The Death of Truman Burbank
'It had once been said of Truman Burbank that he couldn't be allowed to die on live television, to which the response had been, "Why not? He was born on live television." Truman had been born for television. He had been raised on live television with the world watching him as he grew. Many say that you cannot escape destiny, no matter how hard you try. Many say it would only be fitting for someone born on live television to die on it.
The other half of the many would say it was simply bad luck, entirely a coincidence that Truman happened to be one of the people in the bank.
Conspiracy theories were whispered of course, but if the 'creator' had planned and directed Truman's death he would have done it more elegantly, more neatly, and a whole lot better scripted…at least that's what he claimed. "A more singular death for a most singular person. Truman deserved a death of the heroic type, the only one to die in that instant of time so that he could have the sole spotlight. Truman was born for a death that the camera could zoom in on his face and the entire world could hear his last words. Mass slaughter was never his style."
The bank hostage affair was watched world wide the moment it came to light that Truman Burbank was one of the fourteen hostages inside. The streets around were crowded with people as everyone in the neighbourhood swarmed to the scene and strained against police barriers. Negotiations were being made but not quickly enough. Gun shots were heard and the media scrambled to discover whether Truman were still alive.
It was as if a hush fell over the world as everyone waited with held breath to see the fate of the legendary TV star.
It was as if a piece of everyone's life died when a grim-faced official announced that the gunman had shot as many hostages as he could before putting a bullet in his own head. It was with a heavy voice he stated that Truman Burbank was among the deceased, and so the final scenes in the life of an epic movie star ended…'
Sylvia snapped off the documentary and threw down the remote, glaring daggers at the blank screen. When would the wretched programmes end?
Swiping away the tears from her cheeks she found herself making her way again to her bedside table, as she had countless times in the last couple of weeks. The drawer slid open effortlessly and the envelope was sitting there waiting – her name and address scrawled on the front. The edge were creased from Truman's pocket, where it had been discovered after the shooting, and worn from handling. Though she could recite it by heart Sylvia slipped the letter from its case and read again the words.
My dearest Sylvia,
Three years has not been a long time has it? And yet it looks as though our time together is about to be cut short.
You were my shining light and inspiration that encouraged me to break out from the world I was imprisoned in and the thought that I may yet see you holds me together now. I want you to keep shining and fighting always. Don't let the outcome of this tarnish that sparkle.
I love you my Sylvia. I had hoped to say that to you for a long time yet, but its no longer in my hands. May this "I love you" be eternal and everlasting.
So in case I don't see you – for every day you live – good afternoon, good evening and goodnight.
Truman
Sylvia placed the letter back down and smiled through her tears. The media knew nothing about Truman. It wasn't for him to have his final words broadcast live, but rather to write them to the love he loved.
Sylvia lay back on the bed and shut her eyes. His last words were for her and her alone and no one would ever know they existed except her.