Broadway Wannabe
(this was my first try at a playwright/movie script 2001)

“Gotta dance…..” those words lingered in his mind as 4year old Addy Williams brushed popcorn kernels off his lap and watched them bounce onto the floor. Aunt Madison turned off the television.

            “Singing in the Rain is my absolute favorite musical! Oh, I remember spending the late night rehearsals dancing those old Broadway combinations. Oh well, that was some time ago……” Aunt Madison sighed and plodded off in her fluffy white bunny slippers.

            Addy rubbed his eyes and wiped buttery palms onto his night shirt. He hopped onto the floor and stumbled off into the dark. Soon he ended up in a room that was not his own. Now eyes bright with wonder he explored the perfumed land. Draping everywhere was cloth of silk and satin with every different color, sparkling bottles clinking in the shadows, and a chest…

*     *     *

            “…your mother’s sister was CRAZY!! She took to the stage thinking she would become the next star and make it big….but all she did was embarrass herself, dishonor her family name, and died a lone bachlorette…Your mother would have done the same damn thing if she didn’t have me…”

“Don’t ever talk about Mom that way or Aunt Madison… I’ve had enough of your nagging and enough of your so called encouragement. I’m going to do what my mind, my Body, my HEART tells me to. See you on Broadway.” Addy’s soft loving face hardened over the years after living with his continuously traveling father. After Aunt Madison’s tragic fall down the stairs he had to live with his father who is still haunted with the memories of his dead wife.

*     *     *

            “Sully! Sully!?! SULLIVAN!” yelled Addy from the snowy streets of New York. A head popped out a random apartment window. “Oh, there you are! I need you to help me with my bags!” The head blinked out of sight and a few minutes reappeared on the body of a tall slim character walking towards him with open outstretched arms.

            “Addy, it’s great to see you! How long has it been, what, 2 years? I see you redid your old hairstyle, looks good.” Sully nervously laughs and looks down at his feet smiling. “Well, let me help you with your luggage.” They climbed the 4 flights of wooden stairs and entered Sully’s domain. “This, my friend, is the land of food and plenty ‘Give me your hungry,” saying it with great drama. “‘…give me your poor’!”

            “You haven’t changed a bit since our college days, not that it wasn’t too long ago.” Addy chuckled as he dropped his bags beside the extra mattress.

“As I paraphrase from the grrrrreat Caesar’s writing: ‘Our fate my friend is not in the stars, but in ourselves’” Sully said thickly rolling through the R’s and then decided to serve himself a bowl of grapes. “So what drove the great Prince Addy out of his lair?”

            “It’s called the horrendous Father God looming over the castle. He says I should get a real job, a colorless, drab, everyday job. I wouldn’t be able to stand it; I have been endowed the ability to create a living, breathing, flesh and blood character that needs to be shared with the world! So I left. I mean…I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing, could I?” Addy queried as he fumbled with his gloves.

Sully sat up straight in the beanbag chair and crossed his legs, “Confucius say: ‘Those who do nothing know nothing’,” he said in a mock Asian accent throwing a grape at Addy’s head. They both sniggered not only at the grape but at the situation. “I still can’t believe you did that! I would have died to see the look on your dad’s face when you said you were leaving!” he cried out still laughing between phrases.

Addy, smiling, tried to catch his breath, “It’s one of those looks like when someone just told you that you’re fired…and…” right then the laughing stopped and both of them understood. A small pause came between them.

“Geez, if you think about it…he almost lost his job as a father right then. Ouch, it would hurtcha,” Sully pounded his chest, “…right here.”

“All I wanted was to make him proud…”

“Oh please, sniff sniff drama time is now over. Time for…” he grabbed 2 large bags and held them in the air, “…cheese puffs and movies!!!”

“Yep, haven’t changed a bit,” thought Addy.   

What’s Become of the World?
(Vignette 2000)

    The sun rises up to see it’s reflection of itself in a metal house perched in up in a tree. Tools are spread on the leafy ground
and unfinished machines lay peacefully. Under the oak tree that has lasted through sun, wind, and rain of many centuries,
nature’s monument, parks a hovercraft. The hum of the laptop vibrates the humid morning air as the printer blinks it’s light in
content.
    The alarm goes off in a spastic mood waking the body that lay next to a broken PC and tools at hand. With a groan and
roll she turns off the alarm that recites the given time. She stumbles to her feet and grabs a box of cereal crunching and
munching the last of it. Sitting on the carpeted floor she grumpily fixes the PC and slips it into a cushioned handbag.
With backpack on shoulder and handbag on arm she jogs down the spiral staircase to the forest floor wet with morning dew.
Code typed in, the door slid open and the motor started to rev up. Slumping into the seat she announced her destination.
“Garfield High School,” she sighed.

