Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing that no one would ever fall in love with us. That we'd be lonely forever. That we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken that the heart strings bled the blues. As we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone. That an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away. That there's no way for it to penetrate. It does. She was eight years old. On the first day of grade three. The day she got called ugly. She got moved to the back of the class so she would stop getting bombarded by spit balls. But the school halls were a battle ground where she found herself outnumbered day after wretched day. She used to stay inside for recess because outside was much worse. Outside, she had to rehearse how to run away. Or learn to stay still like a statue, giving no clues that she was even there. In grade five, they taped a sign to her desk that read "Beware of Dog" To this day, despite a loving family and great friends, she doesn't think she's beautiful. Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't get the job done. And they'll never understand that she already had a hard life, she didn't need them to add on. They don't see her heart before they see her skin. But she's only ever been amazing. She was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. Adopted, but not because her parents opted for a different destiny. She was three when she became a mixed drink. One part left alone, and two parts tragedy. She started therapy in 6th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal. A tidal wave of antidepressants. And an adolescence of being called a popper. One part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. She tried to kill herself in 8th grade. When she went home to "mom" and "dad" they had the audacity to tell her "get over it." As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit. To this day, she is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. She could descrobe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it is about to fall and despite an army of friends who call her an inspiration, she remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes that becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity. But she isn't the only kid who grew up this way. To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey stupid" "Hey spaz" Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. If a kid breaks into a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like "Kids can be cruel." Every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers to clowns and then carnies. All of these were miles ahead of who she was. She was a freak. Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies. Oddities juggling depression and lonliness. Playing solitairy spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. But at night while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice. And yeah, some of us fell. But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris. Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be. And if you can't find anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it yourself. You signed it "They were wrong" Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball and everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong. They have to be wrong. Because why else would you still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway. And if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It. Not the faded echoes of voices crying out "names will never hurt me" Of course they did. But out lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.
Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing that no one would ever fall in love with us. That we'd be lonely forever. That we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken that the heart strings bled the blues. As we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone. That an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away. That there's no way for it to penetrate. It does.
She was eight years old. On the first day of grade three. The day she got called ugly. She got moved to the back of the class so she would stop getting bombarded by spit balls. But the school halls were a battle ground where she found herself outnumbered day after wretched day. She used to stay inside for recess because outside was much worse. Outside, she had to rehearse how to run away. Or learn to stay still like a statue, giving no clues that she was even there.
In grade five, they taped a sign to her desk that read "Beware of Dog" To this day, despite a loving family and great friends, she doesn't think she's beautiful. Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't get the job done. And they'll never understand that she already had a hard life, she didn't need them to add on. They don't see her heart before they see her skin. But she's only ever been amazing.
She was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. Adopted, but not because her parents opted for a different destiny. She was three when she became a mixed drink. One part left alone, and two parts tragedy.
She started therapy in 6th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal. A tidal wave of antidepressants. And an adolescence of being called a popper. One part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. She tried to kill herself in 8th grade. When she went home to "mom" and "dad" they had the audacity to tell her "get over it." As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit.
To this day, she is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. She could descrobe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it is about to fall and despite an army of friends who call her an inspiration, she remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes that becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity. But she isn't the only kid who grew up this way.
To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey stupid" "Hey spaz" Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. If a kid breaks into a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like "Kids can be cruel."
Every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers to clowns and then carnies. All of these were miles ahead of who she was. She was a freak.
Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies. Oddities juggling depression and lonliness. Playing solitairy spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. But at night while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice. And yeah, some of us fell. But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris. Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be. And if you can't find anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it yourself. You signed it "They were wrong" Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball and everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong.
They have to be wrong. Because why else would you still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway.
And if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It. Not the faded echoes of voices crying out "names will never hurt me"
Of course they did. But out lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.
Posted on: December 06 2013
Not yet rated / 5
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special report from our Washington correspondents”
“Good evening America. We have just received information from Senate sources that the President
has requested a Declaration of War against Russia. Sources say this is in response to this morning’s
simultaneous joint Chinese and Russian force invasions of Iran, Iraq and Saudi Arabia. Russian forces
are now controlling the Suez Canal and major Saudi refineries. Saudi sources report high casualty rates
and little resistance from the surprised nation. The President is planning a noon news conference tomorrow
where he will officially declare war on Russia and ask Congress for nuclear mobilization.
We return to scheduled programming”
RADIO“ah, roger nine-two, tide-waters 7, 30 miles closing”
“roger nine-seven, tide-waters 9, 20 miles closing:
“ah, roger nine-three, tide-waters 10, 10 miles closing”
“Ok, roger one-one, tide-waters complete, we are over target”
“launch switches on, armed, dropping now”
“God bless America”
“roger three, we are now high tide, returning to light house”
“roger eight, under heavy Mig fire! Heavy bombers, heavy fire starboard engine!”
Posted on: November 28 2013
Not yet rated / 5
IS NOT ENOUGH
IS TOO MUCH
Posted on: November 24 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Pirate Queen
OK so i know that this is a really rough, rough draft but bear with me here. Also excuse my bad grammer and spelling please.
(I'm working on it.) This is my first play, its about 5 middle school students and how their lives work. The basis of the story is to compare and contrast their lives and to show that your good deeds mean something to others. This is the almost complete 1st act. It's about 2 3 scenes away from being fully finished. Please leave comments about what you think is good, bad, or what I can do to make it better. I apreciate all feedback.
Dear Diary: A small act of kindness goes a long way
Marigold (Mary): Anorexic, struggles with depression but keeps up her status on the outside. Is a cheerleader, popular but can’t seem to handle it all. Her grades start to slip. She doesn’t let anybody see her hurting, so she keeps it inside. Her reason is that her Mom recently died in a car crash.
Darcy: She is a cutter. Involved in band\choir. She can be played as a rebellious girl or a nice nerdy girl who doesn’t know how to deal with problems. She has an ok family life, but was emotionally abused as a child. She is constantly lonely and stressed.
Gwendolyn (Gwen): Perky and upright, performs in musicals and isn’t afraid to be who she is. Sometimes she will scare other off and it will make her sad but she will let it slide off her back. She daydreams a lot and is really weird, but she knows right from wrong. Is part of the debate team?
Karen (Kara): Is unpopular and bullied. She is seen as the weird emo girl who nobody likes. She eats lunch alone every day, she is and feels invisible. The only time anybody notices her is when they bully her. Her outlet is drawing clouds because she wishes she were one.
Trevor White (Rocky Road): He is by the world’s definition your average Jo. He has a crush on Marigold but feels he doesn’t have a chance. He feels as if he is no one special and can’t accomplish anything. His parents ignore him and he has major identity issues.
Plot: First act is the first day in school. The play starts off with them writing in their diaries about that day in school. The scene takes them and we back to what they are writing about. The scenes then show the lives these 5 live at school and at home. The act ends with them finishing their diary entries.
Second act starts with all except Gwen writing about how they don’t want to go to school. This time we see things in order. Their dreary lives continue, and Gwen only shows up in the second act to help others. The play ends with all 4 at the end of the day writing about how Gwen really made them feel special. Gwen steps on and they all say. A small act of kindness goes a long way.
Annalisa: She is Gwen’s best friend. She is an overzealous ensemble actress, and over exaggerates everything. She is peppy, fun, over-dramatic, and quirky.
Gigi: She is queen B. Mary is the most popular girl in school and she isn’t. She wants to be the best but she knows she can’t and is extremely jealous of Mary. Therefore she does everything in her power to try and bring Marigold down, while trying to look innocent. She is snobby, bratty, spoiled but not downright mean, just selfish.
Mickey: Trevor’s biggest “bro”. He is a track and field jock, very boyish and immature.
Jonah: Darcy’s best friend and lead singer in their band. Jonah genuinely cares about Darcy but he is too preoccupied to notice her hurting.
Charles: Annalisa’s boyfriend and fellow overzealous actor. He is very supportive and encouraging.
Mrs. Classwell: She is your average teacher and is tired of her rambunctious students, but still maintains an enthusiasm for learning.
Mr. Y: He thinks that science is the most important thing in the world. Very impatient and strict.
Gwen’s siblings: Anya age 7 twins Matt and Nathan age 5
Anya: Gwen’s little sister. She is spunky and girly. She thoroughly enjoys being around Gwen.
Matt and Nathan: These boys are twins and brothers of Gwen. They enjoy all the things a young boy should enjoy: anything with a gun or a ball.
(Scene: Gwen, Kara, Mary, Darcy, and Trevor are apron center with a blank set. They are standing next to each other but not aware of each other. Each of them holds a diary and a pen. None of them will actually write just pretend to write. Spotlights centered on them.)
Gwen, Kara, Mary, Darcy: Dear Diary
Trevor: Um hey journal
Mary: Today was
Kara: The same as yesterday
Gwen: Today I
Kara: Drew some clouds
Mary: Went to cheerleading practice.
Darcy: Cut myself
Trevor: smoked pot
Gwen: Practiced my solo
Trevor: Sometimes I wish I could just be
Kara: I constantly feel
Gwen: I’m glad I’m not
Mary: My life is just so
Darcy: On the inside I am just
All 5: Dead
Kara: If you were a person, would feel that way too?
Gwen: Death is a scary thing
Darcy: I feel like I am dying but nobody knows.
