3d finalportfolio 111813 by Dalene

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies ©2013 3D’s http://kookytales.com kookytales@yahoo.com http://3dskid-portfolio.weebly.com

M A IN P O R T F O L IO L IN K : http://kookytales.com Portfolio Works- Class- Date- Link Kooky Stories- Literary Tech & Story Dev. (102411) Creative Skills Dev. (32612) Revisions & Editing (121613) Hauntings Frog Utopia Robbers Consumed All-Hallows-Eve Have Medallion, Will travel Hauntings Judgment- LCAT (82512)

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3ds_kookystories Editing & Revisions 122013 http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/ddavies_hauntings Editing & Revisions 122013

Kooky Poems- LG1- Comedy & Tragedy (102212) Revisions & Editing (121613) E&R- Essay, Audio and Music Nothing We Can Do Our Miracle Child, Theda Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One Script and Video

P) http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/nothing_we_can_do_poem A) https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-nothingwecandopoem P) http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/our_miracle_child_theda_poem A) https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-ourmiraclechildt P) http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/our_itty-bitty_pretty_one_poem

A) https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-ittybittyprettyonepoem

Publication and Distribution (61613) Spider-Mania: Not In My House Time With My Father Sock Monsters Invade Earth Poem

P) http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/spider-mania_not_in_my_house_poem A) https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddaviesspidermanianimhpoem P) http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/time_with_my_fatherpoem_ P) http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/sock_monsters_invade_earth_poem

Scripts- Writing Workshop1 Film (7813) Writing Workshop 3 Animation (9213) Writing Workshop 2-TV (8513) Visual Thinking & Writing (112111) Operation: Occupy Open House

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3d_operation-occupy111713 http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3d_openhouse_anim111713

Games- Writing Workshop 4- Interactive Games (93013) Ardent’s Adventures Part One Ardent’s Adventures Part Two

http://www.philome.la/ddavies67/ardents-adventures-part-one/play http://www.philome.la/ddavies67/ardents-adventures-part-2/play

Essays- Art History (32012) College Math (52012) Historical Archetypes and Mythology (72012) Creative Writing Portfolio Assembly 1 (112013) Revisions and Editing 122013) Adventures in Art & Holocaust Video with Script Math and the Entertainment Industry Personal Flag and its Meanings Portfolio Final

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/art_history_set http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3d_cr_cma_discussion2 https://dmd6oetz83kk2.cloudfront.net/1387373-vglk-Flag_20and_20meanings.pdf

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3d_finalportfolio_111813

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/dalene_d_davies_portfolio_122013

Twitter Story & Kooky Tales Twitter Story- X Creative Writing Portfolio Assembly 1 (112013) December 2013 Twitter Story #StoryTweet ~ #TAP Terror at Phantomhill Twitter Story Dec. 2013 #KookyTales #SOS Spirit of Santa Twitter Story Jan 2014 #KookyTales

https://twitter.com/ddavies67/status/396054246438612992 https://twitter.com/ddavies67/status/410564450731556865 https://twitter.com/ddavies67/status/414796119168655360 Blog for Twitter Stories:

http://kookytales.com/2013/12/28/november-2013-twitter-story-found-here http://kookytales.com/2013/12/28/december-2013-kookytales-by-3dkid-sos-spirit-of-santa

Portfolio Links: WORD-PRESS- http://kookytales.com WEEBLY- http://3dskid-portfolio.weebly.com WIX- http://suzziebell2.wix.com/3dskookyideasdept BLOGGER- http://kookystories.blogspot.com WORD-PRESS- http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com ORG-SYNC Resume & Portfolio: https://my.orgsync.com/ddavies ABOUT ME: http://about.me/dalenedavies LULU http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/3d_design_connections TUMBLR- http://omg3dme.tumblr.com BOX.COM- https://app.box.com/files/0/f/536652324/Portfolio LINKEDIN- www.linkedin.com/pub/dalene-davies/62/37/580/ ISSUU- http://issuu.com/kookytales TWITTER: https://twitter.com/ddavies67 FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/suzziebell FACEBOOK PAGE: https://www.facebook.com/Kookystories

Home School books and Journals My personal flag – Orange to Yellow colors offer a fun, adventurous, sociable and easygoing outlook for my flag. Yellow creates brain functions and decision-making abilities. The green colors offer a feeling of growth, vitality, renewal and restoration needed to survive the teacher. Each item is important to my world.

3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 http://kookytales.com suzziebell2@yahoo.com

Dalene Davies- 3D-Design-Connections

Map for Stories

Join #KookyTales on Twitter to read a new story every month! https://twitter.com/ddavies67/st arus/414796119168655360

December 2013 #KookyTales

My Portfolio Site: http://kookytales.wordpress.com

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Ardent’s Adventures Par t One and Two

3D-Design-Connections http://kookytales.com

Summary

Title: Ardent’s Adventures {Part One and Two}

Logline: You are the hero and you must find a way to save your mother and win the princess. Are you game?

- Format: Twine Adventure - Genre: Interactive CYOA Games - Running Time: 1 hour

Synopsis

This Choose Your Own Adventure Twine game offers, you, the hero, a chance to prove your worth through the choices you make. You can win, lose or even find yourself in a new land, cut off from all you know. In part one you are twelve and must find a way to save your mother from the Grizzly. In part two, you are seventeen and must prove yourself worthy of the Chief’s daughter. Can you overcome all the obstacles? Click the stories to find out.

Twine Twitter Locations Ardent’s Adventures Part One: http://www.philome.la/ddavies67/ardents-adventures-part-one/play Ardent’s Adventures Part Two: http://www.philome.la/ddavies67/ardents-adventures-part-2/play

Aenean a magna vel pede vestibulu m rhoncus. Nulla cursus orci quis torto r.

K O O K Y-ST OR IES

BY DALENE DAVIES Welcome to www.KookyTales.com Kooky Tales from the imagination of 3D's K.I.D.

Meet a frog, cat, and kooky robbers along with a few more colorful characters. CLICK HERE: www.kookytales.com ABOUT ME: Creative Writer--educational homeschool books, e-books & journals; Novelist, Scriptwriter, Poet & Political Activist. I am a: Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Environmentalist, and an Equal-Rights Believer! Dalene Davies 3110 E Chattaroy Rd trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 suzziebell2@yahoo.com

Hauntings Scripts & Stories Dalene Davies suzziebell2@yahoo.com 3D-Design-Connections Http://kookytales.com

Summary -

Title: Hauntings & Haunted

Logline: On the verge of another typical Halloween, a confused and terrified young

girl finds a pair of glasses in her attic that enable her to see into the future but when she attempts to change the future and tries to save her friends, she must face the house on the hill, alone, to defeat the evil and save herself. Short Story: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3ds_kookystories-pastichepoems

Format: Scripts and PDF Stories Genre: Comedy & Tragedy & SFF Audience: Children 12 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; 18 Link to Hauntings Set: https://app.box.com/s/q629fhvdiiivtjql2d3a

Synopsis Synopsis: Hauntings-Science Fiction version of Hauntings This section details the experience of a girl, Lee, who is mistreated by her stepmother in the basement of the Anderson Mansion. She is 14 years old and left to basically rot in the cold room for weeks at a time. She doodles, cries, screams and finds the diary hidden in a brick wall. When she opens the diary, the blank pages are unreadable. As she handles the book and looks it over, she whispers into the air a wish that becomes a reality. The words on the pages begin to form and she reads what will happen to give her that wish. As she puts the book down, she meets a friend. She has a way to deal with the fear. She gets out of the basement room, and begins to play jokes on her stepmom, and sisters with the help of her new friend. These jokes become serious when death occurs. At the end of this section, after her family dies, she adds her own tale to the diary and hides it for the next victim. As the story continues, about 50 years later, another little girl discovers the diary and finds she can see into the future through her gifts. She meets Lee, who claims to be her long lost dead twin sister and the adventure begins. Dee finds herself with the power to either save her friends or destroy them. Dee discovers the diary in her attic, which happens to be the same house Lee, grew up in and faces the evil that has overtaken the house. The end of this section details the explosion of the house which disrupts the time-zone and zaps the diary into the future, where a boy find it and turns the diary into an evil weapon. The end of the story shows the diary possibly vanishing or burying itself into the ground possibly being found in a distant future.

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Spider - Mania: Not in My House

3D-Design-Connections http://kookytales.com

Summary

Title: Spider- Mania: Not in my House

Logline: How do you respond to spiders? Read this funny true-life adventure and see if you would act the same way!

Synopsis

- Format: True Life Adventures - Genre: Pastiche Style Poem - Class & Date: Publishing & Distribution 6-3-2013

What happens when your home is invaded? Read this Kooky fun adventure one mom had with spiders.

Collection: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3ds_kookystories-pastichepoems Poem: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/spider-mania_not_in_my_house_poem Audio: https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddaviesspidermanianimhpoem

Audience All ages will enjoy this Kooky light-hearted spider poem

Portfolio Link:

Link: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/spider-mania_not_in_my_house_poem Audio Link: http://suzziebell2.wix.com/3dskookyideasdept#!pastiche-poems-pages/c7qq

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

“N othing We Can D o” 3D-Design-Connections http://kookytales.com

Summary

Title: “Nothing With Can Do”

Logline: What happens in a “he said” “she said” situation? Read one account in this Pastiche Style Poem.

Synopsis

- Format: True-Life Adventures - Genre: Pastiche Poems - Class & Date: Literary Genre1Comedy &Tragedy- 10-24-2012

Touching poem written to express the inner feelings of one girl who faces the torment of rape and the consequences of a system that can create a second rape without the full intent.

Collection: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3ds_kookystories-pastichepoems Poem: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/nothing_we_can_do_poem Audio: https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-nothingwecandopoem

Audience Recommended for Teens 17 and older.

Link

Link: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/nothing_we_can_do_poem

Link: http://suzziebell2.wix.com/3dskookyideasdept#!pastiche-poems-pages/c7qq

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Our Miracle Child - Theda

3D-Design-Connections

Summary

Title: Our Miracle Child - Theda

Logline: How would you feel if your doctor told you your baby might not survive birth? One mother’s account of a true-life story.

Synopsis

- Format: True-Life Adventures - Genre: Pastiche Style Poem - Class & Date: Literary Genre I: Comedy & Tragedy - 10-28-2012

This short tribute was written to honor Dr. James Carson- Spokane WA

Audience

All

Portfolio Link:

Link: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/our_miracle_child_theda_poem Audio Link: http://suzziebell2.wix.com/3dskookyideasdept#!pastiche-poems-pages/c7qq

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Our Itty - Bitty Pretty One http://kookytales.com

3D-Design-Connections

Summary

Title: Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One

Logline: A graduation tribute to Theda Davies.

Synopsis

- Format: True Life Adventures - Genre: Pastiche Style Poem - Class & Date: Publishing & Distribution 6-3-2013

Join one mom in her celebration from birth to adulthood.

Collection: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3ds_kookystories-pastichepoems Poem: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/our_itty-bitty_pretty_one_poem Audio: https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-ittybittyprettyonepoem

Audience All ages

Portfolio Link:

Link: http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/our_itty-bitty_pretty_one_poem

Audio Link: http://suzziebell2.wix.com/3dskookyideasdept#!pastiche-poems-pages/c7qq

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Congrat ulation s, Theda 3D-Design-Connections http://kookytales.com

Summary

Title: Congrats, Theda

Logline: The personal story of Theda Davies and her 18 years with us.

Synopsis

- Format: Script & Video - Genre: Non-Fiction Story - Running Time: 05:20

The eighteen years of Theda Davies as Congratulations for Graduation. This is one version of the video created for Visual Thinking and Writing. I combined both her story and her graduation into one video with a script for my class.

Audience Anyone with kids http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3ds_kookystories-pastichepoems

Link Video and script link: https://app.box.com/s/e241x2vzcx563d5m7aba

©2013 Dalene Davies-‐-‐-‐ Pastiche style poems-‐-‐-‐updated or written for Kooky Stories-‐-‐-‐P&D-‐-‐-‐Revised for Editing and Revisions Class-‐-‐-‐ 112513 http://3ds-‐-‐-‐kooky-‐-‐-‐ideas-‐-‐-‐dept.com http://kookytales.com

Kooky Stories- Prose & Poems FormatBy Dalene Davies

http://kookytales.com Literary Tech & Story Development – Creative Skills Development 102411/32612 Hauntings Frog-Utopia Robbers Consumed All-Hallows-Eve Have Medallion, Will Travel! Judgment? LCAT 82512 Literary Genre1-Comedy &TragedyNothing we can do Our Miracle Child, Theda Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One Publication and Distribution Spider-Mania Not-In-My-House! Time with my Father June 16, 2013 Sock Monsters Invade Earth June15, 2013

kooky-Tales

http://kookytales.com CLICK HERE: http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com

ABOUT ME: Creative Writer--educational homeschool books, ebooks & journals; Novelist, Scriptwriter, Poet & Political Activist. I am a: Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Environmentalist, and an Equal-Rights Believer!

Hauntings… ???

Dalene Davies Dialogue version Hauntings-CSD 5-2012

Hauntings… ??? “Mom?” I whisper. “Are you there?” “Yes, dear, I am here,” “What…what happened?” I try to sit up, but my head hurts something awful. I tried to remember what upset me. “I don’t know, honey, how about if you tell me what happened. The only thing I know is that you went upstairs, and then ten minutes later you screamed. When I ran up there, you had fainted. So, why don’t we discuss just what did happen to you.” “I…I… don’t really remember. I remember… going… um… going through the door, flipping the light, and then… then… finding that old trunk, the one with the travel tags on it…you remember? I dug through it for a costume and… and found,” “Found what, Dee? This is important. What did you find?” My mind flounders. It was right there. I wish I could remember. I think back to the attic, the light switch, the trunk, there it is, I can see them. “I found those cool sunglasses, mom, so I put them on, and the world began to sway, the piano played, and I saw… I saw… I saw the old house on the hill come alive, mom, it grabbed Ruth and Janet. Mom, they vanished!” I could feel the fear in my heart grab me. I could feel the fear spread through me. I didn’t know what to make of it. I was scared for my friends, myself, my mind. I began shaking. My body hurt. My head pounded. I felt parched and dry and confused. “Dee, I know this is not easy, but we need to talk. I need you to pay close attention to me. I need you to listen.” Mom reached for my hand and patted it, holding me tight. I relaxed just a little. I knew something was up. I took a deep breath. “OK, Mom, I’m ready.” “Dee, the first thing you need to know is that in our family line, we have the ability to see the future and in some cases to

understand and truly feel the feelings of others. We are empathic. It sometimes will skip a generation, but mostly it appears after a traumatic experience. “You found the glasses that opened another portal, and you opened the gift that has followed our family for generations. “I hope you are old enough to understand the responsibility that goes with this gift. It can be a tremendous stress for a young girl to handle. There are a few things we must discuss regarding this. “First, what you saw is called a premonition. Some call it a vision. We can sometimes use this knowledge to change the future. Sometimes it can only be used to prepare us for something bad that will happen. It is a part of us. “I think you need to rest now, and we can talk later. You are going trick or treating, remember?” I remember thinking my mom was a bit crazy. I remember lying back and thinking maybe I was dreaming. More like a nightmare, I thought. I must have slept some because I woke up just in time to gobble dinner and head out to trick or treat. There were twelve of us, total. The oldest of us was someone I didn’t know very well; she was sixteen and also a bit of a brute. We start off around the old Shadowsland town, the area just below the old Anderson House. Twilight is just beginning and the sun along with the moon is visible in the sky. It was to be an eclipse that night. Only happens ‘once in a blue moon’, the weatherman had said. The light in the sky was eerie. I wondered along beside Glenda, my best friend, slowing her down so we could talk a minute. “Glenda, come here. I want to talk to you a minute.” I whisper to her as I reach for her hand. “What? You don’t look so good, Dee.” Glenda is looking me over. “You look good in that costume, though. Looks like you got boobs there, girl. What did you do?”

“I snooped in the attic and found an old trunk with old, old clothes. This was in it. The hoop, the low dress, the boob rack; I used some old rags to fill in the boob rack. When I put on the sunglasses, I saw, I saw a ghost on that old piano. Then I saw Ruth and Janet, they, vanished, Glenda. I saw them vanish!” I lower my voice on that last bit; I don’t want Ruth and Janet to hear me. The older girl then calls us around her. She seemed to have made herself our leader. We gather close, listening to her speak. “Gather around me, lend me your ear, Halloween has come; a night of fear, Relinquish your soul, demons wail, Bells give midnight’s coming tale, Ghosts swarm the haunted mansion, Cemeteries full with banshees shriek, Death will come by daylights peek. When the midnight hour does strike, Hide the children from the night. Creepy, freaky, spooky hands, Reach for the mouth, the scream to stem, Menacing music screeching within, Mind and thought ours to imprison, Your essence, Heart body and soul, Ours to bind, consume, devour, Blood pounding, veins leaping Look out it’s the witching hour, Halloween has come, a night to fear, Gather around me; lend me your ear.

