i couldnt make it through the first episode all the way. i kept waiting for the flashback of when they first arrived... and waited and waited and waited..... by the time they were walking out of the city, and passed by that house that the the main guy and his love interest(?) reminisced about the past over, i thought "yeah, here it comes. YAAAY the FLASHBACK!.
nope, just more commercials. the adverts really are better than the show i think.
***OK i have to break in here to let you know (warn you?) that my intent was to write like a few sentences, maybe a paragraph, about what i hoped to see from the flashback that NEVER FREAKING HAPPENED!!!! GGRRRRRR!!!!
well at any rate, if any of you know me then you are aware of my tendency to be very VERY Verbose. it just so happened that while i was describing a scene i imagined for the show, one of those dreaded writing bugs crawled up my butt, and infected me with Uber Descripticus Verbositus. its a horrid disease known to affect writers. while getting the urge to write more and more and more can be great, the problems with uber descripticus verbositus (from this point forward known as UDV) are twofold. for one, while spelling may take the usual hit or two, punctuation, capitalization and run on sentences become a problem. and what makes UDV so insidious is that once afflicted, the writing bug can possess you at any time, EXCEPT when working on things you WANT TO work on.
anyway, i have already posted WAAAAAAYYYY too much, so here's the gist. i think we all agree that we would like falling skies more if we got to see a pilot that was like independence day or something. its kinda a lame ass way to cut your effects budget, AND let the writers be lazy as hell. yeah, lets call it falling skies! its about alien invasion! mankinds last stand! WOOT! oh, but we dont have a lot of money, and the janitor is kinda moonlighting as our head writer (and our entire writing staff). its totally cool though, he can read at a 4th grade reading level! so like, i know we call it falling skies, but lets make the plot skip over the big spectacular event. who wants to take the time to make big battles, or let the viewers get to know the characters. lets just tease the hell out of it, making it look like an invasion, and then BAM! we start 6 months after the invasion, (and consequently the ACTION!) and we can just pay a few random people to put on hobo clothes, or camo and walk around the dilapidated parts of town complaining about how good things USED to be, and for sh*ts and giggles, lets make the aliens like pedophiles or something! NO, NO! not like stepdaddy spends too much alone time with you pedophiles, no! we will do like, pedophile LIGHT. yeah! all the creepiness of regular pedophiles, but only half the calories! you know, like ohhhhh! great idea! lets make the aliens have a uncomfortable burning need to hang out with kids. everyone liked michael jackson, right? maybe we should get the aliens some rhinestone gloves, and tight pants..... but i digress. we will tell everyone else the show is called falling skies, but really, we will produce a show called "Crap!: The Sky Done Fell. that way we can take the script from mtv's "16 and pregnant" and add aliens, and hobo's, and then no one will know! its genious! everyone knows people who watch TV are stupid, and fall for everything. well someone go get the janitor and tell him to get to working, i have his crayons and construction paper on his desk. and tell him no more glitter glue until i get 2 more episodes on my desk! now, im off to go watch my show! there's a real world marathon on!
yeah, im pretty sure thats what happened to the show.
now, here is my attempt at what the REAL proglogue should be. im warning you, it starts out as just a description of what is going on, then slowly starts turning into a damn near novella style writing. (minus the nice punctuation and capitalization. ) when you get an idea, if you stop to edit, you will lose it. the best time to write is when the feeling hits you, and dont stop or slow down for typos or you will lose your train of thought.
here is the episode the way i saw it happening. *until the halfway point. then it turns into some sort of end of all life on earth, whats the deeper meaning of life kind of stuff. be warned, its LONG. surely they gotta have some kinda pills for people like me.....
