The Demon of Lies

I am halfway through my last class in my pursuit of my MFA in Professional Fiction Writing. My last class, was a screenplay writing class. Outside of my poetry class, this was probably the most nervous I have been. But it was a good class and I learned a lot that I can apply to my fiction writing. I am going to share the first act in my horror screenplay. It earned good marks, but would be interested to hear any and all feedback. Give me your thoughts.

By the way, the formatting is all wrong in WordPress, just ignore as it is perfectly structured for a screenplay in PDF for the main copy.

And I mean it when I say I want feedback, so please, by all means, give it to me. 🙂

*****************************************************************************************************************************

INT. DARK OFFICE – DOWNTOWN DENVER, CO HIGHRISE – DAY


DYLAN, a tall, fit, late thirties man is arguing into the
phone in a darkened office. He is wearing a suit, although
his jacket is draped over the back of his office chair.


The office is pristine, but dark. The only illumination is
that offered by the bright, light sneaking through the closed
blinds.


He looks through the blinds to the world outside and the
conversation grows heated (at least on his end) and it is
obvious the fit man is upset. He tries pleading his case, but
it is quickly going downhill.


DYLAN
(annoyed into phone)
Do you know how much fucking money
I’ve made for this firm? I”VE MADE
MILLIONS!


DYLAN drops the phone from his ear and mocks bashing his head
against the window.


DYLAN (CONT’D)
Do you know how much money I have
wrapped up in this investment? How
much my own friends have invested?


DYLAN starts pacing back and forth away from the window,
behind his desk, as he pleads with his boss on the other end
of the phone.


DYLAN (CONT’D)
Take the fifty mil and shove it up
your ass!


DYLAN slams the phone down on the receiver multiple times. It
never sits quite correctly, and after three or four attempts,
it lays askew.


DYLAN places his hands on his hips an surveys the room,
offering a large exhale.


He grabs a box and begins packing up his belongings.

INT. DYLAN’S MERCEDES – DAY


DYLAN drives his Mercedes SUV through suburban Denver while

listening to early-nineties grunge rock with the windows
down. He pounds his fingers on his steering wheel and stops
in front of a house.

DYLAN
(yelling at the top of his lungs)
Come on, Alex, you son of a bitch!
Let’s go!


DYLAN lays on his car horn.


EXT. EARLY 20TH CENTURY COTTAGE HOUSE – DENVER, CO – DAY


Looking befuddled, a slender and unathletic, Latino man,
ALEX, drags his luggage out the door and waves DYLAN off.


ALEX
(annoyed yelling)
This is a nice neighborhood, Dylan.
Can you knock it off?


INT. DYLAN’S MERCEDES – DAY


DYLAN
You should have been ready, my man.
Then I wouldn’t have to embarrass you
like this. You know better.


EXT. EARLY 20TH CENTURY COTTAGE HOUSE – DENVER, CO – DAY


ALEX

I know you’re an ass.
ALEX drags his suitcase behind him as he navigates the long
concrete path from his front door.


INT. DYLAN’S MERCEDES – DAY


DYLAN
You’re mom can tell you all about my
ass.


DYLAN guffaws in his car.


EXT. EARLY 20TH CENTURY COTTAGE HOUSE – DENVER, CO – DAY


ALEX shakes his head, but continues approaching the Mercedes.
He leans inside the open window and fist bumps DYLAN.


ALEX
Pop your trunk.

INT. DYLAN’S MERCEDES – DAY

DYLAN
You know I’m only busting your balls.
ALEX is still leaning in through the window.


ALEX
Yeah, yeah. Just pop the fucking
trunk.


DYLAN reaches below the dash and hits a button, activating
the automatic trunk.


EXT. EARLY 20TH CENTURY COTTAGE HOUSE – DENVER, CO – DAY


ALEX walks around to the back of the SUV and loads his
luggage, before climbing in the car.


DYLAN
Bought time, Sally. Why do you always
have to drag your feet?


ALEX
(glares at Dylan)
Why do you always have to be a dick?
DYLAN stares at ALEX long and hard, before cracking a smile.
He reaches over to hug his old friend.


DYLAN
It’s been too long ya little bastard.


ALEX
I know who my father…


DYLAN
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Take the
compliment. I missed ya.


DYLAN refocuses his attention on the road and starts driving
away. He cranks up the music and they both talk indistinctly
for several minutes.


EXT. PARKING GARAGE – DENVER INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT – DAY


DYLAN and ALEX are wheeling there luggage away from the
Mercedes, when DYLAN’S phone rings. He pulls it out and ALEX
leans in to see who is calling.


ALEX
651? Who the hell is that?


DYLAN
Minnesota. Twin Cities, in fact. Must
be Michelle.


DYLAN answers and puts the call on speaker.


DYLAN
(yelling into the phone)
SHELLE! What’s going on? You in
Wyoming?


MICHELLE (V.O.)
(over the phone)
Who’s with you?


DYLAN
I’m with Alex. (Pause.) Is everything
okay?


DYLAN exchanges a quick glance of concern with ALEX.


DYLAN (CONT’D)
You don’t sound alright.


MICHELLE (V.O.)
I’m fine. But…


DYLAN
There are no butts in this group.
Don’t tell me you aren’t coming.


MICHELLE (V.O.)
I’m afraid I can’t. A work event came
up.


