May 19, 2013
Salvation lies within the keystrokes, but woe; there to lies damnation…

Apparently believing the whole world on your shoulders is entirely different from realizing that same fact. I’m a writer; salvation lies within the keystrokes, but woe; there to lies damnation. “Every one of my books had killed me a little more.” - Norman Mailer. Why would you aspire to greatness in a thing, in the bending of words, all the while knowing it to be your undoing? Love I suppose. I does tend to make the insanest notions, all the more sane. “I am a man brimming, whose own relief of burden lies solely within the fathoms of his own spring. Maddening it is to be the fool who wallows ill, while cure waits beyond all reach; lovingly between fingers.” - Akil N. De Berry… Each word a stone, each completion a hill? Sisyphus you had it easy my friend! Well back to writing.


April 25, 2013
“Everything you’ve ever wanted. Every desire, light or dark. An entire expanse of hopes and dreams, starved of a single thing. A whispers’ breath that would give all life, meaning and color. A razors’ edge, forged of words, upon which the world sits. Imagine the bliss of such a thing, the miracle of it’s knowing, the sight of a blessing true… And now it’s weight, sharp and heavy.The burden a tear, a creeping doubt, while one’s worth, unsure. Tis a good man who places his faith in others, yet the brave shelter it within. To be so brave… A blessing salted, turned fear of a possibility, too possibly true. Which fool greater? He who fears life’s woes; or it’s joys?” - Akil N. DeBerry, Inner Dialogue 0.001.

“Everything you’ve ever wanted. Every desire, light or dark. An entire expanse of hopes and dreams, starved of a single thing. A whispers’ breath that would give all life, meaning and color. A razors’ edge, forged of words, upon which the world sits. Imagine the bliss of such a thing, the miracle of it’s knowing, the sight of a blessing true… And now it’s weight, sharp and heavy.The burden a tear, a creeping doubt, while one’s worth, unsure. Tis a good man who places his faith in others, yet the brave shelter it within. To be so brave… A blessing salted, turned fear of a possibility, too possibly true. Which fool greater? He who fears life’s woes; or it’s joys?” - Akil N. DeBerry, Inner Dialogue 0.001.


April 15, 2013
2013 Spring Short Film!

In these final days of April I’m taking the time out to rewrite a short film I wrote over a year ago. Rewriting in April, planning the shoot in May, and shooting in June. 

One of my favorite parts, self induced madness! The lucky bastard! It’s a writer’s thing! 


“Muse” A Short Film written by Akil N. DeBerry. Scenes “To Wake,” and “The Lady in Red.” Revision 1.0 (UNEDITED)

          INT./EXT. CAR/BEACH HOUSE DRIVEWAY - MORNING

          Viewing out of the back window, to behind the car, Jordan

          and the Young Lady are seen hugging then kissing.

          Reluctantly the Young Lady turns from Jordan and walks to

          the car, getting in the back seat.

                              YOUNG LADY’S FRIEND 1 O.S.

                         (laughing)

                    Was he everything you needed!

                              YOUNG LADY

                         (smiling)

                    That, and everything more… he

                    was what I’ve always wanted!

                              YOUNG LADY’S FRIEND 2

                    Well that’s good, but we’re on our

                    way back to reality, so get ready

                    for the shock.

          The Young Lady nods in agreement, then reaches into her top

          pulling out her SLIVER CHAIN.

                              YOUNG LADY

                    I know… you’re right.

          Taking her chain from around her neck, she takes off the

          WEDDING RING that hangs on it. Slowly she puts it on her

          finger.

                              YOUNG LADY

                         (sadly)

                    It was a dream… and from dreams

                    we all must wake.

          INT. JORDAN’S HOUSE - COMPUTER ROOM - MORNING

          Jordan sits at his computer, eyes closed and facing the

          window next to him.

          MEMORY FLASH

          The Young Lady’s face edged by morning light.

          Jordan opens his eyes and smiles, turning to his computer he

          begins to write.

                                                         FADE TO:

          INT. JORDAN’S HOUSE - COMPUTER ROOM - DAY

          Days later.

          Pulling back from his computer, Jordan looks at the computer

          screen in frustration, till a small hand comes up from O.S.

          and brushes his cheek.