“I have a great idea! Let’s drop by the Old Anderson house.” I don’t believe what I am heard. I reach for Glenda and pull her aside. “ Glenda, I don’t want to go there. That’s where Ruth and Janet vanish. We can’t let this happen. We have to stop this now!” “What do you want me to do?” Glenda hisses back. “I don’t know. Stop it!”

I watch Glenda step up and speak. “That’s a really dumb idea. That house is cursed and haunted. My mom says people disappear from that house. I know I am banned from the woods, grounds and the house. Why would we do that?” “It would be fun! Besides, as long as we all stay together nothing is going to happen. What are you guys; babies? “Please! You don’t really believe in ghosts and goblins, do you? “Those rumors have been around as long as I can remember. People die all the time. What are the chances anything will happen? There are twelve of us. We are a witch’s coven! “ I DARE you! Double Dare you.” Voices began small then got loud. “Let’s go, … Let’s Go, … Let’s GO… LeT’s Go… LET’S GO!” “Glenda, we can’t do this! We can’t … we can’t… we can’t!” I stomp my feet and feel a bit hysterical. It’s like something, or someone else is in control and I can’t change a thing. Glenda grabbed me and tried to get me to calm down. “Dee, she is right. There are lots of us together. If we keep them close together, we can protect them. “Come on, let’s go.” “But, Glenda, look at the weather, the rain is coming, and the eclipse will block whatever light we have now. We won’t be able to see anything, and that will make it more dangerous. We have to turn them all back and do it now!” “Stop this, Dee, quit sounding hysterical. There is nothing wrong. It’s just your nerves.” What is wrong with everyone? Why can’t they feel this fear that is racing through my body? Why am I still here? I can’t change their minds, and I can’t change the fact my friends are going to get hurt. My mom is right. I just have to learn to accept this. What am I going to do? I can’t feel my hands anymore. This is paralyzing me! This fear is racing through my entire body. Help! I can’t breath! My head is pounding, sweat is pouring down my neck.

Wait, it’s the rain! Oh no! Not that too! It’s like an instant replay in my head, that scene in the attic. Over and over again, it plays and plays; the house, my friends, vanishing; the house, my friends, the vanishing. “I think I am going to throw up,” I whisper. I must be in shock, I think. I am only twelve years old. Who am I to stand against fate? Who am I to tell my friends what to do…? Stumbling along the roadway, I fall, and then plunge ahead… Counting my steps. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…. The road to the Anderson House is rocky, filled with little pebbles and slick with rain. Electric power lines ooze zappy noises as we all march toward the haunted, deserted house. The world takes on an eerie look and the shadows dance in the wake of the soon coming eclipse. Trees line the watered down sidewalk, and the house itself looks like a castle. The edges of the walkway have weeds growing out like vines that lived to trap you. I watch as the weeds intertwine with stubby legs determined to defy the odds of death. Suddenly, the air fills with the wails of dogs, howling, growling, and menacing guttural gnashing warning us away. Trees reach for the girls, ghosts flow through the air, wrapping their boney skeleton fingers in the hair of those ahead. Screams of terror stream down through our pack, and the girls head in three different directions.

“I… I… just remembered. I… have to be home now. My Mom needs me.” One girl blurts out as she heads down the looming side street. “Wait for me!” Two others scream. I notice we are down to eight girls now. Maybe it’s just as well. Still we move forward. Daring fate to take us all. Shifting into groups of three we keep looking ahead.

Lightening flashes, illuminating the house, making it look ghostly and welcoming. The light hits the windows to make them glow, candles flickering, shutters wailing, and curtains billowing, making the house appear alive. Branches wiggle a welcome of their own and an evil laugh wraps itself around the remaining coven.

“That’s it! I am going home!” “I’m with you!” “Don’t leave me here!” Looking around, I see four more girls are hightailing it away from our fate. Inwardly, I cheer. Outwardly, I wait. Wind picks up speed, leaves float around, voices wail and my body shudders from the thoughts of doom that seep into my tumbling mind. “Let’s go home. Everyone else has left. Let’s just leave, now.” I shout into the wind, hoping one of my friends hears me. “Please, I love you guys! I don’t want something to happen to you!” Reaching out to grab Glenda, I realize it is just a branch I yank, and I am standing there, alone, the old front door banging against the walls, candles flickering, curtains waving against the tide of the heavy winds pounding the old abandoned house. “Nooooooo!” I scream and faint.

Frog-Utopia

Frog-utopia! By Dalene Davies

Literary Tech & Story Development 3-26-2012

Frog-utopia I can’t believe this is happening to me. Here I am, just minding my own business, when I see… I see… this oval thing glaring at me. I do not know what it is, but it watches me. I move to the side, and it follows my every move. I am disturbed now! How do I get away? What is it? I can feel it breathing. Extending my legs, I move to the side and jump, but I land in a net! I am trapped! Now what can I do? I croak for help, but no one hears. I feel my world shift as I am taken from my home. The trees above me move so quickly. The branches swish in the wind. I tremble. At least I have water. We stop, and I am placed inside a clear world. I explore the new area cautiously, slowly swimming around the square area, examining the plants, and little homes available. Once I relax I notice there is a little platform for me to sit on. I climb onto it and look around at my new surroundings. I see a room filled with scientific equipment. I see flat, round things, and a tube-like structure that is being used by the thing that captured me. It is looking this way again, one huge ball, with bloodlines flowing through it, unblinking, just staring at me. Seeking information, I let out a croak. No answering croak. The oval thing continues its haunting stare. It has a board in its hand. It takes notes and then it stares at me again. The lights go out, and the thing leaves the room. Once the room is quiet, I begin to settle in. I swim around, looking for a new home, watching the vision of another me swimming around, like a double. Another me, I think, as I swim towards it, watching the other creature swim closer. What is it? I look, and it looks back. I move, and it moves. I stick out my tongue, and it does the same. I try to lick it, but the thing tastes like cold flies that have died. Yuck!

I swim away and rest in my little lily pad when I see movement on the outside. What is that? LOOK! It is a black, round, pulsating blob of mass. And it is so fixated on me. I jump through the water and landed under the swaying limb of my lily pad. The peeper continues to scrutinize my every move. I could feel my heart fluttering, the terror spread through my tiny body. That eye was as big as me! It was unrelenting, pursuing me, watching. I hid. The black thing swished its tail and moved on its legs to get closer to me. It continued to stare, watching, waiting. I tried to figure out what it was. I heard a meow echo through the room and decided to stay where I was … safe, out of its reach, at least for now… The ground shook. I woke up, confused, disoriented. There were footsteps followed by people talking about the need to identify “rib-bits” and croaks from outdoor frogs. I woke up from my nightmare just in time to disappear into my lily pad and contemplate those weird things I saw in my dream. What was that black thing that watched me? I hoped to never meet one while I was awake!

Robbers!

Literary Tech & Story Development 3-26-2012

ROBBERS Two white-faced clowns checked their goofy watches and laughed. Just in time! They swung open the BOA doors and skipped into the room. Clown one started closing blinds and locking doors. Clown two sauntered over to the main cashiers cage and shoved a hand-written note beneath the iron rods. “Here you go, sugar, this note is for you,” said one of the clowns. She read it and then glanced up at him. “What… what do you want me to do?” “Give me the gun. I got the money! I mean, … give me the mullah, baby, I gotta run!” “Why would I do that? What makes you think I got any money?” Cindy answers, in confusion. “Hey, buddy, tell the little lady here, why she should give me the money?” Sid yells. “See this?” Buddy held up a thin electronic device and pushed a button. It lit up. “This here is a bomb controller, ain’t it, Sid? Show ‘em the bomb!” “Why did you do that? What did I tell you ‘bout using my real name?” “What does it matter, Sid? They won’t survive unless they do as we say.” “See, guests, and honey-bun, this here wire connects to the bomb locked under my outfit. It’s on me. Shall we test it, huh? Where is my money, honey?” Buddy grins and begins to prod the guests into a corner. A little old lady walks right up to Buddy and gives him a poke. “What are you doing here, Bobby Joe? Look, you are a scaring all these nice people. Now you move that big butt of yours home right now before I tell your pa what you been a doing!” Buddy stops and stares. “My name ain’t Bobby, its Buddy. Who do you think you are anyway?”

©2013 Dalene Davies-‐-‐-‐ Pastiche style poems-‐-‐-‐updated or written for Kooky Stories-‐-‐-‐P&D-‐ -‐-‐Revised for Editing and Revisions Class-‐-‐-‐ 112513 http://3ds-‐-‐-‐kooky-‐-‐-‐ideas-‐-‐-‐dept.com http://kookytales.com

“Now, Bobby, I know it’s you. So just take that mask off right now!” She reaches out to pull the mask only peels off paint instead. “Ouch, stop that!” The old woman then touches the thin cell phone device. A signal initiates. Meanwhile, a strange signal is going out on the phone line. The police intercept the call and begin taping, tracking the call. They set up outside the bank, waiting. At the same moment, Sid looks at the teller, “Look, honey, get me that money now or I blow up the bank!” He leans over and touches the top of her hand. “Sid, tell this old biddy to leave me alone!” “Buddy, quit calling me Sid! You deal with her. How about you move all our guests to the other room?” Buddy begins to herd them out and demands the keys. “Throw me those keys!” “Why should I?” “Because I need to lock up the guests, so they don’t get hurt. You know, we don’t do this every day, if it weren’t fer pa needing an operation and ma needing a keeper, we never would be in this here bank, missy.” “Shut UP, Buddy, you talk way toos’ much, they don’t need to hear all that there information.” “So what, Sid, who they going to tell? No one knows who we are or even what we is doing.” “I said shut up, Buddy!” Buddy finally hustles the guests into the room. The two clowns, Buddy and Sid, grab the money, heading out the door. The three bags are dropped outside the door when the cops show up. “Hello boys. Going somewhere with our money?” “What? How?” “You forgot to turn off the cell power, boys! Cuff em” The Sherriff and one deputy haul the clowns into the car. While the cops deal with the two clowns, the teller stands at the side and looks at the money. “Thanks for saving us, Butch. I just didn’t know what to do! You saved our lives!” She gives the Sherriff a big smooch.

“Oh, Cindy, that’s our job.” He blushes and shuffles his feet. “Well, I have never been so scared in my life. Thanks.” She walks up to the door, picks up two bags of money and returns to her stall. While the cops were busy, she calls her boyfriend and makes arrangements to meet him for lunch. “Sherriff, if you don’t need me anymore, I am taking off for lunch.” “Go ahead, Cindy, we have it covered. We know where to reach you if we need anything.” “I am leaving now. See you tomorrow.” Cindy moves to the back and picks up the two bags of money. She walks out the back door to meet her boyfriend. They climb into the car and vanish, taking half the bank money with them. “That was the best plan ever, Cindy. You are so smart.”

Consumed

Dalene Davies

Literary Tech & Story Development 3-26-2012

CONSUMED

Slimy fingers and a draft met me as I fell into a tunnel-like gap under my bed. I felt like screaming and kicking, but it was of no usethe draft had taken its hold. Each time I fought the movement; my body seared with a pain that fighting only made worse. My breathing became erratic. I felt the blood pumping through my body, down through my entire four-foot eight-inch frame. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and terror flared through me like a raging fire. Waking up, I tried to figure out what happened. The room was dark, filled with shadows, leaping from every corner. The wall attracted my attention first. Before my eyes, a mirror receded and now had an unearthly glow. Flames flew from the center, highlighting a spiral staircase that seemingly revolved up through the solid wall. An image blazed in the mirror-like reflection where the staircase met the wall. It looked like a gateway ascending toward the stars. Each time my eyes moved around the room, I could feel my body quiver. My heart hammered, forcing blood through my icy cold vines. I knew I needed to move, but the horror within my mind left me paralyzed. Glancing further from the fire mirror, I noticed something sitting in the chair directly in front of my closet. A movement, like the ripple of a small breeze, caught my eye. A monster floated into focus. Just as quickly, it shimmered out, while my jelly-fried brain cells tried to make sense of it all. “Scram! Shoo! Leave! Get out!” I tried to shout, but it was more of a soft, angry hiss. I tried again. “What do you want? Who are you?” Risking my sanity, as well as my life, I moved my feet to the edge of the bed. I leaned over; scanning the underside of the bedspread to be sure the menace of my vision was not there and dashed across the room to face the hideous monster. Empty sockets stared at me. A light buzzing enveloped me, my mind trying to block the growing fear that was filling my limp body. The tingling began in my fingertips, spreading to my arms, then hammered through my lungs until it finally attached itself to my grey matter. My breath caught. I reached out to touch it, feeling the frigid arctic inferno enfold me. The gateway revolved from the wall and swallowed me into a new dimension.

Focusing on the center, a bench appeared to expand into an oblong orbit. The gooey slime orbited me and began to fossilize me. I could hear, see, smell, and feel; but I could no longer move. I could no longer speak; though, I heard words inside my head. I shuddered inwardly, hearing the words screaming inside my head.

“Welcome home, honey! I am looking forward to the upcoming heartto-heart we will be having after I have consumed that physical form.” The alien form whispered in my mush-like brain, as he proceeded to consume me. All the images of my life as a human travelled through my brain roots out to my companion. I melted into one with him, entirely devoured.

All Hallows Eve! By Dalene Davies 10-2011

Creative Skills Development 10-24-2011

All Hallows Eve

Thump! Thump! Thump! I heard the beat off in the distance. I thought it was a heart beat! Then I listened harder and found it was mine! Running, I tried hard not to lose my balance. I was trying to get away. Each time I looked back, I could feel them getting closer. Breathing hard, I tried to get my body to get into rhythm with my mind. It was not easy. My brain was running faster then my body, or at least that was how it felt. The words were getting louder now. I could feel the tension rise up in my middle. My paws were aching, the hard ground digging into the slim covers of my paws. Each time I slowed to take a peek, the voices got closer. This is not working, I thought, I need a place to hide and to think. Where can I go? To whom can I turn? Snow lightly fell over the path. The cold was slowly seeping though my body. I could see the air shift in front of me. I looked to my left, then to my right; the dark woods looked even blacker then usual. The midnight glow of All-Hallows-Eve was upon the woods or maybe just upon me. I saw a huge tree with an open area sitting by the path. I darted in, pulling my tail in quickly and curling up

inside the dark, damp, hole, quietly stilling my breathing, trying to control the shudders that rolled through me. I am a nice cat. My name is Smoky. I am a black cat. I love kids, other animals and adore my pets. That was how it used to be, anyhow. I tried to think back. When did it start? Yesterday or was it the day before? What day is it? Oh it must have been three days ago. I shuddered, thinking back. I came home as usual, making my way through the kitty door. The house was usually filled with laughter. My pets were usually ready to lavish me with love and attention. They loved the presents I left them. They were the best pets I ever had. Until three days ago that is. I stop thinking long enough to listen. The branches were being kicked aside further away from me now. I uncurled my tail and began licking my wet fur. It had a calming effect on me, so I begin to relax. What is it I am trying to remember? I still feel confused. I think back to three days ago and realize my pets have vanished! The entire village is looking for them as well as me. How did this happen? I am a 10-year-old midnight colored cat. I have emerald shaped, colored eyes, and can understand human speech and am fluent in cat, dog, and many other languages. My tail is long and sleek. My ears perk at my name even if I may ignore the human calling. I love to play hide and seek. Mostly it is I hiding though. I love to scare things. My ears perk as I hear the underbrush of the bushes sway and a low growl emits from 20 feet away. I feel my eyes widen in fear as I see a huge dog appear. I swish my

tail and bear my teeth, then take off towards town. The glowing hound gets a sniff of me, and I run faster then faster and tumble to the ground. I feel my heart thudding, thudding, faster in my body, my breathing changes and I run trying to find a place to hide. No time to think, I run on and on; and find a church with its doors open wide. I dash into the door, and then deep within. I suddenly remember the bag. It was three days ago. I pulled it up out of the ground. It was then the people began to vanish and the howl of a hound began to vibrate through the town. What had I unleashed? What had I done? Opened a door to hell to let the soul catcher abound? I wondered through the church, searching for an answer. Could I find a way to break the spell or was I doomed to run forever? What happens if it catches me? I shiver at the thought. I must think, I tell myself. I must force myself to find the answer. Huddled in a corner, I waited in the gloom, trying to find a way to bring the hound to its doom. The stairs led down the hall towards the cemetery behind. I crept along the way, shivering in the frosty dawn. I inched along the way, towards the hollow hole I left, then I ran towards the back, following the trail I knew so well. I ran on in the early light, seeking the bloody smelling mouse I dug up three days past. I ran from house to house, sniffing until I stumbled upon the corpse, the dead mouse. I pulled the bag out into the path, then nosed the mouse back inside. I found the deepest place, and buried the rodent. Turning suddenly, I saw the hound, glowing, growling, teeth gnashing close to my fur. I jumped a mile or so it felt, and then saw the hound disappear. The night began to

shift, the weather began to change, the stars began to twinkle and the world began to change. I woke with a meow, shattering the night, to find my pets around me, the fire they did light. It seemed the dream had passed as the nightmare was vanishing. Then I looked around and saw the dead mouse thing beside me.

