Author: Emily Wilcox

She died today. Blonde ringlets trodden down into the hardwood floor. A world overlooking her, eyes slick with awe and grins stitched firmly just below. A kingdom, a fandom, whatever we were, we were building from the inside, elevating the pedestal in which we already stood. Like a princess, they loved her. Like a superhero, they beckoned her. Like a diamond, they were not worthy of her. And like a star, nearing the end of its lifetime (which I guess is exactly what she was), she was unstable, finite, destined to burst fiercely into the night. A supernova of gold and now dust.

She’s really gone.

I shouted, “Cut!” on set. Tried to pull her out of it. *Milking the role a bit*, I thought to myself. I hopped up, clapped my hands, shouted at the cast. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Her life did not resume off-camera. But it ended – there on screen.

It was ironic really; *live television*, when there she lay, anything but.