It’s 3 a.m., and you feel the tug of a tiny hand on your sleeve. Suddenly, you’re jerked from sweet dreams of island getaways and relaxation, sitting upright as a bead of sweat dive-bombs down your forehead. In this moment, you know.
There’s been another sighting.
Your head snaps, lightning quick, cocked at a forty-five degree angle to meet your sweet child’s eyes. Lids that should be heavy expose far more white than usual. His or her irises are a tattoo needle prick on an ocean blue canvas. His small voice rises and falls in a simple sentence.
“Mama, papa- he’s under my bed again.”
Aloud you cry, “Don’t panic!” But your heart refuses to take your mouth’s advice. This is serious. This is war.
The Boogeyman’s strikes are completely random and unpredictable. You are NOT immune. However, don’t go bolting yourselves in your bathroom just yet. You, the brave moms and dads of the world, are soldiers. YOU can defeat him. YOU can eliminate your child’s sleepless nights. By reading the following four steps carefully, you can become a part of our 100% success rate to date.
STEP 1: BATTLE PLANS
Send your child to a friend’s house for the night; you’ll need to booby trap his or her room. Focus your attention on two target areas: under the bed and in the closet. 100% of Boogeyman sightings have occurred in these two locations. After thorough research, it has been devised that the most effective device for trapping the Boogeyman is this: orange paint. It’s a little known fact that the Boogeyman is navy blue, a color that blends with the night very easily. If not for his shining red eyes, he could go virtually undetected in the night. By creating motion-controlled orange paint bombs (A bucket over the door attached to wire will do if you lack bomb-making skill), you remove his ability to be sly. His dark exterior will be coated in a vibrant orange. At this point, you are no longer on the defensive.
STEP 2: THE WAITING GAME
You want to ensure that your child is still away or sound asleep in a cough syrup lull when this step occurs. Seeing the entire form of this terrifying beast is sure to lead to an embarrassing episode of bedwetting. As such, it is best to keep them blissfully unaware. Scouting location is very important: the best location is just outside your child’s bedroom with the door cracked as wide as one of your eyes. When the Boogeyman is approaching, you’ll hear the closet door creak or the bed frame squeak. Each will be accompanied by the sighting of the glowing red eyes. No time to freeze up now, soldier. It’s time to stand and fight.
STEP 3: BATTLE AND CONFINE
With a thudding splat, the beast is at once covered in paint. He is now a moving target. He is yours for the taking. Have a black, extra strength Hefty trash bag at the ready. As he wipes the dripping paint from his eyes, attack! Throw the bag over his head, drawing the yellow ties in a knot as swiftly as possible. It has been scientifically proven that the Boogeyman is completely powerless to Hefty brand trash bags. Contrary to popular belief, his claws are NOT sharp enough to puncture its reinforcement. However, if you use an off brand, beware: the Boogeyman will escape and take his rage out on the closest human (that being you). You will not regret spending the extra money.
Once the beast is secured, you must confine him in order to prevent a reoccurrence of his attacks. Take the bag by the yellow handles (his body weight will be surprisingly easy to carry) and dispose of the bag in the trash of someone you are not fond of. The boogeyman will catch the scent of the unpleasant child and focus its attention on sneaking into his or her room.
STEP 4: REASSURE
Once daylight has returned, awake your sleeping child, or greet them as they return from their friend’s house. Hurry them to their bedside and remove the curtain of comforter that hides the dreaded space beneath the bed. They’ll see boxes and toys and in all likelihood, dust, but will light up as they notice the Boogeyman’s absence. Fling open the closet doors and push through stacks of dirty clothes to reveal the same absence hidden within. At this point, your child will fling his of her arms around your neck. This is your medal of honor, comrades. With this victorious embrace, you’ll know. You have won.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Little Girl's Cigarette.
I wrote the following script as my first creative writing assignment. I'm trying to push the boundaries of my writing outside my usual creative nonfiction boundaries while still staying in touch with my roots. Basically, I'm going to try to write more. Whether or not it makes it on here is entirely up in the air. I've been doing a lot of writing on 750words.com, more rough in style, but I may start posting snippets from those pieces on here. Anyway, I'll get on with it. Enjoy the script, ignore the formatting if it didn't translate correctly from where I wrote it, and give some feedback if you want!
