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Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 ~ ~ ©2013 3D’s                                            


M A IN P O R T F O L IO L IN K : 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) Editing & Revisions 122013 Editing & Revisions 122013

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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

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

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

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

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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


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 Blog for Twitter Stories:

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©2013 3D’s

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

Dalene Davies- 3D-Design-Connections

Map for Stories

Join #KookyTales on Twitter to read a new story every month! arus/414796119168655360

December 2013 #KookyTales

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Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 ~ ~


Ardent’s Adventures Par t One and Two





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


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: Ardent’s Adventures Part Two:


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



BY DALENE DAVIES Welcome to 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: 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


Hauntings Scripts & Stories Dalene Davies 3D-Design-Connections Http://

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:

Format: Scripts and PDF Stories Genre: Comedy & Tragedy & SFF Audience: Children 12 – 18 Link to Hauntings Set:


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 ~ ~


Spider - Mania: Not in My House





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!



- 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: Poem: Audio:

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

Portfolio Link:  

Link: Audio Link:!pastiche-poems-pages/c7qq


©2013    Kooky Stories Pastiche Style Poems



Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 ~ ~


“N othing We Can D o” 3D-Design-Connections




Title: “Nothing With Can Do”


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



- 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: Poem: Audio:

Audience Recommended for Teens 17 and older.






Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 ~ ~


Our Miracle Child - Theda





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.



- 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




Portfolio Link:  

Link: Audio Link:!pastiche-poems-pages/c7qq


©2013 Kooky Stories Pastiche Style Poems


Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 ~ ~


Our Itty - Bitty Pretty One





Title: Our Itty-Bitty Pretty One


Logline: A graduation tribute to Theda Davies.



- 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: Poem: Audio:

Audience All ages

Portfolio Link:  


Audio Link:!pastiche-poems-pages/c7qq


©2013 - Kooky Stories Pastiche Style Poems



Dalene Davies ~ 3110 E Chattaroy Rd Trlr24 Chattaroy WA 99003 (p) 5099813743 (f) 5093629270 ~ ~

Congrat ulation s, Theda 3D-Design-Connections




Title: Congrats, Theda


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



- 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

Link Video and script link:



      ©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-­‐-­‐-­‐    

Kooky Stories- Prose & Poems FormatBy Dalene Davies 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




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.


“Mom?” I whispered. “Are you there?”           ©  2013  Dalene  Davies    CRS  2012  Revised  in  R&E  2013  


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!



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-­‐-­‐-­‐  

“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.”



Dalene Davies

Literary Tech & Story Development 3-26-2012


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.

©2013 Dalene Davies- Pastiche style poems-updated or written for Kooky Stories-P&D-Revised for Editing and Revisions Class- 112513


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.



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 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



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!




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.


Music Credit: SethRoachMusic. (2010, July 24). Flight of the bumble bee player piano. Retrieved from

OUR ITTY_BITTY PRETTY ONE Music Credit: Phalanges04. (2011, Oct 07). Little bitty pretty one. Retrieved from Jim02026. (2010, August 10). Little bitty pretty one piano player. Retrieved from

OUR MIRACLE CHILD, THEDA Music Credit: Taylor, J. (2013, August 06). All i need is a miracle. Retrieved from

NOTHING WE CAN DO Music Credits: Thu Le. (2010, December 31). Mad world piano version. Retrieved from

Lieberth, Elise. (2010, July 06). You're gonna pay. Retrieved from

“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 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 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 Dalene Davies




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 ne/3D_VTW_FP_12-11copy_zps13fda968.mp4.html 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 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 -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-­‐-­‐-­‐  


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- Dalene Davies

Click here to check out the published books available: Sock Monsters Invade Earth Sock Monsters Invade Earth: Interactive Sock Monsters Invade Earth: 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 ~ ~







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….



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.

Script Location




Written by Dalene Davies WW3- Comics & Animation

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






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.


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?


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 -


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.