                              YOUNG LADY (O.S.)

                         (whispers)

                    Keep going… no matter what!

          Jordan takes the small hand and kisses it’s palm, then

          places his forehead in her palm. Taking a deep breath, he

          picks up his head, kisses her hand again, places the hand on

          his chest, then begins to write.

                                                         FADE TO:

          INT. JORDAN’S HOUSE - COMPUTER ROOM - DAY

          Weeks later.

          Jordan sits at his desk in front of his computer, writing

          and scribbling on a piece of paper, writing and slashing

          through words, his head shaking as he does.

          With a curse Jordan balls up the paper and throws the paper

          at the computer screen.

          Slouching back in his chair defeated, till two slim arms

          come down from O.S., slowly draping over his shoulders,

          hands meeting on Jordan’s chest as the chin of a Young Lady

          rest atop of his head, only her nose and mouth visible in

          the frame.

                              YOUNG LADY (O.S.)

                         (smiling)

                    Shhh. You can do this. Take a

                    breath… all my faith is yours,

                    you are all, I believe in.

                                                         FADE TO:

          INT. JORDAN’S HOUSE - COMPUTER ROOM - NIGHT

          Months later.

          Jordan shakes his head then drops his face into hands, his

          elbows on the desk in front of him. His body trembles and he

          shakes his head.

          From O.S. a Young Lady steps backwards and sits on the

          computer desk next to him, dressed in a RED DRESS. Her face O.S., she runs her

          fingers through his hair.

                              YOUNG LADY (O.S.)

                    I can’t wait till it’s done. It

                    will be the greatest thing ever.

                    Keep writing… I can’t wait till

                    it’s done… For me.

          Jordan looks up to her, nods his head then begins to type

          away, her hand still running through his hair.

                                                         FADE TO:

          INT. JORDAN’S HOUSE - COMPUTER ROOM - DAY

          Jordan, with wide eyes slowly sits back in his chair and

          smiles.

                              JORDAN

                         (disbelief)

                    It’s… I’m done. It’s finished?!

          The Young Lady falls into his lap and puts her arms around

          him, then kisses him.

                              YOUNG LADY

                    I’m so happy… thank you.

                              JORDAN

                         (smiling)

                    For you… anything.

                              YOUNG LADY

                    Will you, write me… another?

          Jordan smile deepens as he nods to her, YES.

                                                     DISSOLVE TO:


February 22, 2013
72 Hour Writing Binge! A writers’ ideal birthday get away!

I am the Tin Man, I’ve always been the Tin Man. And in the words of one of my most favorite karaoke songs, “Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man, that he didn’t already have.” There is nothing I need for I have had everything all along. And since my only wants are singular, I’m unplugging for the next 72 hours in celebration of all the years I’ve collected thus far. No sleeping, no phones, no blogging, no drinking, or facebook, only WRITING!!! When you are blessed enough to know what you truly want, the only thing that could ever complete you, elevating you in both mind and body, you should, in all due respect, forsake the world in it’s entirety in it’s pursuit. It’s what the greats have always seem so easily able to do. That very want, is the reason you’re here, the reason you pull breath, the very reason for this prison of flesh! Haha And this isn’t my first writing binge! Can’t go this HAM with the written word without supplies, and supplies I gots a lots! Lol


December 3, 2012
… And so I Vow, or may I bleed ink and consume the stars… Wait I want to do that anyway?!

A writers 2013 to do list!

Besides moving back to Los Angeles in January to finish film school, my goals are as follows!

Writing:

6 Finished novels in the year of 2013.
That’s one complete novel every two months.

6 Finished scripts in the year of 2013.
That’s one complete script every two months.

Filming:

Four shorts shot in the year of 2013.
One short shot every four months.
One feature length shot in the year of 2013.


December 3, 2012

Me in front of the camera, till this day, leaves me a bit unsettled. I guess that’s why directing always whispered my name and not acting. LoL This is a short documentary about my writing and I, by a good friend of mine.


