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The curtain goes up and there are people all around. I look and don’t know what to do, I’m falling into a deep black hole. Then the music starts and my memories are back. People sit in silence. I fly.
By Sakkiko on 10.06.2012
The quiet scene made us all feel nervous. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Emotions crept over me. Anger. Fear. Hate. Sorrow. Nothing felt right. If I only knew one thing, I knew that this scene would be the end. Not just the end of me. Or them. But the end of everything. Humans. Animals. All of nature. Everything. Space. Time. The erratic fear washed through my weak, frail body. The feral creatures tensed before us. I closed my eyes and waited for impact.
By emma on 10.06.2012
Scene one- the gentleman crosses the street after a dark haired woman. Her lips were prominent, red and plump. Her eyes hidden behind a large pair of glasses and messy locks. She turned the corner as he stepped up on the curb.
By Michelle URL on 10.06.2012
it’s there. and it’s beautiful. someone might step in front of it, and then it would be ruined. but i’ll save it. i’m going to sit here all day and keep it from abomination, keep it from obliteration. maybe i’ll stay here all night too.
By Catherine on 10.06.2012
Scenes used to frighten me, but now I like standing on them. The other day I started an improvised song on my own, and the others in my group followed the song. It was beautiful.
By Alice on 10.06.2012
Hiking a mountain after hours upon hours, you finally make it to the top. You sit there, relaxed and hungry, and you look out and see a beautiful scene. The people around you are the ones you don’t ever want to live without. Today is a great day. This memory will be in your thoughts forever.
By julia on 10.06.2012
i see a scene in which i am wandering through the arabian desert wearing only my skin tight boots and a pair of matching ear muffs. when i walk backwards i can see that the only one standing in this vast desert earing ear muffs and skin tight boots is me. only me. by myself. i can tell that most of what is coming out of my mouth is fog, dust collected on the crumbling pages of books. the curtain of my scene comes to an end. and i bow so that everyone can see how proud i am of my work. they don’t understand how long this took me. they can see the props, the makeup and my large ego dancing before them, but how long it took to perfect this seems to elude them in many ways. i tick off the seconds on my fingers until you come along and tell me that its ok to leave now. your voice follows over me comparing me to all the other little girls in the world who are trying to make themselves become the beauty of their obsession. it can’t be helped that we yearn to complete the puzzle that contorts our face into the magazine page, and takes the effort of a thousand strong men to control. its a never ending wave of ambition that clouds even the best of judgement, and confines the smallest of inklings to the backs of our spongy exteriors. i can tell you know that when that curtain rises, its only the beauties that can tell you how much the light burns. the light that cracks through the skins and around your mouth, leaving rings of delicate brutalness and toughens you into the aligator that swims darling through the marshes. he’s so brave, you think, holding your head in your hands. but he’s just surviving, there’s nothing else to it, and when you read to much into his behavior, thats when you lose yourself in the moment, and find you have crawled out the other side of the rabbit whole.
By leah on 10.06.2012
Hiking a mountain after hours upon hours, I finally make it to the top. I sit there, so tired, so sweaty, so dirty, and so hungry. I look out and see a beautiful scene. The little trees that once looked so big. The people around me are the ones I don’t ever want to live without. Today is a great day. This memory will be in my thoughts forever.
By Julia on 10.06.2012
Whenever I think of the word “scene” it doesn’t draw images of a Hollywood set up with the director right in your ear yelling, “CUT!” Instead, I think of the lake in my neighborhood. This is the place I go to yell, think, write, prioritize. In the spring time it receives frequent visits from yours truly.
By Alysa Triplett on 10.06.2012
the scene opens with your mom…. eating a grape…. talking to the walls
By rachael anne damage URL on 10.06.2012
What happens when you do not fit the scene?
Will you be seen if you are not in the scene?
What a sight, the scene is.
By Yana on 10.06.2012
SCENE I. Indeterminate location. A room. Indeterminate time.
Enter SHE, heels CLACKING. ME looks up, typewriter CLACKING as well.
What are you doing here?
I live here, too.
SHE turns away and drops her bag on the floor, voice beginning to tremble.
We can’t coexist.
ME stands up, letting the papers fall to the floor. ME sounds as if they’re choking on tears, but is trying to hide it.
I’ll be gone in the morning.
ME takes a lighter and a pack of cigarettes before heading out the door. SHE bends down to pick up her bag and doesn’t get up.
By isa on 10.06.2012
I went to the crime scene. There was the yellow tape. Somebody had already been there. the police. of course. why don’t they understand that they’re a bunch of dimwitted losers with no brains and no capability of solving cases and they should just let me arrive first. i’m the one who solves the case anyways. i duck under the yellow tape and nod to my friends. pssh. who am i kidding? i have no friends. nobody wants to know me, pass me in the streets, be on the other side of the counter at the coffee shop, let alone be my friend. i always know too much about them. i’m sherlock holmes.
By T Sohal URL on 10.06.2012
set the scene don’t make a scene rehearse the scene. If all the world is a stage then our life is just a bunch of scenes. We are all characters with our own objectives just living. WE are all actors acting our lives. Who are you going to invite to the performance?
By Meghan Sullivan on 10.06.2012
siteniz güzel bir yere benziyor şimdiden aradıklarımı buluyorum.
By full film izle URL on 10.07.2012
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.