ALEX
NO! You can’t ditch out on us!


MICHELLE (V.O.)
I’m sorry. I tried reasoning with my
boss, but she wasn’t having any of it,
cranky old hag.


DYLAN and ALEX laugh at her comment.


INT. DARK KITCHEN – OLD FARMHOUSE – SUBURB OF MINNEAPOLIS, MN


MICHELLE touches her bruised cheek. Her dress strap is ripped
and falling from her fragile frame. The bruise is barely
visible on her dark skin, and she winces when she brings her
hand up to rub the skin around the bruise.


MICHELLE
I am, I swear to you both. We just
have this event and apparently I have
to be there for it.


EXT. PARKING GARAGE – DENVER INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT – DAY


DYLAN
It won’t be the same with out you, but
even now, you don’t sound right.


INT. DARK KITCHEN – OLD FARMHOUSE – SUBURB OF MINNEAPOLIS, MN


The phone cord is wrapped around MICHELLE’s wrist multiple
times, and for each minute she speaks, the coil grows longer.


MICHELLE
I promise you, everything is fine, and
I am okay. Like I said, I just have to
handle this event for my company.


EXT. PARKING GARAGE – DENVER INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT – DAY


DYLAN listens to MICHELLE’S words and mouths W.T.F to ALEX.


DYLAN
Okay then. You’ll have to promise to
show up early next year. This is a a
tradition spanning twenty years and
everyone else is going to be so
disappointed.


MICHELLE (V.O.)
I… promise.


DYLAN
Take care.


DYLAN AND ALEX
We love you.


MICHELLE (V.O.)
Love you too.


DYLAN pushes the end call button on his phone and stares at
ALEX.

ALEX
That was… weird.
Out of the darkened shadows, a pale, boney, clawed hand
reaches forward and swipes at DYLAN’S head and misses as
DYLAN leans down to grab his luggage.


INT. UNITED EMBRAER AIRCRAFT – AT THE GATE – DAY


DYLAN and ALEX are sitting side by side in the second row of
the airplane as other passengers get on the plane.


DYLAN
How’s the love life? Chasing after any
fillies?


ALEX
You know me.


DYLAN
What? You’re not interested in anyone?


ALEX
Well, there is one girl I’ve had my
eye on.


DYLAN
Come on, brother. Give me the details.
ALEX ponders his words for a moment.


ALEX
You’d never lie to me, right?


DYLAN
Of course not, but what’s going on?


ALEX
Well… I’ve always kind of had a
thing for HEATHER.


DYLAN
I know. Bout time you finally
confessed to it too.


ALEX
If you knew, why did you never say
anything?


DYLAN
I didn’t think I had to. But she’s
married.


ALEX
I’ve heard they’re not doing well and
are headed for divorce.


DYLAN
And…


ALEX
And I’m thinking about telling her how
I feel.


DYLAN
By all means, man, you should tell her
how you feel.


ALEX
Thanks. Now I just have to work up the
nerve.


EXT. VAST MOUNTAIN HOUSE – JACKSON HOLE, WY – DAY – CLEAR SKY


A range rover pulls into the driveway of an extravagant
mountain home. Picture windows adorn the front of the home.
The Range Rover pulls to a stop in the driveway and the front
door flies open as their friends flood out.


The first outside is CLIFFORD, a tall, stocky, late-thirties,
with a long red beard.


Second out is HEATHER, a late-thirties, brunette, with an
average build.


Last out is MIKE, a tall, thin, late-thirties black man in
glasses. DYLAN and ALEX exit the vehicle and gather their
luggage.


CLIFFORD
Doober! Ya ole sumbitch.


CLIFFORD starts running toward DYLAN, who drops his bag and
meets him halfway to the front door. They do a chest bump and
an odd handshake.


DYLAN
It’s been twenty years since we played
football together. Do you really have
to use that nickname for me?


CLIFFORD
I kept your ass safe for three years,
so I reckon I can call you whatever I
want.


DYLAN fist bumps MIKE while ALEX and HEATHER hug. The trio
helps DYLAN and ALEX with their luggage, and they head
inside.


INT. VACATION HOUSE – GREAT ROOM – DAY


The group enters through an ornately decorated foyer,
connected to a spacious great room, with vaulted ceilings and
plush furniture.


MIKE
Anyone know when my sister is getting
into town?


ALEX and DYLAN exchange a worried glance.


ALEX
Didn’t she tell you?


MIKE
No, I haven’t talked to her in over a
week. (pause) Wait… tell me what?


DYLAN
She had a work event come up which she
is required to attend.


ALEX
So she won’t be joining us.
MIKE grows quiet and casts his eyes to the floor.


HEATHER
Oh great, now I’m the only woman for
the week in a room filled with
testosterone.


DYLAN
Come now, we all know how much you
love being the center of attention.
This should be right up your alley.


DYLAN grins and HEATHER flips him off.


HEATHER
Dick! (pause) We’ll show you to your
rooms so you can get settled, and then
we can all start working on dinner.


They all help with the luggage and follow HEATHER upstairs.


DYLAN and MIKE bring up the rear.


DYLAN
You OK man?


MIKE
I’m fine, was just hoping to see my
sister. Not surprised she bailed on
us.


DYLAN
Wasn’t her fault. It was work.


MIKE
Yeah I’m sure.


