Moment

I can taste the riveting magic of happiness
Spiraling down to my last thought
I can feel myself growing into acceptance and uttering words of forgiveness
A thousand reflections of what I have to be thankful for
And the days are young
I have time to live
Lurking every corner for adventure
Not everyday is filled with happiness but the happy days I tackle
Nothing is permanent
Life is filled with new grasping opportunities
Friendships that will forever last in your memories
Live for the moment

Understand

The distant stutter of an unwanted picture slowly grows
And a revelation hits the tips of my most fragile hearing
I don't want to understand but I do
I want to pretend
But pretending will just drive one mad
I must face the truth
Only good can come from the reality
Even if it hurts now
Things will get better
And finally I understand

A Log Line

(Medium shot) A log line: The scene begins with secret agent, Stacey. She is walking into the dimly lit theater, confidently and proudly with perfect posture, ready to expose her ex boyfriend, Richard, as the criminal he really is. (Selective focus) INT: Stacey spots messy blond haired Richard in the corner of the theater. He is sitting, comfortably alone. Ready to catch her prey, she slowly approaches him. (2-shot) INT: Stacey questioned the end of their relationship. The mood is originally peaceful and delicate. Shy, blue-eyed Stacey walks elegantly towards Richard. The silence is shattered as Stacey begins to speak: Stacey: Richard (Z-axis) Richard: mmmmm…. Insert: backs away. (Framing) INT: Forgetting her misson, Stacey changes what she is about to say. Stacey: Do you ever think about me when you are with her? Insert: casual voice. Richard: Sometimes. Not much. We talk about you. Insert: sharp tone. Stacey: You talk about me, when you are with her? (2-shot) Richard: Sometimes. It amuses her. Insert: laughter. Imagining a sinister smile, Stacey takes laughter as an offense. (sarcartically) Stacey: Amuses her? Richard: Mmmmmm... Insert: trembling mouth, full of empty sadness. Stacey: How do you talk about me? Richard: Delicately. Insert: Stacey slaps Richard, forcefully. INT: Forgetting about the mission, Stacey scurries away. Tears drizzle down her flawed red cheeks. His speech offended her. His words, “amused,” her and she forgot about her secret mission. She opened the heavy, brown door, roughly and slams it shut. Ending the scene with sly Richard who pretends to be confused as he is happily alone. Scene closes The Pitch This script is for a show called Richard’s Life. The target audience is preteen girls ages 16, to women, ages 25. The audience would enjoy soup opera’s and ABC family and movies like Mean Girls. There will be commercials on all channels such as ABC and Disney channel. There will be advertisements online on Facebook, twitter, Instagram and on peoples blogs. The budget for the equipment will be 2,000,000 dollars. The props that will be used are a DLSR camera, lighting, baggy white Hanes t-shirt, Nike shoes and flowered long dress and a microphone. Stacey: A secret agent trying to get information out of her ex boyfriend shy, blue ocean eyes, brown silky wavy hair, determine and proud in the beginning, confident sometimes and disappointed in the end and hurt, tall skeleton, 6’4. She wanted to be with him again and he said that she amused her. It offended Stacey. She loves her job and she is good at it too until she gets distracted by her ex-boyfriend. Richard: Ex-boyfriend, Messy blond haired, insensitive, fake confused, sly, evil, rude, misses cues. He has a new girlfriend and is rude to his ex about it. He is secretly aware his ex-girlfriend is a secret agent. He was very nice until he got layed off from his job. Now he bank robs. Movie theater; quiet empty spacious, dim lit, seats filled in rows. Mood: upsetting and hurt by Richard words.

Wind Of A Bitter Sound

Beyond the bitter wind
The tasteless utter of a sound
Miraculous but unheard of
Invasions beneath the picture, whole
A tear that vastly hits the ground
Never to be seen
Never to be heard

Captured Drawing

 The scene opens in the freezing cold December, in the suburbs of New York, where infinitive wind, strangles ghostly pale, 5"1 Louis as she tries to make it back home to her small impeccable house. Then out of an ordinary day the impossible happens. EXT: Louis struggles against, the violent winds, going at unimaginable speeds. Insert: posture as being funny and lopsided as the wind pulls down on her soft delicate skin. Insert: Begins to melt, turning into gooey undesirable liquid. Louis: What's happening to me? Insert: voice echoes. (No one answers) Louis forms into some sort of drawing, stuck like glue onto the ground. Insert: writing magically appears surrounding her, giving her the answers, the reasons in why she turned into this peculiar drawing. Reading: Those born as a drawing are given one wish and three wishes to be a real person, to be happy or the chose of Riches. Once you choose you will forget about your one wish. However, it will come temporarily true but two of them have consequences and only one is the right choice. You had a choice and you choose to be a human. That is the wrong choice and now you are stuck as a picture for infinity. To be continued.

Marhaba

Father has lost it again. Doesn't he always? His bits of night sky chalk pieces of hair stayed tightened like a metal helmet around his head as he peered through the window. ”They should be coming anytime now.” He banged his fist at the wooden door; banged it so hard the bones could be heard cracking like glass.

“Papa calm down. They’ll make it.” I said. He turned to me, his dark chocolate eyes filled with soulless hope contaminating my body whole.

          “I know they will.” His words came out like candy cracking his teeth. His wrinkled forehead looked like a folded cloth.

“Papa, we are safe; don’t worry.” I said. My hand grabbed my yellow smooth hijab that was tightly around my head.

“We are overdue-the Janjaweed-they will be coming.” Papa said, his pupils growing. He paced back and forth around the petite wooden house; his earring dangling, sounding like plops of rain.“

We can’t afford to think like that papa.” I said a lie that spiraled from my mouth. I too was having heavy thoughts of viscous men on their galloping horses carrying big guns, slaughtering every living thing that stepped foot in this place. I had tearful memories of how they killed my mom right in front of my eyes; eyes too innocent to be revealed to this monstrosity. I was locked in a dark cupboard. I looked through a gaping hole to see a towering black man, the same color skin of my mom and I, clawing at her pushing her as if she was a mouse. Strawberry colored blood was pouring everywhere; her soft creamy skin torn like a thin piece of paper. He then proceeded to rip off her clothing and blue Hijab. He violated her and if that wasn’t enough he took his big brown gun and pulled the trigger. Then he dumped her into a stone well as if she was garbage. I closed my eyes; they stung. My eyes opened to see a transition from my sheer glass memory to my worried father. There was a knock on the door. My father turned the knob to see a white as paper man, holding a large gun. I gulped and then backed away.“Hello.” He opened his hand; his palm revealed connecting lines; lines of trust and wrapped candies. I slowly walked towards him, my foot cold and bare. Then grabbed a candy and shoved it in my mouth. The candy was sweet and devoured my heart. I smile at him and said, “Marhaba.” He smiled back, showing his blinding white teeth.

“Marhaba, you guy’s no need to worry you are now safe.”

“What are you going to do with us?” My father asked.

“I’m here to help. I came from America. Want another candy?”  The man with the gun responded. I grabbed another one and this immediately melted in my mouth; melted all the pain of today. This one day I knew I was safe. I knew I had one other day to live.

Thought

My thoughtless trigger,

Overriding with joy,

With hope,

Destroyed.

Tearing my voice apart. 

My lungs.

Beautiful but full of a nomad's pity

I wander.

Alone.

My choice.

I live in this bubble.

Full of clones.

They're all the same.

I stand alone.

I can't breathe

Not with all these unheard thoughts.