“THE LITTLE GIRL’S CIGARETTE”
FADE IN:
INT. MEDICAL CLINIC- DAY
Fade in on what seems to be a generic doctor’s office. The walls are lined with chairs, interrupted every 5th one by a waxy, plastic potted plant. Abbigail sits in the row of chairs facing the receptionist’s window. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, loose ends fraying around her face like a lion’s mane. She wears grey sneakers that were once white, and a rosy pink sunburn lights up her otherwise perplexed face. She sits quietly, swinging her feet and picking at her nails.
From behind the reception counter, Ellen squints at Abbigail through circular, red glasses. Her wide eyes and beaky nose give her an owl-like appearance, and ironically enough, she turns her head…
ELLEN:
Who… who is that sweet little girl?
Her thick southern accent is reminiscent of a traditional upbringing somewhere old-fashioned, maybe Savannah. It seems to clash with her pink scrubs adorned with cartoon puppies.
Marleen sits to her right, finger on a computer mouse and nose in the newspaper. Though the clock reads 4:39 p.m., her hair has the unkempt grace of bedhead. Her clothing, too, is wrinkled, and sea creatures smile from her scrub top while flowers adorn her oversized bottoms. We see now that their colorful scrubs clash with the faded walls as the screen grows wider. We see the girl from Ellen and Marleen’s point of view. Even the plastic plants seem to droop.
The room is still for a moment until Ellen disappears, reappearing through a door and crossing the waiting room to sit beside Abbigail. Ellen sits with her hands in her lap, and due to her stature, her feet dangle just above the ground. Thick and boisterous despite her height, Ellen is tiny Abbigail’s opposite, yet she wears a smile so easily that the little girl forces a smile through her bunched mouth. Her eyes remain concentrated, obviously filled with questions. She speaks with a stutter.
ABBIGAIL
Do you know my mommy?
ELLEN
Well darlin’, I just might. What’s your momma’s name?
ABBIGAIL
Well, I heard her called a lot, but most the nice people call her Laura. Her whole name’s Laura Bowler, ‘cause mine’s Abbigail Bowler.
Abbigail lets a small smile spread across her face, proud of her deductive reasoning. The name seems to strike a chord with Ellen, and her famous smile sinks an inch.
ELLEN
What brings you here, sweetheart? Are you lookin’ for your momma?
ABBIGAIL
No ma’am, I… I was lookin’ for my little sister.
Ellen shifts her eyes from the little girl and clasps her hands tightly together in her lap.
ELLEN
Abbigail, why did you think you’d find your little sister here?
ABBIGAIL
Well, mommy walks me to school most days. Yesterday, she held my hand the whole way, ‘stead of just when we crossed the street. She told me she had to stop here ‘cause she was sick. She gave me a big ole kiss and made me promise to walk safe, and I did, but she never told me when I got to see the baby. I didn’t say nothing to her though, cause she never told me bout the baby, but when I got home, I heard her tell the man that the baby wasn’t in her no more. I membered where she stopped, so I came here on my way home from school. Did mommy leave the baby here? You think I could hold her just a minute?
ELLEN
I wish you could, sweetheart, but your little sister was very sick, so they sent her someplace where a very special family could take care of her. She would’ve been lucky…
ABBIGAIL
(interrupts)
But mommy told that man she was gonna take care of her! I was gonna share my books with her and teach her the secret to living forever like Gramma!
In an excitedly desperate fashion, she pulls a cigarette out of the pocket of her overalls. Ellen’s owl eyes grow even larger. She speaks with a question behind every word.
ELLEN
This is the secret to livin’ forever?
ABBIGAIL
No no no! These are what make you die! Gramma tells mommy all the time these are killin’ her slowly, every time mommy lights one on fire. So I come up with a plan- Every time mommy picks me up or gives me hugs, I take one from her pocket. She keeps ‘em right here (pats right over her heart), so it’s easy as pie to sneak ‘em. I musta sneaked at least a hundred of ‘em, and if each one gives her just one more minute… that’s one hundred more minutes with my mommy! If a hundred minutes isn’t forever, it’s gotta be close. I hope somebody tells my baby sister like Gramma told me.