***NOTE*** for the life of me, i cannot figure out how to get this to fit in the box. i didnt want to dump 3 pages of text in the post. if someone can tell me what im doing wrong, i would be grateful. im using the (code) box, which i never used to have problems with. i even tried using the (pre) tag to get it to show correctly. ive formatted it in word, notepad, and even wordpad. nothing works. and yes i know the tags use brackets, but im too lazy to use those bbcode exclusion tags so that the tags will show in message, etc.
for now, please copy and paste into notepad, or any other field. heck, even copy and hit reply, then you can load it there and read it.
im exhausted, got a lotta stuff to setup so i can begin VO work, and i just dont have the energy left to troubleshoot this anymore. if anyone can help, by all means, please
amazing when you think about it. counting the hours i fell asleep in front of the computer, i have just spent almost 10 hours writing, just to make a point about a crappy show i only ever watched 30 minutes of.... man. im messed up!
lol.
so here is the culprit that stole my night away. right below here.
read it at your own risk. im not responsible for temporary, or probably permanent lapses of sanity.
Enjoy..... IF YOU DARE!!!!!!! muwahahahahahah!
Main char in bed, scrumpin’ his wifey, while the TV is on low volume in the background. The two exchange playful banter in their post coital bliss. Screaming from the news channel is loud enough to catch their attention and she says ‘hey, hop off and turn that up! What’s going on? Another terrorist attack?” they sit and watch as the news coverage slowly switches from anchors holding their fingers to their ears while trying to hear the info coming into their earpieces. They blab over and over the typical “we are trying to find out exactly what is going on right now. As of this moment it’s a total myste.... hold on...... I’m getting word that we have a live feed from the white house. Our reporter Aaron McKenna is on scene. Aaron, can you tell us what is going on?” the camera pixelates in and out as the connection tries to focus. A very pale faced reporter breathlessly speaks “John, I ... I just don’t even know how... to ... this is ... is ... it’s incredible! In the sky.... just.... poof... and they were there!” The camera shakily swings upward, revealing a black sky, even though its just ten after one in the afternoon. The camera pans back out, revealing that the sky is in fact not dark, but rather bright, casting the sun’s warm rays onto an object whose size froze the two lovers cold. The giant disc blocks out the sun over the entirety of the capital, the edges of it seemed as distant as mountains, viewed from a flat plain, miles from their bases. the sheer enormity of the craft demanded the sum of every fear, every feeling of dread and trepidation, every worry of impending doom, and when your stomach churned as it twisted into knots, and your sweaty palms are brought up to your clammy, pale face in a vain attempt to comfort yourself and resist the urge to vomit. You try to blink but your eyes have become dry from long periods of not blinking. As you rub your eyes in vain attempt to get some moisture to refresh them, but all blood and color have drained away from your faces...
you and your lover look at each other, nearly trembling. You want to ask her, why? Why are they here? Why over DC? You stare into once fierce blue eyes, so vibrant and lovely, but find them to be brimming wide with terror, spilling down her cheeks in great rivers of fear. Her wide eyed, frantic gaze captures your full attention, and you hold still your own questions, as trembling lips, filled with fear, open to mouth words without sound. Stricken mute by fear she may be, but no words were needed, for her eyes, those beautiful windows to an even more beautiful soul, yes, those eyes spoke clearly in the language understood by all life on earth, sentient or not. “What’s going to happen to us?” those brilliant blue orbs asked. And just as he needed no words to hear her hearts question, neither did she need a spoken word to see his awful answer. The tears welling in his eyes, the look of helplessness and guilt...they spoke clearly “I don’t know, my love. Forgive me, but... I just don’t know.”
harsh static from the television released them from their inner dialogue.