Have Medallion, Will Travel! By Dalene Davies

Creative Skills Development 10-24-2011

Have Medallion, Will Travel!

Traveling from town to town, I have made a bunch of good friends along the way. I sat down in the shadows of the trees, and began to whittle on a small branch. I figured I deserved to sit down. I needed to work through the shock I was feeling. My own little part of the world did not prepare me for this adventure. I shook my head, feeling the burns on my body. Smalltown boy meets Ghostcity, scary thought that. I know my small town thinking gest me in trouble, but still, I never been through this before. You see, I have been going from town to town looking to find the perfect place to settle down. Me and my wife, Bessie, are looking to settle in with a few kids, animals, and putting down roots, so to speak. I have seen several places that I liked but I have this traveling spirit deep in my soul. I just keep moving. Now, about the time it was Alls Hollows Eve I trekked through this here town that seemed to be perfect. The oldfashioned ranch homes were all lined up in a row, purty as pink. They had shutters, porches, and tree swings in every front yard. I stood there, gawking, thinking, “Perhaps I can settle the family here. It sure looks peaceful, and homey.” There

was a glitter just up the road. The last house on the block had a small horse trough sitting by the end of the street. As I bent down to check out the glint, I found this here metal medallion. I picked it up and hung it around my neck. I then glanced down the road and suddenly spotted a perfect looking town. I slowly walked down the road, leading my horse behind me, when I reached the first of the towns main business drag. I walked around looking in the windows, doors and generally wondering where all the peoples went. I shook my head, just trying to figure it out, when I heard a silvery laugh flow further down the street. I tied my horse to the rail by the watering trough and followed that there voice. It seemed to be coming from the saloon. I pushed the sliding doors open and headed toward the old bar. The room itself was dusty, open, with a huge mirror in back of the bar. I could see the smoky air swirling around the room. People lounged around dressed like them cowboys from the old west. Must be getting ready for Halloween, I thought. It seemed the entire town was there, all 25 of them. The sheriff was wearing the leather vest with a bright star on it. I settled down next to him and turned to start a conversation. “Howdy, Sheriff, nice town you got here.” The bartender walked over to the sheriff and refilled his drink, totally ignoring me. “Hey, Bartender, could I get an ice cold beer here, Sir?” The bartender walked my way but just passed by like was invisible or something. He refilled the local storekeepers cup, then began wiping down the counter-

top. He stopped by three women sitting at the end, who began to talk about their day. “What a day, Tom. I had to get the house picked up before I could even head over to the post office. Then the wood stove went out and I had no wood! Had to run out to the woodshed and bring in the wood myself. Jeb was out watering the lawn and tending to the garden.” “That’s a lot of work for a little filly like you, Jan. Hope it didn’t wear you out too much.” “Naw, I can handle it.” “Well, have a drink on the house!” “Thanks.” Tom walked back by me and just didn’t see me! I looked in the mirror. Yes, I was there. I could see the long hair, the moustache, and the frown that creased my forehead. I leaned forward and waved my arm. The necklace moved with me. “Excuse me, but could I get a drink here? I just love the perfection of this here town. Do you have any houses available?” Nothing, still not even a nod that anyone heard me, as I sat there considering my options, scratching my head and muttering to myself. I was beginning to feel foolish. The piano in the corner began to play a fast country tune. It looked like one of them automatic players, the oldfashioned ones with the rolling paper that plays the tune by themselves. I walked toward the piano and turned to watch the scenes playing out in the room. Everyone knew each other. They all talked kind-a funny, and then the drinks went round again. Stepping outside, I noticed the bank looked kind of old

and full of webs. Half the building was burned down, as were the other buildings. I scratched my head again, wondering what happened to the perfection I saw when I rode in. Evil laughter billowed through the town, leaving me with them there creeps, creeping down my back. The buildings began to shimmer, blow up, move and twist turning to shimmering air, and heat began to shift through the town. Wind howled and created a vortex that nearly pulled me into the middle. The medallion heated on my chest and flew towards the vortex. My world changed in an instant. I tried to move toward the horse, gripping the rung with my entire being. I felt it heat up on my own skin and tried to twist away. My body was burning until I threw the coin off my neck and watched the town burn down. I hurried to my horse, patted her a second, jumped on her back, then got out of dodge! I didn’t even turn around, just kept on a going, until I found this nice park and park bench. “Mind if I sit here, Stranger?” “Sure, Mister. You can see me?” “Of course. Why shouldn’t I? You feeling ok, Friend?” “Well, you know that there town about 5 miles back? Lonsume Dove Town? These there people didn’t even notice me, was like I was invisible or something.” “Um, Friend, I don’t know what to say. That town burned down around the turn of the century. Nothing left but the old wishing well by the main drag. Seems I remember something about a jewelry heist from

the bank. Money, jewelry, and coins lost after the stable, bank, and storehouse went up in flames.” My fingers felt numb and the shock really set in. I was a talking to …. Ghosts?? I really was talking to spooks?? How is a person to know what to do if there aint no signs anywhere? I fainted dead away, thinking… Have Medallion, Will Travel.

Judgment?

Dalene Davies 8-25-2012 LCAT Week4 Project4

Judgment? We interrupt this program to report a major catastrophe. The Republication Convention being held in Florida has been hit by several major events at the same time. Hurricane Judgment hit at 3pm today. This is the second day of the convention and while the Republications were able to release party members to safety, it has hit the area hard. The convention center that housed the convention has been used by democrats to show republican hypocrisy has reached an all time high. Today’s rally centered around the theme that businesses built America while the current administration feels it is the public that built the infrastructure that has allowed American business to flourish. After all, if roads, buildings and bridges had not been built through government jobs bills, those businesses would not have thrived. It has been a hard year for the GOP. This is perhaps the most devastating act to occur yet. The hurricane hit hard and has only damaged the convention center. Key party members have always used the weather to claim it was God’s wrath toward America that brought these. Does this mean the Republicans have gone too far? Is this God’s Judgment on the Party that is anti-human rights, or antienvironment? Is this a warning to Americans that it is time to be the stewards of the Earth? We now go live to Tampa to talk to Reporter Tanya Tanner. She has a few updates to offer and an interview

with some of the survivors of this great catastrophe. Are you there, Tayna? “Yes, Liz, I am here. The winds are blowing at an excess of 60 miles per hour, and as you can see, the damage around here is extensive! The winds have already pulled up cages in the local zoos and the animals here are running scared! We have already had reports that alligators have been spotted trying to escape the harsh winds. We have not heard of any attacks as of yet, but this is only the beginning. With me is Lila Straw, the Animal Protection director. Tell us, Lila, what might we expect.” “Thank you, Tayna, I think we can reasonably expect to hear stories of animal attacks as the storm blows over. We have over fifty animals recorded as released. People, do not approach any of these animals. They are scared and classified as deadly.” “Thank you, Lila. Now with me is the GOP director, Hal Overman. Mr. Overman, please tell us what the status is of the Convention. Will you now postpone it? Is this a judgment on your party? Will we still see the republicans on the ticket?” “Well, first, we would like to say, our party convention goes on. We will continue at the local hotel. We are not giving out the address. I have no comment on the other items. Of course, we will be on the ticket! Nothing has changed except…” “Oh, my… did you catch that bolt of lightening strike the director? Guess God has spoken, after all. Perhaps this country needs to reevaluate the direction we are heading.

I think I will move over to the side here, while I continue. The winds are getting stronger so I think I will head out now. This is Tayna Tanner returning the program.” “Thanks, Tayna, I think moving out of the path of God’s Judgment might be a good idea. We now have the Presidential nominee on split screen. Mr. Randel, we would like to discuss the meaning of this storm. You and your party have stated that these natural weather patterns have been divinely ordained because of the feminist movement, and the modern acceptance of gay rights. Do you still feel this way and what does it say to the American public that your convention center, built with 62 percent of government funds has been destroyed while your party’s convention was being held?” “ I don’t fully remember my party’s principals but I stand by them anyway. We are the best party for this country. We are for all people and fully intend to get Americans working again once we are elected and get the women to stay home where they belong. I … uah… mean… once we take over this country’s government. This is not a judgment upon us. We are still here and going strong. We believe our country…” “It seems we have a connection problem. Hold on. This just in… The news van where the presidential and vicepresidential nominee were bring interviewed has been destroyed by the hurricane. Guess that’s our last judgment for today. Stay turned for more coverage while we try to find more republicans to comment.”

Kooky Stories- Pastiche Poems FormatBy Dalene Davies ©2013 http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com Literary Genre1-Comedy &TragedyEditing & Revisions Essay and Audio Links With Music Nothing we can do Our Miracle Child, Theda Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One Visual Thinking & Writing Script Video Publication and Distribution Spider-Mania Not-In-My-House! Time with my Father June 16, 2013 Sock Monsters Invade Earth June15, 2013

CLICK HERE: http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com

ABOUT ME: Creative Writer--educational homeschool books, e-books & journals; Novelist, Scriptwriter, Poet & Political Activist. I am a: Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Environmentalist, and an Equal-Rights Believer!

DaleneDavies_E&R_DialogueExercise_W4A1_12192013

Audio Pastiche Poems for Portfolio with Credits

Working this exercise was very difficult. The poems I wrote are real life and I chose to read a few of them for this exercise. I chose to do these four because of the timing. If I had read a scene or two from one of my scripts, I figured that would be about five to seven minutes. Each poem is about 2 minutes long, so I figure I reached that goal. Another part of this exercise involved music. I wanted to read to background music to enhance my words I spoke. When I post these to my portfolio, I intend to have them sound as professional as I could make it. Each poem has a history. They are very personal and heartfelt. Reading them out loud brought back all the emotions that went with the first writing. I found that digging deep into my life experiences, I had a lot of bottled up emotions that I don’t usually discuss. The words I wrote express a lot of the feeling that I hid. The first poem, “Spider Mania”, was a very lighthearted poem about an experience with a rubber spider. I originally tried to script it for Visual Thinking and Writing, but had no idea how I would tape that. I put the story aside until my Publishing and Distribution class when I hit upon the idea of taking the story and revising it into a Pastiche Style poem. I worked on the word count, editing it down to publish on my Word-Press Website. It worked exceeding well and even this recorded version allowed me to laugh at my fear of spiders. The song I chose was the “Flight of the Bumble Bee”. The rising and falling of the tempo worked well with the inflections that came out with the poem. The second poem, “Our Itty Bitty Pretty One”, was what I used for my Visual Thinking and Writing Class. The script and video are already on my portfolio and that version was three minutes long. When I turned it into a Pastiche Style poem, I edited it down to one page and found the piano player version of “Little Bitty Pretty One” plus the word version. Both played well against the poem and helped to play against the heartfelt words I used to express our feeling for our daughter’s graduation.

The third poem, “Our Miracle Child, Theda”, was originally a script story I tried for Visual Thinking and Writing. When I didn’t use it, I decided to try turning that into a poem as well and that format worked better. I used the song; “All I Need is a Miracle”, for this poem presentation. The instrumental version of the song highlighted the words in another way that I was elated with and pleased with the results. The final poem was the hardest. “Nothing We Can Do” was actually written for Comedy and Tragedy Writing class. The words and feeling are real and happen everyday. The subject matter is tough. I find myself feeling those emotions even today. For the music, I played “You’re Gonna Pay” and the instrumental version of “Mad World” to combine the words and songs into one. I found the refrain to “You’re Gonna Pay” very telling. At the end of this exercise, each poem had conflict, character growth and spirit. I felt my words were expressive and visual and the music just added another layer to the poems. The characters, dialogue and emotions, were me and that allows me to feel the poems are real, down-to-earth, people.

SPIDER-MANIA: NOT IN MY HOUSE

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/spider-mania_not_in_my_house_poem

https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddaviesspidermanianimhpoem

Music Credit: SethRoachMusic. (2010, July 24). Flight of the bumble bee player piano. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENe23pnXSkI

OUR ITTY_BITTY PRETTY ONE

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/our_itty-bitty_pretty_one_poem

https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-ittybittyprettyonepoem Music Credit: Phalanges04. (2011, Oct 07). Little bitty pretty one. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhewGfh5RUo Jim02026. (2010, August 10). Little bitty pretty one piano player. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRfYXY5ET0k

OUR MIRACLE CHILD, THEDA

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/our_miracle_child_theda_poem

https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-ourmiraclechildt Music Credit: Taylor, J. (2013, August 06). All i need is a miracle. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ClsQo6n2l4

NOTHING WE CAN DO

http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/nothing_we_can_do_poem

https://soundcloud.com/dalene-davies/ddavies-nothingwecandopoem Music Credits: Thu Le. (2010, December 31). Mad world piano version. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWVfPa6tmJc

Lieberth, Elise. (2010, July 06). You're gonna pay. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjgiZ7kxJ8o&list=PLBB9D4110B8200F9C

“Nothing We Can Do”

“Dalene Davies Literary Genre1-Comedy &Tragedy-W1W Writing (based on true life)

Nothing We Can Do 10-24-2012

Nothing we can do by Dalene Davies 10-24-2012 There is nothing we can do, they said to her the night it happened, it is a He said- she said, no reason to arrest. There is nothing we can do, no jury would convict, we might ruin his reputation, if this ever got out. There is nothing we can do, pain caused by his touch, the threat real, the words deadly, the days pass, nightmares follow, days are long, feelings strong. Hate enters her soul, thoughts flutter and pound, he should fry for what he did, he should hurt like she does, Thoughts roll through her mind. There is nothing we can do, no one cares he stole her mind, her soul seethed, seeking justice, retribution, and punishment. He should die, he should pay, he should fry, she thought night after night, the words flowing through her mind, overtaking her sanity, breathing labored, increasingly feeling her need for justice. Fear gathered inside, darkness overwhelming her life. Depression sets in, thoughts of suicide surface, I hide the reasons deep

in my heart, fighting insanity. A year later, a newspaper article tells a story about a house fire. There was nothing we could do; fireman explained, he fried. Feelings … fear, joy, and relief … I wept. (DDD_10242012) WC207 http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com Kooky Stories©102412 Dalene Davies

Our Miracle Child, Theda!

Literary Genre I: Comedy & Tragedy Week 1 Writing 10-28-2012 Revised from VTW (Based on true life

Our Miracle Child, Theda By Dalene Davies

Our Miracle Child, Theda “We may not be able to save her. We will not know until we open her up after you give birth. She has a jejunal atresia, in layman’s terms, a blocked bowel. Here, let me show you what I plan to do.” Doctor James Carson, a pediatric neurosurgeon at SHM Hospital, says to us. He grabs a scrap of paper and begins to draw bold dark lines. They look like snakes or perhaps even an old rusty pipe leading to a round bowl. He slices off a section with the pen, making it darker to simulate a cut off point, like a blockage in the pipe, and then shows another section where he would cut out and then sew the two ends together. I sit there stunned. How can this be? This is not possible! I am not hearing this, nor do I want to hear any more. My fingers feel like ice; cold, frozen, numbed stubs, held tight against my thighs. My mind shudders with confusion and fear, gripping my

usual upbeat, happy mind into frantic oozing. dripping frightened thoughts. My hands shake uncontrollably, heart beat thumping in my chest, my breathing ragged and uneven. Three months later, Dr. Carson performed a miracle for us. Kooky Stories- P&D 632013 ©6313 http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com Dalene Davies

Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One

Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One By Dalene Davies

Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One Eighteen years ago, you were born. Eighteen years Ago, we didn’t know if a blocked bowel, jejunal atresia, would take you. Eighteen years ago, Dr. James Carson resided in Spokane, saving your life twice that year. Our little bitty pretty one; we watched you grow. Matilda came out - you sat through the entire movie. I remember watching you, your elbows on the little plastic picnic table, your chin resting in your little palms, just enthralled by this little girl who looked like you. We taught you to crawl, walk, then run. When you were three you would race through the house, and shout when you won. You were racing yourself. When you were six, you were leading your little brother into trouble. When you were nine, we watched as you played the piano. When you were sixteen we almost lost you again. That appendicitis attack was hours from killing you. We watched the sunset wondering if you would live. You made us cry, made us laugh, made us see life through your eyes. We love you.