October 25, 2012
2012 NANOWRIMO… and the inky call to arms for 2013

As most writers know, nanowrimo will soon be upon us this year, in 6 days in fact?! And as soon as one remembers this hardening fact, the heart and mind begins to flutter with gruesome anticipation! This will be my second attempt at nano, and hopefully my last in doing so without completion. But then the hows, and whys start to flood the brain, and you begin to really contemplate on truly making this nano DIFFERENT. I’m at that point in age, life, and understanding that leaves me to think that the time is now, the moment is right, and if not NOW, then never. It truly feels, all or nothing, and perhaps truly is! I must, have to, and will send something out before the end of this year… well that was the thought anyway. I’m the type of writer and person who simply puts infinite effaces on the beginnings of things. Without the right start, well proper to my perceptions anyway, all else that follows is null and void, plan hearsay. I want to be PUBLISHED! Put the first is pivotal to my mental well being! With the 200%+ rise in published works in the market place since 2007, mostly in ebooks, it has become even more difficult to stand out amongst the crowd. So how then?! It must be a book that is not just well written, a splendid story, an enjoyable read, it must simultaneously be a work of… art, I’m thinking. And in that concept, something fresh, new and appealing in a completely artful way. And I think I have it! *SECRETS, SECRETS* But a new issue has arisen from this lovely 10 minute old insight. In order to have such control over my book thought, as I believe will be needed, my first project may need to be self published. And now this is where I stand. For nano this year I will be writing a fairy tale, that will be of 200,000+ words in it’s final length. I will self publish the book in a only special edition hardcover version, solely in independent books stores of the NYC area in 2013, and in an ebook form. No particulars I’d like to share now, but not only has nothing like what I plan ever been done, but the way I plane to market it will also be new! Wish me luck!!!


September 10, 2012

~WRITE~WRITE~WRITE~ 

Deliberations where most traitorous this day! Especially when cross-examinations are deduced by that most unsightly of deliberators, one’s self! o_O Strange how to the creater’s heart, madness seems such the fairest of bed fellows. LoL *Singing in melody of “Rock the Casbah”* ‘I’m writing and I like it, pass the Redbull!’ LoL

p.s. This most auspicious of verbal banter, lovingly ringing vivacious, is but one more jest of why one does not begin one’s day, with a viewing of “The Man Of La Mancha” Hahaha


August 15, 2012
The beginning of things…

Lidia, a novel by A. N. DeBerry. (Opening lines v.001)

     Once, long ago, this place was a city. A place of countless marvels, seemingly alive to some. Of towers belted with clouds; an endless sea of shimmering shards reflecting the skies that bound them. And yet to others, a vile thing that seemed to exhale poison. A creature of glass and stone teeth, steel bones and veins of road, clothed in a catching filth.


May 21, 2012
Dialogue Oh’ Naturale…

~The Secret World of Louis Lambert~ Each idea begins with a single image, followed by the dialogue of nameless characters, who strangely enough, already bear strong individual voices! From there, the story builds around their words. For me, that’s how it’s done. And for your enjoyment some RAW dialogue!

Lambert - “Writing is a death most unfair. With each word we die, simply so the next may merely be. There is no magic to this, no muse from on high sent from gods or spirits alike to bless you with gifts solely yours. Men are fools to think them selves so special. We are writers, by unrelenting urge we undo ourselves. Death by joyous suicide; for the only thing worst then the bleed of word to parchment, is the agony of it’s absence! We are dreamers, the damned, the unlucky few!”

James - “But, that’s horrible!”

Lambert - “No lad, it is love. Have you ever been in love, true love. A thing poets say is of starlight, and a fearless joy?”

James - “Never.”

Lambert - “None sense, you are a writer! I can smell the fellow stench about you even now. You have blood as black as ink, you do! Never doubt that! And our kind know of love far better then any other. You spoke of your story, and from your tone, a story not going as well as hoped.”

James - “No, not at all in fact.”

Lambert - “And how is it you feel, when you sit before it, brow curled with determination as if it was some great beast, most foul? What sensation swims through, now even, as you merely ponder over it?”

James - “Regret! Agony! My heart knots at every touch of it. It’s unbearable to want something so badly, for it finish, and yet become so broken at it’s very presence!”

Lambert - “What you speak of has moved stars, boy. Taken countless lives, and crumbled the greatest of lands.” 

James - “What, what is it?”

Lambert - “It is love! Love is a pain so great, it becomes dear. And it’s lost can kill the soul long before the body every follows.”