Ellen’s eyes brim with tears, and fog has gathered around the edges of her glasses.
ELLEN
Well, you’re in luck sweetheart, cause I know the family that’s taking care of your little sister. I’d be happy to tell her family myself.
Abbigails eyes light up, and she brings her under her body on the chair and leans over to Ellen, handing her the cigarette.
ABBIGAIL
Thank yuh so much, ma’am! Make sure you give her this, so she knows what they look like. She’s just a baby and I don’t want her settin’ no fires on accident.
ELLEN
I will sweetheart. I’ll even tell her her big sister says so.
She jumps from the chair and turns around, as if ready to leave. Her smile falls, and she turns around.
ABBIGAIL
You promise she’s gonna be happy? We got room in our family for her if she gets better. I’ll even share my room if I gotta!
ELLEN
She’s never gonna know a minute of sadness, sweetheart, I promise you.
Abbigail smiles and grabs Ellen’s hand.
ABBIGAIL
Could you tell her that her big sister loves her?
ELLEN
I sure can, darlin’, and I promise I will.
Abbigail walks out the door slowly. Ellen sits, unmoving, staring at the cigarette in her hand. Marleen walks out from behind the reception desk.
MARLEEN
What did that little girl want?
ELLEN
She just needed to drop something off.
Marleen’s gaze drops to the cigarette in Ellen’s hand.
MARLEEN
I didn’t know you smoked.
ELLEN
I don’t.
Marleen looks at Ellen like she’s crazy and shrugs.
MARLEEN
Whatever. See you Monday.
Ellen stays seated, motionless, eyes content on the cigarette.
EXT. MEDICAL CLINIC- DAY
Abbigail walks on the side walk away from the clinic. Behind her, the name of the establishment comes into view, “Fairmont Women’s Clinic.” Four people stand on the curb in front of it, black and white signs in hand. One reads, “God loves all children.” Abbigail walks by them, oblivious, still wearing a smile on her face.
FADE OUT.
THE END
“THE LITTLE GIRL’S CIGARETTE”
FADE IN:
INT. MEDICAL CLINIC- DAY
Fade in on what seems to be a generic doctor’s office. The walls are lined with chairs, interrupted every 5th one by a waxy, plastic potted plant. Abbigail sits in the row of chairs facing the receptionist’s window. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, loose ends fraying around her face like a lion’s mane. She wears grey sneakers that were once white, and a rosy pink sunburn lights up her otherwise perplexed face. She sits quietly, swinging her feet and picking at her nails.
From behind the reception counter, Ellen squints at Abbigail through circular, red glasses. Her wide eyes and beaky nose give her an owl-like appearance, and ironically enough, she turns her head…
ELLEN:
Who… who is that sweet little girl?
Her thick southern accent is reminiscent of a traditional upbringing somewhere old-fashioned, maybe Savannah. It seems to clash with her pink scrubs adorned with cartoon puppies.
Marleen sits to her right, finger on a computer mouse and nose in the newspaper. Though the clock reads 4:39 p.m., her hair has the unkempt grace of bedhead. Her clothing, too, is wrinkled, and sea creatures smile from her scrub top while flowers adorn her oversized bottoms. We see now that their colorful scrubs clash with the faded walls as the screen grows wider. We see the girl from Ellen and Marleen’s point of view. Even the plastic plants seem to droop.
The room is still for a moment until Ellen disappears, reappearing through a door and crossing the waiting room to sit beside Abbigail. Ellen sits with her hands in her lap, and due to her stature, her feet dangle just above the ground. Thick and boisterous despite her height, Ellen is tiny Abbigail’s opposite, yet she wears a smile so easily that the little girl forces a smile through her bunched mouth. Her eyes remain concentrated, obviously filled with questions. She speaks with a stutter.
ABBIGAIL
Do you know my mommy?
ELLEN
Well darlin’, I just might. What’s your momma’s name?