Soon you will graduate, and move forward with your life. You will always be our itty-bitty pretty one. Eighteen years ago, you graced our life with your precious existence. Kooky Stories- P&D 6313 ©632013 http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com Dalene Davies

CONGRATS, THEDA VISUAL SCRIPT AND VIDEO

Dalene Davies 11-28-11 VTW_Visual-Film-Script Title Slide **Our Little Bitty Pretty One** By Dalene Davies (Proud Parents) Picture of Paul and Dalene Davies Picture of Davies Kids (2011) Picture of Lyrics for LBPO-Youtube Picture of Dr. Carson Plaque Picture of heartbeat ultrasound, Theda Picture of Theda Ultrasound

Eighteen years ago, you were born. Slide Eighteen years ago, we didn’t know if we were going to keep you. Eighteen years ago, a blocked bowel could have taken you from us. Slide It was called a jejunal atresia. Eighteen years ago, we were lucky enough to have Dr. James Carson residing in Spokane. He saved your life, not once, but twice, that first year. Picture of Theda with mom March 94 Picture of Theda in incubator 94

Slide You were a little bitty pretty one and we watched you grow. Slide You were a little bitty pretty one and we watched you grow. In 1996 Matilda came out and you sat through the entire movie. I remember watching you, your elbows on the little plastic picnic table, your chin resting in your little palms, just enthralled by this little girl who looked like you.

Slide You were a little bitty pretty one and we watched you grow. We knew we would have to buy that movie for you. Picture of Aunt Dixie Picture of Step Father, Mom, and my Dad wRhys Picture of Pauls Dad with Theda and Uncle Steve Slide When you were three you would race through the house, and shout when you won. You were racing yourself. Slide When you were six, you were leading your little brother into trouble. Slide When you were nine, we watched you play the piano. Picture of Theda playing piano and karate Picture of Rain Forest with Theda Slide You would walk through the rain forest across from our house and tell us fairy stories.

Picture of Maryann with Theda Picture of Theda in Highchair Picture of Theda with Neva, Theda Picture of Theda with Baby Rhys Slide When you were 16 we almost lost you again. Slide That appendicitis attack was hours from killing you. We worried and prayed again. We watched the sunset wondering if you would survive. Slide We taught you to crawl, then walk, then run. We let you make choices, and ask questions. We even answered the tough ones. Slide We tried to give you freedom, and allow you to grow. We taught you to love, and to give. We taught you about life, yet we still had lots to learn. Picture of Theda –Dress up, Fair, Neva with Theda Picture of Riverside Recital and Ag show Slide You will always be our little bitty pretty one no matter where life takes you.

We will always be proud of you. Picture of Sammy and Theda Slide You made us see life through your eyes. You made us cry, and made us laugh, and made us hear that still small voice in the night. We love you for who you are and are proud of all you have done. Picture of Ag Show and Elk days Pictures of Awana Picture of Great-Grandma Picture of LBPO You Tube Slide Soon you will graduate high school, graduate from Awana, and go on with your life. Slide We will guide you, love you, and still be very proud of you. Slide Eighteen years ago we didn’t know if we were even going to be able to keep you. Eighteen years ago, you were born.

Slide Eighteen years ago we didn’t know if we were even going to be able to keep you. Slide Picture (ultrasound) Eighteen years ago you were born. Slide Picture (Graduation) We love you, Theda. Congradulations! Picture Paul, Theda, Neva Occupy Spokane

Credits Slide: Credits: Video Dalene Davies Music: Little Bitty Pretty One by Frankie Lymon Project Created with Keynote, iPhoto, iMovie, YouTube, and iTunes This is a 3D Productions 12-18-2011-2012 Example of Video presentation:

3D_VTW_Script Project_122011_Congrats,Theda http://s1203.photobucket.com/user/suzziebell1/media/Imovies_mi ne/3D_VTW_FP_12-11copy_zps13fda968.mp4.html

http://s1203.photobucket.com/user/suzziebell1/media/FSO_VTW_Vi deo/3D_VTW_FP_12-11.mp4.html?sort=6&o=0

“Spider-Mania: Not in my House”

Spider-Mania Not-In-My-House!

Spider-Mania Not-In-My-House Spiders! Apple’s dictionary defines a spider as, an eight-legged predatory arachnid. Not me! I personally define spiders as an unwanted intrusion found inside my house. One day I was home alone, a rare occurrence for a homeschool mom. I was getting my wood stove ready to give to a friend; we didn’t really use it, so I knew they would utilize it. I reached down with unsuspecting fingers, in the dark hollow space, beside the woodstove, when a slimy set of legs reached me. Well, needless to say, the scream that filled the house, outside our house, and down the street was actually… me. I jumped back, pulled myself away and eventually got my breathing under control. I ran for the laundry room, grabbed the Spider-killer and proceeded to spray it. After ten-minutes, when my heartbeat returned to normal, the sweat evaporated, and my breathing settled down, I cautiously advanced toward the offending woodstove. I gripped a tattered tissue firmly in-hand to remove the offending creature. I flashed my flashlight into the dark hole, shuddering and slowly reached tentatively down to grab …

a rubber covered 3-inch 8-legged toy! I cracked-up! Tossing it into the sink, I waited for the next unsuspecting child’s discovery, and scream, later that night.. Kooky Stories update for P&D 632013 ©6313 http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com Dalene Davies

Time With My Father

Time with my Father

January’s would come, a time to see my Father working the booth at the Agricultural show, explaining the R&H products, following in his own Father’s footsteps. The booth, red background, a sign showing the company, the table covered with chrome alloy combine parts, and books written by my grandfather. The tableside exhibits the chrome paperweight animals created by my uncle. Best combine parts, my father would say. Last forever, work the land, save time and energy, satisfaction guaranteed. Rounds he made there, talking to everyone. His grandchildren would visit name tags on hand, looking forward to the special time only grandpa could offer, candy galore, treats all around, free calendars, pens, pads, but most of all, their grandfather. What a day! All the booth operators knew my father. They knew my children. They knew me. The huge tractors, places to hide engulfed their bodies, smiles wide. When the day would end, coats on gloves, too, dinner would end

our day. Just Like Home Buffet, all you can eat, a treat. Three days we would repeat, until my dad would pack-up for the next Ag Show scheduled. My dad died, leaving a gap. We still visit the Ag Show, but January has never been the same. Kooky Stories- P&D- June16, 2013 ©61613 http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com -Dalene Davies

Sock Monsters Invade Earth Poem

Sock Monsters Invade Earth June15, 2013

Sock Monsters Invade Earth Poem Sock Monsters invade Earth, to torment little children. They eat one sock, leaving one, laugh out loud when the children are blamed, they giggle to hear the parents fuss about. The Sock Monsters lurk about, waiting, to swipe that sock from humans devouring it for their food. Human boys and girls discover this when one sock vanishes into thin air and their parents throw up arms in despair and lecture the offspring to take more care. Sock Monsters watch and wait, patiently about to strike when the washer is full, to swipe one sock and leave the other. Sock Monsters are mischievous creatures, who love to torment children. They love the socks, and puzzles too, and have even taken a shoe or two. Sock-land is found underground, under the house, tunnels are formed from socks and puzzles making it a strange world, indeed. Children have seen the Sock Monster appear, looking just like their twin. When the parents hear, they laugh or scold, about the fairy stories told. Looking back, some adults might find within their soul, a flicker of a memory, of times when as a child,

©2013 Dalene Davies-‐-‐-‐ Pastiche style poems-‐-‐-‐updated or written for Kooky Stories-‐-‐-‐P&D-‐ -‐-‐Revised for Editing and Revisions Class-‐-‐-‐ 112513 http://3ds-‐-‐-‐kooky-‐-‐-‐ideas-‐-‐-‐dept.com http://kookytales.com

they remember their Sock Monster appear, and grin at them with great delight when they were scolded and reprimanded just as they scold now. Kooky Stories P&D creation June15,2013 ©6152013- http://3ds-kooky-ideas-dept.com Dalene Davies

Click here to check out the published books available: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/3d_design_connections Sock Monsters Invade Earth http://www.lulu.com/shop/dalene-davies/sock-monsters-invadeearth-hold-on-to-your-socks/paperback/product-15919555.html Sock Monsters Invade Earth: Interactive http://www.lulu.com/shop/dalene-davies/sockmonstersinvadeearthinteractive/paperback/product-16356358.html Sock Monsters Invade Earth: http://www.lulu.com/shop/3d/sock-monsters-invade-earth-hold-onto-your-socks/paperback/product-491924.html Coming Soon: The Sock Monsters Choose Your Own Adventure and Altered Reality: An New Adventure with Sock Monsters

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Open House ~WESTVILLE HIGH ESCAPADES~

3D-Design-Connections

Summary

Title: Open House

Logline: An explosion rocks WestVille High on the day of Miss

- Format: Script - Genre: Animation

Middleston’s open house. Emma, Clara and Samuel dart to the scene first - Running Time: 12 min while Mia tries to pull someone from under the tree….

Synopsis

Miss Middleston, Principal of WestVille High, loved to encourage the kids to explore the unknown. She set up an open house day and had the kids invite their parents to the event. The school was busy getting ready for the big day. Miss Middleston assigned each child a project to use with the presentations. The jobs included: a gold miners gear set up, a geologist science section and a scientific experimentation section. The children quickly divided up the projects. The day arrived, filled with anticipation. Three hired clowns arrive along with three extra clowns. The excitement builds until: a massive explosion blew up a tree outside the building….

Audience Animated Movie for kids under age twelve. http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3d_openhouse_anim111713

Script Location https://app.box.com/files/0/f/536652324/Portfolio

WESTVILLE HIGH ESCAPADES "OPEN HOUSE"

Written by Dalene Davies WW3- Comics & Animation

Dalene Davies 3110 E Chattaroy Rd trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 509-981-3743 -- suzziebell2@yahoo.com September 12, 2013 Revision- Nov 17, 2013

ACT ONE

EXT.

OUTSIDE WESTVILLE HIGH - AFTERNOON

A balloon tag labelled “Day 0” flies through the air to indicate a flash-forward. BANNER Reads: “Open House for WESTVILLE HIGH!” An explosion rocks WestVille High on their open house, PRINCIPAL MIDDLESTON’s, 54, and EMMA, 14, CLARA, 16, and SAMUEL, 17, dart to the scene first, while Miss Middleston tries to apprehend someone ... INT.

WESTVILLE HIGH PLANNING COMMISSION - DAY

A balloon tag flies on screen -3 days- .

MISS MIDDLESTON Please come to order. Children, I am counting down ... Five ... Four ...Three ... That’s much better. We have a lot to do, children. Emma Martens, amateur geologist, raises her hand. Yes, Emma?

MISS MIDDLESTON

Emma lowers her hand and begins to speak. Her stutter is more pronounced when she is nervous. EMMA M ... Mis ... Miss Middd.. middleston? Will we get to ch choose our-our own projects this year? MISS MIDDLESTON Yes, I believe it is time we found our true calling in life. Each one of you will design and present your own project. We have 4 days to finish. Any more questions? Samuel Davis, a slick-talking male, born of traders, raises his hand.

MISS MIDDLESTON Yes, Samuel? Before you speak, please remove the hat. You’re in school not the playground. Samuel, the slick smile on his face, removes the hat. SAMUEL Miss Middleston? Will we be permitted to bring pets this year? MISS MIDDLESTON Well, Samuel, I suppose that would be alright. No horses or large dogs. Samuel smirks. He puts a check-mark by the word MONKEY. INT. LOCAL TELEGRAPH OFFICE - SMARTSVILLE -

SAME DAY

A map shows the placement of Smartsville in relation to Westville. Arrows point to each town with a 40-mile marker. In another town, 40 miles away, a telegraph operator RINGS for ED SMITHSON, 30, a locally known crook wanted in three states for robbery. A post-office wanted sign hangs in the background with three states looking for him. OPERATOR I have a telegram for Ed Smithson. ED I’m Ed. I’ll be right down to pick it up. EXT. LOCAL TELEGRAPH OFFICE - SMARTSVILLE - DAY Ed runs down three people on the dusty sidewalk. He picks up his telegram, reads it a few times and stuffs it in his pocket. INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICE - DAY He stops by the local newspaper office and finds the article he needed. The news story goes into his pocket as well. INT. ED’S HOME - DAY When he gets home, he picks up the phone and calls his brothers. The screen splits into a three-way image as they set a time to meet.

INT. ED’S HOME - DAY (LATER) His brothers arrive for their meeting. ED Boys, have I got a job for you! Ever hear of a town called Westerville? They are having an open house three days from now. They are expecting a huge shipment of gold. Guess who is going to get it? Phil, 28, slime, poke-faced with yellow teeth, and Hardy, 26, burly with longish hair and two-teeth missing, sit scratching their heads.

PHIL The bank? HARDY The people of Westerville? Ed looks at his brothers in disgust. ED We are! We are gonna rob the bank and steal that gold. I have the map and directions. We have some planning to do, boys. Phil and Hardy look at each other and grin. Here comes the money ... They high-five each other and miss, falling. Ed walks over to them, slaps them both on the back of the head and walks over to his table where he picks up his gun and accidentally fires off a round ... INT.

WESTVILLE CAVE -

DAY (THE NEXT DAY)

Emma, dressed in overalls and gloves, carefully picks up the rocks that she collects. She looks them over and grabs the gold paint that she took from the school art room. She covers the rocks with paint and lays them out to dry. Just as she turns to leave, she hears voices outside. She creeps to the entrance and listens.

EXT. WESTVILLE CAVE - DAY ED Look, boys, I found a great hiding place for us. See this here cave? Nobody has been here in years! It’s perfect. The horses NEIGH and the Smithson Brothers HOOT. Emma peeks around the mouth of the cave. She grabs a firecracker and sets it off. The horses bolt. She bravely gathers her equipment and rocks, places them in a burlap bag, and quickly runs the other direction. The men SHOUT trying to get the horses to come back. INT. SAMUEL’S HOME - DAY Samuel picks up his pet monkey, TOTO, and pats him on the head. SAMUEL Toto, we are going to have sooo much fun at the open house! Just wait until the kids get a look at you! Samuel snuggles Toto and whispers in his ear. SAMUEL I can just see Miss Middleston’s face when I pull you out of my box! Toto jumps from Samuel’s arms and races around the room, up the bookcase, onto the hanging lamp and swings, CHATTING up a storm. Samuel smiles at Toto’s antics. INT.

WESTVILLE HIGH - AFTERNOON

Miss Middleston finishes the final invites to the open house; the first letter addressed to “The THREE CLOWNS” of Mullberry Way. Second letter to Feng Bao, a cook at the local Tavern, requesting refreshments for the open house. The final letter to Fredrick Gibbles, the male history and health teacher regarding the upcoming field trip to the Watering Hole Caves.

EXT. WESTVILLE HIGH - MAIN STREET - EVENING FIRECRACKERS EXPLODE on the streets of WestVille. Horses RUMBLE through the road-way. The racket attracts the citizens, who peek out of their windows. The wind picks up, and the sky darkens. A CLAP of THUNDER shakes the buildings. A ZAP of LIGHTENING brightens the sky and snaps a tree in half. The horses THUNDER past the town and stop in a clearing with a grass and pond setting. Three strangers follow the horses ... GUNS SHOOTING wild ... The citizens cower in their homes. Ticker bomb shows - Day 2 - Countdown to Open House. END OF ACT ONE

ACT TWO

INT.

WESTVILLE HIGH - DAY

A balloon tag flies on screen - 1 day - to the big event. MISS MIDDLESTON Children ... Children ... We must come to order quickly! I know the storm damaged a few areas, so today will be a half day. You need to set up your presentation areas before you go. Chop-chop! Miss Middleston sits in her chair behind her desk, plops her tired feet on the desk, and wiggles her mismatched stocking toes. The children rush to get their boxes ready. Emma places her ‘painted’ rocks in her box, closes it tight and rushes off to find Odelia Driver, 29, a ruthless, disgraced, Pinkerton Agent, the closest thing to law enforcement for miles around. INT/EXT.

ODELIA’S HOME - DAY

Emma rushes up to the door, KNOCKS. ODELIA Come in! Come in, whoever you are! Emma opens the door. Odelia steps up to the door. ODELIA What is it, Emma? Emma tries to calm herself, but the stuttering starts up immediately. EMMA I ... I ... was ... I me . mean... I saw these st ...strange ... men yesterday. They said they we.. were ... planning to rob the town blind! Emma finishes and Odelia perks up. ODELIA Robbers? Here? Oh, how perfectly smashing. You must help me.

