[x]

Girl, Fifteen, To A Lover She'll Never MeetThursday nights are silver screened.
At nine, it's time once again to air
the prelude to a dream.
I wait, eyes square, for the immaculate
contours of your face to appear:
the features of a lover I'll never meet.

It seems strange to say
(a kind of admission of defeat),
but to be honest I'm OK
with the pause, rewind, replay
that makes up our relationship.
You have to admit,
knowing I'd never flip
channels or walk out when
you're in a scene
is a devotion, of sorts.
I expect nothing in return.
I know you know nothing of me.

But I can't help but love you;
your close-ups, your scripted smile,
the way you lean towards the screen

Tears In HeavenMommy looks just like an angel. She said she would be one soon and tells me not to be sad because she'll be looking over me where God is.

"I won't be able to teach you the things my mommy taught me, and the things her momma taught her," her dry hands felt soft on my cheek, "but maybe some day you'll have a new Mommy. Someone who can make your daddy smile again." She gazed at him from her hospital bed. He wanted to speak but choked back tears instead.

"But can't I make Daddy smile?"

It's been a year and a half, my memory of her is like air. I don't know if it's real or what I think I remember when I read the letters she left behind. He woul

2: the first questionThe first thing I noticed was the fez on her lap. I saw it as I scanned the tube for empty seats; a flash of red in the corner of my eye. It perched delicately on her thighs like a small, unassuming puppy that stared at passerby with large eyes, silently daring them to challenge its right to be there. I gaped at it; the train started forward with a jerk and I had to grab onto the metal pole in front of me to keep my balance. The ungainly motion of my body lurching forward caught the eye of the fez's owner; I saw her look up at me quickly, then duck her eyes down to her hands, which were diminutive and pale and folded neatly in her lap, ju

a picture of a plane.The day her daddy got sent away, the whole neighborhood fluttered with closing curtains and eyes watching through cracked doors. His wife called it a mistake, the cousins called it rape and said he was a pedophile.

And she just kept dipping her fingers into paint and dreaming about kites and the eyelashes on dolls, because she didn't know what any of those words meant.

A year later, he came back, and she washed the sidewalk so he couldn't see that she was drawing their secret in light blue and petal pink chalk.

-

"Those are nice pictures, baby," her daddy would tell her, but she hated it, because he always sounded sick, and he would rub h

London Bridge is Falling DownIt is one o'clock

And I have been playing Jenga

For two years, eight months

Twenty-three days, four hours

And approximately fifteen

Minutes.

I slide books from their slots

One by one, the teetering tower

Becoming more teetering

And less towering.

All the poetry books are gone,

Stored underneath my bed,

Because I love reading them at

Three thirty in the afternoon,

When everyone is doing something

But me.

One day the wall of books

Will topple to the ground,

Onto my ashen carpet, for yesterday

The apocalypse had taken place

While I was washing dishes.

I guess I missed it, but luckily

The book tower is still standing,

And i

The CartI always got my best book recommendations from my old library cart. Well, the library cart wasn't really mine. I was a shelver at my town's library, before I started college, and I would use their carts to do my job.

I first noticed something was up with the cart when I was shelving juvenile paperbacks. These were the lightest books we owned (and kept in the worst shape - kids are brats). But when I was rolling the cart, it was heavy. It groaned when I pushed it, and steering it was a mini-workout. It wasn't this hard to move a double-stack of adult non-fiction.

What was really odd, though, was as I removed more books, it barely got lighter

Death of a Love.She hadn't moved from her window in over a day.

Watching for the impossible was something that she was content to do. It injected her with the faint hope that she might witness some of those precious memories once again. Maybe his decrepit old Clio, chugging along and spluttering to a grumbling stop right outside her house, or maybe the bicycle that he sometimes opted for instead, signalling his arrival with the ringing of a bell. It economised on both petrol and his nerves, he had always told her with a smile.

