Sometimes She...

Sometimes She Finishes Her First Drafts

2006-03-21T06:45:00.000-08:00

...and celebrates by going to bed early. The token gesture was negated by waking up at 5:30 this morning.

I still don't like the ending of the piece. I would much rather have an Aislin/Corey scene than this:

AISLIN: You were right, Troy. I can't help you. But I really wish I could.

LIGHTS fade out. We hear TROY over the speakers.

TROY: I gotcha all to myself. Ain't no one else around. Just you and me. I'm gonna treat ya real good.

A little girl screams.

TROY (CONT.): You're growing up real nice and pretty. Gonna be a mighty fine woman someday. A mighty fine woman.

CURTAIN

But, as it fits into the larger scheme of things, this is a pretty bang on ending for a first act. The piece is a bit longer than I intended, running approximately 45 minutes instead of 30-40, but a two hour show isn't that big of a deal. There'd still need to be a short intermission after SSD to strike the set which, in retrospect, I should've handled differently. But, really, all SSD needs is a bed. Everything else is just fluff.

*yawn* Think I'm going to try to go back to sleep. *yawn*

Sometimes She Takes Stock

2006-03-14T21:07:00.000-08:00

This happens every freakin' time.

I get to "the moment you've all been waiting for!" aka the reveal aka the climax aka the point to which the action is driving aka the scene I've had written out for months and

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!
(Lyssa screaming)

*SKREEEEEEEEECH*
(Lyssa desperately trying to backpedal)

SMASH!
KABBAM!!
RUMBLE!
(Lyssa running headlong into a brick wall at unhuman speeds)

*crumble-crumble-crumble*
(Lyssa's sanity, um, crumbling)

*sobsobsob*
*sigh*
(self-explanatory)

*sigh*

Sometimes She Writes Freakin' Creepy Stuff

2006-03-03T09:50:00.000-08:00

How's this for shudder inducing?

AISLIN (CONT.): What would you tell her? (beat) That she's special? That she's not like other girls? That you saw her standing there and she was so beautiful you just couldn't resist talking to her, touching her, smelling her hair, tasting her skin, feeling her body squeezing your cock, you sick son of a bitch! God!
BEAT
TROY: She was beautiful. Like my girl. My little girl.
AISLIN: You don't have a little girl.
TROY (in a sort of reverie): I did for a few minutes. I had her.
(LONG silence. AISLIN is stunned by his statement.)
TROY (CONT.): She was so beautiful. She was playing with a basketball when I first saw her. Trying to make baskets, but she couldn't, she wasn't strong enough. She hit the rim once, it bounced off...and I could see the frustration rolling off of her and I-I wept...inside. She almost made it. Just a few more inches.
I went over to her. The asphalt stretching out between us, it felt like hours in a few seconds. 'That was really close,' I told her. 'If you were just a few inches taller, you would've made it for sure. You want me to help you?' She nodded and she...smiled at me. Such a beautiful smile. Didn't ask my name, just smiled.
I can still feel her in my hands like lifting a feather up to heaven. She smelled like earth and water, I held fire and wind in my fingers. She heaved and threw the ball. Swish. And then she laughed, and I felt the world swell underneath my feet like a wave cresting and she...she looked down at me. Smiling. Laughing. Her eyes bluer than the sky holding galaxies. The sun shining on her hair like it does on water. So innocent. So trusting.
She didn't ask my name. But she loved me anyway. Without even knowing my name.

----

I have to edit it to match Troy's vernacular and speech patterns, but holy crap, this is up there with the "just a hole" comment in SSD.

During this piece, Aislin tries to accept her rape. She valiantly attempts to see that a) it wasn't her fault, b) there was nothing she could've done to prevent it, and c) she must live her life anyway, not despite the rape, but to spite it. ('C' will arc into Sometimes She Screams.)

She deals with flashbacks, introspection and, of course, Troy, who unwittingly answers the question she has been wondering since the attack: why her?

------

TROY: He thought you were beautiful.
AISLIN: Excuse me?
TROY: He though you were beautiful.
AISLIN: No. He thought I was vulnerable.
TROY: But there is beauty in vulnerability. Everyone thinks babies are beautiful. No one's more vulnerable than they are.
AISLIN: Be that as it may, / I doubt--
TROY: You should be honored.
AISLIN: What?
TROY: You should be honored. He probably doesn't think many women are beautiful. But he chose you, Ms. Moran. (beat) I would, too. You are very beautiful.