Trevor: If life is always the same, then what is death?
Mary: People tell me all the time that I could die
Gwen: Anyways, I won’t talk about that
Darcy: Here’s what happened at school today
(Scene shifts to school hallway as the curtains open and reveal a school setting. Characters stay in place for transformation. Once students start to come on then they blend into their groups. Mary with the cheerleaders, Trevor with some boys. Gwen with the somewhat abstract drama group, Darcy with people carrying instruments, and Kara just go to her locker alone. All 5 are in different positions but they are in front of their different groups. As they walk around students talk and give it the feel of a hallway. Bell rings and all students rush off except 5. They look at each other awkwardly then walk or shuffle their different ways).
(All students are in one of 2classrooms. Each classroom has a teacher and students in each class are about12 . All the groups are mixed in the classes and leads are up front. Chairs are facing audience with teachers facing audience too. Darcy, Gwen and Kara are in Geometry class and Trevor and Mary are in the other)
Mrs. Classwell: Who knows what the meanings of interior opposing angles are?
Gwen: (Hand shoots in the air excitedly) me! Me! I know what it is!
Mrs. Classwell: (small audible sigh) Anyone else? Anyone? (Looks around room) Very well then, Mrs. Reed.
Gwen: It’s when they are on opposite sides of the transversal but on the inside of the parallel lines.
Mrs. Classwell: Very good. Now who knows what a transversal is?
(Gwen’s hand shoots up again)
(Scene goes over to second classroom. Spotlight switches)
Mr. Y : Ozone, A molecule composed of three oxygen atoms makes up this amazing filter.(Mic will go out or turn down, but Mr. Y will continue speaking his lesson, to keep the atmosphere up while Trevor tries to talk to Mary) It turns out that this amazing filter breaks down in the presence of ultraviolet light. It is extremely harmful to our bodies. It has just enough energy to break apart one of these bonds . Thus the ozone stops the ultraviolet light from getting to earth. But the truly amazing thing about the ozone is that it is not broken by invisible or infrared light! That is the light we actually need. As a result they pass right through the ozone layer. Now please understand that the ozone does not stop all ultra violet light from getting to the earth. Some of it does reach earth. This is a reason we get sunburned.
Trevor: (to Mary) ugh why do we even need to know this stuff?
Mary: I don’t know. Shhh
Trevor: But come on, I’m not going to be a scientist or anything when I grow up
Mary: Well, why not?
Trevor: I’m not smart or good enough
Mary: But you can always try. You never know. Maybe someday you will be a scientist.
Trevor: You really think so?
Mary: Ya, I think you can be anyth-
Mr. Y: Excuse Trevor and Mary. Am I interrupting anything?
Mary: (looking down) No sir
Mr. Y: Detention after school both of you.
(Turns to board and resumes drawing molecules)
Trevor: Sorry about that
Mary: It’s ok
(Lights go off on science classroom and turn on in geometry classroom)
Mrs. Classwell: As you all know your quarter projects are starting this week. But this time I might try something different (claps hands excitedly and looks at class hopeful) Partners! You may choose your partners but if you cannot decide then, I will choose your partners.
(Students shift around to find partners. Gwen links arms with friend Annalisa. Everyone has a partner except Darcy and Kara.)
Darcy: (to Kara) I guess were partners then
Kara: (Shyly with head down) ya I guess.
Mrs. Classwell: Ok now that were all buckled up and ready to go, I suggest you start. You will be making a poster each explaining different theorems of Geometry.
(Class gets into partners and starts discussing. Nobody is really talking and all is quiet, but everyone should be animated and in their projects)
Darcy: Hi… Its Kara right
Kara: Yes and your Darcy.
Darcy: Oh ok good, sorry I don’t see you around a lot, and I am completely bad with names
Kara: That’s fine (Turns the other way and whispers to self) It’s just because I am invisible.
Darcy: What was that?
Kara: Nothing (Goes back to doodling in notebook)
Darcy: I guess I’ll just get started then.
(Spotlight moves from Darcy and Kara to Gwen and Annalisa)
Annalisa: How many lines have you gotten down?
Gwen: (very proud of herself) All of them
Annalisa: Wow! But Gwen you only got the part of the witch a week ago!
Gwen: I know right! I just can’t help reading my script in my free time. I guess I read it so much that I just have it memorized!
Annalisa: You are so lucky you get a solo. Ensemble doesn’t get anything.
Gwen: But Annalisa, you guys are still important.
Annalisa: Thanks Gwen, you are so nice.
Gwen: (imitating fake blush) Aww shucks. (Checks watch) looks like it’s time for lunch.
(Bell rings students rush out of seats and go different directions. Lights go out and props are taken off by teachers. Blank stage is set. Kara is bumped by several people, all either ignoring her or scowling at her as she makes her way center stage.)
Kara’s Monologue Lunch Time
It’s that time again. (Small sigh) Lunch time. I don’t like lunch, I mean I like to eat but I just don’t like eating it with other people, or in my case, alone. I see people hugging and laughing and holding hands in the lunchroom. They are all so happy. But I have no friend to hug and to laugh with; I have no hand to hold. I’m not happy, I’m lonely. What’s wrong with me? I try to make friends. I really do try, but nobody likes me. I am pushed and shunned away. I am invisible, I don’t matter. The only time I seem to exist to other people, is when they bully me. They hurt me; it hurts so bad that I just want it to stop. I’m so tired of this, of all of this. I just want it to stop. I want the pain to stop; I want the hurt to stop. I just want it to end.
Can’t you all remember I am human too? When you hurt me, I know you forget that. It’s easier to treat me like a thing, rather than a human being. But I am a human; I have a heartbeat, a nose, fingers, and feelings. What makes me so different? Why can’t you just treat me how I deserve to be treated? Why can’t you just treat me like a human?
(Lunchroom. Everyone is separated into their own groups talking laughing and hugging. Once everyone goes to their seat the dialogue starts. There should be at least 4 different lunch tables one with Gwen’s group, another with Mary and the cheerleaders, Trevor should be with the boys, Darcy should be with her music friends, and Kara should sit apron right by herself)
Gigi: Did you hear?
Mary: Hear what?
Gigi: Trevor broke up with Janelle Colin. He’s single and on the market.
Mary: (Trying to act as if she doesn’t care but obviously does) Oh really?
Gigi: Ya I know, he totally broke her heart last night.
Mary: I feel bad for Janelle, I honestly had no idea. But Gigi what do you care?
Gigi: Oh I don’t really care; I just thought you would want to know.
Mary: (embarrassed) Oh.
Gigi: (Looking at Mary’s untouched tray) aren’t you going to eat anything?
Mary: (Shifting around uncomfortably) No. I’m not hungry
Gigi: Oh well, ok then
(Spotlight shifts to Trevor and his friends as Trevor sits down)
Mickey: Hey Rocky Road!
Trevor: I told you not to call me that.
Mickey: Oh come on roadster. Ok fine. Heard about what happened last night.
Trevor: (accusingly) what do you care?
Mickey: (Throws hands in the air in sarcastic apology) Hey, hey, just wondering that’s all.
Trevor: Well mind your own business Mickey.
(Spotlight shifts to Darcy and her friends)
Darcy: Jonah, when have you gotten us lined up for our next gig?
Jonah: In 2 weeks.
Darcy: I thought you told me you got us one this week.
Jonah: Well Ya, but we already have 2 guitarists, we don’t need a third.
Darcy: So is that all I am to you, just a third guitarist?
Jonah: No Darcy, I didn’t mean it like that.
Darcy: (sigh) its fine Jonah, your right.
Jonah: Darcy, we still need you. The band still needs you. I still need you.
Darcy: (brightening up) I guess you’re right.
Jonah: You know Darcy lately you’ve been acting kind of
Jonah: No, more depressed. You’re not cutting again are you?
Darcy: (looking away) No
Jonah: Darcy please don’t do that again. It’s not going to help.
(Scene shifts to Gwen and Annalisa)
Annalisa: And I said to that. Moo Moo Moo Moo.
(Everyone erupts into genuine laughter)
Gwen: (gasping between breaths) that was so funny Annalisa!
Annalisa: It’s what I do best
Charles: I cannot wait for rehearsal today
All at table: Tech week!
Charles: I wish tech week was every week.
Gwen: As future president of United States of America, I say this shall pass!
(Laughter erupts again this time only louder, grabbing the attention of the nearby cheerleaders)
Gigi: What's their problem?
Mary: I don’t really care
Gigi: Anyways, so I told him, no way Mister, you cannot just call me that and expect to get away with it!
Mary: Gigi, do you ever feel like?
Gigi: Feel like what?
Mary: That we aren’t having as much fun as everyone else is?
Gigi: Are you kidding? Mary! We are the cheerleaders; we are at the top of the popularity food chain! Who could have more fun than us?
Mary: I don’t know. I guess your right
Gigi: You bet
(Spotlight goes to Trevor and his friends)
Mickey: You ok dude, you seem down.
Trevor: Not that breaking up with my ex would have anything to do with that.
Mickey: It was your call dude.
Still have to figure our scene ending
(About 20 students are in an art classroom. Mary and Kara are in the front painting their clay pots. Kara’s pot is a bowl but she is painting it black. Mary’s bowl is significantly bigger, more complex looking and beautiful. She is painting it violet and pink. Mrs. Paint is walking around complimenting everybody’s sculptures.)