What did they say? What did they look like? When are they going to act? Emma just stares at her. EMMA I ... I ... Don’t know. Of course I will he ... help. Are you sure Y..You really want me? Now Odelia stares. ODELIA Yes, of course, I am sure. Why wouldn’t I? EMMA No ... nobody believes I can ... do ... anything ... I ... I ... stutter and I am a ... girl. ODELIA Now, that will be quite enough of that, young lady. Why do you think the men are here? Think carefully now. EMMA I heard something like ... open house or mouse or something like that and there were three, with bags and horses and stuff. Odelia writes all this down in her handy- dandy notebook. ODELIA Good, good, now keep going, Do you think you could get me an invite to the open house? Emma has a bright idea. A LIGHT BULB SHINES. EMMA I could have you as my guest! I ... I think ... I can do that. Miss Middleston said it was our project. They begin to hatch up a plan to catch the bad guys.

INT. WESTVILLE CAVE - DAY The Smithson Brothers use a lantern to light the cave. Papers, maps, and notes lay around them; three clown outfits along with guns and burlap bags sit to the side. ED Take a look at these here plans. I got them from the locey news stand. See the X? That’s where all the loot is going to be. We need to check out the local area and make sure we know what’s up. The Sky?

HARDY

PHIL I know. I know. Pick me! ED What, Phil? PHIL My hand! .... Get it? ED Will you two pay attention? We need to check out the town so we can rob them. Are ya with me? The three brothers shake hands and gather everything into their bags in the corner. INT. SAMUEL’S HOME - DAY Samuel picks up Toto and carries him into his room. He finds a box and adds bananas, Toto’s sleepy baby (corn-cob monkey) and a blanket. In a burlap bag, he places extra diapers, clothes and bananas. SAMUEL Come on, Toto, lets practice your juggling. Here are three balls. Catch! Toto reaches out and catches the balls one at a time. Samuel laughs when Toto does a flip or two and still catches the balls.

SAMUEL Pretty good, old boy. I wonder what else I can teach you to do. Have a banana. Toto peels the banana and throws the skin across the room. Samuel watches it land. His smirk is back. Samuel goes into his kitchen and finds five other banana skins. He places them into his burlap bag. SAMUEL This makes ten total banana skins. What do you think, Toto, is that enough to have some fun with on open house day? Toto just looks at him and jumps up and down. Toto runs for his barrel drum and pounds on it. Samuel decides to add that to the box. SAMUEL I am so glad Ma and Pa traded those rats for you, Toto. We are going to have such fun, aren’t we? Toto jumps around doing cartwheels and finally falls asleep. INT. GLOSSMAMER’S DRESS COMPANY - DAY The letter from Miss Middleston arrives. Three clowns are needed for the Open House at Westville High. Miss Glossmamer punches the bell and three men bound into the room. GLOSSMAMER Boys, I have a job for you. You will be ready at 11 am on Friday. Your clown costumes are in the other room, all ready for you. The open house at WestVille High is in need of your services. The three men smile and rush off. Ticker bomb shows - One Day - Count down to Open House. END OF ACT TWO

10.

ACT THREE

INT. WESTVILLE HIGH - OPEN HOUSE - DAY Miss Middleston and the children make the final preparations for the open house. Feng Bao sets up the pies and colorful water he created. Everyone gathers in the central room. Okay, seats round funny

MISS MIDDLESTON Everyone, please take your and get ready to PAR-TAY! A of applause for our very guests.

The three clowns enter, doing cartwheels and honking horns. Then three more clowns enter and begin interacting with the first three clowns. The room breaks out into applause. Miss Middleston counts. MISS MIDDLESTON 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! How did that happen? I only needed three. Odelia suspiciously watches the clowns. She slides over to Miss Middleston. ODELIA What’s up, Mia? You look confused. Anything I can help with? MISS MIDDLESTON I just don’t know, Odelia. I am very sure I only hired three clowns and now I have six clowns. ODELIA Don’t worry, Mia. Emma and I have everything worked out. Odelia pats Miss Middleston. Miss Middleston gives Odelia a suspicious, shocked look. Odelia claps once, and Samuel runs on stage, releases his monkey, and begins to throw balls to him. Toto catches and juggles the balls. Toto throws a ball to one clown, who reaches out for it, slips and falls, landing flat on his face. Odelia CLAPS and Toto picks up a pie and throws it at Clown two. The clown spins around, sputters and falls to the ground.

11.

ODELIA Go to it, Samuel. Samuel takes a set of cuffs from Odelia and cuffs the two clowns together. The other clowns start laughing, all but one. The angry clown grabs for his gun but only finds a banana in his pocket. The crowd LAUGHS. Ed reaches for Emma and wraps his arm around her. ED Nobody move or I kill the girl. Who runs the bank? We want our money. Ed reaches Phil and finds the second gun. He pulls it out. SHOTS RING out. BANG! BANG! BANG! The crowd becomes quiet. MISS MIDDLESTON Well, I never! This will be the last time I hire clowns! ODELIA Only half of the clowns are legit. I will take care of this! I will be a hero! EXT. WESTVILLE HIGH - MAIN STREET - DAY Ed rushes outside just as a storm hits. KA-BOOM! Thunder BOOMS and lightening STRIKES. Emma rushes out after the noise startles Ed Odelia rushes out. The tree has exploded and firecrackers blow up. Legs are wiggling under the tree. Miss Middleston runs out of the school house and reaches out to apprehend Ed. The males present pull the half tree over and find ... SAM, a missing hand-made puppet, dressed as a clown, is trapped under the tree. Emma rushes up to grab the puppet. She falls when the tree splits and hits her head on the wagon. MISS MIDDLESTON Quick! Split up and search the grounds! They can’t have gone far! FENG What ... What ... do you want me to do with the food, Miss Middleston.

12.

MISS MIDDLESTON Take it to the Tavern. We have to find those crooks. Now, where are those other two crooks? Feng begins to move the pies. Toto decides it is time to play. He eats a banana and throws the skin to the ground. The wet ground plus the banana skin catch Feng. He falls and pies go sailing through the air. FENG Oh, Crap ... Ouch! Feng rolls over onto a gun. It looks fake. He pulls the trigger and BANG! Feng hits the wagon. EMMA What was that for? I didn’t do anything! Miss Middleston and Odelia run over to the wagon and pull the tarp. They both reach for Emma who holds tight to SAM. She is a bit woozy from the bonk on her head. Feng tries to throw the gun down but only manages to set it off again. BANG! BANG! BANG! The bullets fly in three directions. One hits Odelia’s special explosives. BOOM! The second lands in SAM the DUMMY, and knocks him out flat. The third shoots out and hits a water trough. The water drains out and right there is Ed, the third missing clown. ODELIA Alright, you bad man, hands up! Its time to see the inside of a real jail! EMMA You did it! You did it! ODELIA No, we did it! If it weren’t for you, we never would have known about these three ruffians. This badge is yours, honey! Emma smiles big, proud and excited. MISS MIDDLESTON I think I will go find those other two and clean up this mess. Miss Middleston walks toward the school but finds just the cuffs hanging on the door knob.

13.

MISS MIDDLESTON Oh no! ODELIA! Come over here! ODELIA What is it? MISS MIDDLESTON Just a small little thing, like cuffs that are hanging on the knob. What kind of cuffs were they? Odelia slaps her forehead. ODELIA When I talked to Samuel about this, I thought he knew to grab my REAL cuffs! Now I’ll never get my reputation back! Just then three horses with riders flash by at a fast pace. The Smithson Brothers escapes yet again. They YELL! SMITHSON BROTHERS We’ll be back! You can’t hide that gold forever! Just you wait! A cloud of dust blows through the town. Samuel rushes out holding the loot from the burlap bag. In his hand, he holds the article about the gold shipment to Westerville. SAMUEL Miss Middleston, you will never believe this. Those were the Smithson Brothers and they thought this was Westerville. I guess they picked the wrong town, huh? Pies, banana skins and balls all fly through the air. Toto hangs out on the porch, demanding attention. The people of WestVille feels the tension drop at the same time the rain falls. ODELIA Just another day in boring WestVille ... huh? Maybe it will be better next year! Another pie flies through the air, SPLAT, right smack in Odelia’s face, while everybody begins to HOOT! THE End!

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Op e r a t i o n : Oc c u p y

3D-Design-Connections

Su mmary

Title: Operation: Occupy

Logline:

When an undercover cop infiltrates a group protesting the unfair eviction of a homeless shelter, his mission becomes compromised when the local police begin to kill unarmed citizens.

Synopsis

- Format: Film - Genre: Action, Adventure

- Running Time: 20 pages

When undercover agent, John Murphy, is given the job to infiltrate the Occupy Movement, he goes in with law and order on his side. When he meets the organizers of the Occupy movement, he finds himself at odds with his original mission. While undercover he befriends the organizers leaders and watches his own police friends turn into killers. He then must choose if he is on the police side or the citizen’s side.

Audience Adults 18 to 24 years of age http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3d_operation-occupy111713

OPERATION: OCCUPY

Written by

Dalene Davies

3110 E Chattaroy Rd TRLR24 Chattaroy WA 99003 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com 509-990-8519 July 31, 2013 Revision: November 17, 2013

Ext.

Monroe Street Bridge - Day

SUPERIMPOSE: March 22, 2015 THREE-HUNDRED PEOPLE crowd along the bridge, SHOUTING. Signs flash: “We are the 99%” “Corporations are not people” “People over Politics” “Save the American Dream” “Banks got Bailed Out, We Got Sold Out” “Get Money Out of Politics” “My Name is Inigo America. You Killed My Freedom. Prepare to Change” “You Cannot Evict an Idea.” “Occupy Our Homes.” “Evict the Bankers” “Freedom to Protest.” “Expel the Crooks” “Save the Environment” “Living Wages Now. “Health-care for All” News cameras surround the area. THREE REPORTERS SHOUT questions to the PROTESTORS. FIFTEEN COPS wearing vests and helmets move forward as the PROTESTORS get LOUDER. COP #1 SHOUTS to a Protester who attempts to move out of the way as the baton slashes forward. A WOMAN SCREAMS and A CHILD falls forward. TEN PEOPLE begin moving toward the Cop. VOICES RAISE. LOUDER. LOUDER. Hands fly STRIKING the Cops. A GUN SHOT RINGS OUT.

TWO Dragonflyer X4-P mini helicopter DRONES BUZZ past the sides of the bridge, taking video of Protestors through high powered thermal imaging lenses. A Protestor looks up, raises his arm, FIRES at the drone. Two more drone fly up. Another GUN SHOT FIRES.

Drone Two begins to fall. The third and fourth drones have fire power. TWO SHADOWHAWK DRONES BUZZ in the air with a shotgun attached to the bottom, appears in the sky a little over 1,000 feet above the Protestors. Rapid GUN FIRE fills the air, and ONEHUNDRED PEOPLE scatter from the attack. The Protestors point their guns, the drones fire, the two Protestors fire their guns. Fire covers the side of the bridge. The ground SHAKES.

The bridge sways side to side. TWO-HUNDRED PEOPLE SCREAM and run, trampling over each other. SIRENS flood the streets.

Six POLICE CARS SCREECH to a halt surrounding each end of the bridge. Moving quickly, TWELVE COPS direct the Protesters. SIX AMBULANCE DRIVERS set up triage centers by the side of Spokane River adjoining Monroe Street Bridge. PEOPLE attempt to help the injured. A group of protestors sit coughing and choking on the black smoke that rises from the flames. TWELVE POLICE begin to FIRE into the crowd. Men, Women, Children drop like flies. The streets completely blacken with fumes. SCREAMS echo. Black gloved hands, reach out slowly, falling away. Red blood oozes over the bridge.

The day turns to the aura of night. The Newscasters gape in shock, as their cameras continue to capture the bedlam unfolding. A FEMALE REPORTER SCREAMS. Silence.

A MAN frozen in place stares as a GIRL falls from the side of the bridge. He reaches out to grab her when a SIZZLING bullet lodges into his black covered front. The impact sends him over the ledge... INT.

SPOKANE POLICE DEPARTMENT - DAY (SIX MONTHS EARLIER)

SUPERIMPOSE: SEPTEMBER 9,2014

CAPTAIN FREDRICK, 65, a tall, and lanky man sits in his office. He taps the desk with a pencil waiting impatiently for JOHN MURPHY, 46, a hard headed, justice oriented, undercover agent for the Spokane Police Department. Agent John Murphy, 46, walks into the office. CAPTAIN FREDRICK John, I am glad you came in. I have a new undercover assignment for you. JOHN What assignment is it, Captain? CAPTAIN FREDRICK I am not sure you are ready for this one, but the Mayor insisted I get you on this case. JOHN The Mayor? Must be a big case? CAPTAIN FREDRICK Here is the file for you. We expect to hear from you in about two weeks. We need updates on their whereabouts as well as current membership numbers, fire power, and up coming plans. Yes, Sir!

JOHN

INT. SPOKANE POLICE DEPARTMENT - JOHN’S OFFICE - DAY

John carries his file into his office, impressive accommodations adorn his office wall. His desk, organized, and clean. John opens the envelope, sets the paper out and settles in to read them. He turns on his laptop and begins to read out Loud from his file. JOHN “Code Name: Charlie Smith Operation: Occupy Assignment: Infiltrate, discover weakness, destroy” John types “Occupy Spokane” on the Internet, clicks “news” and “videos” pop up with reports regarding The Occupy Movement.

INT. VIDEO - RIVERFRONT PARK - DAY SUPERIMPOSE: June, 15 2012

ROBIN DAWN GREENWOOD, 43, is a beautifully aged woman holding a microphone.. ROBIN Occupy Spokane began October 9, 2011. Their main objective is to remove money from politics. As you can see behind me, people have gathered for another rally. Computer screen shows the rally. “Signs up”. PEOPLE We are the 99%. We are the 99%. People over politics. THREE-HUNDRED PEOPLE converge on road in front of Riverfront Park. Group Organizers gather the Men, Women, and Children. CHANTS get louder. ROBIN I am standing here with one of the organizers. Can you tell us a little bit more about the cause? BOB We are determined to make a difference. We need to make our government listen. We need to get money out of politics and put people first. ROBIN Have the police left you alone? BOB For the most part. You know, Robin, most police do not make over 60,000 dollars a year. In fact many make less. Technically, they belong with us, working to change our world. The People begin marching, and CHANTING. ROBIN Thank you for taking the time to talk to us. This is Robin Greenwood signing off.

INT. JOHN’S COMPUTER - SAME DAY John shakes his head. He CLICKS on his “e-mail” marked “SENSITIVE FOR YOUR EYES ONLY” directly from the Mayor of Spokane and begins reading background on the Occupy Movement. JOHN “Operation: Occupy is a time sensitive operation. The terrorist cells are popping up all around the country. Their objective: bring down the U. S. Government and Corporations who control mass business. You must infiltrate and disarm these terrorists. You have 6 months to complete this mission.” John picks up his black book and looks up Robin’s number. He places a discreet call to set up a meeting. John turns off his computer and closes it. He picks up the undercover business card. Glances at the info and says it aloud repeatedly. JOHN (CONT’D) “Charlie Smith- AAA CAB DRIVER5092225555- 24 hour service” EXT. OUTSIDE SPOKANE POLICE DEPARTMENT- PARKING LOT - DAY

John cleans out his desk and packs three boxes into his new AAA cab. He heads out to meet Robin. EXT. SPOKANE POLICE DEPARTMENT SIDEWALK - DAY John checks the time and walks the two blocks to the Subway restaurant to meet with Robin for a quick bite. They meet at the door. Robin kisses him on the cheek. ROBIN Hello, John, what can I do for you? They order. JOHN I need a little bit of investigative work done. I think you would be perfect for this. Robin leans forward, eyes twinkling, lips twitching.

ROBIN Yes, John? JOHN I need... you to dig up all the dirt on The Occupy Leaders. He slides a file toward her. JOHN (CONT’D) I need it all tomorrow. By the way (Beat) I enjoyed watching your interviews. ROBIN Oh, is that all? I will e-mail all I have once I get home. Why all the secrecy? You could have asked me over the phone. Robin places her elbows on the table, chin in hand, blinking quickly. Her breath is a bit labored. JOHN I just didn’t want to be overheard. ROBIN Is that all? JOHN I might have missed you. Just a little. ROBIN When do you want to ‘meet’ again? JOHN I’ll call you. EXT. OUTSIDE SUBWAY - NIGHT John gets up and walks her out. Her hand caresses his arm when she gives him a deep kiss. John hastily pushes her away, but continues to stare down at her. She grins and gives a wave. He stands there, stunned, watching the faint wiggle of her hips. He walks to the Spokane Police Department, smiling. EXT. OUTSIDE THE SPD - NIGHT When he gets to the parking lot, he climbs into his AAA cab.

