I started this blog to give myself the opportunity to practice writing. The goal was to write four stories a week. I have really enjoyed the creative outlet. Now, I have invited some friends to also contribute stories and artwork. The author is identified at the end of the piece. All (most) of the writing takes the phrase "once we were lovers" as inspiration. Critical feedback is welcome.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Diminishing Returns

I will animate a simple black line drawing of a man walking in profile onto a white screen from the left. He will stop about one third into the frame, the full length of his body showing. Vertically, he takes up most of the screen, his feet at the bottom and his head near the top. The man is drawn with angular lines. He has no facial features, a crew cut, and his shoulders and arms are large to indicate that he is strong.

A woman enters from the right. The woman is as tall as the man's shoulders. She is in profile. Her hair is curly and her figure drawn with black, round lines. She has eyes but no mouth. She also stops about one third of the way into the frame.

The couple stand facing each other. She tilts her head up to look at him. Her body softens. Then, with one arm she opens her chest and pulls out her heart. It is an anatomical heart, red and beating eagerly. It is not attached to the woman's body with veins and arteries and so it comes out easily and without mess.

The woman holds the fluttering heart before the man and he looks at it. She gently tosses it to him, but he makes no effort to catch it and it falls to the ground. The heart flattens a bit and the beating becomes momentarily interrupted on impact, but soon resumes. She quickly retrieves it and pulls it up to her chest.

This time, she gestures she is going to throw the heart before the toss. The man nods, but after she throws it, he does not move. Her heart bounces of his chest and lands at his feet. The heart flattens again. The beat stops, and then assumes a slower tempo.

The woman retrieves it. This time when she picks it up, the heart is damaged. Blood drips a little. She falters a little as she stands back up.

The heart is tossed. The man remains immobile. The heart ricochets and falls. Blood spatters on the legs of the man. The beats are faint. The woman stoops low and gently scoops up her damaged heart with both hands.

The man turns and walks back off towards the left.

The woman opens her chest and places the tender mess back inside. She waits for some time, and then walks, slowly and with effort, after him.

1 comment:

Nettie said...

I love the metaphor.