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MidReal Story
The Forgotten Star
Scenario:Write a story with lots and lots of dialogue and details about a young 7 year old actor named Chris Stephenson who was the next big face of Hollywood with his adorable face and charismatic personality he portrayed on TV. His parents rode his coat tails ever since he got famous and while they lived a lavish lifestyle, Chris barely got anything except the bare minimum if not scraps. When he was doing movies at age 8, he barely had time for rest and his parents left him for the show business to raise him. Chris loved what he did, but he also hated being and feeling alone in the world with no one to turn to. When he got signed to work under BET for a while, despite him being white, he was adored by the people he worked under, especially actresses like Tariji P Henson who saw talent poured into the charisma he could pull off. Chris was always tired and barely slept and it became evident, but he never spoke up out of fear.
Create my version of this story
Chris Stephenson
hardworking, and lonely. At seven, he became a star due to his adorable face and talent. His parents exploited his fame for their own gain, leaving him with minimal care. Chris's life revolves around acting, with little time for rest or personal relationships. Despite his success, he feels isolated and unheard, often exhausted but afraid to speak up.
Lisa Stephenson
uncaring, and indulgent. Lisa often prioritizes her own desires over her son's needs while benefiting from his fame indirectly through lavish spending on herself.
Mark Stephenson
manipulative, and selfish. Mark exploits Chris's fame for personal gain, neglecting his son's wellbeing in the process. He pushes Chris relentlessly to work long hours without rest or proper care. Mark prioritizes fame over family ties and often leaves Chris alone or with minimal supervision.
Hollywood's Next Big Thing
At seven, I became a star.
It wasn't because of my talent, although I had a lot of that.
It wasn't because of my adorable face; it was because of how I carried myself and never lost a beat.
I was charming, they said, and that's what made me have it.
That's what made me go from being unknown to the face everyone knew and wanted to see.
My name was Chris Stephenson, and at the young age of seven, I became Hollywood's next big thing.
Everyone knew my name, and everyone knew my face.
I was in every TV show, every movie, and even one of the top guest stars on everyone's favorite soap operas.
I had it; I had it all.
And right when I did, my parents saw her/his cash cow and made sure they got what they could out of me before I burned out.
They made the money off of me while they barely gave me anything.
We lived in a big house, but I could never have any of the nice things outside of it.
I barely got anything from my parents except the bare minimum if not scraps.
If it wasn't for my talent agency having a heart and making sure I had some type of birthday, I wouldn't even get that.
I was in my trailer, going over the lines for the scene I was about to do with Jessica Alba.
My dad burst in, and I looked up at him.
"I booked you three more guest appearances this week," he said.
I sighed.
That meant I would be working sixteen-hour days again.
I didn't even have time to sleep.
"Great," I muttered.
"Let's go," he said, pushing me out of the trailer.
I stumbled through rehearsal, and Jessica noticed my hands shaking as I tried to hold my script.
"Hey, are you okay?" she asked me.
I nodded, but she took her water bottle and handed it to me.
"Drink this."
My dad came over before I could take a sip.
"Let's go," he said, pushing me toward the set.
The bright lights made my head spin as I walked onto the stage.
I stumbled through the first take, then the second.
By the fifth take, my vision was blurry, and I couldn't see anything anymore. "Cut!" the director yelled, but I couldn't stop my legs from giving out on me.
I woke up to faces hovering above me.
Jessica was kneeling beside me, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead.
"Chris," she whispered.
I blinked at her and saw my dad standing behind her, his arms folded over his chest.
Jessica was pulled away from me by the director, and my dad yanked me up by my arm.
I wobbled on my legs as he dragged me to a corner of the stage.
His fingers dug into my shoulder as he shoved a script into my trembling hands.
"We can't afford delays," he hissed at me.
"Just fake it till you make it."
The words swam in front of my eyes as I stared down at the script.
"Chris?" he snapped, shaking me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"I just need—"
"I said no delays!"
He straightened my collar and pushed me back toward the bright lights.