DYLAN and MIKE catch up to HEATHER and disappear down the
hall.


INT. VACATION HOUSE – DINING ROOM – NIGHT
HEATHER and CLIFFORD place serving platters on the table,
before sitting and joining the others.


ALEX
I’m so glad we are still doing this
after all these years.


DYLAN
It is the highlight of my year.


MIKE
You’re loaded and can do whatever you
want, yet this is the highlight of
your year? Come on, man.


HEATHER
Yeah, be realistic. I mean, I know you
don’t have a wife and kids, but surely
there has to be something else in your
life you look forward to. How about
your job? All you ever talked about
was being VP. You’ve achieved that
goal. What’s next?


DYLAN
It’s just a job. Every day is the same
as the day before. I’m actually
thinking about trying something
different.


CLIFFORD
You’re sounding a bit uppity, there
Dylan. What happens to our darn
investment if you choose to move on.


DYLAN
You all know I got you guys. I’d never
do anything to jeopardize your money.
I have a lot of my own tied up in it
as well. I think we are all on track
to recoup our money in the next six
months.


CLIFFORD
Hot damn!


ALEX
That’s very good news.


HEATHER
Has anyone talked to Michelle since
she called earlier today?
Everyone shakes their head no.


HEATHER
Should we try calling her? Just to let
her know how much she is missed?
HEATHER calls MICHELLE and puts her phone on speaker so they
can all hear and talk. The call goes straight to voicemail.


EVERYONE
SHELLE! We miss you.


HEATHER
We just wanted to call you and see how
you’re doing. We love and miss you and
are sad you are not here. Call us back
when you can. We’d all love to hear
your voice.

HEATHER ends the call and dinner resumes. Side conversations
break out between the friends.

HEATHER
If you all will excuse me, I need to
use the bathroom.


Both DYLAN and ALEX watch her disappear down the hall. After
thirty seconds or so, DYLAN excuses himself to use the
bathroom as well.


ALEX watches DYLAN leave.


ALEX
(whispers to himself)
It’s okay. He promised.


INT. VACATION HOME – POWDER ROOM – NIGHT


HEATHER is staring into the mirror, nervously biting her
nails. Someone knocks on the door.


HEATHER cracks open the door and sees DYLAN who is wearing a
large grin. She grabs his arm and pulls him inside.


HEATHER
I couldn’t wait to be alone with you.
DYLAN pulls her close and kisses her.


DYLAN
God I have missed your lips. I’ve been
pining for them for days.


HEATHER
Well, now that you have me, what are
you going to do with me?


DYLAN kisses her again and runs his hand up her thigh. She
brushes his hand away.

HEATHER
Stop! We can’t do that right now.


DYLAN
Then when?


HEATHER
Like we planned, I’ll sneak into your
room tonight.

DYLAN
I don’t know if I can wait that long.
I’m already hard.


HEATHER
You’ll be just fine.


DYLAN
Come on. Just real quick. I’ll be
fast.


HEATHER
We can’t. The others will catch on.
We’ve probably already been gone too
long as it is.


DYLAN
That reminds me. We need to be careful
around ALEX.


HEATHER
We’re always careful, around all of
them. Why are you calling ALEX out?


DYLAN
I don’t know if I should say this or
not, but he told me how in love with
you he is.


HEATHER
I’ve always known he had a little
crush on me, but I never knew he was
in love with me.


DYLAN
He heard you’re marriage isn’t doing
well and he thinks he can now tell you
how he feels.


HEATHER
Why didn’t you tell him about us?


DYLAN
He was so excited, I couldn’t burst
his bubble. I’ll tell him when the
time is right.


HEATHER
You should have just told him to begin
with. It would have been easier that
way.


DYLAN
I’ll handle it, just let me find the
right time.


INT. VACATION HOUSE – DINING ROOM – NIGHT


HEATHER returns to the dining room. CLIFFORD and MIKE are in
a heated argument.


CLIFFORD
You see, that just don’t make no
sense. It won’t deter the darn crime.
Me having an arsenal will deter crime.


MIKE
What happens if your house is broken
into while you are here in Wyoming?
All of your legally owned guns would
now be in the hands of crim…


HEATHER
(interupts)
Sorry guys, after I went to the
bathroom, I had to call my kids. What
did I miss?


CLIFFORD
This sumbitch here is tellin’ me he
favors more gun control, and I was
tellin’ him why that ain’t true.


HEATHER
Sounds fun.


DYLAN returns from the bathroom.


DYLAN
If I were you, I’d let that bathroom
clear out for some time before anyone
tries going in there.


CLIFFORD
Good, you’re back. Please tell this
ass hat here, why he cant take away my
darn guns.


DYLAN
Oh god, not this shit again. Let it
go, Clifford.


HEATHER stands and starts clearing dishes.

HEATHER
And on that note, I think we should
clean up and make our way to bed. I
don’t know about all of you, but it
has been a long day for me.

CLIFFORD
You did most of the cookin’, Heather.
Where I come from, that means you
don’t do any of the cleanin’.


ALEX
Yeah, if you’re that exhausted, why
don’t you head up to bed. The four of
us will handle the dishes.


DYLAN
Yeah, by all means.


HEATHER heads up stairs, while DYLAN, MIKE, ALEX, and
CLIFFORD clear and then clean the dishes.


