Ten Tryouts - Ebisawa Hitomi

An attempt to appease the great lords of literature. Or just to be a part of a project that might actually be finalized.
*Candy Girl is a reference to Hitomi the pop star
A Quick Note; Hitomi is a damned common name, from pop stars to Porn stars, and everything in between. I'd link but I might get in trouble.

*** Plans for Hitomi ***

Rather than overly work this piece of writing I'll leave it as a kind of marker for what I see in the character.

For the most part Hitomi would be ruthless in her actions. It's alarming the lengths a junkie will go to get that next fix. It might be thought Hitomi would lack smarts and ability due to her drug habit however the contrary is true. Hitomi's drug habit drives her to be more intelligent and cunning. Although her body suffers from her habit her outright loss of self respect and any understanding of her bodies true condition mean's she will push herself well beyond normal limits.

Some might like to think the ordeal of hunting people to achieve some kind of teen fantasy long gone would force Hitomi to grow up. I'd rather believe her continued misadventure would plunge her further into a semi lucid world of dark fantasy and seductive  horrors.

This original piece is meant to be a polar reality. On one hand Hitomi is high on the drug left to her by the visitor. I don't believe the visitor is important, no matter if he exists in her head or in reality doesn't change anything but add's to the mystery of her drug induced psychosis. The alternate is reality. She's in a paramedics van, they are attempting to revive her. It may feel a bit cheesy however i think it's a logical place to start. We begin her story with what appears to be the lowest a person can fall. Then we take them further into the pits of despair.

Hitomi was of course a pop star, peaking her performance at 16. Since then it's been convention centres and game shows (Anyone ever watched an asian game show. Does it get much lower than this). By 17 Hitomi's habit has reduced her to a shallow woman looking well into her twenties. Even the guest appearances have dried up and in an effort to maintain her lifestyle (and habit.) She moves to America knowing the western attraction to young asian women. This doesn't work out well for her. I didn't want to focus on what she was doing in America to maintain her lifestyle, just to hint at the back room antics and private room sessions. This part of her history would be used to enhance the horror of her 'downers' and yet left with enough inuendo that nothing is ever truly said about her seedy lifestyle.

Hitomi will likely need crumbs to lead her along her path. Those running this 'sport' would find her easy to tempt and lead. She would likely be a very possible candidate for victory.

*** Almost There. - The Letter***

She lay on her apartment floor. It's walls crushing her, compressing her untill she was little more than a broken bag of flesh and bones. So far had she fallen, lost in the rave. No longer broken and tormented, her life was simply lost to her. Something screamed inside her head, pounding against her temples leaving white hot scars on her cornea. Her body wracked with convulsions and pain, limbs twitching spasmodicly.

  "Screw you." Her voice drawled, nothing remained of the pop star only a creature lost in obsession and ignorant of reality. "I don't need your help. You filthy peasants. What are you to me. What could possibly interest the candy girl. "

    The tall man was possibly of indian decent though it was hard to tell. His neat mustache and barely visible stubble hid any real ethnicity.  "I know who you are maam."

    "Don't patronize me you smug bastard."

    "Please I am only here to help." His voice was control. Moveing quietly he laid a small piece of paper on the floor beside her futon. "I assure you we are quite generous in our offer." Then he placed a small syringe on the floor. Her struggling stopped, her head snapped eyes locked to the small vial. "It's not what you think maam. " He waited for a response, there was none. "It will help you, wake up so to speak."

     She leapt upon the object of her imprisonment with a fervour that alarmed her visitor. "I don't need it." Her tongue lolled, her eyes wide a feverish sweat beaded on her face. "But it helps, it helps the pain."

     "We can help you maam." He turned and walked to the door. "everything is in the letter." His hand grasped the handle, he didn't need to look. He could feel it under his skin. Junkies always gave him the creeps. "Maam please, don't forget the letter." He left, securing the door behind him. It wasn't heroin in the syringe he had left for her. Rather something entirely more sadictive.

    Her entire body relaxed. This was what she needed, a little liquid comfort to, help her get on her feet. It was only moments before she lay dreamily on the floor, the band still strung around her arm the syringe empty beside her. An onlooker might have wondered at the similarities between the empty vial and the woman passed out. It wasn't entirely her fault. Life wasn't meant to be easy, or something like that. Thoughts drifted about her in a semi lucid dream. She watched daisies grow around her legs and each time she stood it seemed the floor fell away beneath her. She reached for the scrap of paper. Her vision swam sickeningly however the letter stayed solid. Why did that tall man have such an unusual accent. Realisation dawned on her, he wasn't real. Or was he. Without warning the room began spinning. Light burst again and again sparks lighting behind her cornea, lightning crashing around her mind. Flashes of light, photographers flocking to catch a glimpse of her as she stepped of a stage. Her name shouted over and over like some heavenly chorus. Hitomi. Clear.

Pain exploded, Hitomi lurched forward, foul liquid clung to her throat and mouth.

    "Maam, we need to know what you took." An american paramedic looked at her disgust clear on his face. "Maam"

    "I don't know" She choked on the words, bile thwarting her every effort to speak, or swallow. She struggled with the moment of clarity, an ambulance two paramedics. 

     "Maam, we need to know now." Again that persistant and odd accent. "Maam !" The voice had begun to sound dreamlike and faraway.

    "It was.. it was blue." She smiled at the tall indian man. "Blue Lotus." She stood in a hallway, the walls so white it hazed her vision. "Do I know you ?" Feeling better she got up, smiled and walked towards the oddly indian looking gentleman.

    "Maam, don't forget the letter" She spun franticly, he had disappeared from view. She frowned, looked down. Scrawled at her feet were names.


You can be famous. You can be young.

  1. Godfrey De Vries
  2. Elias Heikkinen
  3. Tony Blake
  4. Kamali Ncube
  5. Michelle Sanchez
  6. Alexi Bogdanov
  7. Mei Yu
  8. Thiago Torres
  9. Vahide Younan

Kill them my Candy Girl.

"I will do anything for you, my fans." Her smile widened.


*** Overall Story Line ***

The overall story line will be about communication between the protagonists. Who kills who, who joins who, and for what purposes does anyone join anyone else. Individual motives are often over ridden by group motives. 

I find it very hard to put together any realistic plot without having a better understanding of characters. However I will have a jab at the overall

The End

11 comments about this story Feed