhere. He took his right arm up to his face and sniffed. He recoiled from the scent, the bandages were the source of the smell.
"Rawst berry juice heals burns greatly when they're applied like an ointment, so just bear with the smell for a while," Reed explained. "You'll make a full recovery other than some scars and burn marks but your fur will block them out of sight."
When he finished explaining, Reed sighed as he thought to himself before asking Harper a question. "There was also something we wanted to ask once you were awake. Do you know what caused your injuries?"
As Harper heard the question, he began to sweat, unsure of how to respond to their curiosity. The same logic applied here like when Willow asked how he knew what the player character looked like. He couldn't just tell them all that he was from a completely different dimension and was now in the body of a pokémon. Adding an impossibility on top of another was two too many.
"Are you not sure, Riolu?" Meadow put her hand on his hand, or now his paw. "If you don't remember, it's alright."
Harper was given the perfect excuse, and he quickly nodded in response. He decided that memory loss was a decent coverup to his previous life.
"Well, that's concerning, but I'll take your word for it," Meadow continued. "Reed and I believe that a Fire-type pokémon attacked you before Winston and Willow found you. There wasn't any smoke in the forest, so we were stumped about how you got burned."
"I'll send a word to some rangers later about a potentially dangerous Fire-type wandering in Route 20's forest," Reed added. "Just know that you're safe here, Riolu."
"Thank you for treating me," Harper said to the human couple. "And thank you for finding me," He faced the Herdier couple.
Reed and Meadow smiled, not comprehending his exact words but getting the message before going back outside, the herdiers following suit. The familial connection he tangibly felt with everyone made Harper realize that he left what family he had behind as well.
Harper never had a wife, his work life made sure to keep his marriage status single. He was also an only child, Being the only child, he experienced a deep sense of isolation that was made worse by his unsupportive mother. His father had been his pillar of support, but after his death, there was no one to help him in his time of need. Harper's once-tense relationship with his mother shattered after his father's death because she never came to terms with Harper's wish. She hated that he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps in the film industry, the very industry that had killed his father.
His loneliness turned into his regular companion. No friends to turn to, no siblings to share memories with. The emptiness that surrounded his existence was a reflection of his father's absence. He had no genuine relationships at work and felt alone even there. Colleagues remained as colleagues; they never moved past the work environment to become real friends.
The harsh truth was hard to swallow, but it was inevitable.
Harper didn't miss his old life.
His path toward his dreams and aspirations to be an actor was met with criticism from his mother and his peers. Even when he compromised his dream to make movies by changing his dream job to Key Grip, he was still horribly treated. The years of mental beatings brought him down multiple times but he continued to hope that something would eventually change.
An explosion to the face answered that hope. The combustive response to his desire affirmed to Harper what the little voice in his head told him each day when he woke up.
"Cinema didn't need Harper Moore."
A tear dropped from his eye, and another, before they became sobs, muffled by a blanket on his face. It was the first time he had cried in years, the furthest he could remember doing so was when his father had passed away.
Harper didn't know if this was the last time if he would ever cry.
He hoped it was.
Nothing could be worse than this realization.
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"You won't need your bandages anymore," Meadow said as she unwrapped Harper's arms. "Your body needs some fresh air as well so I want you to go outside and walk around, ok?"
Harper gave an attempt of a thumbs up with his right paw, curling two pads and leaving one up. Meadow chuckled at Harper's response, unwrapping the last of the bandages and throwing it away in a nearby trash bin.
"You can walk anywhere within the ranch, we want you within eye contact in case you get attacked again. Also, don't disturb the mareep and flaaffy while they're grazing. If you need anything just call for anyone nearby, alright?"
When he nodded, Meadow smiled at him before leaving the house, moving on with her daily tasks. Harper scooched to the edge of the sofa and jumped off, immediately losing his balance. He stumbled around before catching himself on the coffee table.
~Right, my feet aren't human.~
Harper remembered that dogs walk like how a person would walk on their toes. With that in mind, he began to take small steps before walking at a steady pace. It was much easier to walk now compared to his first attempt in the forest.
~Aha, I can finally walk now, at least one more thing is making sense in my life.~
Harper walked to the front door that was left ajar and gave it a push. The sunlight hit his eyes as he stepped into the outdoors. Harper began to look around, shading his eyes as he observed the area. The scenery was as farm-like as it could get with pastures and grain all over. With nothing else to do, he walked over to a nearby fence to look at all the electric sheep pokémon.
Harper's change in height created a few problems, one being that he couldn't look over the fence, if he were still human this wouldn't have been an issue at all. He climbed the fence, embarrassment growing as he finally reached the top. Harper hung his arms over the fence railing, staring at the mareep and flaaffy in a detached state.
After what seemed like hours, Harper noticed an aged man approaching the ranch's front gate. The man wore a purple suit and navy blue dress pants. He was balding, the sides of his head being the only area with hair. The blondeness of his remaining hair stood out the most from his eccentric outfit. Most noticeable was his curled, yellow mustache, which he gave a twirl as he took a phone call.
"What do you mean we still don't 'ave someone to take ze role? That's preposterous! I thought we would 'ave sorted zis out by now!" He huffed as he continued his brisk pace on the ranch's pathway.
~Role?~
Whatever the man was talking about, Harper paid full attention to the man's conversation. Thankfully, the man was so absorbed in his one-sided talk that he didn't notice the riolu sneaking behind him a distance away.
"You know extremely well! Without zat role, our studio will go bankrupt if we don't release zat movie. If ze personnel at ze Pokéstar Studios can't find a proper pokémon, zen I'll 'ave to do it myself!"
Pokéstar… Studios?
Was that some Hollywood equivalent in the Pokémon world? Harper didn't know if it was in the games, as he never got far enough to explore the rest of Unova's sequel. But in the end, it didn't matter to him if it existed or not in the games.
Harper was gonna get that role.
His dream wasn't going to die just yet.