Mrs. Paint: (To random student) Very good. I like the colors.
(Mrs. Paint walks over to Kara)
Mrs. Paint: Kara darling, why are you painting it all black? Don’t you think it would look better with some brown or whites too?
Kara: I think its ok.
Mrs. Paint: Well ok then.
(Mrs. Paint walks over to Mary)
Mrs. Paint: Oh Mary! That looks wonderful!
Mary: This? It wasn’t that hard. I don’t think it’s that pretty.
Mrs. Paint: Well Mary you certainly have an artist’s eye.
Mary: I really don’t think it’s anything special.
Mrs. Paint: Mary would you like to take an afterschool art class?
Mary: I have cheerleading after school.
Mrs. Paint: Mary. You really have a lot of talent. You should just try. It’s not like you have to be an artist when you grow up.
Mary: I don’t even like art that much…
Mrs. Paint: But Mary, look at your sculpture. It’s gorgeous.
Mary: Thanks, but no thanks.
(Bell rings and Mary rushes off to class. Mrs. Paint leaves the room. Kara takes her time packing things up. Then looks around the room and sighs. Lights fade out)
(It is tech week for the drama department. It is the end of rehearsal and everybody is saying goodbye. Gwen finds herself alone on the stage)
Charles: This was a great run! I can’t believe the show is in a week. You were amazing out there today Gwen.
Gwen: Oh thanks Charles.
Annalisa: Well Charles and I have a study date. Keep up the good work. See you tomorrow. Bye!
(Annalisa hugs Gwen then walks hand in hand with Charles offstage leaving Gwen alone on the stage)
Gwen: Oh, I guess I’m alone.
(Gwen walks around the stage to different parts and pretends to be different people, or does a dance. Whatever she does she is just enjoying herself onstage. She stops center stage and turns to the audience, as if perhaps realizing something.)
Gwen’s Monologue: On the Stage
I am on the stage. The stage is in me. We are one. It lets me use its platforms to carry my message, and I take the privilege seriously. On the stage I am different. Of course it is because I am a character, but it is also because on the stage I am free. On the stage I am free to be whatever I want to be, wherever I want to be and do whatever I want to do. On the stage I feel alive. I am alive more than ever, pouring my soul out to the audience before me. On the stage my eyes light up. They carry a fierceness to them, a determination to show the world who I am. Or even just the people in the back row. On the stage I am flying. I am flying through my lines and my songs, I am flying inside the story I am telling. On the stage, I am free, alive, lit up, flying. On the stage I am really just me.
(Detention. Trevor and Mary are sitting in a classroom at the very front one desk apart from each other. Mr. Y is reading a book at his desk next to a chalkboard that says: QUIET no talking during detention. Feel free to add as many students as possible)
Mary: (In a stage whisper) I heard you broke up with Janelle.
Trevor: (Staring off into space then his attention is brought to Mary) what?! Oh Ya. I guess the gossip has made its rounds then?
Mary: Ya I think so. Can I ask you a question?
Trevor: You can always ask me a question.
(Mary is taken back for a second then jumps right into the question)
Mary: Why did you do it? I mean break up with her?
Trevor: Well I. I honestly don’t know. I just think we weren’t getting anywhere.
Mary: Oh. Can I ask you another question?
Trevor: You just did.
Mary: (giggling) That doesn’t count. Do you um, think I’m skinny?
Trevor: You are seriously asking me that?
Mary: Ya your right I shouldn’t be asking that
Trevor: No I didn’t mean it like that I just meant, You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever known. And as far as I’m concerned you have a perfect body.
Mary: (Blushing) Oh, um thanks.
Mr. Y: Trevor and Mary, can you read?! (Points to sign that says quiet)
Trevor and Mary: Sorry.
Mr. Y: Well detention is over in 2 minutes anyways. I hope you learned your lesson about talking in class and in detention for you have detention tomorrow. (Sigh) You may go.
(Everyone leaves except Trevor. Props and set still stay in place)
Trevor’s Monologue: Your average Jo.
I’m Average. I’m not invisible at least, but I am normal and average. There’s a difference you know, I mean at least I know I exist .But I’m still nothing special. I’m not involved in any sports, I get B’s in all my classes, and I have no “special talents”. My friend Mickey however, Oh man, he is amazing. He’s the quarterback on the football team, and he can get any girl he wants. Probably even Marigold Evans. Not that she would pay him any mind. I hope. I wish I had a chance with her. At least she talks to me, but she would never like me for more than that.
It also doesn’t help that my parents wish I was somebody else. They wish I was like Mickey. I can see it in their eyes when I bring him to my house. No matter what they say or do, I can see it. I can see how they cringe when I show them my B’s on my report card. They have no idea how hard I try for those. When I was 7 my dad stopped taking me to the ball park, because it was too embarrassing when his son couldn’t catch a football. I feel like I’m just a big disappointment to my parents. I’ll never be good enough for them, because in their eyes, in everyone’s eyes, I am just your average Jo.
(Scene ends. Lights go out and props and set are taken off stage.)
(Kara’s and Gwen’s living rooms are set up next to each other. Kara’s on stage right and Gwen on stage left. Lights go on Kara first.)
(Kara walks to couch seeing and empty room) Kara: Mom? Dad?
(Kara’s mom walks in behind her wearing apron and holding a mixing spoon)
Kara’s Mom: Oh hey honey. Dad’s at work today. How was school today?
Kara: (forcing smile) Oh it was fine. I have a new partner for a math project. Her name is Darcy.
Kara’s mom: (obviously thinking about other things) that’s great honey.
Kara: Ya. Sure. Great.
(Lights go out for Kara’s house and spotlight switches to Gwen’s house)
Gwen: (Entering from stage left) I’M HOME!!!!
Anya, Matt and Nate: GWEN!!!! (Wrap around Gwen in bear hug)
Anya: (Letting go) Where have you been?
Nate: Mommy’s been worried.
Matt: Ya Ya!
Gwen: Oh you guys I was at tech rehearsal. It takes a long time. But Mom should have known I was there.
Anya: Well she didn’t.
Gwen’s mom: (Wearing a ratty apron and baking mitts) Oh hello Gwendolyn.
Gwen: Hey Mom.
Gwen’s Mom: Where have you been? I’ve had to take care of these 3 and make dinner since your father is working the late shift.
Gwen: Mom I told you last night. I was at tech rehearsal.
Gwen’s Mom: Oh I’m sorry sweetie. But could you take care of them? I have to make dinner and pay the bills, and do the laundry.
Gwen: (trying not to sound too exhausted) Yes mom
(Gwen’s mom leaves stage left)
Matt: Soooo what do you want to play?
Nate: Gun war?
Matt: Water balloon fight?
Matt: Car races?
Nate: Video Games?
Anya: Dolls and ponies?
Nate: That’s stupid.
Anya: Not as stupid as a water balloon fight.
Gwen: (falling back into couch) Guys!
All 3: What?
Gwen: Do you know what I want to play?
Gwen: (Rising from couch) none of those. I want to play the quiet game.
All 3: (groaning) not again!
(Lights go off on Gwen’s family and switch to Kara’s house)
Kara’s Dad: (Entering stage right carrying briefcase and wearing dishelfed tie) I’m home.
Kara: Oh Hi Dad.
Kara’s Dad: (Sitting on couch across from Kara) so, how was school today honey?
Kara: (Looking uncomfortable)it was fine Dad.
Kara’s Dad: Really? Anything interesting happen?
Kara: No.(Mom walks in and Kara is relieved) Dad I think mom wants to talk to you.
Kara’s Dad: (While walking off) Ok see you later.
Kara’s Mom: Honey, Would you mind cleaning the house? I have a lot of work I need to do.
Kara: Ok Mom.
(Lights go on for Gwen’s side. Gwen’s siblings are frozen. Kara and Gwen in almost identical timing fall down on the couch and sigh)
Kara and Gwen: I think I need a nap.
Darcy and Mary: Do you know what it’s like to have a secret you can’t control?
Darcy: You thought you could control it.
Mary: But instead, it controls you.
Darcy: That’s what cutting is like.
Mary: That’s what anorexia is like.
Darcy and Mary: It was supposed to be a way out.
Mary: I thought it would make me perfect
Darcy: I thought it would make me happy
Mary: It should have made me perfect
Darcy: It was supposed to make me happy
Mary and Darcy: I am never going to be enough
Darcy: Cutting is
Mary: Anorexia is
Mary and Darcy: Death
Darcy: But I can’t stop
Mary: There’s no way out now
Darcy: Some scars are there forever
Mary: People will think I’m ugly
Both: So I guess I’ll just keep
Mary: Is this what I want?
Darcy: I’m crying for help but nobody hears me
Both: I chose this path. I’ll do what it takes to be
Mary: My choice left me starving
Darcy: My choice left me bleeding
Darcy’s Monologue: Some Scars
Some scars never heal. Some scars stay on you forever as a constant reminder of what you did, or what you didn’t do. You can try to ignore them, get rid of them, but they never heal. Sometimes you’ll forget there even there, but like waking up from a dream, the sight of the scars brings you back to the cold desolate place of reality. Some scars never heal.
I have scars. I have a lot of scars. I have167 scars. I counted, I know. I know why I have each and every one of those scars. I know why I left them on my body. To remind me. I remember, but all I want to do is forget. So I’ll take that blade and scrape it across my skin and leave more scars. Sometimes I won’t even wash the blood.
