Her hand was warm, and soft. Delicate, he always wondered if his rough blistered hands felt like sandpaper against her skin, but she never seemed to mind it.
He gently squeezed her hand, three times, she looked over, giving him a soft bright smile.
It was early in the morning, golden sun freshly poured through the car windows.
She sat in the passenger seat, the light almost made her seem to glow from the inside out.
Her eyes burned more, like amber-hued embers. He lost himself, looking at her, out of time, as they meet up with a stop sign.
Halting, she squeezed his hand three times, softly.
The sky clears, nothing but blue. Crisp. Air that’s never been pulled in by a pair of lungs before. The straight light washes out anything visible. Shadows become bleached, lost. Racing flashes of thought, droplets of rain that can’t be caught. They disappear faster than they came into existence.
Shift. Control lost. The airs biting, clawing, suffocating without knocking you flat.
Flee run, everything’s changing. A kaleidoscope of falls, landscapes, scenes wrap around and flutter by in a whirlwind of thick white-out.
Rows of white armor clad knights hold high flying flags, readying a march on unforeseen battle fields, senseless. Non-sense.
Running, breathing quickly down a dimly lit hallway.
No door. Closed in. Shut off. Light.
Blonde tiny girls with red balloons watch with tears as the helium treasures are torn into the air by unseen arms.
Scenarios never experienced, seeing lives that have never been lived.
Elation, frustration, sadness, indifference all built up to Olympian heights, the falls gets worse.
The world is whatever you want it to be.
Crisp, the racing runs down. Clarity is floating away as quickly as it rolled in the gravity of the tide pulling it to drift back into the murky sea.
The storm passes seeming not to have left a trace but the swollen madness gone back into hibernation.
The tiny dark clouds breeze back into place.
Taken with PicsArt.com Photo Studio.
It has been a very long time since I’ve posted anything on here. Now that I’m back this tumblr is going to become more of a production blog of sorts for the film that I’ve spent almost the better part of a year writing. Hopefully everyone will continue to follow and enjoy the updates as I work on pre-production, production, filming and the like.
Here’s a brief synopsis of the screenplay:
A man haunted by loss flees his home to find solace in a new town and begins a tense relationship with a young girl, who carries her own tragedies, when they begin to secretly redecorate the homes of strangers.
To start here is the first page of INTERIOR DESIGNS.
EXT. OPEN HIGHWAY - DAY
A beat up car slowly drives by, carrying a small U-haul trailer. The trailer is bursting at the seams with various clothing and household items.
The car passes by a highway sign that reads:
"GAS AND GOOD FOOD 15 MILES"
INT. CAR - DAY
Dale reaches over to change the radio station which is nearly inaudible. He glances over at the BLONDE curled up in the front seat. This is his dog, RILEY. Amongst the clutter filling the backseat, a picture frame catches his eye. Dale’s eyes begin to water as he concentrates back on the road.
INT. DALE’S NEW HOUSE - DAY
The house is pristine, clean, and empty, aside from a few boxes and a couch, which is pushed up against the wall. Dale is standing on the couch trying to hold a large painting on the wall. A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN HER EARLY 30’s stands looking at Dale and the painting. This is JULIA.
It’s crooked on that side; tilt it toward the right. No, the other way. A little bit more towards me. Ok, there.
Dale comes out from behind the frame and observes.
It looks alright to me.
now that would be a scary thought.