The Last Day on Earth?
If that wasn’t a jab at him, Zeno didn’t know what was.
He sat at the edge of his seat, one arm slung over the backrest, his other hand tapping idly against his knee.
The words echoed in his head like a bad omen.
One day, he would have his last day on Earth.
But then again, so would everybody else.
How would the readers feel once that day actually came for him? He shrugged inwardly. Eh, they’ll live.
The prompt was that it was a family’s last day on Earth because the planet is literally disintegrating. They travel across the world to what they heard was the “safe place,” and this scene must show their journey.
The lights dimmed, and they finally began.
Risa and Ian took center stage as the elderly parents, and they not only showed it through their emotions but through their movements. They appeared slow. The moment the spotlight hit Risa’s face, her eyes welled up like she’d been crying for years. Ian held her hand tightly, the veins on his neck straining as he stared out into the abyss.
Their children, the other three actors, stood quietly at the side.
Suho, tense and breathless, dragged his body closer to them, appearing injured. Misha followed, her voice hoarse as she muttered something about the coastal route.
The youngest child was Hero.
Zeno’s gaze went to him last, and he noticed how his steps were smaller, shoulders rounded.
It was clear no one expected much from him. In the roster of “superstars,” he was still relatively new, with little to no exceptional works.
And yet, Zeno noted how his acting was just as convincing as the rest of them.
“Mom,” Hero said. “I don’t think we’re going to make it.”
The audience stirred while Zeno’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
Huh.
His voice modulation was pretty nice.
The emotion spread like fire.
Risa reached for him, fingers brushing his cheek. “Son, don’t say that,” she whispered, breath hitching. “We can still hope. We’ve been traveling for days.”
“We keep walking,” Suho interrupted gently, sounding mature yet young at the same time. “We walked even when the bridge collapsed. Even when the signs disappeared. There’s no one left.”
Misha sobbed softly while Hero turned away.
Ian stepped forward slowly, his face strangely appearing pale. “We can try calling again. We saw the signal towers, right?”
“There are no towers left,” Hero said. “They fell this morning. There’s no signal anymore. There’s really no one else.”
Silence.
Just silence.
It crept across the room, into the corners of the sound stage.
“Then it’s just us,” Risa said, quiet as a prayer.
Hero nodded, his face crumpling. “Yeah. Just us.”
Zeno felt the most engaged in this particular scenario. So, when the actors were good, they were truly able to share the emotion with the audience and let them feel it themselves.
Misha folded the map slowly, her hands shaking. “We’re not going to make it to the southern valley.”
“I know,” Suho murmured.
Ian pulled them all close. His voice trembled as he spoke. “Then let’s stay. Right here. Together.”
They all nodded, barely holding it together.
Risa looked around the room one last time. She whispered, “It’s not a bad place… for the world to end.”
The last statement, too, hit them like a punch in the gut.
Zeno leaned back slowly, a small smirk appearing on his lips. He hummed under his breath, quiet and thoughtful.
They were all really good. However, what he gathered from this scene was that if there was one person he needed to watch for, it was definitely Hero.
“Well,” Gene PD started off, leaning forward with a slow nod, “there’s no denying it. That was the most cohesive performance we’ve seen tonight.”
Bacon PD affirmed, his lips pursed in admiration. “Your chemistry was natural, the blocking was clever, and the emotional arc hit just the right notes. Truly well-balanced.”
Even Mr. Kim tilted his head in approval. “It’s a pleasant surprise,” he added. “I quite like it.”
Beside Zeno, Daniel scoffed under his breath.
“It’s unfair,” he muttered, loud enough for Zeno to hear.
Zeno turned his head lazily, raising a brow.
Daniel caught the look and smirked, wry and full of bitterness. “You must regret leaving that team, huh?”
Zeno didn’t hesitate as he answered. “No.”
It was that simple, catching Daniel off guard.
Daniel’s smirk faltered. “Seriously?”
“What’s the use of regretting,” Zeno said, glancing back to the stage, “when everything is already done and happenings cannot be reversed? Humans regret a lot of things, not knowing they’re going to face more regrets by wasting more time regretting.”
Daniel stared at him, incredulous. “Okay, Confucius.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head, muttering to himself. “Goodness. Why is talking to you like debating a philosophy professor?”
Zeno didn’t answer. Ian’s team made their way back to their seats, and now, they were waiting for the results of the first mission.
“Alright,” Gene PD said brightly. “The scores have been tallied…”
Phoenix crossed his arms with narrowed eyes, feeling like he deserved to win. Well, a lot of them were hoping to win. Zeno, on the other hand, had no expectations at all.
“And the winner of tonight’s mission is—”
“The Last Day on Earth!”
Applause erupted.
Zeno clapped too, cool and polite, but with none of the tension in his shoulders that gripped the others.
Daniel scoffed again. “Figures.”
Phoenix clicked his tongue and whispered, “Of course it’s the team with the sad family drama. People eat that up.”
Zeno turned and watched as their group huddled together. Well, they appeared happy.
He then shrugged. They deserved it.
Bacon PD added this time, “The prize for winning the preliminaries is… immunity.”
Another wave of applause filled the room.
But the mood shifted in an instant.
“Because,” he continued, “before we officially begin the main show… two artists will be leaving us.”
“What?”
Daniel straightened. “Wait, now?”
“This is just the preliminaries,” Gene PD chuckled. “This very day, two of you will be leaving.”
He paused, creating more tension. “And those two artists will be from the team with the lowest score.”
“Showing you now, the tally sheets along with the total score!”
Numbers appeared on the screen along with their names and the scenarios they’ve acted out.
After what felt like an eternity, the numbers finally stilled, and Zeno’s eyes zeroed in on the total scores at the very bottom.
Welp.
They had the lowest score.