Word: wrest

wrest


\ rest \ , verb;

1. to take away by force: to wrest a knife from a child.

2. to twist or turn; pull, jerk, or force by a violent twist.

3. to get by effort: to wrest a living from the soil.

4. to twist or turn from the proper course, application, use, meaning, or the like; wrench.

noun:

1. a wresting; twist or wrench.

2. a key or small wrench for tuning stringed musical instruments, as the harp or piano, by turning the pins to which the strings are fastened.

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The black clothed mugger advanced menacingly on the young lady, who clutched her purse to her chest like it was child. Her eyes were wide with fear as she looked at the knife her assailant held in front of him. An ear piercing scream left her mouth, a call of desperation for any kind of aid.

“Scream all you want lady, nobody’s gonna help you.” The mugger said, even as he eyed his prize hungrily. He stopped dead in his tracks, as if waiting for something to happen. “I said,” He said in a slightly louder voice, “Scream all you want lady, nobody’s gonna help you!” He made sure to clearly pronounce every word. Then he waited, looking at building to his left.

“Cut!” Came the call. The ‘mugger’ slumped his shoulders and groaned as the ‘victim’ pulled out a pair of large rimmed glasses out of her purse and slid them onto her face.

“Were’s Mike? Why isn’t he ready to go?” Asked Greg, the director of the little film being shot.

“I don’t know, the last I saw him he was ready to go.” Lucy, the ‘victim’ said

“Knowing him, he’s probably off chasing birds or something.” Jack, the sound guy, said. Greg held his head in his hands and groaned. This was not the first time this had happened. The group of high school filmmakers had a somewhat limited pool of talent to choose from for any kind of movie they wanted to shoot, and Mike was the only one that was even remotely good looking enough to play the role of the protagonist in their latest work. Unfortunately, he was easily distracted.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mike said, running up to the simply constructed set, panting for breath once he got there.

“Where were you?” Greg asked.

“I bet he was chasing butterflies again.” Fred, the ‘mugger’ said, snickering at his own joke.

“I was not!” Mike said defensively, “It was a bee.” He finished, as if that made it all better.

“Why were you chasing a bee?” Lucy asked.

“Why wouldn’t I? They’re amazing little creatures.” Mike said.

“If you get stung, I swear I’m just gonna sit there and laugh.” Fred said.

“Oh that’s not likely to happen.” Mike said matter of factly, “Bees only sting in either self defense or to protect the hive. As long as you leave them alone, you can go right up to them and they’ll just ignore you.”

“Yeah, yeah, who cares.” Greg said with pure annoyance coloring his voice, “Just get in position. We’ll take it from Fred’s line. And try not to get distracted this time.”

“Yes, sir!” Mike said, throwing up a crisp salute. He went behind the plywood ally and climbed a ladder that would allow him to ‘swoop in’ on the waiting criminal.

“Um, before we start,” Lucy said timidly, “Can I keep my glasses on? I kind of need them to see.”

“We’ve been over this. You’re character doesn’t wear glasses.” Greg said. He rubbed his forehead in frustration. He could swear that the people he was working with would drive him to an early grave, and he was only seventeen.

“But why can’t you just change it? Besides, I look cute in glasses.” She said, trying to act as cute as possible. The boys looked at her, judging whether or not she was right.

“She’s right, she does.” Jack said. He shouldered his improvised boom mike, which was simply a normal microphone that had attached to a long stick with way too much duct tape.

“Ok, fine. Leave ‘em on. I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.” Greg said. He didn’t want to admit it, but he did have to admit she was one of those rare people who looked better with glasses than without. “Now, any other problems?” he asked. Mike looked like he was getting lost in a passing cloud, so he had to start this back up now while the leading man was still paying some kind of attention. He went back to the small camcorder on a tripod and called to the actors, “Ok, places people! And…action!” He called out.

“Scream all you want lady, nobody’s gonna help you.” The mugger said, advancing on his hapless victim. His knife (a broken plastic knife handle with tin foil arranged in a rough blade shape) glinted in the light as he moved.

“Think again!” Came a voice from high above them. Both mugger and victim looked up to see who had spoken. A man in a red outfit stood on a nearby fire escape (the ladder with a few plastic bars draped across it). A bright yellow E (done up in cheap fabric paint) Shone on his chest, each of the three arms of the letter looking like a bolt of lightning. He jumped, seeming to float down to the ground (you could hardly even see the fish line that was used instead of ropes!)

“Who do you think you are? Some kind of hero?” The mugger asked in disbelief.

“That’s exactly who I am!” the costumed man said.

The mugger rushed at the red clad do-gooder with his knife poised for an overhead thrust. The man easily caught the muggers hand and wrested the knife from it. He cast it to the ground with a clatter (to be added later). The mugger backed off, holding his hand as if it was in pain. He snarled and rushed at the hero, aiming to land a solid blow to his chin. The hero stood proudly and reared his hand back. The victim saw a faint light flicker over his fingers (also to be added later), and regarded her savior with awe. The costumed man used his reared back fist to deliver a powerful blow to the mugger’s face (it even looked real thanks to the miracle of good camera angles). The hapless crook fell to the ground and rolled on the ground, twitching and convulsing like he had been hit by a powerful electric shock (or at least Fred’s best guess to that regard) before finally lying still.

“Are you alright miss?” The hero said, flashing a bright smile her way.

“O-oh yes, I’m fine.” She said with a dreamy smile on her face (she was thinking of kittens to help her out with that one).

“Good. Well then, be careful going home.” The hero said, backing off a bit and crouching down.

“Wait!” The victim said, calling out to her savior. He looked at her quizzically.

“Who are you exactly?” She asked.

“Just call me Electrus.” He said, and leapt up into the air (hoisted up by a mechanical pulley they had bought), leaving the girl alone in the ally to gather her thoughts.

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Support an amateur film maker today, since they'll become the major film makers of tomorrow. And hey, sometimes they make stuff that can be entertaining in their own unique ways.

As a side note, this was actually supposed to be up yesterday.  But a nasty little error message kept me from doing so.  So, I'm posting it today instead, yay!