I know scars can be reopened. Sometimes I reopen my physical ones. But my emotional ones, well those are still bleeding. When you reopen a scar, it’s like a thousand memories flowing back into you at once. The guilty memories, the sad, the bittersweet but never the happy.
In the end I feel exhausted. Why? Why leave scars, and open old and leave new ones? Why? Why bleed over all of this endless cycle? What is the point?
I scrape, and cut and wash and bleed. But I know I know that some scars never heal.
Mary’s Monologue: Expectations
Expectations. Everybody expects something right? Or something is expected of everybody.
People look at me and expect to see a perfect girl, with perfect features, and perfect hair and a perfect body. Humph. Expectations.
People expect me to be perfect. At least that’s what it feels like. Picture perfect all the time. Constantly wearing a mask so that no one see’s the real you. Is the real me really that bad? If I peeled of my makeup would my face be hideous? If I ate junk food and got fat would I lose my friends? What do you expect. Expect.
Everyone expects something of me. Nerds expect me to be mean. Mom expects me to be excellent. Friends expect me to be skinny. Teachers expect me to be dumb. But if I wasn’t anything like that what would people do? They would just keep expecting I meet their demands until I do.
Maybe that’s why I starve. To do something that they don’t expect of me. To try and be someone without labels. Maybe that’s why. Or maybe by starving I’m doing the exact thing everyone would expect.
I try and try to be my own person despite what people want, or think or expect. But when I really think about it who am I if people don’t expect something of me?
Posted on: November 19 2013
Not yet rated / 5
IN THE DARK
WHERE THE RAILROADS CROSS
MAN STANDS WITH HIS
HANDS IN HIS POCKETS
WONDERING IF HIS LIFE
IS LIKE A TRAIN
HE SEES THE CARS PASSING BY
OH THEY’RE SPEEDIN’
FOR ANOTHER TOWN
THAT ON ARRIVAL
LOOKS THE SAME
TIME FLIES, HE WONDERS WHY
HE DOESN’T CARE IF HE LIVES OR DIES
FROM THE PAIN IN HIS BRAIN
AS HE WATCHES THE TRAINS GO BY
CONDUCTOR SAID THE ONLY WAY
TO SEE TONIGHT
IS TO LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND
AND AS HE RIDES INTO TOMORROW
THE MEANING OF THE MAN
AT THE CROSSING
FATE’S CRUEL DICE
IN THE AIR
I’D STOP THE TRAIN
IF ONLY I COULD
I’D STAND IN THE TRACKS
IF THEY WOULD
STOP TO UNDERSTAND
FEEL THE STEEL
OF THE COLD BLUE RAIL
PULLED BY SAILS OF DIESEL
THROUGH THE LAND
NEAR THE TRACKS
IN THE RISING SUN
WHERE ONCE WAS A MAN
BOUND TO DESTINATIONS
THE SUN ASCENDS
A JOURNEY ENDS
AS ANOTHER MAN BEGINS
HE CLIMBS ABOARD
AND THE WHEELS SPIN
Posted on: November 16 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Hawk Lawson
They tell me you're so wicked
Your blood dried up many years ago
But I know it started with your heart
Yes, I know you had a heart
I know you tried to save him
You didn't succeed
And you blame yourself
At first the damage went unseen
No one knew how tortured you were
There were no signs of battle
No broken bones, no bruised and battered limbs
Just a thousand poisoned spears
Piercing the soft flesh of your heart
Spilling your thirst for life
Draining hopes and dreams
Leaving nothing but a shriveled husk
A mere shell of who you were
And your blackened heart stopped fighting
They say that your soul is so unclean
Pure water can melt you
Like forgotten parchment, tucked away in a dusty attic
The tiniest bit of moisture might reduce you to pulp
But when I look at you,
My skin ripples with joy
My heart skips a beat
Like a tiny pebble across the surface of my soul
I love you with a soft, gentle love
That could shake you to your core
In my dreams, you ache to drown yourself in me
And wash away your doubts
I want to love you openly (in the daylight),
Without fear or reservation
But this forbidden love, like Schrodinger said,
It can only exist in a state of superposition
In the darkness, an observer's paradox
But you still fear the darkness, don't you, love?
Posted on: November 15 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Hawk Lawson
There's a cold room in your house full of ghosts
The knob on the door's always warm
I know you need to visit the past from time to time
To whisper tear-stained sonnets beneath your boozy breath
To the cold pillow her body left behind, but
This will be easier
One day you won't need to do this
You won't have to inventory your ghosts
To make sure they're still there
Stop trying to dress me in your dead wife's clothes
I'm not her; She's not me
And I can't keep paying for her mistakes
I'm still here
Look at me
I'm still here
With icy hands
Wrapped 'round my neck
I'm still here
Don't let them kill me
I'm still here
I don't want to become
One of your ghosts
There's a cold room in your house full of ghosts
The knob on the door's always warm
I hope you'll visit me from time to time
I'm still here
Posted on: November 15 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Grass Siphon Mixdown
Current mood: sick
Grass Siphon mixdown was cancelled last night.
Maestro B (hereafter known as "Special Guest")
was fallen by a ringing in his right ear,
which began on Sunday after his flight to San Diego.
Fearing Tinnitus, Ear Infection, or perforation of the eardrum,
Special Guest chose to huddle in bed like a sick little fetus
until he could get a Doctor appt today.
Doctor looks in his wittle ear and says
"there's a lot of fluid in there but the signs of infection are not present".
Special Guest makes him get a medical book and show him the pictures.
Since he had already done the things the Doctor recommended (he's a crafty one),
Doctor goes ahead and prescribes the powerful shit.
So now without further introduction, here is Special Guest:
Hey it's great to be back in action waiting for this medication to do its work,
waiting in the back of the station on a train that comes from the sky.
And if you ask why? I'll tell you a thing or two about me, one of them others is a liar.
Others from a story visit the world again, like the others before him.
I'm the One with the cross in his eye take my advice and judgement!
My vessel is full of the good while the bad and the ugly writhe in pools as black vultures.
Rise up into Heaven!
Posted on: November 10 2013
Not yet rated / 5
the whole world goes to hell
on April 13th, 2014
when a terrorist detonates a briefcased
size nuclear weapon in Washington DC,
taking out the President and Congress
and leading the Vice President to
believe it was a missle launched
from a Soviet submarine.
The United States
delivers a full nuclear response
and obliterates most of Russia, just before
Russia obliterates most of the United States.
All of the tension in the
Middle East erupts,
Iraq over-runs Kuwait and begins firing SCUD missles
filled with Anthrax into Israel
This prompts a nuclear response from
Israel and soon all countries in Europe
are fighting chemical and nuclear wars
The good news is that Jane lady survives
but gets trapped in her basement
Posted on: November 02 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Howard gently stroked Jane's glowing dome light.
Jane awoke, sweating, which is odd to do after becoming a refrigerator.
It was if they were mocking her lack of food, not counting the rotting vegetables.
She lurched her empty food storage body through dark mazes the world under the house had become.
Jane found a tunnel up and out into the colors of a nuclear sky.
Someone had propped a giant cracked mirror against the burnt-out hulk of their car.
Jane lumbered over and took a good look into a face that had become leather, eyes that had long since lost their soul.
Howard called to her across the road.
"Jane, I thought I would never see you again! I got trapped in the neighbor's basement".
Jane remembered the neighbor, as a real slut.
Jane lurched towards her husband, and his ironically mutated microwave oven body.
This time, Jane really woke up.
Posted on: October 26 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Weird and out of the ordinary.
Jane decides to take advantage of this,
as she is using her stubbled legs to make it to the liquor store.
She wants to get back to normal, but first she must burn.
Feeling tall and unstoppable
with an internal temperature of 200 degrees,
it's a real good idea to breath down someone's neck.
Who? Oh no, get there fast, suck on his fingers
and scare him with all of the heat.
He won't know what to do!
She distracts with unusual powers, get back,
back to being able to drink
all of the snails that make you feel whole.
Hurry, she's coming
Posted on: October 20 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Jane is writhing in agony
as she undergoes a 4th metamorphosis
The last one was terrible
she became part giant grasshopper
and had the head of the woman
from the graveyard attached to her arm
Jane loses consciousness
and dreams of the good days
when Howard would stroll
down the street at night
paper under his arm
At dusk they stand
and watch the sunrise at midnight
(that's when the first one went off)
and the towering clouds hold debris
that starts raining metal and broken people.
Jane awakens and has now
a giant heater with breasts
Posted on: October 12 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Don’t you have a
plane to crash?