”we seem to be getting some kind of interference with our signal in DC, bear with us, we have confirmed reports of at least 4 other craft over other US cities, and unsubstantiated claims of similar happenings in Europe and the middle east. We go now to Gregory Mitchums at our sister network HKYL channel 5 news in Orlando. “The signal blurs in and out, and the colored bars pop up intermittently. “Greg, this is John Deetle, channel 25 Foxhound nightly news, can you tell us what you see there? Have the objects moved, or made any attempt to commun---“ Excited and garbled speech breaks in through the distorted picture, interrupting the news anchor’s line of questioning. “...ome kin...f ...ight appearing nea....he center of t....aft....een going on.....bout 3 minu........” the anchor looks over to his side “cant we get that connection a little stronger? shut down the other feeds, so we can use the full bandwidth” the picture continues to fade in and out, then drops to a black screen, and reappears a moment later, the picture still blurry, but clear enough to make out, and the reporter’s voice can be heard more clearly. It seems as if he had not stopped talking throughout the technical difficulties. “...ople are scared here, and no one se.....o know what’s going on. the light has been pulsati.... n the center of the craft for the last fiv....utes or so, but nothing else seems to be happe...g, at the momen..”
the anchor butts in. “Greg, its John, please hold for a moment, we are getting word that the president is going to address the nation from camp David. I think we can count ourselves lucky that he was on a golf outing this day. We ask our viewers to stay tuned, and the police chief has asked us to entreat our viewers to NOT call emergency services unless you are injured, or are caring for an injured individual. Emergency calls only please. Your phones will ring distinctly to alert you of any emergency information, but please in the meantime, the 911 switchboards are jammed and real emergencies can’t get through. We here at channel 25, Fo—“
a loud gasp and people screaming come in through the live feed in Orlando.
”...y god, what’s gonna happ.. “ The light on the bottom of the craft begins to pulsate wildly and rotate in an ovular pattern. “People are ...um... they’re running in a panic, and I think we might need to get out of... what the hell, THE GROUND IS SHAKING!” the camera momentarily comes in clearly, as it bounces back and forth as if in an earthquake.” SCREW THIS, AIN’T NO JOB WORTH THIS SH*T!” the camera falls to its side and a loud “thwack” can be heard as the reporters mic hits the asphalt. The camera still tries to autofocus, and in the distance, Disney World can bee seen clearly, with Epcot center and its massive geodesic sphere sitting directly below the object. The reporter yells to his camera man to run, and they take off, getting smaller and smaller on the screen. Suddenly, the light flashed a few times, sending waves of static hiss through the airwaves. The reporter and cameraman stand transfixed on the object, rapt with fear and curiosity. Abruptly the ground stilled and the light flickered a few more times, sounding for all the world like a sputtering flame before the bright light shrank rather quickly to about the size of a streetlamp’s light, though as intense as a laser shining directly in your eye. As the ground settled people who were screaming and running like spooked cattle evading an unseen predator slowly stopped and looked skywards, their sense of doom giving way to a sliver of hope. The cameraman made his way over to the fallen camera’s tripod, and righted it, while the bewildered reporter scrambled back to his mic. “It seems that whatever was happening here ... has... has... stopped for the moment folks... please, we need everyone to remain calm”
the news anchor, looking extremely flustered and confused, ventured a question. “Greg, we have been... What? ... Look I’m sorry, guys, I can’t do my job with so much chatter on my feed...” he reached up and pulled out his earpiece, and let out a sigh. “Ahhh, much better. Now, Greg, are you and your team ok?”
Gregory nodded his head as he listened in on the feed, a noticeable delay in the signal resulted in a delayed response “Yes, John, we are ok at the moment, though I must admit, I doubted our chances there for a moment. “ the camera pans back over to the ship, and its tiny flickering light. A spider web of cracks radiated outward from the lens’ lower left corner, producing a kaleidoscopic effect on the pulsing light. “John, the fear here is definitely subsiding. The people here are Walt Disney world seem to be laughing and cheering. however whether that’s true belief that everything will work out for the best, or just a lot of nervous, scared people trying to hide it from each other, I can’t say.”
Back in the studio, a producer slips John a note. “Greg, hold for me if you would because... oh... ok... nevermind, the president’s speech is scheduled to start in the next minute or so. In the meantime, I would like to know what the people there think about all this. Is there anyone willing to speak with us?”
The reporter scanned the crowd with his eyes intently. An older lady met his eye, and pointed to herself. He nodded to her, and she walked over. “greetings, ma’am, could I ask your name?”