          “Someone was staying up too late,” sang the male voiced programmed into the car.

“So many people want me to fix their calculators, stereos, and now PC’s…” she whined.

          “You know you love doing it…”

“True.”

          “So stop complaining, let’s get you to school,” he said as he pulled the hovercraft out of the vegetated driveway.

             The cold AC air numbed her nose as the hovercraft joined the flow of traffic towards the four-story complex. A school with moving walkways, ID lockers, robot janitors, teachers that teaches the class from a recording on a computer screen, the chilled hallways, no windows, linoleum floors; more of a prison than a school. Not able to see the warm sun that flows into the classroom, not able to feel the warm touch of a helpful teacher, that’s what brings life into the classroom. Here there is no life, only artificial. Going from class to class she lazily walks, in and out of doors that slid open on command.  Every other class people always asking to borrow calculators and extra floppy disks, people asking to fix machines that have broken. They need this, they need that, and she obeys every question with a ‘yes’. She knows they take advantage but all she needs in return is a ‘thank you’ and happiness on the person’s faces. She enjoys seeing someone smile. Her childhood taught her that to treasure making people happy would eventually become the most important thing in one’s life. To think what the world has become makes this very important to her, she, Zoë Pathook.

Thoughts
(things I just write at the whim of a thought 2002)

#1

A blank white sheet of paper. I don’t know what to do. A bit of color here a splotch of black there. I need some red, no I need green. I need some words that are edible to the ear, something bright to the eye. No I don’t need color. Erase, paint over. I need some texture with handprints there and some scratches here. I want some flow to it. Get out the watercolor and ink.  Douse it with dye, but be delicate. You know, after all this I wish I could be back to that blank sheet of paper, but I can’t so…I have to accept what I’ve done and embrace what will become of it since it will be the same no matter how many times I paint over it with white or erase it. If you do, you will end up tearing it apart and ripping it to shreds, but if you accept it the way it is, you will learn to love it as well as others. 

 #2

A girl sits at her desk and stares off into the distance. Her knees are connected and here head is cocked as if in deep thought. Her hands hide in between her legs grasping each other. Her hair is cut like the way lettuce is chopped, short and uneven. What will the day be like? How will it end? And how will it affect the rest of my life? The trees grow and are ever growing. How do they survive the day? How do they survive through the storms? The sky is always churning, you never know what to expect. So, how are you to be ready for the unexpected? She sits there waiting as the clock ticks away the rest of its battery life. She stares directly into the clocks face. A small voice from inside, shy at first, then strong answers: embrace each moment as it comes. She awakens from her trance, stands up slowly as if unsure, then walks away…smiling.

#3

As I sit here I watch my tea swirl with my spoon's strokes; its bitter-sweetness comforts me. I see my reflection in it. Those eyes are filled to the brim…yet so empty. I stare off into Darkness while it somehow relieves me from reality. Silence gives me peace to think about why I feel so...barren; purposeless. Echo splinters Silence and reverberates around the room and reality sets in. I sip my tea. It thaws my insides.    

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep...
(2001)

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

    The black parched earth crumbles away in the wind's hand as it sprinkles it softly in the air. A building stands in the settling ash as fierce wounds gush lost memories. Rickety doorways will no longer swing it doors by the hands of youth or by any hand at all. Chalkboards dusted with past lessons are taught to pieces of wood and burned book bags as if nothing has changed. Down the long narrow linoleum hallway there still hangs a clock...simple and white. Still ticking each second as it passes with a glowing face. It cast its glow across the slick linoleum where sneakers have squeaked and heels have plodded down this hallway bringing joy to each step. The ruby clouds set fire to the golden sky as it burned at the edges. Burning until there was nothing but a smolder in the ashes. The glow now softened on the hall's floor and the precise ticking was now slowing. Darkness swallowed up the floor and danced within the shadows of the hands of the clock. Deep and pure is the sky for the clouds had burned away it's skin and all that was left was it's soul. Greatly it breathed and put out the glow in the ashes. Soon a face appeared in the sky; round and bright it was...smiling. Time flowed out through the corners of it's eyes as it slowly made it's way across unfathomable depths of the sky. The linoleum floor gleamed.  