May 10, 2012
The Secret World of Louis Lambert (excerpt)

~The Secret World of Louis Lambert, A Novel by A. N. De Berry~


“Tell me, do you love her?” Lambert asked, as he sat down next to him in the garden.
James looked up into the branches of the trees, searching for an answer he need not search for. Of course I do, he thought as he watched the day’s dyeing twilight dance across the leaves; kissed so softly by a wind from the west.
“I do, more then anything,” James said, raising from his seat with a frustrated breath. “I fear how much I do,” he said as he began to pace. “Nothing has ever felt so right, and yet so undeserving. Since first kiss, my very breath seems but tribute that I would lovingly give,” he said, coming to a stop. “I now have knowelege of a thing I would deem beyond beauty, beyond love, and yet feel ever so damned and cursed for it’s very knowing.”
“And why is that?” Lambert asked, meeting his troubled eyes.
“Because it is unreturned.” He said with a defeated shake of his head, “I admit it, I tried dearly not to fall so, as she had admitted to me of trying likewise, but before a second breath I found my body aching in agony, and only realized then that I had already met earth.”
Lambert looked away from him and up to those same trees, watching the sun’s setting light, seemingly chase and flee the shadows, there numbers growing by the second. “It has be said,” he started, “that a love unreturned, is no lesser love, and no less important,” he told him, finishing just shy of a whisper. “You love her, fine. Now you must bear it, never doubting it. Emotions are ghastly things, but when one is lucky enough to understand the one’s that rule them, never betray them!” He said as if bewildered by his own words. “Do so and you betray yourself, and in the end of all things, all we truly ever have in this world, is self. Never forget that.” He said with a shake of his head, as he raised from his seat and turned to leave, “Never forget.”


May 10, 2012
The Secret World of Louis Lambert (excerpt)

The Secret World of Louis Lambert

A Novel by A. N. DeBerry

A story about a young man, said to be a genius, who is hired by one of the great minds of his day, to dictate notes for his latest work, who is also considered mad by most. The young man becomes consumed by Louis’s ideas and even his madness as the world of the imaginary mingles with reality. The young man sets out to reveal the wonders known to Louis and prove to all that he is not indeed mad but privileged to a world without end, only for Louis to put an end to it.

Written January 24, 2012

*UNEDITED*


Chapter 1

January 24, 1923 - London

Odin Press was a small rickety shack of a publishing house, but James knew this is where he had to be.

Sitting almost center of London, the narrow building, of wood and nail, seemed to slither up the sides of the two large marble and granite stone buildings, that sat to it’s right and left. Even at five stories high, the building looked squeezed thin by the weight of the stone megaliths to it’s either side.

James stood stagnate on the other side of the street, looking up at the building as if simply stepping within would cause him some great pain. And then, with a great labored exhale of a breath he remember the promise he made.

“I just can’t sit here standing, I look a fool!”

After a shake of his head he looked slowly left and right. The streets here where far more dense with motor cars and people then back home, yet some how they still managed to go much faster, even with the streets crammed with pedestrians.

“Their crazy!” But then again, you’d have to be to live in a city so packed, he thought as the way finally became clear.

With a quick canter of steps, he managed to cross the mad street, and found himself thanking the saints that he had managed to do so and remain all in one piece.

Looking up at a weathered plank of wood, painted white, and depicting a strange eye housed within a five sided box, shaped like a crud house, he found himself unfortunately assured that he had the right place. For some reason, he was hoping still, dearly that he had perhaps come to the wrong building, or even the wrong street, God willing maybe even the wrong city.

With a loud sigh, James stepped lightly on to the first step up to the door, “what’s done is done! Dad was right. Might as well use this pricey education of mine, and make —-“ 

He yelped in shock as his foot crunched through the step, stopping only as it thankfully met the buildings stone foundation, which also thankfully began at street level.

“Good,” James finished as he shook his ankle free of the steps grip. “even if the good looks like this, I suppose.” He finished looking up at the building, that now toward over him, as if ready to fall.

Part of him wished it would, killing him and any hope he had of ever being a real writer. Already in a dark mood, the fact that he contained such cowardly thoughts only made his current mood, that much more darker.