FADE OUT:
INT. VACATION HOUSE – GREAT ROOM – NIGHT


CLIFFORD, ALEX and MIKE are sitting on the various plush
couches and chairs, drinking beer. DYLAN is drying his hands
on a towel.


MIKE
I saw a fire pit out back, and it’s a
nice night. Anyone fancy a cigar?


DYLAN
Normally I would, but I’m pretty
tired. Think I’ll retire a bit early
this evening.


CLIFFORD & ALEX
I’m in.


MIKE
You sure, Dylan? They’re Cubans.
DYLAN hesitates for a moment and looks upstairs.


DYLAN
Maybe tomorrow night.

MIKE
Suit yourself.
DYLAN heads up the stairs and disappears from view. MIKE
pulls 3 cigars from his leather cigar case.


MIKE
Shall we?


MIKE, CLIFFORD and ALEX put on jackets and walk toward the
back of the house.


EXT. VACATION HOUSE – BACKYARD FIRE PIT – NIGHT
A fire rages within the fire pit and the trio is laughing at
a joke.


MIKE
(wiping tears from his eyes)
Oh God! That’s funny.


ALEX
How’s it being back in Alabama?


CLIFFORD
It’s good to be home. Colorado was
nice and all, but there’s something
about the backwoods that takes me back
to my childhood.


A cellphone rings. MIKE reaches into his pocket and answers
the call as CLIFFORD and ALEX get quiet.


MIKE
Mom?
(beat)
Shit! You’re kidding me.
(beat)
I’ll do what I can, but you know I’m
in Wyoming.
(beat)
I’ll call you in a bit with my plans.
MIKE ends the call and stuffs his phone in his pocket.


MIKE
It’s Michelle. She’s in the hospital.


CLIFFORD
WHAT!


ALEX
WHY?


MIKE
Her husband beat the shit out of her.
She’s currently unconscious.


ALEX
Fuck!


CLIFFORD
I’ll kill that sumbitch!


ALEX
I’ll grab the others and we can meet
inside.


The all toss their cigars into the firepit and rush to get
indoors.


A strong breeze picks up and whips their clothes. A flash of
lightning crackles across the sky. The thunder hits a second
later.


In a second floor window, illuminated briefly by the
lightning, a cloaked figure is inside staring out. The face
can’t be seen, but the red, glowing eyes can be.


No one see the mysterious figure.


The trio stops just outside the door.


CLIFFORD
Well I’ll be.


ALEX
Thunder and lightning in February?


MIKE
I thought the weather was supposed to
be clear for the next three days.


ALEX
Me too!


After a brief pause, they shrug and head inside.

INT. VACATION HOUSE – DYLAN’S BEDROOM – NIGHT


DYLAN is laying in bed and HEATHER is laying on his chest. No
lights are on, but candles are lit throughout the room.
They are naked, but the sheets and blankets are pulled up to
their chests.


DYLAN
God I needed that.


HEATHER
Umm, hmm. I’ve been waiting all week.


DYLAN moves HEATHER to her back and pulls down the sheets. He
starts caressing her stomach.


DYLAN
I can’t believe I’m going to be a
father. I never thought it would
happen.


HEATHER
And I can’t believe I’m going through
this again, after nine years.


DYLAN leans over and kisses her.


DYLAN
When can we start telling people.


HEATHER
The divorce will be finalized in two
weeks.


DYLAN
It can’t get here soon enough.


HEATHER
You sure no one is going to find us?


DYLAN
Yeah. I told you they went out for
cigars. That buys us at least an hour.


INT. VACATION HOUSE – HALLWAY BETWEEN ALL THE BEDROOMS –
NIGHT


ALEX is knocking on the door to HEATHER’S bedroom.

ALEX
Heather? (pause) Heather, are you
awake?

ALEX continues knocking and trying to get her attention. When
she doesn’t respond, he moves down the hall to DYLAN’s room
and knocks on that door.


INT. VACATION HOUSE – DYLAN’S BEDROOM – NIGHT


DYLAN and HEATHER exchange a wide-eyed look. They both jump
out of bed and scramble to get their clothes on.


DYLAN
Just a sec.


The door creaks open.


ALEX
Good you’re awake.


ALEX walks into the room.


ALEX (CONT’D)
We have a bit of an emerg… hijo de
puta.


DYLAN and HEATHER stop in the middle of putting their clothes
on when ALEX walks in.


DYLAN
I said just a second.


ALEX
What the fuck is this?


HEATHER
It’s not what it looks like.


ALEX storms over to half-dressed DYLAN.


ALEX
After what I just told you today,
you’ve already moved in. You’re an
asshole.


DYLAN
We’ve been seeing each other for a
year and a half.


ALEX
No, you just want payback for what I
did to you in high school.


DYLAN
What the fuck are you talking about?


ALEX
Katie! When you were too busy with
football and I inadvertently stole her
form you.


DYLAN
That has nothing to do with this.


HEATHER
Honestly! It doesn’t. We’ve always
been attracted to each other.


ALEX turns toward the door while shaking his head.


ALEX
You’re both assholes. (pause)
Michelle’s in the hospital. Mike needs
our support. We’ll deal with this
later.


DYLAN
Wait? What?


ALEX disappears through the door. HEATHER and DYLAN follow,
once their clothes are on.


