I wandered slowly into the sun room‚ sliding my fingers over mantelpieces and collapsing with a big sigh‚ face down onto a conveniently placed floral couch. My mother looked up from her sewing with an amused smile‚ her short black hair shining in the misty sunlight drifting lazily through a permanently open window. A few overly ambitious green vines had already crept onto the sill and nature’s presence leaned in like a curious gardener. Mum mildly commented that a bit of dusting usually helps to
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The 12 Dramatic Elements These twelve dramatic elements are at the core of all drama. These elements are typically taught at professional acting classes. They can be used in isolation or simultaneously and are manipulated by the performer for dramatic effect. 1. Focus Focus is often used interchangeably with the terms concentration and engagement‚ assisting the performer in the portrayal of believable characters. This also implies memorisation of text (including word‚ moves and gestures). Furthermore
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I guess Ivy will stay in my imagination“ he laughed lightly. I played dumb looking at his arm where he had a tattoo of the Ivy. He was trying to light up the mood. „You know I had that dream once that we had an intercourse and after we talked about our future. We talked about our kids. You wanted a girl named Ivy.“ He was still holding me and the tears were already ready to fall and I did not care anymore as I was dying. He tattoed a name Ivy below his heart. Not his name‚ not my name‚ not my date
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That day was not an ordinary day‚ I knew that from the start- but what I didn’t anticipate was that my whole week would have the same feeling. A flutter feeling that you get about something that you have already done before‚ feeling like it’s about to be the first time that you have done it. The ring of the phone was the first thing I heard that day‚ the ring that belonged to the call that started it all. ‘Hello‚’ I mumbled as I was still half a sleep. ‘Hello‚’ the person replied‚ there voice
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Luminous were the lights as they shone upon the golden masks of the dancing party guests. Women gracefully glided across the ballroom‚ the slow‚ rhythmic “click clack” of their heels echoing throughout the space‚ as their gowns twirled nonchalantly around their bodies‚ accentuating the soft yet striking colors of their dresses. They firmly clutched onto their partner’s shoulder‚ as if afraid that they would fall‚ and their partners in turn held a firm grip around their waist. Snap. And just like
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CRASH. SCREEECH-BANG! Many protesting and angry yells went up into the pale NYC morning sky‚ caused by what looked like a small‚ red‚ and motorized wagon. It looked like this because that was exactly what it was. This “Motor-wagon” was piloted by a young-ish‚ tall-ish‚ and mostly bald man named Evan Victor Ite-Laught. Anyway‚ the sources of the yells were victims of a small red blur of dents‚ scratches‚ and crashes careening around the corner somewhere around 20 miles/hour too fast. Evan was in a
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As I walked into the barbers for my weekly shave I notice the barber sharpening his razors. The colour drains from his face‚ and though I can not see it‚ I know he’s trembling. I almost laugh‚ it’s like he wants to be caught. I begin to remove my belt‚ as it holds my gun and my cartridges‚ the weapon that killed his allies‚ and notice him eyeing it nervously. I stop myself from smiling as I hang it onto the hook in the wardrobe and rest my hat on top. As usual‚ I hung up my bullet studded belt‚
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The sun was an arctic blue overhead as I lay on what appeared to be a dull orange shrub. I closed my eyes for a moment‚ completely disoriented. Just a moment ago I was in a park‚ I remember a tugging sensation on myself‚ then a crushing feeling‚ before suddenly being thrust into the sky that I see now‚ completely alien from my world. Where am I? The land around me was rather flat‚ orange shrubbery dotted it‚ with certain structures on the plant that glowed blue‚ most no higher than my shin‚ trees
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I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I had seen him many times on tv and in pictures. However‚ seeing him in person gave off a sense of wonderment. Knowing what he had put me through also drove me angry. These two emotions fought within me and I could walk anymore. My mom‚ who was still holding me‚ tried pushing me forward. I pushed back into her and knocked her onto the ground. "Avia." Aksel said from in front of me. He was standing directly next to the president. My mom got up and forced my arms
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Dr. Spock paced back and forth muttering to himself like a madman‚ pulling at his hair in his frenzied haste. “I just don’t understand‚ it doesn’t make any sense‚” he muttered‚ desperately gazing at the wall before him‚ covered with documents interconnected with a web of red strings. He quickly gazed up at me‚ his eyes bloodshot and skin a pallor grey‚ “We must do the impossible” he whispered so quietly that I had to strain to hear him‚ “We must open the portal.” “No‚” I said in a shaky voice‚
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