He drives home a frown on his forehead. JOHN I just don’t understand how law abiding citizens could join a terrorist group. EXT. FRONT OF JOHN’S HOUSE - NIGHT John pulls in front of his house, grabs his boxes, and opens the door. John shivers upon entering. He makes a pot of coffee and does more research on the Occupy Movement on his laptop. After reading Robin’s research “emails” he SLAMS his fist on the table. JOHN What lies! Where are they coming up with this stuff? What ever happened to the law and order in this country? EXT. RIVERFRONT PARK, SPOKANE WA - DAY SUPERIMPOSE: Saturday 12:00 p.m.

John attends his first meeting. He walks around the parameter, checking out the people. A MAN grabs a bull-horn. MAN First we walk up Main Street, stop at the Bank of America, moving on toward the Wells Fargo Bank, to Chase Bank and finally finish at the Federal Building. Anything else? No? Lets go! ONE-HUNDRED PEOPLE begin to move, following the plan. They SHOUT, YELL and CHANT. John hangs back, watching, the strong silent type, secure behind his “V” Mask, taking notes while he walks. JOHN “Day one of my undercover job. The people are friendly, though angry. (MORE)

JOHN (CONT'D) They will accept anyone into the fold. They trust easily. This should be an easy job!” EXT. SPOKANE CLUB - DAY - 3 PM John walks the three blocks. He works out for one hour. On his way home, he hears the UPROAR of an angry Crowd. EXT. RITZ HOTEL - RIVERSIDE SIDEWALK - DAY THREE-HUNDRED PEOPLE converge on the Ritz Hotel. Some are cuffed to bars, lamp-posts and rails. Others are milling around. CHANTS can be heard throughout the downtown streets. CROWD We are the 99%. We are the 99%. People before profits. Corporations are not people. We are the 99%. We are the 99%. CHANTS become background noise. John, sweaty from his workout, sees an elderly WOMAN on the side of the road. She is battered, bloody, shaken and appears to be in shock. JOHN What's going on over here? BARBARA HART, 60, grey haired grandmotherly type, spunky, slim, stubborn and smart, wife of Occupy Spokane Leader. Fights for justice every day. BARBARA Cops are tearing up my apartment. That's what's going on. What do you care, young man? JOHN Why would they tear up your apartment? What happened to you? Get into a fight with them or a door? BARBARA I don't fight doors. That's a losing battle. Guess it was them, then, huh? (MORE)

9. BARBARA (CONT'D) They wanted to know where my husband was and when I wouldn't tell them, this is what they did to me. So I repeat. What's it to you, young man?

A beat. JOHN (Recognition in his eyes) Come with me, Ma'am. I know a safe place for you. I know who you are. Let me help you, please. John gently helps her to her feet and glances over at the ONEHUNDRED PROTESTORS and FORTY COPS. No one is looking. He leads her toward his house which is just two blocks away.

He keeps his arm around her not only to guide but to protect her from preying eyes. His arm also keeps the blood from dropping. INT. JOHN'S HOUSE - RIVERSIDE - DAY- FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER

John does a quick look-see around his living room to be sure all his cop and John Murphy identifications are hidden from view. Barbara barely notices anything. JOHN Here, sit down while I fix a quick snack and hot tea for you. We also need to clean up those scratches and talk. Do you like cold cuts or soup? That's all I have to offer right now. BARBARA Cold cuts and tea, please, young man. JOHN OK, sit right here. Now don't go anywhere. I'll be right back. BARBARA I don't have the energy or desire to go anywhere right now, young man. Before you go, though, who are you and why are you helping me? (MORE)

10. BARBARA (CONT'D) You could get into serious trouble doing this. JOHN I told you. I know who you are. I was at the rally today. I bet the older gentleman with the bull-horn was your husband, right? BARBARA Yes, that was him. Tall, sixty's, good looking with a deep, trembling voice. That's Nick. So why are you helping me? I still don't know your name, young man? JOHN My name is Charlie Smith. I am helping you because you need the help. I was at the rally today. That's why I am helping you. Want those cold cuts and tea now? BARBARA (Barbara visibly relaxes) Cold cuts and tea does sound good. Thank you, young man. INT. JOHNS KITCHEN - NIGHT John moves to the kitchen where he puts a plate of cold cuts together. He gets the water started. He goes to the far end of the room and opens a cupboard door where his emergency supplies are held. He gets band-aids, wipes, wraps, tape, gauze, and antibiotic ointment. The last things he grabs are two fully charged disposable Tract phones. He lays them all out on the counter top and pulls a tray from under the counter and places everything neatly on top. He picks up the tray and heads back into the living room. He places the tray on the coffee table and sits down next to her.

11.

INT. JOHNS LIVING ROOM - NIGHT JOHN Here we go. Ham, cheese, crackers, and tea. Now, let me look at you. He gently cleans all her scraps and cuts and checks the knot on her head. Blood attaches to his hand. He wipes himself up and bandages her cuts. BARBARA This looks good. What's the rest of it for? I can't eat a phone, young man. JOHN If you and your husband are now wanted by the police, you will need a way to keep in touch. I use them all the time. They are great for keeping a step ahead of, (beat) people. Fully charged, one for you and one for your husband. BARBARA (looks shocked) What 'people' do we not want to speak to or stay ahead of? JOHN Can you go home? BARBARA Well, no, I guess not. JOHN Do you have cell phones right now? Can you get in touch with your husband? BARBARA No, I don't. I just have what you see. No, I can't call him. He is, (beat) at a meeting. JOHN Well, there you go. Once I have you cleaned up and fed, we will go find your husband and then figure out what is next. While you eat, tell me about the Ritz and Occupy.

12.

BARBARA (eats and talks) Well, the Ritz used to be an upperclass hotel until the downtown area fell behind the times. Now it is used for lower-income residents. My husband and I sort of run the place. Not like what we used to do, but it's what we do now. JOHN What did you used to do, if you don't mind my asking? BARBARA No problem, it's not a big secret. We used to work for Bank of America. I was a teller and Dale was a security guard. We worked there for 20 years then they sacked us. John picks up his tea cup and spoon and stirs. JOHN Why did they let you go? BARBARA Said it was due to downsizing but we knew different. They were releasing all the employees with 10 years or more job experience. At sixty, no one wants to hire you, so in the end, we lost everything. JOHN How did you wind up at the Ritz? BARBARA I am getting to that, young man. House, pension, retirement plans, gone. We were homeless for two years when a friend recommended us to the Ritz. It gave us shelter and four-hundred a month for expenses. We live light now. JOHN So why are the cops there? You deal in drugs or something? BARBARA (looks shocked) Of course not! (MORE)

13.

BARBARA (CONT'D) It was far worse than that, young man. We deal in people. When the banks got their bailouts we were not the only people the banks swindled. We opened the Ritz for the homeless. JOHN How many?

BARBARA Eighty homeless plus five families. Oh my god, I hope they are all alright. I can't believe this is happening. What is wrong with this country? Barbara twists her hands while John looks guilty. JOHN What? If the police raided you, you must have done something wrong. Our police are the best in the world. Must have been a fire hazard with all those people there. Something like that, yes, that's what it was. BARBARA Oh, posh! Where have you been, Charlie? Things are getting worse. The police raided, as you call it, because the city wants to tear down the Ritz to build condos or some such thing. That is why the police invaded. What about all those people? Where are they to go? We are not giving up. Not without a fight! Barbara suddenly stands up, bloodied, and angry, lifts her fist into the air and loudly proclaims, BARBARA (CONT'D) PEOPLE FIRST, NOT PROFITS! PEOPLE FIRST, NOT PROFITS! WE ARE THE 99%. WE ARE THE 99%. CORPORATIONS ARE NOT PEOPLE! PEOPLE BLEED, BREATHE, HAVE A HEART, AND CARE! WE ARE THE 99% AND WE WILL FIGHT TO THE END! Barbara falls to the floor. John reaches out and picks her up, placing her on the couch.

14.

John walks to the bathroom just located behind the living room, wets a washcloth and places it on Barbara’s feverish head. INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - NIGHT (A FEW MINUTES LATER)

BARBARA What happened? JOHN You fainted, that’s what happened. Should we go find your husband? My cab is right outside. BARBARA Yes, I guess we better, he has no idea what happened today. Barbara stands up, wobbly. John offers her his arm. EXT. OUTSIDE JOHN’S HOUSE - NIGHT

JOHN Climb in. First, though, where are we going? I need an address or two. INT./EXT. JOHN’S CAB - NIGHT - TRAVELING

BARBARA We meet at homes, sometimes old abandoned buildings and even a few churches. We are getting a lot of outside support, you know. JOHN What kind of support? Where to first? The day isn’t over yet and do you think the police are going to stop looking? BARBARA Brown’s Addition, the apartment at 2119 Riverside. They arrive. Flames engulf the building. John speeds off. BARBARA (CONT’D) Oh, no, what have I done?

15.

JOHN Calm down. Just calm down. I need you to think. Where to next? BARBARA Fox theatre! Hurry! JOHN OK, now how many other places? BARBARA Maybe (beat) maybe three others. John stops in front of the Fox Theatre side street. A bright orange flame shadows the road. SIRENS blare in the distance. BARBARA (CONT’D) All those places! Who would do that? All those lives! Barbara covers her face with her hands. JOHN You said a church. Is it listed anywhere? A black book of some kind? Something only you and your husband knew about? BARBARA It was listed in my new address book. It was in my purse! What have I done? John heads the car towards the First Open Fellowship on Third. PEOPLE run out of the building. A BLAST shatters the night. People begin to fall. CHILDREN SCREAM. John looks around. SIX SNIPERS hide on the roof tops. JOHN Stay here and stay low! What is your husbands name again? BARBARA Hurry! His name is Nick. Barbara scoots down and peeks over the door frame. More People go down. Barbara shudders. John quietly opens the car door. He sides on his belly to the sidewalk. Slowly, he inches forward, hugging the trees. John scans the street looking for Nick.

16.

The night air fills with the sounds of GUN FIRE. People SCREAMING.

John scans the people streaming by, looking for the bull-horn man. John spots him and slithers up beside him and grabs NICK’S arm. NICK HART, 65, tall, lanky, feisty, the bull-horn man, physically jumps. JOHN’ Are you Nick? Barbara Harts husband? NICK Yes, do you know if she is safe? JOHN Yes, she is with me. She is in that AAA cab over there. Come on, lets get moving. I have some bad news. Your building is gone. A few of your meeting places burned up. NICK (shaken) No! I can’t believe it! John holds Nick’s arm as they slither back to the cab. John opens the door, shoves him in, turns to get inside when he hears the cries A LITTLE GIRL, 4, somewhere close by. The mop of dirty blond hair stands out against the dark night. The street light shines. The beam gives John a shot at saving her. JOHN Come here, child. GUN FIRE volleys close by. The Girl falls. JOHN (CONT’D) Oh, my God! John rushes forward, grabs the bundle and heads back to the cab. He hears a Woman SCREAM and feels urgent hands on his shoulder. WOMAN That’s my baby. You have my baby! JOHN Where do you live?

17.

WOMAN Just ten blocks down. Woman SOBS and reaches for her child. JOHN Come on. Jump in. I will take you both home. John shoves everyone inside and SQUEALS off. John drops off the Mother and Daughter. INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - NIGHT

JOHN Anybody want to explain this? Those were sharp-shooters shooting at you! NICK Oh, my. Oh, my! Nick collapses on the couch. JOHN Come on, Man. You must know something! John glares at both guests. JOHN (CONT’D) You both look like hell. Come on, you can freshen up in my Man-Cave. EXT. OUTSIDE JOHN’S HOUSE - GARAGE - NIGHT John leads them to his garage, but instead of unlatching that door, he pulls on a hidden latch, the ground opens up to show a set of stairs. JOHN Come on, hurry. I may not be able to save you if we get caught. Nick starts first, followed by Barbara. John grabs the latch and hides the door and CLICKS the light switch. NICK Guess you weren’t kidding! A ManCave, indeed.

18.

JOHN Shower is this way, bed here. Clothes in the hallway closet. Food and drinks are behind this door. NICK Why are you doing this? JOHN Like I told your wife, I saw you both at the rally. When I saw Barbara here beat up on the sidewalk, I knew I had to help. NICK My name is Nick. Nick holds out his hand. JOHN My name is Charlie. They shake hands. JOHN (CONT’D) Shower, eat and sleep. I need to do some research online. Don’t worry. This underground bunker is the securest, sleekest, most secret place to be right now. John leaves. INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - NIGHT John grabs his laptop and checks the online police blogs. John makes a quick microwave dinner and settles down to watch “V for Vendetta”. He falls asleep. DREAM SEQUENCE INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - DAY - THREE YEARS EARLIER KNOCK on the door. TWO COPS wait. COP #1 John Murphy? Husband to Jackie Murphy? Was your daughter Carol Murphy?

19.

JOHN Yes, Sir. What’s happened? I was just getting ready to meet them in River-Haven Park. COP #2 John, may we come in? You might want to sit down for this. JOHN Just tell me! COP #1 John, your wife and child died this afternoon. A drunk plowed into the side of the van. They died on site.

John grabs the door.

JOHN No! No, that’s not possible! I just talked to them! You must have made a mistake. COP #2 Sorry, man. Can I get you anything? we need you to identify the bodies. JOHN Yes, I know. I will meet you there. END OF DREAM SEQUENCE INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - NIGHT BOOM! John wakes, startled. Tears flow down his cheeks. JOHN Won’t it ever go away? Won’t the nightmares ever stop? When will I get a chance to heal? John rolls over and HITS the pillow. JOHN (CONT’D) Now I have to pretend to be involved in a terrorist cell and find a way to bring them down. John HITS the pillow again. The pillow bursts.

20.

INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - SAME DAY - THREE AM - NIGHT Rubbing his eyes, John wakes to the sound of knocks.

TWO COPS, 25, 30, burly, hardened, serious looking, wait. JOHN What do you want? COP #1 Sorry to disturb you, Sir. We are conducting house to house searches for these two people. John takes the photo and stares at it. JOHN (Shakes head) No, I can’t say that I have. What exactly did they do, Officer. COP #2 That’s none of your business. JOHN As I said, I haven’t seen either of them. Good night, Gentlemen. COP #1 Here is our card if you do see them. They are considered armed and dangerous. JOHN What? Those two senior citizens? Please! COP #2 Didn’t you hear all the sirens last night? JOHN Yes, so what? COP #1 They are wanted in connection with destruction of property, vandalism, and arson. That is just the start. So, keep your eyes open. COP #2 Yes, they live just a few blocks from you.

21.

JOHN Yes, sure, thanks for letting me know.

John SLAMS the door and lets out a scream.

ART HISTORY – Adventures and Holocaust Video

ART HISTORY

Short s tory b y Dalene D avies V ideo c reated f or e xtra c redit Art History Adventures Story https://app.box.com/s/lkse11c42h8ozckmqbtu

Holocaust Extra Credit Video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EozAacN6xv4&context=C4594e24ADvjV Qa1PpcFNiNZfWSRTrui9DAJb6lWX_BVEQeDj4aGI=

Dalene Davies -‐-‐-‐ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 – 509-‐-‐-‐981-‐ -‐-‐3743— suzziebell2@yahoo.com

3 -‐-‐-‐ 8 -‐-‐-‐ 2 0 1 3 — A R T H I S T O R Y – D A L E N E D A V I E S

Dedicated to Elizabeth Rowney. The best art history Instructor. 3-8-2012

Art History Adventures

Venturing deeper into the main library, I ran across an old Art History book. This book appeared to be ancient, but looked in good shape. As I flipped through the pages, I saw an old military base, the ruins of which I recognized. I flipped to the glossary and found an old map hiding inside the pages. I opened the map and found myself looking for an old treasure. I decided it was time for a trip. I booked the fight, hotel, and vehicle all at the same time, and then set up my arrangements. Once I arrived in England, I settled into my room and then looked at the maps and old photos I found. The photomap highlighted a section in the ruins that I knew I needed to check for the treasure. I drove to the Chester’s Military Fort and wandered around the ruins of the bathhouse and military base from the 18th century. The ruins map showed a high lighted spot in the map, so I headed there. I suddenly found the spot and began to dig. The further down I went, the more dirt I pulled up, the more I worried I might be caught. I finally hit a hard rock or something, so I dug around it and found an old cheese box. When I opened it, the medallion glittered on the red velvet cover. I took it home and cleaned it up then placed it around my neck. As I settled down in bed, the Art book open to Ancient Egypt, I felt the world begin to shift and I was taken to another time.