His smiles were gems. She had always watched in rapt fascination when his lips pulled back and curled upwards, his left cheek dimpl

Tale 2: Worlds in the AtticHe was very old by now. His long, white hair, uncut for fifteen years, was loosely spread all over the back of his coat. His shoulders were brought forward by age, his fingers weren't as deft as they had been. If there was one thing he was very happy for, it was that when he had started, he had used the higher shelves first. It meant he didn't have to climb steep, uncertain ladders all the time now.

There were hundreds, thousands of jars and bottles and little tin boxes neatly stacked on the shelves, hung from the ceiling by thin chains or ropes, some small and precious glass containers brought together by ropes hanging from the ceiling like

carbon monoxideIt had been Javiers idea for the tattoos. "It'll keep you safe, Diego. No one will touch you." On the streets, no one had touched Diego to begin with. In order for Javier to earn the tattoo, he had to steal. When he stole the teenager's purse, she screamed and only chased him for half a block before giving up, but Javier didn't stop running. Back at his friend's apartment, when they opened the Coach bag and dumped out the contents, besides lipstick and a compact mirror, the wallet held cash and credit cards, a little iPod with the headphone cords wrapped around it and most of all, a digital camera. It had been a lucky find, and they'd sold ev

The BenchThere's a bench in the park that I never sit on. It sits tucked away, separate from the rest, coddled by the arms of a great old oak tree. Or beech. Or chestnut. Or something. Behind the tree curves the grey concrete of a 1970s flowerbed. Filled with the wax yellow and red of begonias in the summer, the flimsy flickers of pansies in the winter.

I come to the park every day. Sometimes I sit and eat my lunch, freed from the mire of the joyless office box I inhabit for 40 hours a week. Sometimes I walk around, following the tarmac tracks without thought or hope or desire.

Today is no special day. Its grey. One of those British days of murk. It

The Silo Complex"You won't believe what I just saw in the field."

I sighed at Eloise in the doorway.  "Another dead raccoon?  How big was it this time?  You know it's just maggots, right?"

"No, that wasn't it.  I saw a man."

"Was it John?"

"No."

"Fox?"

"It was a man, but it wasn't really a man.  Almost a man."

"Almost a man?"  She had recently taken to wandering in the fields under gray skies, thinking that she'd find her answers among the abandoned farm equipment and rows of dried corn husks.  She never did.  Just raccoons.  I never heard anything about men who

The FountainThere were sixteen tall windows. She'd counted them over and over when she was small, her chubby finger outstretched as she spun in tiny circles. Eight walls, sixteen windows, thirty-two black curtains—the arithmetic of her childhood.

"Eight window seats, Daddy. Eight buttons on each—sixty-four. I counted."

The fountain stood dry and dead-center in the middle of the black and white tiles. Eight sides, eight lion-mouth spouts. Sixteen limestone mermaids poised gracefully around the edge. Four thousand and ninety-six blue tiles. Five hundred and twelve white.

And two doors. Always the two doors, huge and solid and radiating a sense

of the ground-

It was Sunday night when Geo climbed into my room from the fire escape. I was painting my toenails and listening to the sounds of the city: police sirens, pulsating bass, the kids in my tenement running guitar riffs back and forth with the street musicians on the sidewalk. That was the year I turned sixteen and took a two-month vow of silence to honor the death of autumn. A premature snow had robbed the season of its delicate warmth and color, forcing the maples to weep their leaves into the gutters. All that rainwater, all that decay. How could anyone create when October was dying outside their windows? Pete and Jake practiced acoustic th

Polishing VenusI wear a blue plastic retainer at night. It's painful, tight on my teeth, as if my mouth has outgrown it. I don't put it in often enough, so the shape of my jaw twists and changes, until I remember how much I despised braces and consent to slip it in, and I lie awake at night, loathing the imperfection of my teeth and the ache that pulses there as my mouth readjusts to the wires and plastic that force my jaw into the correct position.