”Sure thing young man, you can call me Peggy”
”Alright Peggy, America wants to know, what are you feeling, what are your thinking right now? Given all that’s gone on in just this last hour, I can’t imagine what you must be thinking. Honestly ma’am I don’t even know what to think.”
The old woman smiled “well, dear, when you get to be my age, you accept that some things are inevitable. This here world could blossom or burn, but all you can do about it, is watch it bloom, or try not to get burned. The future is already written, but the dear lord penned it in invisible ink. But this here ink doesn’t reappear with acid or heat, or even time. It’s a paradox. If we read the future, then it would be the present, and that book of the future in your hand will always have the same amount of unread pages in it. There’s only one who can read it to the end, and KNOW whets in it, and that’s the one who wrote it, dear. “ She looked at him and smiled a knowing smile.
taken aback by the depth of the woman’s words, the reporter thought a moment, and replied “well ma’am not everyone believes that the future is written, personally, I think we write our own future as we go, its the choices we make that decide the future, and each of us gets to choose what we write in our book.”
The woman flashed a warm smile back at him “dearie, you are partly right about that, but I think you have proven my point with yours.” Greg’s eyebrow raised inquisitively “you see, Mr. Reporter, you said that you don’t believe the future is written, right? Well that’s just fine, not that long ago, no one believed that the world was anything other than a big flat table whose edge you could fall off of. And everyone on this whole earth believed that, and it didn’t matter, because the world IS round. tell me, if every man, woman, and child on this earth couldn’t change what IS, then how do you think you can, being only one soul?” the reporter opened his mouth to say something, but the elderly woman continued, in her bright and happy tone, that reminded him of a Sunday school teacher. “And if you don’t believe me, then believe yourself. You said that you write your own future as you go, right? Well sonny, if you write it as it happens, that’s a journal, not the future. “
The air seemed to begin humming and the smell of ozone wafted over the group gathered around the TV camera. People began looking around nervously, but no one wanted to look at what they all feared was the source of this strange feeling
the woman let out a sigh “dear reporter, if you have your reading glasses handy, then open your eyes wide, and pay attention. I think the dear lord is about to bring out that book of the future. And hope you are at peace, because I think he aims to end this chapter in the next few paragraphs.”
The light on the ship seemed to be rotating, and changing colors. The energy in the air was very noticeable, like grabbing something statically charged. The hairs on the back of many necks began to stand on end.
”What do you mean the end of the chapter?! “ Greg blurted out, panic creeping into his voice as he stared wide eyed at the object hovering over what used to be known as “the happiest place on earth’.
”Well my son, this chapter has ran long, and it’s coming to an end. You can refuse to read it if you wish, but ignorance is not a defense against the inevitable. All you can do is hope that our dear lord sees some characters he likes in this chapter, if so, maybe, just maybe, he might write another chapter with those characters in it. The book will never end, Greg Mitchums, characters come and go, and entire plots come and go. But the story endures for all time.”
the woman stood upright, and all frailty seemed to disappear from her. She placed a single hand on the reporter’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.
”Don’t fear the end of a chapter my child, for there are other stories, other books, and when one story ends, those characters stay with the reader, even if the reader and the writer happen to be the same person. “
The reporter looked into the old woman’s eyes, into eyes that defied age, defied classification. She seemed almost to be glowing, and her smile made him feel at ease, as debris whipped by and the light grew brighter than the sun. The wind whipped up so fiercely it finally drowned out the screams of panic and terror. And in the maelstrom of wind and light, there was only him and her.
He smiled back at her, a genuine warm smile.
”There you go, dearie! You understand.” she nodded in approval, then laughed “oh, it shore is gettin’ tingly, a’int it dearie?”
He laughed back.
The woman squeezed his shoulder one last time. “Gregory Marcus Mitchums, you have penned a good story. One to be proud of. I give you my word. I look forward to reading about you further, in your next book.” She smiled one last time. “I am glad we got to talk before I close this chapter, my son. Goodbye.”