A red eye is seen between the crack in the door, leading to
the walk in closet. No one notices.


INT. VACATION HOUSE – GREAT ROOM – NIGHT


MIKE’S head is bent and in his hands sobbing. CLIFFORD is
sitting next to him on the couch.


CLIFFORD
It ain’t your dang fault.


ALEX, HEATHER and DYLAN join them. MIKE looks up as they
enter.


MIKE
Yes it is. Terrence has been doing
this since before they were married.
I’ve known and have never done a
goddamn thing to stop him.


HEATHER approaches the couch and sits next to MIKE.


HEATHER
You had no way of knowing it would get
to this point. Besides, Terrence is a
large man. I don’t blame you for being
scared.


MIKE jumps to his feet.


MIKE
That’s just it. I’m not scared. I’ve
argued with him before. I just thought
it was none of my business. So I
stayed out of it.


HEATHER
Oh!


DYLAN
That’s bullshit and you know it.


ALEX
What’s bullshit? Your word?


DYLAN
Listen, now is not the time to deal
with our shit. You said later. Right
now we need to focus on Michelle.


CLIFFORD
So what are you going to do?


MIKE
I’ll try and catch a flight in the
morning.


HEATHER
I think we should all go. You know…
a show of support.


CLIFFORD
Yeah, and I’ll give Terrence a piece
of my mind.


The power goes out and the room turns pitch black. Thunder
rumbles again and wind rattles the house. Nothing can be seen

through the windows because a snow storm is raging.

DYLAN
Now what?


ALEX
I’ll go check the breaker. You guys
get a fire going and see if you can
find some candles.


ALEX disappears into the foyer.


INT. VACATION HOUSE – FOYER – NIGHT


ALEX wraps a scarf around his neck and puts on gloves, before
putting on his boots.


ALEX
(under his breath)
Motherfucker. Like I needed any of
this shit. Now we’re stuck in the
middle of a fucking blizzard.


ALEX opens the door, then the storm door, and the wind whips
snow into the foyer. He tightens the scarf and walks outside.
The cloaked figure follows him out, walking straight through
closed storm door. ALEX doesn’t notice.

Final Project Part 2 – Inner Demons

So, here is the second thing I am going to share. During week 2 of this class we had to outline and describe our “bucket list” book. The book we have always wanted to write. I knew immediately what I wanted to use for this, but… it is such an undertaking and will require a decent amount of research asI want to do it right. I want to do it justice because it is a topic that is near and dear to my heart. It is a story largely about rape. No, it doesn’t go on and on providing the details of women being raped, but rather, the damage that is caused by a single incident and how that lives with the victim long after the event. When I started writing the paper outlining this “bucket list” book, I didn’t know I would be starting the book with my final paper. My idea is actually a Sixth Sense type of story where the reader is dumbfounded at the end. I don’t know if I can accomplish that, but this is a topic that is near and dear to my heart. Too many women in my life have been sexual assaulted/abused/raped. Not enough attention is paid to it (#metoo wasn’t enough) and I wanted to write a story with that as a focus. I want the reader to feel what the protagonist is going through and why she is doing what she is doing. It IS justified and should be recognized. I feel like I am ruining the story that I will eventually put out so I am going to stop there. I know I am a man who could never understand the depth and reality of this topic. Believe me. I get it and I don’t. But that is why it is my “bucket list” book. I already have several volunteers who are willing to tell me their stories. This takes courage and I respect the hell out of them for a) stepping forward and for b) helping me tell their story through a little bit of fiction. I will do the research and I only hope I can do their stories justice.

Also, I should add, the start of our story had to have an emphasis on nature for the project. This will not be the start of the story as I already have a different idea in mind (and did before I wrote this) but given the parameters, my original beginning wouldn’t work within the realm of the assignment. So I improvised. This will probably be the start of Chapter 3 or so (and will be heavily revised). Also, don’t read into the names. These are not final (and are nowhere near the final). I pick a name when I start writing. That is all it is, a name. Usually, somewhere between 40-80% I end up having a conversation with the characters and they tell me their name. That is the way I work. I don’t outline. I get an idea, highlight a few points and fill in the rest as I write. I hope you don’t judge me for that. My placeholder names are usually generic and usually a little bit out there, just so it is easy to find (and also it forces me to find their true character).

Also… not professionally edited. Just a minor Grammarly edit. Don’t judge me on tense/grammar, etc. I did a couple passes, but in reality, I suck at all that :). Please let me know your thoughts.

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Raindrops pelted Maryanne’s face, driven by the fierce blowing wind as she looked into the deep ravine in search of her fugitive. Why do they always have to run? she wondered. It’s because he’s a rapist scumbag, that’s why. They always run. The rain made looking for the perp almost impossible. The slick, muddy ground didn’t help matters either. Movement caught her eye to the south, and she saw him following the path of a small creek nestled between the thick cover of aspen and pine trees.

“I’ve  got eyes on him. Heading south through the ravine,” she said into her walkie talkie.

“Roger. Patrol units are en-route.”

“And air support?”

“A bird is also en-route. We should have eyes on him in two minutes.”

Maryanne kept her visual on him from her higher vantage point under cover from the thick bows of an old cedar tree. Normally, she’d already be down in the bottom of the ravine hot on his tail. The mud made such an endeavor nearly impossible, and as such, she remained at the top of the hill, shielding her eyes with her hands so she wouldn’t have to squint and possibly lose him.