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.


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










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.


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?


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





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.





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.




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.







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 ~ ~


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



Su mmary  


Title: Operation: Occupy



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.



- 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




Written by

Dalene Davies


3110 E Chattaroy Rd TRLR24 Chattaroy WA 99003 509-990-8519 July 31, 2013 Revision: November 17, 2013


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.






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 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.






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.





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.




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)


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.


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?






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.


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?



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.






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?



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.


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.





JOHN Yes, sure, thanks for letting me know.

John SLAMS the door and lets out a scream.

ART HISTORY – Adventures and Holocaust Video





Short s tory   b y  Dalene   D avies   V ideo   c reated   f or   e xtra   c redit     Art  History  Adventures  Story      

Holocaust Extra  Credit  Video   link:   Qa1PpcFNiNZfWSRTrui9DAJb6lWX_BVEQeDj4aGI=    


Dalene Davies    -­‐-­‐-­‐       3110  E  Chattaroy  Rd  Trlr24  Chattaroy  WA     99003  –       509-­‐-­‐-­‐981-­‐ -­‐-­‐3743—    

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.





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:

6.Hunefer. (2011). Journey through the afterlife egyptian book of the dead. Retrieved from bitions/2011/book_of_the_dead.aspx

7. Tour Egypt. (2011). Book of the dead: The judges in anu. Retrieved from 8. Rashad, M. (2011). Egypt gift shop. Retrieved from

9. Deurer. (2010). The egyptian book of the dead. Retrieved from

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

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

12. Pierce, J. (2003, April 11). Olympia capitol: A history of the building. Retrieved from 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:

14. Baleto, A (2012) retrieved from

15. Ashby, G (2012) retrieved from dded&v=XdLaoGBJTeY

16. Gomez, J. (2012) retrieved from

17. Fuller, N. (2012) retrieved from dded&v=HsedIggQsOM

18. Thomas, S. (2012) retrieved from dded&v=Dwd0bUrmK78

Art History  Video  Script     Art   History  Museum  Extra  Credit  Video  Script—Dalene   Davies   Music:  Piano  Ballad  Video  found:   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 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 bout/ For educators: For students: The Week to Remember Anyones_Family 000 A Jewish family walking down a street. Kalisz, Poland, May 16, 1935. — US Holocaust Memorial Museum Bodies One 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 — 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 — 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 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 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 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 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. — Historisches Archiv der Stadt Koln

More Dead 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 d=2650 Victims of Dr. Josef Mengele's medical experiments at Auschwitz-Birkenau. Poland, 1944. — National Museum of Auschwitz-Birkenau Babies Being Examined Id=496 German officers examine Polish children to determine whether they qualify as "Aryan." Poland, wartime.


— US Holocaust Memorial Museum

Mass Grave 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 Id=548 A mass grave at the Mauthausen concentration camp. Mauthasuen, Austria, May 10-15, 1945. — US Holocaust Memorial Museum


anyones_Family d=5000 A Jewish family walking down a street. Kalisz, Poland, May 16, 1935.

— US Holocaust Memorial Museum

Behind Barbed Wire d=3627 Ludwig Meidner, Behind Barbed Wire, not dated. Charcoal, 69.7 x 55.8 cm. — Juedisches Museum der Stadt Frankfurt Corpses d=3629 Ludwig Meidner, Corpses, not dated. Charcoal and watercolor, 55.5 x 75.8 cm. — Juedisches Museum der Stadt Frankfurt Massacres in Poland 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 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… &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 ~ ~

Math & the Entertainment Industry





Title: Math & the Entertainment Industry


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



- 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

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,     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:­‐-­‐-­‐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:   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 CityBeatStaff. (2012, January 4). Pipa is the new sopa. Retrieved from

Simens & Christopher. (2012, May 11). Movie cloud: Indiegogo. Retrieved from

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.

3d finalportfolio 111813  

Creative Writing Portfolio Final - 111813

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