A Changing Wind
(2002)

Her feet dangled in the air, small and nimble, as a sticky red popsicle dribbled juice down her hands. It was a Houston summer. Locks of her hair were plastered to her forehead as a drop of sweat trickled off the tip of her nose. A little brown teddy bear was squeezed at her waist with fur the color of bark, the same color of the tree she was perched upon. The icy lump melted into her mouth and she ended by licking her stained, icky hands and wiping them dry on her shorts. With the pink stained popsicle stick hanging from her lips, she looked out on the park where the grass was scorched and the trees were lush and shady.

            Her tree was the tallest of them all, with a strong trunk and crowded leaves thickly surrounding its branches. It made a good hiding spot. She would sit up there all afternoon watching the boys in the field playing soccer with an old rubber ball. From up there, they looked like a flock of birds swiftly gliding across the grass after the dusty ball. Then there was one boy that trailed behind. He was always trying to keep up with the rest. A frail, thin boy, his mother was always calling after him. His hair was neatly parted to the side and his eyes fairly sparkled in the sun. In the middle of the game though, he would suddenly stop, out of breath. He would then have to drag his heavy feet all the way to the other end of the park and actually sit under her tree. She had an infatuated interest in him, but he never knew she was there.      

            The sun was bright and the day was suddenly windy enough to lift the humidity from the air—Indian summer; a time of changing winds and teasing weather. The noisy clanging of the neighbor’s prized wind chimes banged like tuned pots and pans with the rise and fall of the breeze. The squawking of the boys rose even as the thin boy walked again towards her tree.  His face was rather sweaty and very red. She pulled back quickly into the protective leaves, but squirmed expectantly.

            He sat with a sigh as he put his chin on his knees and watched the boys’ chicken-fight over the ball. She heard his plaintive moan, “I’ll just never be a part!” He looked across the field longingly then suddenly felt something thump on his head. “Ouch!” He rubbed it and looked around. A moment later he felt another one bounce off his head. Rubbing his head gingerly, he heard the swishing of leaves and quickly jerked his face upward. She held her breath. She squeezed Bear as tightly as her eyes, as if her not looking would keep him from seeing her.

            Now smiling, he stepped back from the tree, shielding his eyes. “Hey!” It was a girl up there! “Why’d you do that for?” There was a long silence. Curious now, he asked her name. But no answer came back. “I can see you up there!” But no matter what questions he asked there was no reply. Emboldened, he began to answer his own questions, with answers he imagined and began to carry on an interesting conversation after all, all by himself.  Then came the much dreaded question that sent her running for cover higher up in the branches above.

            “Why don’t you come down?” he said as he picked at the bark of the tree, his gaze piercing the swaying leaves that seemed to fairly envelope her—but not quite. She met his gaze defiantly. She shook her head violently from side to side, clutching Bear. “Well, if you don’t come down…I’ll come up.”

            The absurdity of this frail boy trying to climb her huge tree suddenly gave her the giggles. He heard her suppressed laughter. It made him mad! “I know what you’re thinking but I can do it—I can!”  Jumping up, he surprised himself by grabbing the branch and swinging his legs in the air to get footing. But as he swung rather awkwardly, his grip slipped and he landed on his backside in the dirt. She giggled freely in stops and starts. He got up from the ground, embarrassed, yet smiling.

            “Well, I think…uhhhh………My mother’s calling,” he lowered his head sheepishly, before he quickly trotted away. Then he stopped and turned. “See ya tomorrow?” he waved.

            Smiling, she watched him leap among the long shadows of the late afternoon. Puzzling! Who did he think he was, trying to talk to her and climb her special tree! Yet….she was actually looking forward to seeing him again. Strange indeed! She sucked on the edge of her collar thoughtfully as she rocked Bear back and forth. The breeze picked up and ruffled her hair.

            The sun was as bright as his smile the next day. He rushed right past the bustling crowd of boys that were forever chasing that darn ball. He practically ran the rest of the way, right up to her tree. She was sprawled out on a thick low branch fiddling with a rock—a favorite rock from her vast rock collection that rattled around in her pockets.  Bear was parked on a scrawny branch at a little distance. Suddenly inspired, he spit on his hands, rubbed his hands, and jumped up to the lowest branch. This time things were going to be different! Or so he hoped. He was actually able to catch his footing this time but his hands slipped away. The boy fell. She glanced his way. Determined to accomplish this feat, he jumped into the air again and again. Suddenly whoosh he felt a strong hand clasp his and was pulled into a soft and comforting world of green. The leaves waved gracefully in a bright green swirl, patches of light flitting and dancing across his face. He looked out and held his breath.  Everything was so different from the tree! He looked at her and his breath seemed to catch in his throat….

