"Year 2010, fifteenth of July, "Buried", first act..." Rodrigo held the clapperboard in his hand, standing before the camera to slate the first scene for filming. However, before he could finish his sentence, he set down the clapperboard and shouted at the group of mercenaries who were whispering beside him, "Quiet! Do you even know what quiet means? Everybody, shut up, and hold your breath if you have to! This is the heart of the desert, the scene of a life being buried alive. There should be no sound here, except for Paul. There should be no other signs of life here. So, shut up! If you still want to get paid."
Rodrigo's emotions were somewhat heightened because he had experienced everything that happened that day at the funeral company. He knew what true fear and despair looked like. The mercenaries on set were actually chatting, which was utterly... absurd.
Initially, someone had wanted to crack a joke or two, but upon hearing the last sentence, everyone promptly clamped their mouths shut. The scene was left with only a faint sound of breathing, barely audible in the air circulating within the warehouse.
Rodrigo turned his head to glance at Renly lying in the wooden box. His anger couldn't be suppressed any longer. "Back up! Everyone, except for Eduard, take three steps back. The microphones can pick up your breathing."
The mercenaries wore expressions of mockery and disdain on their faces. Clearly, they didn't care much about the subtle sounds of breathing that Rodrigo made a fuss about. Not to mention whether the microphones were sensitive enough to pick it up or not, even if they were, mixed with the sounds of air movement, the audience wouldn't be able to discern it. Rodrigo was clearly stretching things. But when in Rome, do as the Romans do; they exchanged glances and lazily took a few steps backward.
After waiting for a moment, Rodrigo picked up the clapperboard again. "In the year 2010, on the fifteenth of July, the first act, the first scene of "Buried", our first attempt."
As his words faded, a crisp "clap" sounded, officially marking the start of the first scene.
Due to the unique nature of the movie "Buried", Rodrigo decided to film the movie according to the timeline. Therefore, the first scene wasn't selected based on its quality; it depicted the moment Paul regains consciousness after being kidnapped. Regardless of the difficulty, everything was arranged based on the chronological order.
Currently, the camera was fixed on Renly's abdomen area, then slowly zoomed in to capture a close-up shot. All the surrounding lights went out. The warehouse doors had long been closed, and even sun-blocking curtains were drawn. In the air-tight space, it felt a bit stuffy. Now, even the light had disappeared completely. The sense of emptiness in this invisible confinement spread slowly amidst the silence, evoking panic.
Even the mercenaries who had wanted to joke fell completely silent.
Eduard held his breath, his full attention on the viewfinder, focusing on every movement captured by the lens. He didn't want his breathing to become an excuse for Renly to mess up the first scene. He was curious to see what this guy could come up with.
Darkness, pitch-black darkness where one couldn't see their own hand in front of their face. In this absolute darkness, there were no sounds. However, if one listened closely, a steady and lingering breath could be heard stirring the air. It sounded as if someone were asleep. This serene tranquility even induced a drowsy sensation, filling the entire world with a sense of serenity.
Eduard couldn't help but furrow his brows. The shooting had already started, so what was that guy doing? They were an independent production crew, and film was expensive. For every second Renly delayed, it meant wasting their precious budget. Could it be that the kid fell asleep? Truly asleep? Otherwise, how could his breath be so steady? It was... a joke.
"Uh." Suddenly, the breathing grew irregular, as if he reflexively took a deep breath, disrupting the rhythm of sleep. Then, the breath stalled suddenly. In that moment of utter silence, the tranquil darkness seemed to freeze entirely. But it was just an instant. Soon after, the breath became strained, revealing a struggle and repression within the increasingly chaotic breathing. Like an octopus, it gradually extended its tentacles.
The emotions stirring slowly within this silence weren't tumultuous, but they sent shivers down one's spine, like a pervasive cold air. Initially unnoticed, goosebumps surfaced, and soon after, shivers followed. People unconsciously rubbed their skin with their hands, trying to warm themselves.
Eduard shivered involuntarily.
Could it be a nightmare? A torment-filled nightmare? Although it was just a change in breathing, everything felt so real, so real that his heart began to constrict.
"Hu... Hu..." The breathing grew heavier and longer, but it seemed obstructed, as if one could clearly feel him exerting his full strength all over his body, attempting to make the breathing smoother. It was so difficult, and then he started coughing violently. Even the coughing was stifled and laborious, the struggle permeating every cell of his body.