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

Egypt I was wondering down the afterlife highway, feeling confused about what was happening to me. My Book of the Dead was in my arms as I made my way through Egypt. The confusion I felt resulted from my misguided belief that the Book of the Dead was not to be read. I glanced around and saw others reading their books then opened my book to see if I could find out the answers to the questions I had. Movies of my time gave the impression that the Book of the Dead was an evil book. As I opened the book, the words of spells and family names popped out at me. Answers to the questions I might be asked by the gods were revealed, allowing me to join family in the afterlife. The scrolls showed pictures that described each leg of the journey. I knew my confusion was due to the fact that as a non-Egyptian I learned that it was my soul that left after I died. I learned my body became like the earth and changed to dust. I watched those around me, looking for clues to how to behave. I looked to the pictures to see what I needed to learn. Lucky for me I was a ways back before it was my turn to answer the questions. The scroll opened in my hands and I was able to translate the words in my head. It was like someone was leading me through the steps to figure out the way another culture viewed life and death. I felt my mind react to the culture shock I felt. In my mind, I compared the Bible to the Book of the Dead. One shows a soul as ascending to heaven and the other shows the body entering the Underworld. I was shocked by the differences but intrigued by the ideas

presented by the Egyptians. The scroll in my arms was made from papyrus. A sign appeared in my own book that detailed how the scroll was made and it appeared to only be for me. Magic was at work, I was sure. The sign read:

How papyrus is made? To make papyrus paper the inner pith of the stem is cut lengthways into strips and soaked in water. The strips are then placed side by side with a second layer placed at right angles to the first. The two layers are then beaten with a mallet to break down the fibers and bond the strips together. The sheets are left to dry under weights for several days. The dried sheets are polished with a flat stone to make them smooth and ready for use. (Rashad, 2011)

While I floated through the weeds of papyrus located by the River Nile, I watched as the guy before me went through his own tests. His name was Hunefer, and he followed his own book. While I watched from a distance, my book again shifted with more information for me to discover what was happening. The book gave me this:

“Family members commissioned papyrus scrolls—“Books of the Dead”—containing magical texts or spells to help the dead survive and pass the tests ... A scene from a Nineteenth Dynasty example, created for a man named Hunefer, shows him at successive stages in his induction into the afterlife (fig. 3–23 ). At the left, Anubis leads Hunefer to the spot where he will weigh the man’s heart in a tiny jar. After passing the test recorded by the ibis-headed god, Thoth, Hunefer is presented by the god Horus to the enthroned Osiris, holding his usual crook and flail.” (Stokstad, 2010) A detailed drawing appeared in my scroll right next to this description. I was shocked by the detail of the sketch. My eyes widened as I watched the gods test the man in front of me. He had

to have had hints on how to answer and passages to follow or he could never have passed through to the Underworld.

(Stokstad, 2010)

(Hunefer, 2011) I followed the trail, watching to see how all this would turn out. He vanished into the air before me as I dropped into the dark space in front of me and awoke in my own time, a scroll tight in my hand and the television replaying “The Mummy”. Had I

visited another time or was I just dreaming? My body was still shaking and I could still read from my Book of the Dead. It must have been a vision, I decided. Travels Art History I turned off the tube and settled back into my bed. The ancient necklace snuggled against my throat as I drifted off into sleep land. The whirlwind began to tug at my body as I was tossed through time. Slowly time would speed up then slow then twist me yet again as I was twirled around, not knowing where I might land. The terrain was rocky yet smooth, the world felt primitive. I walked slowly as befit as goddess. I found myself sitting on a throne chiseled out of the mountain. People continued to work, ignoring me, each person doing his or her job with precision. Some were digging rocks, pulling wood, tending fires, and watching trails while others were busy with stone tablets keeping watch on the progress around them. The work continued with a chisel pounding of huge tree limbs to form logs, the sides flattened and notched to lock the logs together. Time flashed by, giving me a glimpse of the finished product, the world spinning for me as the logs and columns sprung up into the finished project.

(Stokstad, 2010) As I watched, a second building appeared, this time in another area of the world. The architecture very similar in style and the artwork on the walls appeared more detailed.

(Stokstad, 2010)

The people changed and the location shifted as though time itself moved for me. I felt my mind attempt to shift with it. This time the people were Romans and the area appeared to be Rome. Turning toward the building, I thought it was another religious building. The Roman structure was apparent, the Corinthian type columns loomed above and this time the structure had an atrium in front. The grand nature of this building expressed a deep need to show love and reverence to the gods and it left me a bit breathless. I was mesmerized by the detail these cultures placed in their worship. I walked around the structure and noticed statutes that depicted visions of gods and goddess on stands. I ventured closer and noticed one that looked like a younger version of me. I wondered how that could be, when I noticed another older statue of me. This one had been made wood and was covered with some metal sheet. The iron was chipping off but both statues had a very good likeness of me. I must have made an impression with my whirlwind visits and they assumed I was a goddess. I smiled to think of the absurdity of this. I spent the day walking around the temple, talking to the people, and learning of their love for the gods and goddess they worshiped. The wind began to pick up again and whirl me to another time.

(Pierce, 2003) I opened my eyes and found myself standing before the Washington State Capitol building. The structure was similar to the other two buildings. The Corinthian style Roman influence showed that the builders knew the history. The outside structure had the columns and romance style and the walkway was etched on the side of the building. I walked out a distance to check out the overall view and considered all I had experienced. I wondered along the sidewalk when I saw a little alcove just calling me. As I walked around the side, the wall showed a marble etching receding from the side, with my face staring out at me.

I promptly fainted… dead away!

School of Athens- Portal

Wind rushing around me, woke me up. The gale shifted my hair and rumpled my skirt. I woke to a whirlwind portal that took my breath away. I stepped forward and found the entrance to a new world. The vibrant colors flowed around me and I entered...

(Stokstad, 2010) School of Athens painting, 334 This world opened into the School of Athens; people discussing their particular expertise. I walked through the arch to meet Plato and Aristotle, the two major players in philosophy and ethics. While I examined the room, I saw the world’s leaders holding court among the students. The discussions ranged from math to music to poetry on to astronomy and

politics. The artist Raphael was himself hiding in a corner. I was excited and scared at the same time. I felt stunned to be among the world’s elite and began to walk the room, listening, just soaking up the knowledge that flowed around me. I listened to a poetry reading, heard a musical composition, and devoured the thoughts and discussions that issued from around me.

(Stokstad, 2010) School of Athens painting, 334 As I finished my tour of the Athens school, I noticed the stairs leading down to the ground floor. I started down, and then found a door that glowed with the color of sunshine highlighting the extraordinary world I

found myself visiting. I touched the door, reverently, knowing I was about to leave the world of Raphael’s School of Athens. Once on the lower level, I looked up and gasped at the beautiful design and structure of the paintings. I knew it had been a unique experience. Once I finished soaking up the beauty and detail, my mind shifted to a new time. My time. In my overactive imagination, I saw what the 20th Century School of Athens would be like, for my generation to feast upon and devour our leaders in philosophy.

(Stokstad, 2010) School of Athens painting, 334 On the right The Beatles, The Police, and Beethoven would rule supreme. They would offer change, hope, and new directions for the students to follow and

gather love, hope, and joy in the world. Each would preside over a corner, with students of all walks of life gathered around them, listening to the music change our politics, discussions, and how we viewed our own mortality. On the left, or the main school area, would be Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, Steven King, J.A. Jance, Mary Higgins Clark, Agatha Christie and Mark Twain. Shakespeare and Mark Twain would be in the middle discussing the social changes their works espoused. They would argue about the merits of their own writings and each try to point out the society they affected through their stories. Edgar Allen Poe and Steven King would have the honor of presiding over the suspense and horror corner of the room. Their collected writings would forever change the genre of literature for generations to come. The final corner would be the world of mystery. It would be dominated by the likes of Agatha Christie, J. A. Jance, and Mary Higgins Clark. These ladies would revolutionize the World of Suspense. Each in their own way taught the world that women could write and take over the industry. Agatha Christie and J.A Jance proved women could write from the male perspective, using the male viewpoint and logic to weave a story to hold the reader. Mary Higgins Clark grabbed the world of romantic suspense and sold billions worldwide. Each contributor would gather students to their side and teach of the magic of literature. The students would learn they could do anything they wished with their lives as long as they stayed true to their calling. This world is not about fame or even fortune; it is about talent and using that talent for the greater good.

It is about giving back to the world and making a better tomorrow, today. I sat in the corner, creating a world of scholars to change our national discourse and then sketched out the final view on my e-reader. The people became real and the world became more vibrant through the sunlit sky dome of my School of Athens in the 20th Century. I floated into the painting… dreaming of my future, and the world I would change. Before I could do that, my cell phone beeped to remind me of my interview scheduled for next week… dang… real life strikes again! I sighed and drifted off to my private dream world, the voices of the past, present and future School of Athens echoing in my mind for tomorrow would take care of itself. Dreaded Reality I was reclining on my couch, reviewing next weeks interview, when I felt the shudder of the portal begin again. I had no idea what to expect, so I just went with the pull. The portal deposited me in a front of a rippling pool of blue waves. I stood there a moment, collecting myself, when I saw I was standing before Anna Baleto. “What is going on here,” I thought to myself. I had an Interview with her scheduled for later on in the week. Why was I here? I sat on a rock, secluded behind a patch of trees, and watched the scene before me. Eyeballing the unfolding scene, I noticed that I appeared. I was watching myself being interviewed. The background ripples served to relax the twin me.

Anna sat on her rock and asked each question in a professional manner, referring to her notes only in a superficial way. She transitioned between each topic in uniform and with a minimal of interruption. The music flowed into each phase as though she had queued each song as a background. I was excited to see the end result. The next portal opened into the world of Harry Potter, The Twilight series, and the Civil War. What do these have in common? Art that led to History, of course. This led me to another interview, where I was also the interviewee. I hid in the background, watching, while I again explained my feelings on Art. I twisted around, smiling, when pictures of the Occupy movement appeared on a screen behind the double me. Pictures and words collided to become a fun and entertaining interview. The pictures, along with the soft music in the background, link together many aspects of the arts. Music, words, and painting give us a way to express how we view the world and the changes we have seen throughout the ages. Gagee Ashby also offered a unique view of interviewing style and linking words with pictures to tell a story. I found myself looking forward to the final version of this interview as well. While my mind was reeling from the adventures of the interview world, I felt another shift, only this time it was in front of me. Images of a recording studio appeared and made itself at home. The interview took place with no distractions, and no music, and kept me entertained with the thoughtful answers to the questions that Juan Gomez asked. The transitions and questions meshed together and allowed for a wonderful, unique, approach to the interview.

The next ripple gave us Nicholas Fuller’s interview with Peter Westermann. The whiteboard images of the visual art pieces really brought out the words that were spoken by Mr. Westermann. The detail in the pieces made the interview itself worth watching. The transitions throughout the interview were smooth and the sound and music added to the overall composition. The advice offered is actually the same advice for anyone interested in any of the Arts, practice, practice, and practice. What a wonderful interview, I thought, as I hid in my tree grove. Doorways seemed to be opening up to me in greater frequency. The next roll was to see Sheryl Thomas and Jason Scarbrough appear before me. I was captivated by the imagery and style of the interview. The music and images that appeared like magic brought a full range of power to the screen. I sat there listening to the answers and finding myself in full agreement to the responses that were offered. It was like déjà vu. I sat by the trees and thought about my day. It was very interesting to visit with each of these people and to see the different styles of interview techniques used to tell a story. Music, pictures, words and even transitions were used to create wonderful transcripts to interview people in different professions. Each of the interviews offered relevant information about the people interviewed, and all the questions were answered fully. The content offered great insight into the world of art and the professionals use of art in their profession. The delivery and artwork allowed seeing what was being discussed and gave way to very nice technical productions. After viewing the

completed interviews, I was happy to go on to my own and enjoyed my trip to reality. Â

Tremors racked my body as the world shifted yet again. I found myself back in my room, feeling a bit distracted by the images that tumbled through my mind. The History of Art book was open on my lap and I was tying to decide if it had all been a dream or if it was real. I looked around my room and all appeared normal. My hand moved to my neck, when I felt the medallion still around my neck. The trip to England, the trip through the afterlife, the trip to ancient cities and the School of Athens seemed dream like to me, yet the necklace led me to believe that I had somehow tapped into a magic portal that took me to other times, places and adventures. I looked at the book on my lap and smiled at all I had experienced. It was an interesting time, and I enjoyed all I learned. I hoped the magic would work again. I snuggled into my bed and went to dreamland feeling happy and content.

Citations Photos and Information 1. Photos of Chester Fort taken by Dalene Davies 1981 while in England visiting her father. 2. Photos of Chester Fort taken by Dalene Davies 1981 while in England visiting her father. 3. Photos of Chester Fort taken by Dalene Davies 1981 while in England visiting her father. 4. Photo of medallion taken by Dalene Davies 112012. 5. Stokstad, M. (2010). Art: A brief history . (4th ed., Vol. FSO PDF, p. 73). London: Laurence King Publishing Ltd DOI: www.laurenceking.com

6.Hunefer. (2011). Journey through the afterlife egyptian book of the dead. Retrieved from http://www.britishmuseum.org/whats_on/archive_exhi bitions/2011/book_of_the_dead.aspx

7. Tour Egypt. (2011). Book of the dead: The judges in anu. Retrieved from http://www.touregypt.net/bod52.htm 8. Rashad, M. (2011). Egypt gift shop. Retrieved from http://www.egyptgiftshop.com/papyrus.html

9. Deurer. (2010). The egyptian book of the dead. Retrieved from http://www.egyptartsite.com/book.html

10. Stokstad, M. (2010). Art: A brief history . (4th ed., Vol. FSO PDF, p. 121). London: Laurence King Publishing Ltd DOI: www.laurenceking.com

11. Stokstad, M. (2010). Art: A brief history . (4th ed., Vol. FSO PDF, p. 157). London: Laurence King Publishing Ltd DOI: www.laurenceking.com

12. Pierce, J. (2003, April 11). Olympia capitol: A history of the building. Retrieved from http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=ou tput.cfm&File_Id=5443

13 Stokstad, M. (2010). Art: A brief history . (4th ed., Vol. FSO PDF, p. 334-335). London: Laurence King Publishing Ltd DOI: www.laurenceking.com

14. Baleto, A (2012) retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pn5ILkOsm8E

15. Ashby, G (2012) retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embe dded&v=XdLaoGBJTeY

16. Gomez, J. (2012) retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNFq9MdcD1w

17. Fuller, N. (2012) retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embe dded&v=HsedIggQsOM

18. Thomas, S. (2012) retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embe dded&v=Dwd0bUrmK78

Art History Video Script Art History Museum Extra Credit Video Script—Dalene Davies Music: Piano Ballad Video found: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EozAacN6xv4&context=C 4594e24ADvjVQa1PpcFNiNZfWSRTrui9DAJb6lWX_BVEQeDj4a GI=

Art History Museum_ Remember Remember We must Remember

This is a FSO_ Museum Art History Project 3-‐-‐-‐8-‐-‐-‐2012 by Dalene Davies United States Holocaust Memorial Museum 100 Raoul Wallenberg Place, SW Washington, DC 20024-2126 Main telephone: (202) 488-0400 TTY: (202) 488-0406 National Remembrance Days

April 15-22, 2012 http://www.ushmm.org/museum/a bout/

ART is Beautiful Art is Peaceful Art is Hopeful Art is done to Edify Art is done to Teach Art is done to Remember. Join me now as we Remember and learn.

(written by Dalene Davies 3-‐-‐-‐8-‐-‐-‐2012)

This movie was created to remind us to be vigilant, strong and smart. Warning: This video contains graphic material. We must understand what Genocide is so we can confront and stop it. Even now Genocide continues. It is my hope that we remember and confront all acts of war against all Human Beings, regardless of color, sex, religion, sexual orientation, or disability. Join me as we walk in others shoes for a few minutes and REMEMBER… (Words spoken by Dalene Davies) Remember Remember

Imagine a bright sunny day, clouds drifting through the air, sunlight streaming down through the trees, highlighting warmth, the coming of spring and the start of life. The horizon gives the picture a delight in life, birds singing, and springtime joys. Further down the black and white shot grows a horror untold as the image sharpens to disclose the railway car stranded to the side, white copses lying on top of each other, decomposing in the heat. Some bodies are naked, the ribcages showing through the starved bodies, shrunken and shrunken like forgotten fruit sitting in a bowl on the table. Military personal stare at the shocking scene, confusion etching their faces. Arms, legs, heads, feet mixed up together; the stench must be awful, for no one knows how long these corpses have been here.