I wear glasses too – ugly things, dark maroon on top, with a thin, squishy plastic wire on bottom instead of another rim. Not many people know I have them. When I was a kid, I had the rimless kind – s

Just BreatheHe admits that some things still aren't quite right in regards to the incident that landed him comatose, but he's struggled to make the most of it. The bullet wound's entry-point scarred over nicely, leaving him a fine reminder of what had happened, and how he'd made his supposed final stand. He wore it like a trophy, even though it pained him at times.

Of course it hurts physically when he perhaps takes a breath too deep, or laughs too hard; but that's ok, he can't say he really minds. It's not like he laughs that much anyway. It's a strong reminder that he's still alive, even though she has passed on. At least he hadn't died when he though

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Breathe

by ~FerociousFruit, Dec 26, 2010, 4:08:56 PM
Literature / Scripts & Screenplays / Full-length Scripts / Drama

INT. HOSPITAL- NIGHT

A tall dark haired woman in her mid-thirties walks in to a hospital room. She is very pretty. She is wearing a grey jacket, dark blue jeans, and black boots. She is also holding a purse.

She reaches a bed where a blonde woman is laying. The woman is sick and hooked up to all these machines.

DARK HAIRED WOMAN
Hey THEO, how are you doing?

The sick woman, Theo, is staring up at the ceiling. Her blue eyes look lifeless. She says nothing.

DARK HAIRED WOMAN
(CONT'D)
It's me, ROSE. Are you ok?

Theo still says nothing.

ROSE
(CONT'D)
I got you these.

Rose reaches in to her purse and holds out a box of candy.

ROSE
(CONT'D)
I know you like em.

Theo still doesn't move.

ROSE
(CONT'D)
Theo, take them.

Still nothing.

ROSE
(CONT'D)
Ok, I'll just put them here.

Rose sets the box down on a table near the bed.

She pulls a chair next to the bed. She takes off her jacket and puts it on the back of the chair. She is wearing a red sweater. Then she sits down.

ROSE
So, umm, the doctor said-

She stops. There's a pause.

ROSE
(CONT'D)
The doctor said a lot of things.

Another pause. Theo still doesn't move.

ROSE
You know, it's hard to visit you in this place, and see you here like this. We all really miss you. Me, mom, the kids. Oh, Tommy and Leo drew you these.

Rose reaches in to her purse and pulls out two pieces of paper. The papers have colorful drawings on them.

ROSE
See? This one says "get well Aunt Theo" and this one says "I love you" real big. Leo has gotten much better with his spelling.

Theo still doesn't move. Rose puts the pictures down on top of the box of candy.

ROSE
Umm, you know Tommy just turned 3 last week. We had a small party. Uncle Steve showed up this time. He has like, no hair now. He asked about you. And of course he had to tell everyone the story about the time at the lake when we got lost, and everyone went crazy looking for us. Remember that? And then mom called the police and they found us playing on the bride, throwing rocks in the water.

Rose takes a second to laugh. Then she stops and stares at Theo. Her face begins to look worried.

ROSE
Theo, come on, talk. Just talk. The doctor said you can still talk. Do you just not want to? What is it?

Rose's eyes begin to tear up.

ROSE
(CONT'D)
Is it because you don't want to talk to me?

Rose starts to cry.

ROSE
(CONT'D)
I don't know, I try to come here and see you and I just-

Rose stops and covers her face with her hands. She sobs for a bit then there's a pause.

Finally she picks up her head. She wipes her tears and composes herself.

ROSE
I looked out for you growing up, I tried my best to be the big sister. I just- I hate to see you this way Theo. But I don't even feel like you wanna get better. You don't take your medicine unless they force you to take it, that's why you keep ending up here. I just want you to fight harder, cause I…

Rose's voice trails off and she starts crying again. She stares down at her lap and covers her eyes with her hand.

Theo slowly turns her head towards Rose.

THEO
(scratchy)
I don't wanna fight.

Rose quickly looks up. She takes a deep breath almost in a relived way.

ROSE
(still crying)
Why not?

THEO
It's already over.

ROSE
No! No it's not. You can get better. If you keep going with that treatment plan the doctor gave you, he was just explaining it to me and mom-

THEO
I'm here cause of you and mom.