The reporter blinked, and she was gone. He gripped tightly the lamp post in front of him as he was buffeted by the gale. Despite the destruction around him, he couldn’t stop smiling. He was at peace.
His fingers begin slipping, but he had read the book. His hands would hold. For once in his life he KNEW.
Suddenly, the massive pulsating ball of light seemed to freeze, as if someone had hit the pause button. The light became infinitely bright, and then like a miniature sun, held inside a soap bubble, it burst.
Everything became pure white light. As the chain reaction moved toward him, at the speed of the very light that was being unleashed, he could see it all as if in slow motion. He could hear each atom “pop” as it burst with the brilliance of a newborn sun. he could see the electrons, flying around in the mass of light, and watched as the light bonds holding even the subatomic broke free in a chaotic dance of infinite reactions, as quarks broke down into neutrinos, dark matter and dark energy, and hundreds of even smaller bits that man would never even discover. He watched it all breaking down into the very essence of destruction AND creation.
As the event horizon reached him, he felt he had lived 5 lifetimes in this one moment, and he smiled. Because for this one glorious moment, infinitely brief though it was, he KNEW.
With open arms he welcomed the chapter’s end.
And he was not afraid.
Back in the newsroom, john listened to the cooky old lady and her answers. “The president will be speaking momentarily, folks, so we are going to leave Greg and go now to camp da......” the monitor Greg was on flickered popped and then went blank. “Folks hold on, we are reviewing the feed to see what happened. “ The last few frames played back, and their answer drained all blood from their faces. John’s mouth suddenly felt as dry as the Sahara, and he could only manage to stammer a few “uh.... I....um’s”
the anchor’s narration was not needed, for the two lovers sat in bed, holding each other, paralyzed by the horror of it all.
As the man turned to his wife, mouth open, but words failing him, their attention drew back to the sound of screams on the television.
The anchor looked pale as a ghost, and it was obvious why. The studio cameras were shaking violently and that horrid crackling sound could be heard over the anchors own mic.
”f.f.f.ff.fff...fffollks, wwee hhave reports of .. s.s.satellites failing all over t..tht.t.th.e world..I ah... I .... AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!” the TV flared bright white as the anchor’s scream dissolved into the hiss of static as the snowy analog signal took the news channel’s place. The man’s wife pounded the remote, checking every channel, but the result was the same.
As she turned to look at her husband, the power went out. Somehow as they stared at each other, they both knew that the power had just went out forever.
He smiled at her. “I love you, with all my heart”
she took his hand, and touched her forehead and nose to his.
The bed began to vibrate and then shake violently; she closed her eyes tightly, to rid them of the tears that had welled up.
A light began flickering outside their window. They both turned and looked. He let out a deep half sobbing breath. The light was growing bigger, and brighter.
She reached out and grabbed her husband’s face, and turned his head to face her, head to head, nose to nose, she forced her eyes open despite the harsh light, and met his. And love and warmth were felt one last time.
”I love you too! With all my soul!” she sobbed.
Tears streaming down their faces, the lovers locked their lips for what was surely the final kiss on earth, and two incomplete beings became one whole person, and their tears mixed as they ran down their faces, intermingling into a single beautiful tribute to all of human emotion.
Anger. Regret. Happiness. Fear. Sadness. Hope.
All floating in the confines of a single tear, as it tumbles through the air, bound in singular purpose by the one perfect human creation, and the final emotion.
Love.
And as that sparkling droplet fell, the terrible heat engulfed its creators.
The little bead boiled and spat, evaporating into nothingness.
What fell from a lover’s embrace, never hit the ground.
And for all those emotions of human weakness and greatness, boiled away into the dark void left by that most terrible weapon, one could not be burned, nor melted, evaporated, or forgotten.
Love echoes in a vacuum, a wave form whose magnitude can only multiply, until the vast emptiness is filled again.
But this is a tale whose time is up. And so we move on, for...
This Chapter Has Ended.
[/pre]