Imagine for a moment another scene flashes into view. The black and white close up shows desert in the backdrop, hills of dirt making mountains of soil to hide the next horror to be seen. This time the trees weave through the bodies, like kindling in the woodstove, branches and limbs mixed together, weaving body to wood, body to wood, body to wood, the branches wilting in the heat; the shocking truth showing on the people who discover the grizzly truth of the concentration camps. Imagine yet another scene, flames leaping out at you. Books being destroyed while happy faces stare at the blaze, mesmerized, ecstatic to feel the steam on the air, knowledge and history gone in the flicker of the flame while dancing

flames, black and white, stark, details highlighting the demoralizing actions of a government gone power hungry. Imagine children, lined up like cattle, a man looking at their naked bodies, poking their stomach, arms and legs; the terror and fright evident through the camera that snaps the moment, forever while the room stark except for the doctor’s table and desk with chair. The shutter aims at the distress of the children, mean while, the image drawn out by the clothes on men and the nudeness of the children. Each person detached from the subject at hand, the subject matter exposed in the faces.

Another shot taken of three skinny boys, naked, stark, thin as rails, bones sticking out of their bodies, telling of horrors we can never imagine, nor want to confront, for the truth is so harsh as to punch the air out of our lungs. The sharpness of breath and truth making us want to bury our heads and deny this ever happened. Ignore the starving, beaten, hungry people. Ignore the genocide, and the terror the word evokes. White wash the actions of man to man, for your own sanity, for it will never happen to you. You are perfect, loved and smart. You live in a country with rights. You have food and a roof over your head. Hum… I bet that’s what all the Jews said too, before Hitler came along. I bet they thought it could never happen to them…!

Final Credits Listed: Citations Museum Art History Produced By Dalene Davies FSO_ArtHistory_Museum An IMovie Production 3-6-2012 United States Holocaust Memorial Museum 100 Raoul Wallenberg Place, SW Washington, DC 20024-2126 Main telephone: (202) 488-0400 TTY: (202) 488-0406 National Remembrance Days April 15-22, 2012 http://www.ushmm.org/museum/a bout/ For educators: http://www.ushmm.org/education/foreducators/ For students: http://www.ushmm.org/education/foreducators/ The Week to Remember http://www.ushmm.org/remembrance/dor/calendar/ Anyones_Family http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaId=5 000 A Jewish family walking down a street. Kalisz, Poland, May 16, 1935. — US Holocaust Memorial Museum Bodies One http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=4037 The bodies of former prisoners are piled in the crematorium mortuary in the newly liberated Dachau concentration camp. Dachau, Germany, April 29, 1945. — US Holocaust Memorial Museum Bodies Stacked in Wagon —

http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaId=4 051 A wagon is piled high with the bodies of former prisoners in the newly liberated Buchenwald concentration camp. Buchenwald, Germany, April 11-May 1945. — — US Holocaust Memorial Museum

Bodies to Wood_Stacked to Burn — http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaId=5 22 Soviet officials view stacked corpses of victims at the Klooga camp. Due to the rapid advance of Soviet forces, the Germans did not have time to burn the corpses. Klooga, Estonia, 1944. — Beit Lohamei Haghettaot Stacked Bodies with Wood http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=2009 Corpses of inmates from Klooga concentration camp stacked for burning. Soviet troops discovered the bodies when they liberated the camp. Estonia, September 1944. — National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Md. Book Burning http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=3546 At Berlin's Opernplatz, an SA man throws books into the flames at the public burning of books deemed "unGerman." Berlin, Germany, May 10, 1933. — US Holocaust Memorial Museum Boxcar Filled with the Dead http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=1480 U.S. soldiers discovered these boxcars loaded with dead prisoners outside the Dachau camp. Here, they force German boys--believed to be members of the Hitler Youth (HJ)--to confront the atrocity. Dachau, Germany, April 30, 1945. — National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Md. Dead Removed from Boxcar http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=2351

Along the route from Iasi to either Calarasi or Podul IIoaei, Romanians remove corpses from a train carrying Jews deported from Iasi following a pogrom. Romania, late June or early July 1941. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Historisches Archiv der Stadt Koln

More Dead http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=2350 During the deportation of survivors of a pogrom in Iasi to Calarasi or Podul Iloaei, Romanians halt a train to throw off the bodies of those who had died on the way. Romania, July 1941. — Historisches Archiv der Stadt Koln Children from the Camp http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=2650 Victims of Dr. Josef Mengele's medical experiments at Auschwitz-Birkenau. Poland, 1944. — National Museum of Auschwitz-Birkenau Babies Being Examined http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?Media Id=496 German officers examine Polish children to determine whether they qualify as "Aryan." Poland, wartime.

— US Holocaust Memorial Museum

Mass Grave http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?Media Id=623 Dr. Fritz Klein, a former camp doctor who conducted medical experiments on prisoners, stands among corpses in a mass grave. Bergen-Belsen, Germany, after April 15, 1945. — US Holocaust Memorial Museum Mass Grave 2 http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?Media Id=548 A mass grave at the Mauthausen concentration camp. Mauthasuen, Austria, May 10-15, 1945. — US Holocaust Memorial Museum

anyones_Family http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=5000 A Jewish family walking down a street. Kalisz, Poland, May 16, 1935.

— US Holocaust Memorial Museum

Behind Barbed Wire http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=3627 Ludwig Meidner, Behind Barbed Wire, not dated. Charcoal, 69.7 x 55.8 cm. — Juedisches Museum der Stadt Frankfurt Corpses http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=3629 Ludwig Meidner, Corpses, not dated. Charcoal and watercolor, 55.5 x 75.8 cm. — Juedisches Museum der Stadt Frankfurt Massacres in Poland http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/media_ph.php?MediaI d=3630 Ludwig Meidner, from the cycle of drawings he called "Massacres in Poland". 1940s. — Juedisches Museum der Stadt Frankfurt Place cards for Ludwig Meidner http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10 005922 Artist and poet Ludwig Meidner (1884-1966) was the foremost and most radical exponent of a second wave of Expressionism, a movement which championed the cause of the exploited and suppressed. Military service during World War I also made Meidner an avowed pacifist. He advanced socialist goals in his 1919 An alle Künstler, Dichter, Musiker (To all Artists, Poets, and Musicians). This work challenged the existing social order and urged artists to become socialists and protect the "greater good."

In 1933, Meidner was placed on the list of banned writers and artists. Monographs about Meidner were burned during the Nazi book burnings of 1933. Also in danger because of his Jewishness, Meidner left Germany in 1939, and did not return until 1953.

In the 1940s, in response to the horrors of the Holocaust, Meidner created a cycle of drawings he called "Massacres in Poland" or "Suffering of the Jews in Poland" Final Post Card is of a poem from You_Tube… http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded &v=_ZS S3yxpnFU#! (fro m t h e v id e o : H a n g m a n b y M a u ric e O rd e n )

"In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didnt speak up because I wasnt a Communist;

And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didnt speak up because I wasnt a trade unionist; And then they came for the Jews, And I didnt speak up because I wasnt a Jew; And then . . . they came for me . . . And by that time there was no one left to speak up." Martin Niemoller (1892-1984), born in Lippstadt, Germany

Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 Suzziebell2@yahoo.com ~ 3d.design.connections@gmail.com ~ http://about.me/dalenedavies

Math & the Entertainment Industry

3d-design-connectionshttp://kookytales.com

Summary

Title: Math & the Entertainment Industry

Logline: What does math have to do with the Entertainment Industry?

Synopsis

- Format: Essay - Genre: College Math - Running Time: 6 pages

Are you here because you want that 3 million dollar check or are you here to find a way to change our society? I am here for both. That is the honest truth: I am here to earn the 3 million dollar check that will allow me to change my communities’ view of money. I am here to fight injustice for the homeless man standing on the street begging, to fight for the child who only gets one meal a day because their parents are paid a low income, to fight for the animals that are pushed aside because our society does not care about them and to fight for the environment that we are slowly destroying. I am here to fight the money that is given to “the corporations” and the upper one percent while the rest of us struggles between buying food to feed our families or medical care. I am here to fight for the right of human beings to actually live, instead of slowly die. I am here to change the world and to help my family get into a better position to do more than just survive.

Audience Adults http://issuu.com/kookytales/docs/3d_cr_cma_discussion2

Advertising/Product Placement Potential “Life, Liberty and pursuit of happiness” : What our money should be spent towards—a better life for everyone.

Math in Entertainment 5-‐-‐-‐25-‐ -‐-‐2012 CMA Discussion 2 Dalene Davies

This discussion has been the hardest discussion I have had to write in all my classes at Full-‐-‐-‐Sail. This discussion has brought out the toughest questions for someone going into the Entertainment Industry to answer because I know most of my classmates do not agree with my priorities or my attitude toward money. To me money should be used to better humanity, not just one person. It should be used to guarantee that every human is treated with dignity and respect. Money should be used to house, clothe, and feed, protect the environment, and assure that each person has medical care. My feelings surrounding this topic go deep. They come from my own experience and observation of what America says it stands for and what America really does stand for. This

country should be the best in the world, yet it is on a road to becoming a third world country. I took the entire week to consider how to respond to this discussion. Should I be honest and explain my views or should I go with the status quo and be like everyone else in looking at the money that I might get paid? The status quo would say just answer the questions and let the rest go, but I can’t do that. My overdeveloped love for humanity and the injustice that is so prevalent in our society made it impossible to just go with the status quo on this discussion. Before I answer these questions, let me pose a few for our discussion board. Why are you here at Full Sail University? Are you here because you want that 3 million dollar check or are you here to find a way to change our society? I am here for both. That is the honest truth: I am here to earn the 3 million dollar check that will allow me to change my communities’ view of money. I am here to fight injustice for the homeless man standing on the street begging, to fight for the child who only gets one meal a day because their parents are paid a low income, to fight for the animals that are pushed aside because our society does not care about them and to fight for the environment that we are slowly destroying. I am here to fight the money that is given to “the corporations” and the upper one percent while the rest of us struggles between buying food to feed our families or medical care. I am here to fight for the right of human beings to actually live, instead of slowly die. I am here to change the world and to help my family get into a better position to do more than just survive. I know this is not the popular stand to take, but it is the right and just stand to discuss. It is the human stand to fight for, to stand up for, and to demand of our government. It is the injustice of corporate America we need to look at and change. The Entertainment Industry is just one part of it. Look at the

Sports Industry, and Wall Street and we can see it is time to stand up for the people, for WE THE PEOPLE. Having read Courtney Love’s speech, I had never realized that it was that bad for those in the music industry. I feel it comes from the obscene amount of money that is thrown around, that we think artists are paid a lot more then they really receive. In any business that collects billions of dollars, the average person just assumes the creators collect an upper portion. Contracts, we average people, feel should grant the creator more revenue for their creative endeavors. I guess this assumption goes back to my own feelings of justice. Those who do the work should benefit more from the system, then those who run the corporations. The CEO’s of the corporations should be paid a reasonable wage for their work and the rest should go to those who create the demand. When we look at the numbers offered by actual recording contracts, we find that the music industry basically steals from the artists. When the total profit of the contract is $175,000,000 and the actual recording group receives just two percent, we find that those who worked for it were paid such a small portion of the total profit; it makes all my arguments point to the need to change the system. If we work the math from the totals, we find that we need to take the total two percent for the group, then divide it among the members to see what each person made from the two percent, then take that total and divide by the number of years they were together to figure out each persons earnings. In this way, we see why the group declared bankruptcy. The sad part of this situation is that most people looking at $291,667 a year would be pretty well set. For me, to even see that number, I find it hard to wrap my mind around it as an income. When discussing the total number of albums released in a year by the recording industry, and we see that only .09379% make it to platinum level, the average person might be asking

why are so few released when there are thousands of musicians creating music for our enjoyment. Could it be the industry itself wants to keep a monopoly in the business of music? Keep the artists from moving on toward a better future? I feel that Ms. Love uses the word “boring” in her speech because as consumers, we are not actually allowed to choose our music because the record industry keeps a monopoly in the industry. If, as Courtney Love states in her speech, delivered on 6-‐-‐-‐14-‐-‐-‐2000, retrieved from http://www.salon.com/2000/06/14/love_7/, she is only giving a portion of the facts, then 32,000 new albums seems a bit low when we look at the number of different musical groups consumers can listen to in an average year. The word “boring” to me implies that the numbers did not match the reality of today’s market. If only 30 albums sell a million copies, it begs the question, why so few actually made it? I agree with her assessment that this is a failure on the industry’s part yet the industry itself is pulling in billions from the artists themselves. This also makes my point that as a society, we need to look at the distribution of wealth and how we value the creative artists and workers in this country. Without the musicians, the recording industry would not be making the billions they do make, just as without the average person, this country would have no industry at all. When we look at the average artists payment per CD sold, we find that the average sale of 34 cents would be the amount the artist receives from the sale of one CD based on the 2% revenue paid to the artist. So of the $17 dollars collected by the music industry, the artist collects a measly 34 cents per album. By looking at the total sale multiplied by the percentage of the average contract for the artist, we find they are underpaid for their work. Without the artist, what does the music industry really have to sell? This amount feels so wrong to me. For the industry to only pay the creator of the music 34

cents per CD is a form of robbery. The artist should make more then the record industry just because the artist created the words, music, and sounds that we as consumers purchase. After we look at the amount of pay the artist receives, is it any wonder that a majority of recording artists would be making around 30,000 dollars a year? When we look at the music industry’s take home of 40 billion, we should be asking why they actually deserve the 40 billion when the artists are basically living in poverty compared to the money the industry receives. On average then, we can figure that the ratio of 3 to 4,000,000 compares the percentage of what an artist makes to the amount of money that the industry gets paid. I am sure, by now, it is obvious I do not agree with the way the music industry treats its musicians. In her speech, Ms. Love talks about the need for change in the way the industry treats the artists. She also mentions the need for the Internet to open the door to a new way to look at artists and their music. I feel the first thing that needs to be done is to create a union for the musicians to tackle the issue of revenue sharing. Then the Internet can take over and allow for the billions of people on Earth to pick and choose how we listen and purchase music. I do not see her predictions as making the issue any better for the artists. In fact, the music industry has taken steps to try to control the Internet and music to dire extremes. Check out just one step: http://www.sdcitybeat.com/sandiego/article-‐-‐-‐10012-‐-‐-‐pipa-‐ -‐-‐is-‐-‐-‐ the-‐-‐-‐new-‐-‐-‐sopa.html it was actually defeated as it should be, but still the Industry is out to destroy the open and honest exchange of information on the Internet. We are still under attack and need to keep watch over these corporate industries that want to rule the entire world. The best way to combat this attitude is to open the Internet to the artists themselves. One way to do this is through revenue sharing with sites like Netflix. Just last week I got this email regarding the

Entertainment business that could actually work for the music industry: http://www.indiegogo.com/moviecloud If someone could find the way to gather the artists together, and use this idea, they could break the music industry monopoly as well. We have hope. It is my opinion that the workers are getting tired of being treated like slaves and a rebellion is brewing. Even the script writing and movie industry hold a monopoly over the distribution and creation of movies. Private companies find it hard to compete with the huge conglomerate of companies that control these industries. We need more companies to fight for the rights of the artists and to increase the unions that this country needs to keep big business in line. I think as an industry, things are moving slowly to protect the artists and create a better way to ensure a fairer compensation plan. If we speak up and make these new enterprises take the artist into account, we can make the world a better place for all. After reading the article by Ms. Love, I feel it is vital that all artists know how to do basic math. I find that it is so easy to misplace a decimal point or miss read a paragraph that we need to be able to understand and decipher the foreign language of math to protect ourselves. I also feel we should insist that contracts be written in plain English so that no one is taken advantage of in the business of making money. It is important that we insist on protecting those who create as much as we insist on protecting children. It is the children and the artists that will get our country moving again and we need to work toward making sure all have the same chances to live the American Dream and not just live day to day. Love, C. (2000, June 14). Courtney love does the math. Retrieved from http://www.salon.com/2000/06/14/love_7/ CityBeatStaff. (2012, January 4). Pipa is the new sopa. Retrieved from http://www.sdcitybeat.com/sandiego/article-10012-pipa-is-the-new-sopa.html

Simens & Christopher. (2012, May 11). Movie cloud: Indiegogo. Retrieved from http://www.indiegogo.com/moviecloud

Discussion 2 This is how well you met the expectations Grade:100 Your Comments: Your submission is one of the best I've read in my time at Full Sail. Honestly, this discussion question is very relevant to students because it gets to the heart of the matter by answering the common lament: Why do I need to learn any math. It is useless. Well, it isn't useless. Score is kept in every financial transaction with math. Without math, money has no meaning. If I could give you a 110, I would. And you are about the only student in the last few months I can recall who cited the sources the way they needed to. You did an incredible job here. I know when someone is just dumping some slop in to get some credit when they didn't give the question a second thought. It is very hard to be successful in life without knowing basic math because the guys sitting on the other side of the table do know it.