The whir of helicopter rotors entered her peripheral hearing, and she urged them to hurry before he disappeared in the forest, or down a culvert. She didn’t want this guy back on the street. A serial rapist of many women (of all ages and ethnicities), he’d been in and out of the system since he was fourteen. It seemed there was no woman (or girl) who was off-limits. He was probably abused himself at a young age, which is why he fell into this life. But that was no excuse.

He neared the edge of the ravine, and soon she was going to lose sight of him. “Where is that damn helicopter?” He slowed his progress to traverse a number of large boulders that blocked his path. From this distance, they looked like limestone.

Flashing red and blue lights lit up the base of the ravine and bounced off the walls of the cliffs, as well as the wet street below. Seven squad cars squealed their tires as they came to a screeching halt. The officers jumped out of their cars and drew their guns. They used their vehicles as a shield. She heard the deep mumbling voice of one of the officers who was issuing orders over his megaphone. Ricky stopped, and his head darted back and forth.

“No, you don’t, you son of a bitch. You’re not getting away from us today.” She grabbed her walkie. “Where is the helicopter? The suspect’s escape route has been sealed, but he’s looking for another way out. I need eyes in the sky.”

“Roger that,” came the response. “Bird should be there in fifteen seconds.”

An answer to her prayers, the helicopter flew over her head. It wasn’t dark yet, but given the weather conditions, there were so many shadows and it made finding Ricky next to impossible. The helicopter switched on its spotlight and bathed the damp ravine in bright light. They could see his every movement.

More orders were issued over the megaphone, and it looked like Ricky was out of options. But Ricky didn’t think so. Even from her distance, Maryanne could tell he was panicking and wasn’t about to give up. He had that trapped rat in a cage look about him. His head darted in all different directions while he looked for an escape. Maryanne knew he had very few options. She could see quite well from her little perch, even in the rain, and he literally was surrounded. If he turned around, she’d be on him in a second. He could hide in the trees, but there was no getting out of them. Cliffs bordered both sides of the ravine. The best he could hope for was to hide in the trees. But the helicopter had infrared and would be able to keep tabs on him until the officers moved in.

Speaking of which, several of the officers slowly closed on his position while the officer with the megaphone continued barking instructions. Ricky turned around for a second. She knew he realized he was trapped. While the officers moved closer, he reached behind his back with his right hand.

“No, no, no. Not like this. Please, God,” she said. She grabbed her walkie. “Do not shoot. He doesn’t have a weapon.”

More gruff orders and Ricky continued to reach for his back pocket.

Three bullets cracked through the air, and Ricky fell to the ground. Maryanne collapsed to her knees. This wasn’t the fitting end she had in store for Ricky. He needed to be punished, not killed.

[JH1]Blue highlights errors related to UCOL Guidelines, Turabian citation and reference list formatting, and/or professional standards expected by editors and agents.

 

Eliminate the extra space after your paragraphs using the Format drop-down menu

Final Project Part 1 – Broken World

Just finished another class (sorry, this is where all of my writing time is spent, unfortunately). For this project we had to focus on the zoom. We had to either zoom in or zoom out. I chose to zoom out and (hopefully) make a point. I had a lot of fun with it. It is repetitive, but I think that works as a cadence, but it is detracting as an overall story (better if formatted as a poem IMO). Let me know your thoughts (really, give me your thoughts).

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A yellow ring circles the hole in the sink’s drain. The porcelain cracked and browned from times cruel hand. Sinewy brown legs appear through the drain looking for purchase as a brown spider crawls into the barren sink. In front of it, in the middle of the kitchen, is an old wooden table, long forgotten, and covered in a thick layer of gray dust. Spider webs stretch from the table to the counters, to the ceiling, to the fixtures, unbroken, allowed to dominate this empty establishment.

Whomever once called this domicile home, left in an absolute hurry. The chairs usually placed around this elegant table, now tossed aside, lying on the floor, some broken, others majestically accepting their final resting place. Cabinet doors remain open, as do several drawers as if someone was looking for something in a panic. A rancid odor permeates the thick, dust-filled air. Spoiled food from the still open refrigerator the likely culprit.

Behind the kitchen is a dining room, which is connected to a family room. Cobwebs create a barrier through each new doorway. Each room, another path through this decent-sized home. An office, bedrooms, bathrooms, even a laundry room. Between each room is a hallway, filled with pictures of the happy family who once resided in this now aging house. Likely dead and now a part of the reclaimed ground after the great war poisoned the very dirt this home sits upon.

The house’s cracked siding, with chipping blue paint, rots from the insects who have made it their home. Vibrant ivy climbs up each side of the house as if swallowing the building whole and digesting what remains for generations. Thick grass, untouched for years, surrounds the home. Tall trees stand dead, once green and vibrant, now something out of a Halloween horror movie with their long bony claws reaching up to heaven. To either side, more houses stretching for as far as the eye can see. This home is just one of many, once filling this concrete jungle. It is a neighborhood. And two streets over is another neighborhood, and another, making what was once called a suburb. Each suburb is next to another suburb, and several more, all of which once formed a city. At the heart of the city, giant buildings block out the sun and cast shadows in their wake. The hustle and bustle of people moving about long replaced with silence.

