As she stopped to catch her breath, she looked back behind her. The raccoon had stopped it’s pursuit, more or less to taunt her. It stared into her eyes. She almost wanted to cry. It seemed to smile before taking to sprint after her again. It was less than ten feet away when it gave up its chase. Instead it choose to remember the location of its future victim’s current escape. Making it into her home, she let her previously held back tears fall. She was safe, for now.
Archive for the ‘writing’ Category
Tags: city, insomnia, life, raccoon
Tags: birds, script, short, Writing
Eh, Don’t Feed The Birds..
Something short and sweet. But feel free to let me know what you think.
there’s a dent in the far east corner of the wall
in my bedroom, weeks after the insatiable comment
you stayed, and roped me into the worst drama
the best drama, my least favorite person
will always be the same, unlike the headaches
you’ve given me, those reasons change
unlike that dent, am I bleeding?
Tags: brass, internet, knuckles, script, scriptwriting, television, web series, Writing
Here is the ‘pilot’ script for a web series I started writing this summer.
Tags: chelsea, new york, new york city, saturday morning fun, short, short story, skateboarding, smf, Stories, Writing
Ethan rides his skateboard down the long and crowded Manhattan street. West 28th st in Chelsea, to be exact. In his battered dark jeans and faded black V-Neck, he stops at an intersection. Hopping off his board, he looks across the street.
There she was.
Often he would notice her sitting outside the same bar night after night, usually a cigarette in hand. He started traveling this way more just to get longer glances and find out more about her by watching her, listening to her phone conversations. He often wondered why she would drink so often alone. He often wondered when he would get the nerve to say ‘hello’. Removing himself from the street corner, he posted himself up against the wall of a nearby building.
Intrigued by his weird reevaluation of direction, her eyes are drawn to watch the skateboarding stranger. She’d recently decided it was her favorite place to ‘people watch’.
Ethan puts some weed in a small pipe. He smokes it and relaxes into his mind.
“Alright, this is the day” he thought.
A second hit, and he suddenly was aware that the girl was now watching him.
“Shit, that’s not enough”.
Ethan reaches into his backpack for his flask. He takes a long hard swallow.
“Okay, here I go.”
Putting the flask back into his bag, he drops them both.
The girl had crossed the street and is standing right in front of him as he straightens out.
He lets out a startled mumble of “Um, hi”.
“I like your style, I’m Anna”.
Tags: bridge, brooklyn, morning, park, poem, Writing
fireworks in the sunrise,
birdsong in the dark morning.
trash is foreign once it’s trash;
how alien like our dirt becomes.
the left tipped wing of an eagle;
gone forever, and here no more.
vibrant purples and brilliant blues.
oh, the masses of squirrels.
Tags: friends, fun, lake, new england, poem, pontoosuc, Writing
at the lake.
using yours, ours
heal and influence.
believing we could
out of laughter.
believing we should,
until the storm