When the cough subsided, his breath grew rapid, as if he had finally awakened from a nightmare. Then, he started scanning his surroundings. The breath's chaotic shifts on both sides suggested he was seeking something, surveying something. Yet, all these actions were futile. Nothing could be seen in the absolute darkness.
But at that moment, the breathing turned extremely fervent, even a hint of fear could be discerned. The struggle with muscles tensed ended up fruitless. The whole person crashed heavily onto an object, producing a muffled sound.
That single sound, coupled with the pain that followed, ceased his struggle. His breath vanished in an instant, as if his throat had been seized.
Eduard swallowed a mouthful of saliva involuntarily. The fear, emanating from all directions, enveloped him. Humanity's greatest fear always came from the unknown—fear of outer space, fear of the future, fear of the supernatural, and so on. In the boundless darkness, the emotions contained within that lone breath amplified the unknown to its utmost limit. His palms began to moisten.
Struggling, violent struggling. But once the breathing resumed, the clatter of collisions amid the chaotic and hurried breaths brought about a despairing fear. It was as if no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't escape the binds, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear through the darkness. The breath carried a scent of blood, gradually permeating the air.
"Gulp." The breath stopped again, and then the collision sound vanished, leaving only the subtle rustling of fabric friction, occasionally accompanied by the sound of inadvertently colliding with an object. A sense of confinement and oppression within the narrow space began to transmit. It seemed he was trapped within a space only slightly larger than his body. The increasingly rapid breathing highlighted the hot and thin air, and the heart rate accelerated incessantly. The adrenaline rushing out made his mouth dry.
What was happening to him? What situation had he encountered? What danger was he facing? Countless unknown question marks surged forth, nearly suffocating Eduard.
"Uh." A muffled sound of pain came, carrying an imperceptible hint of sobbing within the stifled voice. But in the blink of an eye, this trace of vulnerability vanished, replaced by resolute determination to survive. In the blink of an eye, his breathing became steady once again, albeit heavy and murky. It was evident he was forcing himself to stay calm, to remain resolute even when on the brink of death.
Amidst the sound of fabric friction, a sound resembling flint striking flint emerged. It sounded like... a lighter!
Could it be that his moment of calm allowed him to find a lighter? A faint glimmer of hope started to sprout from the depths of his heart. If it was really a lighter, that would be great. Fire was humanity's second life. After dispersing the darkness, at least he could ascertain his situation and then devise a plan to save himself.
A lighter, please let it be a lighter. Unintentional prayers arose in Eduard's heart. At some point, he became immersed in the scene, his mind rising and falling with the changes in breath.
"Scrape, scrape." The sound of the lighter's collision resonated, but still, there was no sign of any flames. "Ah! Ah!" The suppressed cry for help pounded out, as if even shouting had become impossible. This level of frustration culminated in oppressive suppression, like gunpowder tightly packed, desiring to explode but forcibly restrained.
Raging emotions surged through the boundless darkness, and Adriana felt like she was losing her breath. Her heart seemed on the verge of bursting. The sensation of suffocation tightly gripped her throat. Before she could react, tears had filled her eyes. She didn't even know what this warmth represented—sympathy, fear, panic, or something else? She couldn't help but bite her lip hard to prevent herself from making a sound. However, her desperate hands grabbed her ankles, nearly causing her to scream.
"Ah!" The rapid breathing grew heavier and louder. It sounded as if a mute person were shouting, the stifled sound filled with terror. "Scrape!" A flicker of flame suddenly appeared, though it vanished in an instant. Even so, everyone tensed their muscles, stood upright, and leaned forward eagerly. That thin strand of hope was growing stronger.
"Scrape!" The sound of the lighter's friction grew louder, and the light flickered, but that fraction of hope remained, wavering yet gradually straightening. A deep yellow flame suddenly ignited, and the darkness, like a receding tide, began to retreat. Still, it hadn't completely disappeared, enshrouding the feeble flame, watching hungrily.
In the firelight, one-fourth of a cheek was visible, along with a single eye. That deep brown eye surveyed the surroundings frantically, a medley of fear, confusion, pain, and panic swirling in its depths. The hurried and fervent breathing continued to intensify.
Suddenly, the breathing ceased. The pupils dilated, as if one could clearly witness the blossoming of despair like fireworks. The entire world collapsed with a roar. Time and space froze in an instant, projecting a small world illuminated by the firelight. It was a closed wooden coffin. Hope had just been ignited and was immediately extinguished.