Hundreds of years ago, this land was a forest. Tall majestic trees filled the horizon. But then humans arrived. They chopped down the trees in the name of progress to build the things they needed, unworried about the future, knowing they would grow back. For a while, the trees did do precisely that, but as urban sprawl spread around the world to support the staggering population growth, more and more land dedicated to the trees was replaced by cities, suburbs, neighborhoods, and homes. When empty land grew scarce, human turned on human, brother on brother, neighborhood on neighborhood, and city on city all in pursuit of the resources needed to survive, which once grew in abundance, but because of human greed, all but disappeared.

When the dust of war settled, only a few remained, but with no one to produce the things the remaining needed to survive, they too disappeared. Even the mightiest of survivors will eventually pass on, some from hunger, others from feeling alone. The world is a big and lonely place, especially after so many have returned to the dirt. Now, Mother Nature is left to reclaim the world that once belonged to her.

Isn’t it ironic, that in the name progress and survival, humans devastated the very things they needed for survival? The very buildings they built to survive, remain long after the light of human life is extinguished. The concrete roads, streets, and highways, now cracked and falling apart. Grass, plants, and trees peak their heads out between the cracks to see if it is safe to sprout and survive. They crawl over the now empty surface and overtake the abandoned cars and trucks. Down each road, the plants find house after house to call home. Eventually, each car, home, building, and structure is covered in new, vibrant, green life. Finally, all signs the humans were even here are erased, which is Mother Nature’s intention. Humans were, after all, a failed experiment, and it is up to her to set things right. In just a couple of decades, the resilient Earth will long forget about the invasion of humans and will thrive in the new environment the Mother has given it.

Poem 4 – A Simple Lake

I got so side-tracked in this new Covid-19 world, that I never posted my last two poems. I may also post the unedited version of the other 4 poems, we shall see. Anyway, this was the 4th poem I submitted in my poetry class. My professor challenged me to look at an inanimate object and I chose a lake. I wanted to examine a bit of changing climates and what the world would be like if we continued on the current trajectory. Without further ado.

A Simple Lake
Nestled in the cleavage between
two massive, grass camouflaged hills,
is a mirror of blue, smooth as sateen,
broken occasionally by energetic fish
or an overzealous juvenile.

For just a moment, no one is fighting.
Children splashing, adults laughing,
heads dunked, glee and joy abounding.
This pleasure will last a moment,
for a warm front is in the forecast.

Tentacles of shadow extend,
the rush of living comes to a close.
The surface is uninterrupted,
smooth and calm, no more jubilation.
Vibrancy fades, eerie quiet invades,
crickets sing
the end is coming.

Now placid surface, the people gone,
the heat keeps on rising,
will it stop?
The crickets and roaches have all left too,
no creature to call this place home.
Beaches maturing all around the globe,
extinction is real, look at the sigillaria tree.

Poem 3 – Survivor

This was my 3rd poem and probably my favorite. Too many women in my life have been sexually assaulted. I can’t even begin to imagine what someone feels when they go through this. It should never happen, let me just say that from the get go. I hate that it happens and I will die defending someone in this situation. I tied to put it into words as best I could. Much of this comes from input from a number of different women. As always, please, please, please give me feedback.

Raindrops splattering my face

like tears,

but my eyes are dry;

nothing more for me to give.

The storm clouds rage above,

lightning flashes,

thunder crashes.

I’m all alone,

adrift in shame.

Blood runs down my leg,

a trickle.

I shift my dress to cover

my guilt.

This was my fault,

at least that’s what I was taught.

I’m angry, hurt,

why can’t I just die?

But I must go on,

dust off my clothes,

look in a different direction,

while locking my secret away.

A lump gathers

in my throat, blocks the airway

cutting off my breath.

I collapse.

The soft grass caresses me, the sun’s

welcoming embrace pulls me

from the ground, guides me forward

casting the storm aside, brightening

the otherwise gloomy day.

Life suddenly blossoms, birds

chirping, insects buzzing,

breathing new life into my soul.

A burbling stream gathers

my attention. Wading in

the biting, cold water attacks

my legs and feet,

but it isn’t all bad.

A ribbon of dirt, sweat, and blood

floats

downstream, away from me like

the river is cleansing my soul.

I’ll remember this day

forever,

the day a man assaulted me,

and tore away my innocence.

Poem 2 – The Dirt

So, here is the second poem I chose to edit for my class. If you don’t know what I am talking about, read my previous post, lol. I am always looking for feedback, so please give me some.

Impractical people,
permeating Earth,
hoarding wealth
and possessions,
like they can take
them to the afterlife.
Money doesn’t travel with
them, nor will their assets,
or other accumulations.
So why so much effort
to hoard these in life?
When life snuffs out,
each person the same.
Status won’t matter
nor the wealth they
made during their life.

I will reclaim them
because they are mine.
No place to escape,
nowhere they can hide.
Their fate always the same.
From the Earth they come,
part of the Earth I am.
Their corpse planted in me,
or burned, tossed in the wind.
One with me they become.

Poem 1 – Of Love

People who follow me know I am pursuing my Master’s in Professional Fiction Writing. I had to take some elective courses and just completed a course in poetry. I’ve posted a couple of poems recently, but I just received feedback on my final versions. I made changes based on feedback from my fellow classmates, as well as my professor. In all, I wrote 10 poems for the class. 5 of them we had to submit for final grading, as well as a rather long reflection paper. There were guidelines each week. I wrote some in a more traditional format, but my professor suggested they would be better if I broke tradition. So my efforts to conform, resulted in me breaking all the rules, lol. This was the first of my poems. I would appreciate any and all feedback as I know this is only the beginning in regards to poetry.

