Revra

By Sudhansu Thongam

David Harper — a rising actor with raw, unconventional talent — finds his big break with Nightfall Studios, a clandestine production team rumored to

control the industry’s future.

This team is a labyrinth of power, creativity, and moral corruption — a family bound by secrets.

The incident:

David, in a moment of paranoia, rage, or pure chaos, sexually assaults and kills Maria Harper — a renowned producer — a colleague — a woman he

secretly admired.

He is stricken by guilt — wrestling with his own conscience — but the industry covers it up and manipulates the media to make Maria’s death look like

a suicide, adding a sinister, cinematic twist to her story.

He must become their greatest asset... or their greatest downfall.

Maria’s younger sister, Emily Harper, a young, ambitious, vulnerable yet fiercely perceptive actress, is cast in Mirror’s Edge — a film within a film —

meant to be a dramatic retelling of the killing.

She plays the detective investigating the death, following clues — not realizing these clues are not script but real.

Meanwhile, David Harper — battling growing paranoia, guilt, and insanity — finds his grip on reality slipping.

He starts experiencing vivid, dream-like messages and scenarios, reliving his crimes alongside the scenes he performs.

He sweats, his hands tremble, he hears Maria’s voice in his mind — until the actor cannot separate the character from his own conscience.

Inside this nightmare, the industry manipulates Emily, turning her into its greatest tool while adding suspects, framing the innocent, and adding

dramatic details.

The lines between suspects and reality become increasingly blurred — a labyrinth made up of the industry’s own stories.

Meanwhile, Emily finds herself slowly falling in love with David, the very man who destroyed her sister’s life — the man whose guilt is slowly

consuming him.

She finds traces — glances, nervous habits, slips of dialogue — that connect him to Maria’s death.

Instead of turning him in, she becomes obsessed with redeeming him and understanding him — fueling her own descent into paranoia.

Who is the monster, and who is the victim?

The actor’s guilt reaches its breaking point.

He realizes there’s no redemption, no turning back — and under the oppressive conspiracy forged by his colleagues, he cannot erase his crimes nor

redeem his soul.

He plans a dramatic confession — a death — a form of eternal punishment — to illuminate the awful reality.

While the camera rolls, adding his death to their growing pile of cinematic “fiction”, Emily finds Maria’s box of belongings — a bloody piece of physical

proof — just as the industry prepares its final cut.

The box contains a phone, a tape, a piece of paper — something that reveals the true story — just in time for Emily...

but will it be enough?

Or will the industry erase the last traces of the awful reality?

In a dramatic twist, the killing, the confession, the cover-up, and the growing paranoia fold back into the narrative itself — the lines between actor and

character, reality and fiction, fully collapsing.

The final shot: Emily, holding the box, tears falling, glances directly into the camera, directly into the eyes of the growing, obliviously complicit viewers

—

and a sinister Bach piece starts to play — a soundtrack for eternal damnation.

The view slowly disintegrates into static — the ultimate manifestation of absolute chaos and tragedy.

The industry lives on, a monster unhindered, a nightmare made eternal.

By Sudhansu Thongam