---

At which point Aislin leaves the interrogation room. Troy is wrong in the psychological sense, of course, but who's to say he's wrong entirely? Hmmm.

Copyrighted (c) Alyssa Horn
Do not reproduce in any format for any reason. If you want to pass the work along, send a link; DO NOT cut and paste. Thanks.

Sometimes She Drinks Too Much Coffee

2006-02-16T12:37:00.000-08:00

The Aeropress is the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Seriously the best coffee I've ever had. Unfortunately, because it's so good, I tend to drink way too much of it. Six shots of espresso per day isn't going overboard, is it? I haven't had a heart attack yet. I must be okay. Right?

Back to the topic at my fingertips.

SSW got derailed by Troy. Little punk. Leah is now Aislin's friend and coworker who's also working on Troy's case. She's one of the few people who actually know what happened to Aislin two months ago (ie. Sometimes She Dreams) and is helping her through some of the PTSD stuff. I think. Blargh.

Anywhat, I thought I'd post a something that might not make it into the actual play. I like it too much to let it get shoved into a file on my harddrive.

The sun gets in your eyes
sometimes
And you lose yourself behind it
It blinds you
And you lose the truth in the fiction
Your mind can't tell the difference
I see your face
I see your eyes
And for a moment I know it's you
But then you're gone,
And I don't know where you went.
I reach for you, but my arms don't move.
They can't
Because he's back.
I can see through you to him
And suddenly
you're gone.
And I need you.

And when you walk
To the store
To the bank
You see people lost in their own worlds
And you wonder if their worlds are anything
Like yours
You wonder if you could read yourself into
Their world
If there's a border you could cross
And leave yourself behind
When you walk
To the store
To the bank
You watch your feet when the people pass
Because you don't want to see yourself
Reflected in their eyes
You don't want to see your eyes
Staring back at you
Out of another person's face
Because your eyes know the truth
They've witnessed you
in the real moments
the aching moments
the screaming and the bleeding moments
the fear that cuts you into pieces
gags you, ties you up
pummels into you
until you feel the fluids gush
across your skin, your thighs
And you want to scream,
but you can only whisper
because the fear
hollows out your throat
and the words get confused
and they don't know where to go
the words forget how to be words
until they're just sounds
that don't mean anything anymore
You can't tell anyone anymore
because the words are just sounds
that they won't understand
And this is where you live.
In a place where there are no words,
and everyone you meet will break you
even if you don't give them the chance.
Everyone you meet could make the fluids gush
again.
Creative work. Do not copy or repost anywhere for any reason. Danke.

Sometimes She Doesn't See It Coming

2006-02-10T10:26:00.000-08:00

So my play just took a turn I wasn't expecting.

Instead of being the slightly bastardy boyfriend of Aislin's sister, Leah, Troy is now a client of Aislin's who apparently sexually assaulted a five year old girl. As such, his story has taken over my plot. (Bastard.)

So, our characters are:

Aislin, 27, social worker and rape survivor
Corey, 29, Aislin's husband and all around wonderful guy
Leah, 24, Aislin's sister
Troy, 16, accused child molester

Damn you, Troy, for being interesting and relevant and totally negating twenty pages of notes!

*lyssa takes a deep, cleansing breath*

More important than the telling of his story is how it effects Aislin, who is and always will be the focus of the SS trilogy. I will hammer out those effects after I finish hammering the dents out of Troy's story. They are the cause of her reaction, after all.

So...back into the fire.

To begin...

2006-02-06T14:16:00.000-08:00

Sometimes She Whispers is coming along in starts and stops, kinda like driving a dying stick shift up a steep incline. I currently have about fifteen pages of random dialogue, one fifth of which might possibly maybe if I'm lucky end up in the play. Writing is weird.

Main characters are as follows:

Aislin, 27, social worker and rape survivor
Corey, 29, Aislin's husband and all around fabulous guy
Leah, 24, Aislin's sister
Troy, 26, Leah's boyfriend

So far I have eight different directions the plot could go, but only two that seem viable at this point. Again, Aislin will bear the brunt of the story with Leah coming in second and Troy aiding in the occasional epiphany.