Rose shakes her head, she looks shocked. Theo's eyes begin to well up with tears.

ROSE
What?

THEO
Mom with her goddamned chain smoking, ever since I was 11.

ROSE
You know she started smoking when dad left-

THEO
Yeah, and who was the one buying the cigarettes for her?

There's a long pause. Rose sits back in the chair. She covers her mouth with her hand.

Theo takes a deep breath.

THEO
Were you being the best big sister then? You were 18, you were able to leave… I was stuck there with her.

Rose shakes her head.

ROSE
Theo, I-

THEO
I was dead when you bought the first pack for her. Now I'm lying here, 28 years old with lung cancer. I'm already dead.

A tear rolls down her cheek.

THEO
(CONT'D)
You might as well finish the job.

ROSE
What?

THEO
That wire right there-

ROSE
No! Don't you say that! You can still live, you can still have a life.

Rose leans forward and takes Theo's hand with both of her hands and she keeps crying.

THEO
You have a life Rose. You have a family.

ROSE
You're my family too! You're my sister! I love you!

THEO
Rose, I can't suffer here anymore.

ROSE
Theo stop! Please stop, just stop talking like that! Look, I'll come see you more, every day if you want.

Theo closes her eyes.

Rose continues to cry. She buries her face in the bed.

Theo picks up her hand then rests it on Rose's head.

Rose looks up again.

THEO
You don't have to visit me every day.

ROSE
I will if you want me to. I'll even bring the kids. They would love to see you again.

THEO
Not like this, don't let them see me like this.

Theo lets out a loud COUGH.

Rose sits up straight.

ROSE
They wouldn't care-

THEO
I care, I would care. If I die, then I don't want their last memory of me to be here, sick, in this bed.

ROSE
Ok.

Neither of them speaks for a minute. Theo takes a few deep breaths.

THEO
Thank you for naming Leo after me. I don't think I ever thanked you for that.

ROSE
That was the plan wasn't it? We name our kids after each other?

THEO
Yeah, but I never thought Joe would be ok with it.

ROSE
He wasn't.

Theo lets out a laugh, and then Rose does too. Theo's laugh turns in to a violent cough.

ROSE
(worried)
Hey, you ok?

Theo soon stops coughing.

THEO
Yeah, I'm ok, it happens. A lot.

ROSE
I'm sorry.

THEO
It's alright.

ROSE
For everything, I'm sorry for everything.

There's a pause.

THEO
(understanding)
It's just a hard day.

Rose nods and looks down. Another pause.

THEO
You got me candy.

ROSE
Yeah, umm, truffles!

Rose reaches over to the table and picks up the box. She shows it to Theo.

THEO
You're gonna have to feed em to me.

ROSE
Oh, ok!

Rose begins to take the wrapper off the box.

Theo lets out another laugh.

The camera begins to travel out of the room. Both of them continue talking.

THEO
Those look expensive.

ROSE
Yeah, well I know they're your favorites.

THEO
Are the white chocolates in there?

ROSE
Yep.

THEO
Perfect.

FADE OUT

BLACK

THE END

Breatheby ~FerociousFruit

Literature / Scripts & Screenplays / Full-length Scripts / Drama

this is short screenplay
just an average day of a women visiting her sister in the hospital

EDIT:
OMG a DD!!!!!

I am so happy and honored that this was chosen, thank you for all your wonderful comments and feedback.. I'm so glad I was able to touch many of your hearts, thank you again

Daily Deviation

Given 2012-07-21

Breathe by ~FerociousFruit A well-paced short scene layered with emotion. ( Featured by ^Beccalicious )

love 2 2

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

sad 2 2

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Vermouth1991 Nov 28, 2012

This is so, so sad. My parents divorced when I was seven and my brother two, but at least neither of them smokes. My first impression to this was the original [i]Runaway Jury[/i], where the heroine found the inner strength to sue the tobacco giant's arse because her mother died smoking the @$& out.