Writing the Text (Part 2)

Below is the second version of the text that I have written so far. I have added the second story and made some edits to the first, in particular, adding descriptive elements to further involve the audience into the story. For the sake of the blog, I will only add the new segment so that this post is not overly long.

The branches from the trees started to reach towards us, the tree leaves that were as sharp as daggers slowly scraped across the car, the car crying in horror.”

I stand up, pick up a plant prop and begins to scratch it against the car, making a sound effect of the car being scratched. I sit back down.

“The windows! We had left them fully rolled down allowing the very same leaves to reach towards us. SLICE, I narrowly avoid the blade. Everyone was frantically trying to close the windows, of course we had to roll them down manually- putting us directly within range of the tree leaves. Heroically I dived to wind up my window, I managed to turn the crank a few times but it wasn’t enough. The tree started to fight back, sending a legion of daggers towards me. I fell to the floor, covering my head from the bombardment. But then, a break in the attack, a moment’s respite- round and round I turn the crank. THUMP, the window was closed. The tree, clawing at the window. I think to myself: How many more innocents will be caught by this same trap?”

I stand up and leave the car.

“I didn’t have much better luck once we’d reached the destination. The same sword-like leaves that had attacked the car now littered the floor, all at the perfect angle to claw at my legs – the leaves could pierce the flesh with one swift jab and that wasn’t the worst of it. Halfway through the walk we came to a huge swamp, the water was murky and long grass peered out from the surface. There was little more than a plank of wood acting as a bridge over it. Of course, my dad charged off ahead and my brothers weren’t much use either, leaving me to cross the ‘bridge’ on my own. Cautiously, I began to walk over the bridge, taking one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. My breathing slowed, I was completely focused on the bridge”.

A spotlight appears at the end of the ‘bridge’, I move into it and begin singing a short extract from Eye of the Tiger- as if drunk.

Face to face, out in the heat
Hanging tough, staying hungry
They stack the odds still we take to the street
For the kill with the skill to survive

It’s the eye of the tiger
It’s the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival

I return to the spot on the ‘bridge’ and continue the story.

“I had gotten about halfway across, but then there was a lapse in my concentration. To this day, I don’t know what made me lose focus. Before I knew it, my right foot had twisted making me lose my balance. Time seemed to grind to a halt. There I was, about to fall into the swamp, waiting for the inevitable rush of cold… SPLASH. The murky water went straight up to my chest, to my surprise it wasn’t as cold as I had thought, in fact it was quite warm, but falling in seemed to unleash an unbearable smell of rotting vegetation. BLEAGH. I was probably only in the water for a few seconds but it felt like a millennium. My sister’s boyfriend, being the tallest person there, lifted me out. As I was pulled out, I noticed that some of the water had gotten caught in my shoe, it could feel it swishing about. I took them off the second I was on dry land to empty them out. My favourite trainers were ruined. The rest of the walk I had to put up with the squelching sound that they made every step… SQUELCH SQUELCH SQUELCH. When I got back to the villa my mum tried washing them out but they never smelt the same again”.

Throughout the following section, the light slowly cross fades from a warm light to a hot red.

“Of course, not all our journeys were that eventful, in fact when I was 14, one of our walks was a little anti-climactic. My dad, sister, brother, brother-in-law (to be) and I left early in the morning to avoid the heat. My dad was in search of this grand monument that was quite literally in the middle of nowhere. We had been walking for about an hour when we came to a fork in the path, the path to the left looked like it was used to access the nearby farm lands, whereas the path on the right seemed to continue on the path we had been walking, so naturally we went to the right. Another hour of walking and the path just seemed to carry on and on. My dad had said this was going to be a short walk so none of us had brought any water, which in hindsight was a very unwise decision. By now the sun had really started to come up which only made the humidity worse. A bead of sweat crawled down my face from under my cap. I took it off a shook it, trying desperately to get the wind to cool it down.

Finally, we reached an opening and there in front of us stood a small white wall. I ran to the wall to hide myself in the scarce amount of shade it offered. We were all exhausted and sizzling. Continuing any further seemed suicidal. My dad scouted ahead to see if he could see the monument he was looking for but it was futile. While he was gone, I decided to make a small engraving on the wall which said: J.G + L.S 2010. For some reason when naming us, my mum and dad had a fondness for names beginning with J so putting J.G covered everyone on the walk except for my brother-in-law (to be) and so I went with J.G + L.S. With that we headed home. Whilst the walk itself wasn’t all that eventful, my brother-in-law (to be) ended up in hospital the following day due to severe dehydration, which probably explains why he’s never come on another one of my dad’s walks since.

Now you’re probably wondering when this all started…”.

I hand out scripts to the audience ‘casting’ them as characters in the final story.

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Giggs, J. (2014) JG 2014. Unpublished Photograph.

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