            “I……I have something for you,” he said, suddenly nervous, as he dug out a crushed bundle of napkins from his back pocket. He opened it gingerly, like a flower. Inside the petals of the napkin sat a half smushed brownie still oven-warm. “Here,” he smiled awkwardly and handed the gift to her.

            She took it with great surprise. She nibbled and grinned her approval. There was an uneasy pause. She began to furtively dig in her pockets. She sighed. She’d found it—her favorite treasure! She looked up from her hand at the boy…There seemed to be a struggle raging in her exotic eyes. Then suddenly, it was settled. She slowly opened her hand to reveal a pure white stone that glittered brightly in the sun. Silently, she offered it to him. It was rough to the touch, but very pleasing to the eye. He could enjoy owning something as beautiful as this—once he smoothed it out, that is, in his nifty rock tumbler.  But as he gazed again into her eyes he realized how very precious this was to her. And she had chosen to give it to him. His heart soared. He placed it reverently in the front pocket of his shirt. As the afternoon began to set, he chatted away quietly to her silent earnest, face, sharing things he had never told anyone. She spoke no words, but smiled softly as she rhythmically stroked Bear for reassurance. At long last he heard his mother call in her shrill voice for him to come home. He got up to leave but almost tumbled out of the tree. With lightening reflexes she held fast to his hand. He looked at her suddenly quiet. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to get down from a tree.” She nodded and began to show him how. By the time he jumped softly to the ground, she was back in her perch. He was beaming! “I did it!” He ran away quickly now, with a ‘bye’ and a ‘see ya tomorrow’. She was cuddling the flower-like brownie as she listened to the wind chimes. They positively tinkled now. She had never heard them tinkle before! She smiled a secret smile.

            They met again and again in the green hideout, sharing the simple pleasures of life. He showed off his leaf collection and she showed him her prized rock collection. Something tugged at him. “Oh, yeah!” He reached into his pocket to uncover a now shiny, polished milky white gem.

            “Here! I…I polished it for you,” he stuttered. Her eyes gleamed at the sight of her pebble now become a jewel. He watched as an idea swept across her face. Digging into her pockets she took out handful after handful of different colored stones. She held his gaze excitedly as her lip quivered.

Holding them out to him she murmured ever so softly—so softly he wasn’t sure he had heard right. “Please?”

For the first time he was at a loss for words. He’d never heard her talk before. He had simply accepted the fact that she couldn’t.  And no one had ever asked his help for anything. He smiled slowly as he took the stones and dropped them into his pocket. Then it was her turn to be surprised. As he clambered down from the tree, he looked up at her.

“My birthday is tomorrow. Can you come?” He spoke more quickly now. “The party will be just over there, by the picnic table. It would be so much fun if you could come! See ya!” He bounded energetically across the park as he waved. When did that happen? She smiled a tiny smile.

He came on an early Sunday morning to set up his party. His mother kept tucking in his shirt, telling him not to do this or touch that. A little too roughly she wiped off the invisible dirt on his face with her dress. He was not in the best mood now—and it was his birthday! But there were balloons and a pretty tablecloth with a frosted cake as the centerpiece. At long last he sat himself down at the table and waited for his guests. And he waited and he waited.

Soon long shadows shaded the picnic table. Where were his friends!

“C’mon sweetheart, we’ll celebrate at home,” sighed his mother rather impatiently. She began to take him by the arm. He moved away.

“No mother…I need…to do this by myself,” he stared at his shoes. His mother was taken aback. She sighed and left for home.

A tear ran down his face now, as he watched the tree roll violently in a gusty breeze. He tried to wipe the tears that now ran freely. He was still sniffling as he looked down at his shoes. A pair of bare feet, small and nimble suddenly stood there beside his own. He looked up. She smiled shyly as she put out her hand.

“I’m here.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it with more force than he had meant. Quietly he smiled. Her eyes crinkled.  Funny--she looked smaller on the ground than when she was up in the tree.  He stood a little taller. “I have something for you….for your birthday….” she spoke hesitantly.  Suddenly she threw her arms in front of her. And there was Bear! Bear….her special friend that was always there, in front of his face… and it was for him.  He took Bear gently and with great care from her arms and hugged it lovingly. He knew she would not need him anymore.

“Would you like some cake?” he slowly asked, gesturing to the table. She happily nodded her head.

The afternoon was filled with laughter as they shared openly. Here was someone to speak to and someone to be strong for—at long last! And it was the beautiful song of the wind chimes that played softly in their ears as they raced across the sunny park.