With your dirty bomb
and coated tongue
you climb aboard
your heart is a
don’t you have a
plane to hijack?
the next contestant in the
Plane Crash Lottery
using fear of religion
find the nearest
Posted on: October 03 2013
Not yet rated / 5
love in its
in Paradise are
Posted on: September 27 2013
Not yet rated / 5
You of unsound mind
with your leaky heart
strolling through the pearly gates
With your surfer’s eye
stuck with an eyeworm
and a gangrenous penis
With your toxic agents
and your pancake heart
I sink into the middle of a heavy lake
sorting different shades of black
Posted on: September 13 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Took a walk
down a one way street
Saw the wood
on the water
and the wind in the trees
a blind man saw me
Look at the sun
it’s got a fuse burning
three moons orbit the earth
lay down and watch
the spectral shadow
this is all you can do
Took my time
and turned away
He doesn’t need it
I think I’ll keep it
use it if you want
It always works
So look at the sun
it’s got a fuse burning
the earth and the moon
lay down and watch
their spectral shadow
Posted on: September 08 2013
Not yet rated / 5
THEY CAME FROM THE SKY
IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME
BEFORE OUR BLOOD BECAME
GAS FOR THEIR SPACESHIP
THEY TIED US DOWN
IN A CAGE
SIPHONING THE LIFE AWAY
LEFT JUST ENOUGH TO LET US
BLEED ANOTHER DAY
Posted on: September 06 2013
Not yet rated / 5
When you left
I had a heart attack
I got down on the floor
and prayed, ha
it didn’t work
We’ve got a cruel God
I was just a religious monkey
I couldn’t find the true End
I’m through with it
She was a trashy priestess
she went off into nowhere
by the light of green dreams
they found her at dawn
in plastic bags
Go to Heaven
my deathbed baby
a slave to chaos
you woke up with
someone else’s fear
Vinegar Candy Lady
spreads out across the centuries
flirting with the universe
streaming a lullaby
and slaying all our dance music
Her smile explodes
Telling lies last night
she’s so mean
the nights are forever
with a Halloween outlook
a devil in a cartoon world
Death calls, why the strange voice?
Relapsing spirals fall across holes of Time
record the data with reversible storage
add, drop or ignore
plenty of digital faces
want programmed emotions
that come out of funnels
Posted on: August 31 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Artist she nearly
Posted on: August 28 2013
Not yet rated / 5
I need to smile…
Heavy burdens carrying me from my own
Too much of excuses to escape
Journeys too much intrude by work
Too much of noises …
I want to go back on the road…
I need intimacy with me
Assuming strengths and weakness slowly
I don’t want to win battles
I just want look to enjoy this quiet moment
I love this silence moving me away from daily runnings..;)
Posted on: August 21 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Nina V. Rye
Her hand shook as she drew a hasty pentagram around herself. Anxiety like a caged bird fluttered in her heart. She had to make it. It wasn’t too late to make this change.
The dust was swirling around her as she turned this and that way, her skirts disturbing the layers of dirt on the floor, but the state of her dress was the last thing on her mind. She whirled in a grotesque mimicry of a dance, trying to complete the circle as fast as she was able to.
Her hand was slippery with sweat, the chalk threatening to escape from her fingers every second. Her red curly hair was falling into her eyes and she brushed it away with irritation.
Suddenly, the door to the library opened with a bang, which startled her deeply.
But the circle was complete now, so nothing could come in. Or come out.
Sheila was standing in the doorway. Her blond hair was tousled, long strands coming loose from the braid, and her skirts were also dirty and torn. Her arms were covered with blood from the battle, and she was breathing heavily from running.
“Madeleine, no!” she cried.
The redheaded witch in the circle thrust a warming hand at her.
“Don’t stop closer,” she warned. “There is nothing you can do now.”
With free hand Madeleine continued scribing various symbols within the circle. Then she added ancient runes: a rune for ‘call’, a rune for ‘incarnation’, a rune for ‘binding’, and finally a rune for ‘power’. The book had said they could be drawn in any sequence, but that was how she remembered them.
“Please,” Sheila begged, making a step forward.
She could see that the circle was complete, and there was literary nothing she could do now. Her only hope was to distract the witch so that the spell is not pronounced.
“I know what you are trying to do,” she said, trying to sound as calm as possible. “But it won’t help. It’s not worth the risk. You have no idea what might happen!”
But Madeleine was deaf to any pleads. She just shook her head; her green eyes as she looked at Sheila were wide open and mad.
“This is the only way,” she whispered and started to read the incantation, her voice growing louder with every word. One by one the runes began to glow in the dark. The wind picked up inside the room, and soon the woman was surrounded by a swirling tornado of power that moved restlessly within the circle’s bounds.
Sheila felt tears stinging her eyes. It shouldn’t have come to this. It was unfair. Jacob was dead; nothing and nobody could bring him back. It was useless. She was going to lose not only her lover, but her best friend as well.
A sudden burst of raw power blinded her momentarily. When she brushed tears from her eyes, she could see Madeleine stand rigid in the circle; her face awfully pale. Then she swayed and collapsed on the floor.
Without a second thought, Sheila ran to her friend and crouched on the floor, cradling the woman’s head in her lap. Frantically, she pressed fingers to her neck and relief washed through her as she felt pulse beating under the skin.
Gently the blond woman brushed the curly hair from Madeleine’s forehead. She had streaks of dirt on her cheeks, red claw marks on her forearms and the hem of her skirt was torn. They had been through a lot in the last few hours.
There had been a break-in into the castle – first, gargoyles, vicious and disgusting, then bats. Sheila had never seen so many bats in her life. Then there came a basilisk.
Why did the earl think that two female witches and a small group of knights would ever be enough to beat that kind of an army? But nobody questioned his or her masters. So they lined up all together on the castle wall and fought back to back. The witches with their potions and chants, and the knights with their swords and arrows.
If only Jacob hadn’t been such a hero, if only he hadn’t felt himself being responsible for the only two women in the garrison. He wouldn’t have charged forward to try and take the basilisk by himself. One bite from a poisonous lizard and he was a goner. Sheila knew it in an instant, when his face was drained of all colour, as he collapsed on the stone floor.
Madeleine knew that too. And she, overtaken by grief and pain, charged the beast herself with the most powerful spells she knew. Oddly, Sheila felt only some kind of numbness at that moment. Perhaps, her gift had foreseen something like that happening.
She and Jacob had said their farewells the night before. It was, perhaps, the only possible outcome of this battle. She didn’t know what Jacob had said to Madeleine. She had seen them both conversing shortly, but whether that had been a goodbye or not, Sheila didn’t know. Back then she didn’t want to know.
And now this. The moment the battle was over, Madeleine stood broodingly over the Jacob’s lifeless body, as Sheila was cuddling him and crying. And then she said something about knowing a spell to make him come back. And she ran off.
It took Sheila too long to understand what was happening. The lifeless body of her beloved didn’t quickly connect with an ancient book of incantations that Madeleine had recently discovered in the library.
They had spent days in the Earl’s library looking for the ways to stop a crazy Necromancer from destroying the castle on the spot. She remembered her red-haired friend finding a thick volume at the back of one shelves, quite craftily hidden behind the endless line of volumes devoted to the History of Ancient Times. Somewhere, where nobody would have ever thought to look.
Madeleine had been instantly taken with the book. She had read it through and through, although the old leather reeked of bad magic and many of the spells depicted in it were impossible to reconstruct. Still, she had spent hours and hours hunched over the book in a corner of the library.
Sheila had no idea what kind of spell Madeleine had performed. She could only guess that it was something to bring Jacob back. But as she sat there holding her friend in her arms nothing happened.
Suddenly, the redheaded witch stirred and her eyes flew open.
They were not her usual forest green, but the bright blue colour, the same as Jacob’s eyes had been.
A thin hand cupped Sheila’s cheek, and she stared down at a familiar face of her best friend, dumbstruck and afraid even to hope, as bloodless lips stretched in a weak smile.
“Hello, my love,” she said.
It was Jacob’s deep voice that said the words, but the lips were Madeleine’s that covered her own.
Written: March 16-17th, 2012.
Posted on: August 20 2013
Not yet rated / 5
FAT FACE AND THE WITCH
A Play in One Act
Play first performed on tour of the Norfolk Broads in September 2013 with the following cast:
James - Burtie Welland/Alan Camfield
Susan - Tina Camfield
Eddie - Graham Harper
Anne - Sheila Welland
Directed by Sheila Welland/Burtie Welland
A pub garden in the Norfolk Broads, as the play begins James is pacing up and down in front of a bench with a mobile phone at his ear.
James: Now you listen to me ... hello ... hello ... don’t you dare hang up on me! Simon! Simon? Yes, I know that the reception is bad. Can you hear me? Well, I can’t hear you ... what’s that? ... well, it’s not a lot of good if I can’t hear what you say back is it? Look, it’s your mother ... your mother, yes ... well, she’s here. She’s here ... what do you mean, where? On the bloody boat, you idiot ... the boat. Yes ... some moron double booked it and Anne, helpfully, said it ‘would be lovely’ ... ‘we’d share’. Yes, well we didn’t know it was her then did we ... I’m not a complete fool ... Mr and Mrs Simpson apparently ... wait a minute, I’ll call you back ... later.
[Susan and Eddie enter from the bar, hand in hand. Susan is carrying a glass of wine and Eddie a pint of lager]
Eddie: Hi, James.
James: Good evening.
[Both sit on bench]
Susan: Where’s Anne?
James: Having a lie down.
Susan: Feeling a bit stressed is she?
James: No, just tired. She didn’t get much sleep last night.
Eddie: Oh, yes?
Susan: [Sharply] Don’t encourage him, Eddie.
Eddie: What do you mean?
Susan: You know what I mean.
James: She’s afraid we’ll bond, and I’ll tell you all her deep dark secrets.
Eddie: [Looks at Susan] I know all I need to know about Susan.
[Susan kisses Eddie on cheek]
James: Ah yes, you know all you ‘need’ to know, but do you know all you ‘want’ to know?