Of Love

Nervous hands, dancing feet.
Infatuation filling the hole in
my heart, I didn’t know was there:
empty, gaping, cataclysmic.
Love radiates outward, like
the warmth of the sun, tugging,
entwining our souls ever further:
one body, inseparable.
Even in love there’ll be arguments
and anger, veering us off course,
all building to a precipice:
rocky, unbalanced, broken.
She is the love of my life,
yet, she pushes my buttons.
Discontinue our love now, or
jump into the deep abyss together?

Life After Death

Those who follow me know I am working on my Masters in Professional Fiction Writing through the University of Denver (Go DU!). Anyway, I have never been into poetry, but I had to take three electives and decided to take a class on poetry. I figured I should push myself, and that is what I am trying to do.

In week 2, we had to take and idea that was near and dear to our heart and transform it into a poem. I have had too many women in my life affected by rape,  I just knew this was what I had to put on my canvas. So I wrote a poem, which you will see below. I had a meeting with my professor the following week and he suggested that I get feedback from women. Before posting it, I had already run it by my wife, but next week is week 10, and I need to turn in revised versions of all my poems.

So, I need women to comment and offer feedback. I know I am a man and can never truly understand the pain that is associated with such an act.  But I do feel for those who have been victimized and would like to make it a life goal to stop such things from happening. This can be tough, and I can respect those who wish to remain silent, but for those who have gone through these heinous acts, I am with you and would like to draw attention to the shit hole that this truly is. So if you are comfortable with it, I can use any and ALL feedback you can offer. It will be completely anonymous. I need the feedback and am only looking for comments. I appreciate the support.

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Raindrops splattering my face like tears,

only my eyes are dry;

I can’t give any more.

The storm clouds above rage,

as lightning flashes, mimicking

my internal thoughts and feelings.

I brought this on myself, or so I was taught.

At least that’s what my granny would say.

Smoothing my dress to cover the bloodstains on my panties,

I try to climb to my feet, but can’t.

It hurts. I hurt. But I know I must go on,

it’s what we’re told,

dust off your clothes,

and look in a different direction,

all the while keeping a little secret.

With conviction, I make it to my feet,

pressing forward, as I will in life.

This won’t be the end of me.

I will not allow this situation,

define who I am, for I am strong.

A lump gathers in my throat,

blocking my airway,

cutting off my breath, and I collapse.

The soft pillow of grass caresses me,

and the warm embrace

of the Sun’s welcoming yellow arms,

pulls my head from the ground,

guiding me forward with resolve.

The reemergence of the sun

brings out the birds and insects.

My cheerleaders whispering this isn’t my fault,

The man is a predator, nothing but scum gathering beneath my feet.

I yearn for a warm tidepool,

to wash this filth away,

but water won’t help,

only the bite of cold steel will.

The Jungle

I’m in a poetry class and we needed to write the same poem but in two different formats: metric and cadence. I’m still early in the revision process, but which do you prefer and do you have any suggestions?

The Jungle (metric)

Tall masts, a beacon flowing in a sea

of green, stretching to the heavens, reaching

arms pleading with the Gods, a chance maybe,

to put this in the rearview, beseeching

the higher power to remove the pain,

for every one felled, I now must feign.

 

There is no more, only incompetence.

Bleats surrounding, lessening our breath,

methane filling the air, no bottomless

source. Each fallen brethren, another death.

We do not mourn, you’ve done this to yourself,

You never cared for the shrinking ice shelves.

 

The Jungle (cadence)

You see a tall mast, maybe a beacon, flowing in a

sea of green,

arms outstretched, reaching toward the almighty heavens,

pleading with the Gods for a chance

to put an end to this nonsense, and the encroaching

herd, a nuisance

eating their way through the life force, encouraging

a beseeching to the all mighty, anyone, to answer the call,

to make things right, and return to the Earth

a moment without blight, where you mourn the dead,

and cherish what has been returned to continue your life.

 

Your call goes unanswered, you’re fighting for your life,

not for lack of meat, but because livestock is your greed,

but the lack of trees,

is lessening the oxygen from the air you breathe,

giving you the replacement of methane,

which you do know is fatal, but as long as your stomach is full,

who are you to judge?

So cut down the trees, forget what they mean.

Burn them in your fires and fill the air with hydrocarbons,

for humans will live long after the rest of the Earth expires.

Emergent Reader

Hey, so I had to write an emergent reader for my Children’s Literature class. We had to use only a list of 40  Dolch Pre-Primer Words. We could not change tense and we could not use words outside this list. It would be so much better with images, but here is what I wrote. Please note, since I couldn’t use words outside of the 40 Dolch words, I used colors instead of names.

 

One is me.
Two is you and me.
Three is you and you and me.
Can you see it?
We three play.
We three run.
We jump up.
We come down.
Yellow is here.
Where is red?
I look to see.
Red is not here.
I jump with yellow.
I come down.
Where is yellow?
I look to see.
I see me.
Little is me.
Big is we.
We is you and you and me.