ABBIGAIL
Well, I heard her called a lot, but most the nice people call her Laura. Her whole name’s Laura Bowler, ‘cause mine’s Abbigail Bowler.
Abbigail lets a small smile spread across her face, proud of her deductive reasoning. The name seems to strike a chord with Ellen, and her famous smile sinks an inch.
ELLEN
What brings you here, sweetheart? Are you lookin’ for your momma?
ABBIGAIL
No ma’am, I… I was lookin’ for my little sister.
Ellen shifts her eyes from the little girl and clasps her hands tightly together in her lap.
ELLEN
Abbigail, why did you think you’d find your little sister here?
ABBIGAIL
Well, mommy walks me to school most days. Yesterday, she held my hand the whole way, ‘stead of just when we crossed the street. She told me she had to stop here ‘cause she was sick. She gave me a big ole kiss and made me promise to walk safe, and I did, but she never told me when I got to see the baby. I didn’t say nothing to her though, cause she never told me bout the baby, but when I got home, I heard her tell the man that the baby wasn’t in her no more. I membered where she stopped, so I came here on my way home from school. Did mommy leave the baby here? You think I could hold her just a minute?
ELLEN
I wish you could, sweetheart, but your little sister was very sick, so they sent her someplace where a very special family could take care of her. She would’ve been lucky…
ABBIGAIL
(interrupts)
But mommy told that man she was gonna take care of her! I was gonna share my books with her and teach her the secret to living forever like Gramma!
In an excitedly desperate fashion, she pulls a cigarette out of the pocket of her overalls. Ellen’s owl eyes grow even larger. She speaks with a question behind every word.
ELLEN
This is the secret to livin’ forever?
ABBIGAIL
No no no! These are what make you die! Gramma tells mommy all the time these are killin’ her slowly, every time mommy lights one on fire. So I come up with a plan- Every time mommy picks me up or gives me hugs, I take one from her pocket. She keeps ‘em right here (pats right over her heart), so it’s easy as pie to sneak ‘em. I musta sneaked at least a hundred of ‘em, and if each one gives her just one more minute… that’s one hundred more minutes with my mommy! If a hundred minutes isn’t forever, it’s gotta be close. I hope somebody tells my baby sister like Gramma told me.
Ellen’s eyes brim with tears, and fog has gathered around the edges of her glasses.
ELLEN
Well, you’re in luck sweetheart, cause I know the family that’s taking care of your little sister. I’d be happy to tell her family myself.
Abbigails eyes light up, and she brings her under her body on the chair and leans over to Ellen, handing her the cigarette.
ABBIGAIL
Thank yuh so much, ma’am! Make sure you give her this, so she knows what they look like. She’s just a baby and I don’t want her settin’ no fires on accident.
ELLEN
I will sweetheart. I’ll even tell her her big sister says so.
She jumps from the chair and turns around, as if ready to leave. Her smile falls, and she turns around.
ABBIGAIL
You promise she’s gonna be happy? We got room in our family for her if she gets better. I’ll even share my room if I gotta!
ELLEN
She’s never gonna know a minute of sadness, sweetheart, I promise you.
Abbigail smiles and grabs Ellen’s hand.
ABBIGAIL
Could you tell her that her big sister loves her?
ELLEN
I sure can, darlin’, and I promise I will.
Abbigail walks out the door slowly. Ellen sits, unmoving, staring at the cigarette in her hand. Marleen walks out from behind the reception desk.
MARLEEN
What did that little girl want?
ELLEN
She just needed to drop something off.
Marleen’s gaze drops to the cigarette in Ellen’s hand.
MARLEEN
I didn’t know you smoked.
ELLEN
I don’t.
Marleen looks at Ellen like she’s crazy and shrugs.
MARLEEN
Whatever. See you Monday.
Ellen stays seated, motionless, eyes content on the cigarette.
EXT. MEDICAL CLINIC- DAY
Abbigail walks on the side walk away from the clinic. Behind her, the name of the establishment comes into view, “Fairmont Women’s Clinic.” Four people stand on the curb in front of it, black and white signs in hand. One reads, “God loves all children.” Abbigail walks by them, oblivious, still wearing a smile on her face.
FADE OUT.
THE END
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