Susan: Stop it, Jimmy.
James: One thing I will say Eddie ... she’s a fantastic housekeeper ... when we split up she kept the house.
Susan: Very funny ... I see you’ve put on a few pounds since you left me. Anne must be feeding you well.
James: That’s right ... hit me where it hurts.
Susan: Just an observation.
James: [Moving over to Eddie, hand on shoulder] You see, Eddie, a single man goes to the fridge, sees nothing he wants and goes to bed. A married man goes to bed, sees nothing he wants and goes to the fridge.
Susan: But you’re not married.
James: Neither are you.
Susan: Jimmy has always only been after one thing ... it’s just that, as the years have gone by, he’s forgotten what it is.
James: Ouch! ... I’m going back to the boat, to see how Anne is.
Eddie: [smiling] It’s OK, we won’t disturb you.
Susan: I wish you wouldn’t you know.
Eddie: Wouldn’t what?
Susan: That juvenile innuendo stuff. All boys together ... nudge, nudge, wink, wink.
Eddie: Well, we’ve got to get on with them, haven’t we? Otherwise the week’ll be a nightmare.
Susan: You mean it isn’t already?
Eddie: No, it’s not that bad. I'm sure we can be adult about this, I mean I thought you both still got on ... after a fashion ... I mean, it wasn’t a messy divorce, was it?
Susan: Not like yours, you mean?
Eddie: No, I didn’t mean that ... but now that you mention it ...
Susan: Oh, please!
Eddie: I thought you said you ... just sort of drifted apart.
Susan: We did, he drifted into Anne.
Eddie: So why the antagonism?
Susan: Just because I accepted his ‘floozie’ doesn’t mean I want her paraded under my nose.
Eddie: It’s not that bad.
Susan: It is.
Eddie: Mistakes happen.
Susan: [Rises and moves away] Oh God ... why are you so bloody reasonable?
Eddie: In the end, you and James weren’t compatible, that’s all.
Susan: I told him I wanted him to be more affectionate ... so he got a girlfriend.
Eddie: Very funny.
Susan: Look, I’m going to bed ...
[Susan moves back to Eddie and kisses top of his head]
Eddie: It’s not even eight o’clock yet ...
Susan: [Moving away] It must be all this fresh air. I’m going to bed ... [Turns back to Eddie] if I can find some earplugs.
Eddie: Earplugs ... yes ... very good!
[Eddie takes out his mobile phone ... waves phone around to try to get a signal. Anne enters from direction of boat]
Anne: [Standing to side of bench] Lovely evening.
Anne: At least we’ve had a summer this year.
Anne: [indicates bench] Do you mind if I ... ?
Eddie: No ... of course not. [She sits opposite side of bench. He drinks some of his pint]
Anne: Beer OK?
Eddie: Yes ... thank-you.
Anne: Lovely to hear the birds, isn’t it?
Eddie: Yes ... I suppose so, yes.
Anne: [reaching for Eddie’s pint] Do you mind?
Eddie: Er ... no, be my guest.
Anne: [takes a mouthful of lager] Lovely.
Anne: I couldn’t drink a whole pint, but sometimes just a taste is lovely.
Eddie: Yes, I suppose so.
Anne: Jimmy and Sue aren’t happy!
Anne: It’s quite a giggle though, isn’t it?
Eddie: A giggle?
Anne: Watching them sparring.
Eddie: I don’t know if ...
Anne: Jimmy gets so ... so bullish, if you know what I mean.
Eddie: Yes, I know exactly what you mean.
Anne: [Rising and moving around bench] You know what he calls her?
Anne: [Sits next to Eddie] ‘The Witch’.
Eddie: Susan calls him ‘Fat Face’.
Anne: [laughs] But he hasn’t got a fat face?
Eddie: Susan’s not a witch.
Anne: No, I expect she’s really quite sweet ... underneath.
Eddie: I’m sure she thinks the same about you.
Anne: I’m sure she doesn’t ... she called me a ‘floozie’.
Eddie: You were listening.
Anne: Yes, I couldn’t help it. I can’t stop myself ... listening ... I mean, if I’m in a restaurant I find myself listening to all the conversations at the tables around me ... sometimes I don’t even hear what Jimmy is saying to me, I’m too caught up listening to the table behind him.
Eddie: That must be a bit off-putting.
Anne: Not really, he doesn’t say much anyway. Sometimes I think if I didn’t listen to other people the whole evening would pass in silence.
Anne: And then I can go home and tell the boys about all the interesting people I’ve seen and heard.
Eddie: The boys?
Anne: George and Ringo.
Eddie: George and Ringo?
Anne: Yes, John and Paul aren’t that interested, but George and Ringo always loved me to tell them about my day, what I’d seen and who I’d met.
Eddie: I didn’t know you had children?
Anne: [laughs] Children? Good Lord, no! They’re not children, they’re my puppy dogs.
Anne: My babies.
Eddie: You’ve got four dogs?
Anne: Not all at once, and not now, silly. They’ve all passed on. I couldn’t have one now ... I’ve got Jimmy.
Eddie: Yes ... I mean, no.
Anne: You are funny. I’m surprised you’re ... no, sorry ... I shouldn’t ...
Eddie: Shouldn’t what?
Anne: Pry. I do rather pry. Jimmy is always telling me off about it.
Eddie: Is he?
Anne: He says I should have been a social worker.
Eddie: How many social workers does it take to change a light bulb?
Both: ... But the bulb has to want to change ...
Anne: One of Sue's?
Eddie: Yes ... what were you going to say?
Anne: It’s just that I’m surprised that you’re ... er ... well, normal ... and that you have a sense of humour.
Eddie: After what James has said about Susan?
Eddie: I don’t suppose James really would sit up until 4 a.m. to watch Shamrock Rovers play Airbus United.
Anne: Oh yes, he would ... and so would I.
Anne: Oh yes, I’d watch anything. Are you not sporty? You look sporty ...
Eddie: Not really. I was a late developer, at school I was always the last one to be picked for the teams. On my school report it said that I needed a compass on the football field.
[Enter Susan from direction of boat]
Susan: Haven’t you finished yet?
Eddie: Just coming ... I was just chatting to Anne, we were ...
Susan: ...Yes well, that’s 'lovely', but I need you to come and sort out the shower ... it's not working.
Eddie: I was ...
Susan: ... I really need you to do it now.
Eddie: [to Anne] You know the difference between marriage and prison? In prison you get to finish your sentences.
[Eddie exits to boat with Susan, as James enters from direction of bar carrying drinks for him and Anne]
James: [Handing Anne her drink, standing beside bench] Was it something I said?
Anne: No, I think it was me.
Anne: Yes, she called me a ‘floozie’.
James: [Sitting beside Anne] I’m sure you’ve been called worse.
Anne: Only by you ... she seems a bit uptight.
James: ‘Uptight’ and now, thankfully, ‘Out Of Sight’.
James: Stevie Wonder, 1965.
Anne: ‘Being Boring’
Anne: The Pet Shop Boys, 1990.
James: Very good.
James: Shall we just go home?
James: We are never going to survive a week.
Anne: Of course we are, we just have to be adult about it that’s all.
James: I’m a man ... being adult doesn’t come easily to me ... and as for Sue ...
Anne: ... It’ll be fine.
James: I just want to know how it happened.
Anne: [Rising and moving away] It was just a double-booking that’s all, someone forgot to write one of them down.
James: I tried to speak to Simon earlier ... but there’s hardly any bloody signal out here.
Anne: What could he do? It wasn’t booked through him.
James: No, but he knows the trade doesn’t he? I thought he may have been able to pull some strings.
Anne: It’s the last week of the holidays ... all the boats were booked, the only alternative was a refund ... you know that.
James: And compensation?
Anne: Whatever, but at least this way we all get a holiday ... and possibly some compensation as well.
James: It’s all right for you, you don’t have to spend a week with your ex wife.
Anne: No, I just have to put up with you ... complaining all week.
James: [Rising and moving to Anne] Then let’s go home ... Oh God! She’s coming back.
Anne: Be nice ... smile.
Susan: Jimmy, do you think you could give Eddie a hand?
James: [Still smiling] Certainly. [He exits towards boat]
Susan: What’s wrong with him?
Anne: [Sitting on bench] I told him to be nice.
Susan: That must have hurt.
Anne: He’s trying.
Susan: So am I. [She smiles]
Anne: You called me a ‘floozie’.
Susan: Did I?
Susan: I didn’t mean it.
Anne: I know ... it’s all an act, isn’t it?
Susan: You know, there’s more to you than there seems.
Anne: It doesn’t pay to appear too clever. It’s better for a woman to look good than have brains.
Anne: Because men can see better than they can think.
Susan: Very good ... you and Jimmy were made for each other.
Anne: Do you really think that?
Susan: I’m sorry?
Anne: Are you?
Susan: God! You’re as bad as he is.
Susan: [Sitting next to Anne] How are we going to get through this week?
Anne: We don’t have to. Either of us could go home.
Susan: Why should I? It wasn’t my cock-up ... and I need this break.
Anne: Jimmy wants to go home.
Susan: Then why doesn’t he?
Anne: Because I don’t want to.
Susan: You’re enjoying this aren’t you?
Anne: Is that what you think? [Pause] I think we can get through this ... and enjoy it.
Susan: Are you mad?
Anne: I don’t think so.
Susan: You know when Jimmy went off with you, I really hated you.
Anne: Did you?
Susan: Then I thought the best revenge I could get was to let you keep him.
Anne: What do you think now?
Susan: [Rising] I don’t know.
Anne: Yes, you do.
Susan: [Turning back to Anne] God! How does Jimmy put up with you?
Anne: I have no idea.
[Enter James and Eddie]
Eddie: Hello girls, just getting to know each other are you?
Susan: Something like that.
James: She’s telling you all about me is she ... all my little faults?
Susan: Just think Jimmy, if it wasn’t for me, you’d have gone through life thinking you had no faults at all.
James: And there was me thinking we may have been able to be civil to each other for a few days.
James: I know the only time you have used the word before it's had the word 'war' attached to it, but you could have tried.
Susan: Now 'war' I do understand ... and 'unreasonable behaviour' ... and 'irreconcilable differences' ... and 'adultery'.
James: How about 'nag'? ... or 'carp'? ... or 'berate'? ... or 'irritate'? ... or 'bug'? ... or 'goad'? ... or 'needle'? ... or 'provoke'?
Susan: How about 'Boring Git'!
James: How about 'Lush'
Anne: Now, now ... shall we have a drink and try to be nice to each other?
James: I’m still trying. [Smiles again] I’ll get these. What are we all having ... Sue? Dry white wine? Extra Large?
Anne: Another glass of cider, please.
James: Eddie? Another pint?
Eddie: Thanks, I’ll help you ...
James: ... No, it’s fine. You keep the girls company. Stop them talking about me.
[James goes to the bar]
Eddie: So, are we all friends now?
Susan: I don’t know ... are we?
Anne: Well, you don’t hate me anyway.
Susan: So you say,
Eddie: She doesn’t hate you.
Susan: How would you know?
Eddie: You’re all talk.
Susan: Thanks very much!
Eddie: I just mean ...
Susan: I know what you mean.
Susan: How what?
Eddie: How do you know what I mean?
Susan: I just do, that's all.
Eddie: How do you know what I mean?
Susan: You're not ... well ... complicated.
Eddie: Then what am I?
Susan: You're ... uncomplicated. You're what I need.
Susan: I need you.
Eddie: Just because I'm necessary doesn't mean I'm important.
Susan: That's very deep for you, darling.
Eddie: Because I'm ... uncomplicated?
Anne: Look, I don’t want to start another domestic here. Let’s talk about something else. Oh ... I don't know, what do we all have in common?
Susan: Very funny ... and you were supposed to be stopping us from talking about him, remember?
Anne: Politics? Religion? [Looking at Eddie] Sex?
Eddie: Well, none of us are any good at that.
Susan: So, at least we have that in common.
Eddie: Being hopeless at relationships? What is it they say? Marriage isn’t just a word ... it’s a sentence.
Anne: But all of us have served our sentences.
Eddie: And all of us have been successfully re-integrated into the community.
Anne: So why did you book this as Mr and Mrs Simpson?
Anne: The booking for the boat ... it was for Mr and Mrs Simpson, that's why we didn't twig it might be you two.
Susan: Mr and Mrs Simpson
Eddie: I ... just thought it looked better.
Susan: Looked better? To who?
Eddie: I don’t know, the travel agent just assumed ... and I ...
Susan: ... Thought it looked better?
Eddie: Well ... yes.
Susan: Uncomplicated? You're impossible ... I’m going to help Jimmy with the drinks.
[Susan exits to bar]
Anne: Oops! Have I put my foot in it?
Eddie: Well, you’ll have something to tell George and Ringo now, won’t you?
Anne: It’s a good job you have a sense of humour isn’t it?
Eddie: Do you think all this is funny?
Anne: Honest answer?
Eddie: My God! You are incredible!
[Eddie exits towards boat]
Anne: Oh dear! [She takes out her mobile and types a text message] What have I done? [She looks at her phone] ... No signal! [She walks up and down waving the phone trying to get a signal]
[James returns with his drink and drinks for Anne and Eddie]
James: Where’s Eddie?
Anne: I think I annoyed him.
James: What did you say?
Anne: I was just having a bit of fun ... you know ... holiday ... fun!
James: Sometimes, some people don’t appreciate your idea of ... fun.
Anne: Apparently ... Eddie’s impossible and I’m incredible!
James: And what am I?
Anne: [Pause] Funny?
James: [Smiles] What were you talking about?
Anne: You think so? It was Sue’s idea.
James: To talk about marriage?
Anne: Yes. [Susan returns with her drink] I’ll go and find Eddie ... make peace.
James: Good idea ... be nice.
[Anne turns ... smiles ... then turns and leaves]
Susan: Was it something I said?
James: Not this time.
Susan: Is she off to talk to her pots again?
James: They're urns ... and no.
Susan: What did she mean ... make peace?
James: I think she upset Eddie.
Susan: He probably deserved it.
James: Trouble in Paradise?
Susan: Please ...
James: Don't what?
Susan: Eddie and I are fine ... we're fine.
James: Are you telling me ... or trying to convince yourself?
Susan: Stop it.
Susan: And stop saying 'what'.
James: Confucius he say 'Man doesn't always say 'what' because he can't hear you ... sometimes he want to give you chance to change what you say'
Susan: How do you put up with Anne?
James: Change what you say ... not change the subject.
Susan: I’m interested.
Susan: She's so ... well ... different.
Susan: Yes, different.
James: To you, you mean?
Susan: Well ... yes.
James: Men usually marry their mothers ... not their ex-wives.
Susan: You're not getting married?
Susan: She talks to the ashes of her dead dogs.
James: You talked to the tomatoes.
Susan: I still do, that's different.
Susan: I don't know ... it just is.
James: And before you say it, I don’t see her as my mother either
Susan: Thank God ... I liked your mother.
James: She liked you.
Susan: She talked to her tomatoes as well.
James: But not her dead pets. What about Eddie?
Susan: He doesn’t talk to tomatoes ... or pets.
James: Are you his mother?
James: You’re old enough.
Susan: No I’m not.
James: Well ... almost.
Susan: Not even close. He’s not that young.
James: He’ll still always be your ‘toy boy’.
Susan: Is that criticism ... or jealousy?
Susan: Are you sure?
James: I really don’t care what you get up to now ... or who with.
Susan: Good. Talk of the devil ...
Eddie: She’s bloody mad ... there’s a bloody rat in the galley.
James: It’s not a rat it’s a hamster. It couldn’t be left at home ... it’s suffering from stress.
Eddie: Stress? What are you talking about? You’re as mad as she is.
Susan: In the kitchen? Is that hygienic? ... and if you start singing that bloody UB40 song I shall scream.
James: Nothing could have been further from my mind.
Susan: Before your time.
James: I thought you said he wasn’t that young?
Eddie: What are you trying to say?
Susan: Leave it Eddie ... please? Just go back to the boat ... I’ll be there in a minute.
Eddie: [Picks up pint] I only came back for my beer anyway.
Susan: Don’t sulk.
[Eddie exits towards boat]
James: Don’t sulk?
Susan: I am not his mother.
James: Did I say that?
Susan: I could see what you were thinking.
James: Sorry ... bit of a mess, all this isn’t it?
Susan: All what?
James: Sometimes when we say things we don’t mean, we end up saying the things we do mean.
Susan: That’s a bit cryptic, isn’t it?
James: Sorry ... I mean ... the situation.
Susan: Double bookings happen.
James: Not that ... this.
Susan: You’re getting cryptic again.
James: Not them ... [Sits] us.
James: That’s what all this is really about, isn’t it?
Susan: Is it?
James: ‘Fat Face’ and ‘The Witch’.
Susan: [Laughs] You don’t have a fat face.
James: And you’re not a witch ... well, not all the time.
Susan: You’re right.
James: Am I?
James: About what?
Susan: It is all a bit of a mess.
James: Shall we just go?
James: As in ... us.
Susan: What about ...?
James: Them? [Susan nods] They’ll understand.
Susan: I doubt it.
[James and Susan leave]
[Anne returns holding her mobile phone]
Anne: [On phone] Hello ... hello ... can you hear me? Simon? Yes, like a dream. I’m sure they’ll tell you all about it ... just act surprised ... what? Oh, yes, I’ll tell George and Ringo all about it ... in the morning.
Posted on: August 20 2013
4.0 / 5
by Nina V. Rye
The Flying Fox
"Friendship is love without his wings"
- Lord Byron
Once upon a time there lived a very unusual fox. It was a small creature, all red fur and white paws. He had a brown nose and a pair of lively, sparkling eyes. The little fox lived in a forest, as any animal creature was prone to. But he was a very unusual fox, because he desperately, illogically, uncommonly, sporadically wanted to fly.
He would climb a biggest rock possible, perch on its top and gaze at the sky in wonder. The shrill cries of magpies or gentle twitter of sparrows – all seemed to attract his gaze. He would follow the birds’ flight for hours, from the early morning to the late night.
Other animals mocked the little fox.
“This behaviour is unbecoming of a decent animal,” would say the bear. “Why would a true predator want to have something to do with birds?”
“They only chirp and spook the prey!” would tut the wolf.
But the little fox was not swayed. “I want to learn to fly!” he said, unconcerned about what other animals thought of him.
Once he saw a sparrow’s nest on the tree, from which tiny brown birds were jumping out on the branch. He watched as an elder bird showed its offsprings how to beat their wings and, jumping off the tree, catch the wind. Little sparrows were light as a feather, so they effortlessly rose in the sky.
So the little fox thought, he could do the same. He jumped up on the lowest branch of a big oak and climbed as high as the tree could hold his weight. Other forest animals gathered under the tree; all whispering to each other, waiting to see what would happen next.
It can’t be that difficult, said the little fox to itself. The birds can do that. And they are so tiny, and their wings are so fragile. If I move my paws up and down very fast, and my paws are much stronger, I would be able to fly.
Saying so, the fox moved to the edge of the branch and leaped into the air. But no matter how hard he moved his paws in the mimicry of beating wings, the air didn’t hold the little fox up. So he crashed down. He landed awkwardly among the watching animals.
“Pft! I told you!” said the rabbit. “You can’t fly.”
“You need wings for it,” added the moose.
So the little fox cried, because it was very unfair and his paw hurt a lot, where he landed on it awkwardly. But there was nothing he could do about it, and he went to his burrow.
Hurt and sad, the little fox crawled into the nest of dry leaves and brunches, which served as his bed. There he spent three days and three nights dreaming of vast blue sky and fluffy white clouds while his paw healed.
On the fourth day he woke up, startled by a loud crush noise near his burrow. Limping outside, he saw a black mass of feathers on the ground. A big crow was flopping his wings, trying to rise into the sky. But a thick rope was tied to his leg with a big rock on the other end. The crow could rise no more than a foot above the ground, too tired to lift himself and the rock higher.
Seeing the little fox, the crow began to flop his wings faster, wanting to escape the predator. But he was too tired, so eventually the crow dropped on the ground in defeat.
“Don’t eat me, little fox,” pleaded the crow. “I’m old and my meat would be dry and tasteless.”
The crow wasn’t that old, but he was very cunning and thought that he could fool the little fox.
But the little fox didn’t want to eat the crow. He was gazing at the long black wings in wonder. “I can promise not to eat you, if you give me your wings,” said he finally.
The crow was surprised, “Why would a small fox like you need the wings of an old crow?”
“I want to be able to fly!” explained the fox.
“What a nonsense!” exclaimed the crow. “I have never heard of such thing! Besides it’s not possible – I can’t give you my wings.”
“But there must be some way!” cried the little fox in despair. “I can’t live like this. The sky is calling for me and I want to see the world from the birds-eye view.”
“Hmm,” hummed the crow. “Perhaps I have an idea who might be able to help you.”
The little fox jumped up and down in excitement.
“Old crows used to say that deep in the forest one might find the fairies, who are able to grant any imaginable wishes. I bet they could even give you wings!”
The crow paused, “I think I know where that place might be. But, first, you will have to help free myself from this stone.” The cunning crow pointed at his leg with a beak.
The little fox moved to the rope, but then stopped. “How do I know that you would really bring me to the fairies, if I help you now?” he asked.
The crow let out a sigh, “I promise to help you.”
And the crow, the wisest and the oldest bird, was known to keep his promises.
With a quick snap of jaws, the rope was cut and the crow was free. Joyfully, he rose high into the sky, stretching his wings and enjoying the acute feeling of freedom. After making a couple of circles, the crow landed before the little fox, who was watching him with a wondrous expression on his muzzle.
“Follow me,” said the crow and they set off.
They went through the forest, quickly reaching the end of the familiar grounds. Days went on, as they travelled deeper and deeper into the forest. They met an owl on their way, who told them that they should look for a meadow inside the forest – an unexpected clearing, surrounded by the highest fur-trees with a crystal spring in its very middle. So they went on and on. Sometimes the crow would rise high about tree crowns to search for their destination point.
They travelled during the day and slept at night, although the little fox sometimes hunted during the twilight as well. Once they were almost caught by a big white-tailed eagle that decided to pray on a much smaller crow. If it weren’t for the fox, who found a shelter under a bush, and a sudden rain that started, they would have both been dead.
There under the bush the crow and the little fox lied together as the rain pitter-pattered on the leaves above them. The little fox curled his bushy tail around the crow, as the bird in his turn arched a black wing over the fox’s head to keep the rain away.
Throughout their journey they encountered many hardships, which made their unlucky friendship grow stronger. Many of the animals they met and asked for directions couldn’t or didn’t want to help them. In spite of that all the little red fox refused to lose his hope.
Then one day, a fortnight after their journey had begun, when the crow rose high into the sky, he let out a victorious cry, “I can see it! I can see it!”
With renewed strength the little fox and the crow moved through the forest to their destination. As they came closer to the clearing, they saw a strange eerie light coming from it. Stopping at the very edge of the meadow, they both looked in wonder at the dozens of tiny winged creatures moving back and forth.
That was the source of light they had seen. These were the fairies; their tiny wings beat enticingly as if mocking them.
“Are you ready, my friend?” asked the crow. Gaping at the amazing sight before them, the little fox gave a short nod.
Together they stepped into the clearing.
The little fox was bitter. The fairies had been his last hope. He felt that his life had come to an end. The animals laughed at him – he didn’t think he would be welcome to return to his home forest. He failed. Nothing made sense anymore. All he wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up.
The crow watched as the little fox curled into a tiny ball of red fur and silently cried. Deep sorrow nested in his breast, throbbing in sympathy with his friend’s pain. He didn’t know what he could do to help him, so he turned and flew to the fairies to try and reason with them.
But the fairies were firm. Shaking her head, the Queen Fairy said, “We are sorry, but there is nothing we could do. We can’t grow him a pair of wings.”
The crow thought for a moment, because he was quite wise and had seen a lot of the world in his years. He thought about the warmth of a morning sun and the joy of flying and being alive and happy.
“And what if you had a pair of wings? Could you sew them to his body? Would he be able to fly?” he asked.
The Queen Fairy looked at him thoughtfully, “That could work, yes. But we don’t have any spare wings. And if we had, the wings of a fairy won’t be able to hold the fox up, even such a small one.”
“What if I gave you mine?” asked the crow.
“But it would mean that you would die.”
“Do it,” said the crow solemnly. “But give him not only my wings, but also my heart, because he would need not only the ability to fly, but also the courage to rise above the trees.”
The next morning came, and the little fox woke up feeling both rested and elevated. He moved to stand up and suddenly with a jolt of surprise realized that there was a pair of wings attached to his back.
They were big and strong and covered with black think feathers. Ecstatic beyond words, the fox jumped up and beat his wings. Slowly, awkwardly, he rose up and up until he was far above the ground.
Dropping down on the ground, the little fox went off searching for the crow, wanting to share the good news with his best friend. But he was nowhere to find.
Confused, the little fox ran to the fairies. Finding the Queen Fairy, he asked, “Have you seen my friend, the crow? I can’t find him. I want to show him the wings you gave me.”
But the tiny creature only shook her head sadly. “I am afraid, he is gone,” she said. “He has fulfilled your wish and gave you his wings.”
Anguished cry tore from the little fox’ chest. The pain he had never known before blossomed in his heart. It was not possible. It just couldn’t be true!
“But you said, I could never fly!” sobbed he. “How could the old crow give his wings to me?”
“Because he was your friend and wanted your dream to come true,” said the Queen Fairy.
She looked at the crying fox with pity.
“He did have one wish, that we had to make true as well,” added she. “He asked to give you his heart together with his ability to fly, because he wanted to give you enough bravery to bear the weight of these wings. Listen carefully, little fox, and you will hear it.”
Indeed as he listed, the little fox could feel a second heart beat inside his ribcage. Immediately, the warmth filled him, soothing his pain and drying his tears. All of a sudden the little fox knew that his friend not only had given him his dream, but also had given him his strength to bear the loss of the one and only friend.
“No dream is worth losing a friend,” said the fox sadly and left never to be seen again.
Still the story about the little fox who wanted to fly was passed from one animal to another. The rumours of the forest said that someone saw a lonely fox sitting on a tree branch, silhouetted against the nighty sky. He was sadly looking at the moon, his wings wrapped around his body.
Some said that in the stillness of the night it was possible to hear two hearts beat in a perfect tandem.
Written: February 29th, 2012.
Posted on: August 18 2013
Not yet rated / 5
(I’m tellin’ ya)
You’ve gone too far
gonna take it all away
ready the connection
the quality can’t be beat
try to make the grade
It’s never the same
this segment in Time
bred between the lines
all you are to blame
can’t sideline the fear
can’t stop looking behind
passing into the light
here come the flames
The price is high
keep it on the ground
switching last to first
pressure and decay
If there is escape
express so much denial
death isn’t in style
don’t lie to alienate
want to be on top
got to swallow that pride
this has got to stop
it is dastardly
seep up the leads
pitiful in plight
nothing but deception
experience of the mind
Clear the muck away
expensive to be blind
Live it to the fullest
do all that can be done
learn what others could not
drive on there’s a whole world out there
and all you have to do is get off your ass
and open your eyes and say
“Hey, I can make a difference, I can be anything and start living…”
Posted on: August 13 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Trevor Dion
I posted it on google document to protect my work but would like imput on my story and if anyone wants to edited it for me I will extremely appreciate it .just post a comment with you're email address and I will send it to you
Posted on: August 12 2013
Not yet rated / 5
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