In shame he looked down, down to the ruined step and the black void that slumbered just below it, “I’m a coward, a man of excuses,” looking up he took a deep breath, “no!” He said before rushing up the stairs, opening the doors, dashing in and slamming them behind him.

James stood motionlessly, with his head turned toward the door. To caught up in the moment, he didn’t have the time to contemplate his crazed entry until a breath after he had slammed the door. And there he stood, stone still, scared to even breath. Dear God, I’ve proven I’m an idiot before even opening my mouth. Well at least I tried”

“Out of the way stiff!” A man’s voice said from behind, before shoving him out of the way of the door, and leaving through it.

James stumbled out of the way, attempting to catch himself on a coat rack, that only proved as sturdy as the buildings step construction.

With a snap, the coat rack broke into pieces before spilling onto the ground, shortly followed by, an already very ashamed James.

Finding him self tossed onto the ground covered in heavy coats, a part of him wanted to simply sit there, hidden beneath the thick articles of wool and fur. And that part of him, to his greatest shame, was winning grossly the argument to continue as he was, that is till he heat of the combined coats and jackets made it unbearable for him to continue.

With effort, he tore the coats off his head and face, and found himself in great need of fresh air. As he gasped he looked about the room and to his shock, discovered a room so busy with it’s own dealings that not a single person had noticed that he had ran in, slammed the the door, or even was sent flying into a coat rack and then the floor. 

Against all understanding he found himself smiling, “It’s not often one is given a second chance at first meetings!”

Though housed in a tall scrawny excuse of a building, Odin Press bustled with the hectic comings, goings, movements and chatter of dozens. Which was commonly mistaken by those outside of the profession of commercial literature, as nothing short of mad! 

Each long narrow room, wisely making up for the buildings unfortunate shortcomings in width, was lined with desk after desk after desk, along it’s walls, making best use of the slim space. 

Now that James ears no longer where blooming and pounding with embarrassment, he realized that it was quite possibly louder inside then it was outside.

Phones ringed constantly as some talked, others discussed, and more then a few even argued aloud across the room, only adding to the already lively symphony. 

Feeling a bit out of place, james gingerly walked up to the main desk, finding a young women who he discovered was discussing an extremely fragile matter by phone.

“Look hear you scuzzy shiter, and realize that I don’t care dearie! That’s the last kiss you’ll nab from me, you mouth shitting bastard!”

At that she slammed the receiver on the hook, muttered a few more curses, some of which James had never heard of, then looked up to him with a unimaginably kind and saintly face.

Reflexively James took a step back, what he had just heard, had surly left this young lady’s - though looking at her now he… “My, you are beyond pretty.” He said reddening instantly as he realized the words left his lips, and not another’s.

“You really think?” She said with a laugh, “and look at you blushing.” She cleared her throat, looking honestly a bit abashed, “sorry you had to hear that, but a girl can only take getting lied to, so many times. Remember that won’t you?” She asked him with a shy smile.

Snapping out of his own smile, James wrestled with his pocket for a moment, at last pulling out a small leather bound note book, “no, no I won’t.” he said as he began to write her words down.

“My name is Lisa,” she said with another warm smile, “what’s yours handsome?”

“Handsome,” He mumbled as he finished his writing, then looked up in wonderment, “handsome.” He said again, looking about him to make sure there was no one else there she could possibly be referring to, “me? I’m handsome?” He said, pointing to himself in disbelief, “me?”

“Yes you, silly boy. Very,” Lisa said with a mirthful shake of her head, “what’s your name love?” She asked him again, locking her eyes with his.

James stood there, chained by her eyes, “name?”

“Yes, name. You do have a name don’t you?” Lisa joked.

“Name? Name! Yes I do have a name!” James said with excitement.

“And, it would be?” She asked with a snicker.

His brows wrinkled with concentration, his eyes wondering here and there, as he desperately tried to solve Lisa’s impossible riddle.

“James, James John Darling!” He said, full of joy at solving her grueling task.

“Well Mr. Darling, how may I help you?”

Raising his hand to his head, he nodded slowly with each word as he remembered his supposed purpose.

“I have a meeting with Mr. Howard, concurring employment.” He said, breathing heavily as if he had been sprinting.

“Oh, you’re the 9:00. Well go on up, he’s waiting for you. Those stairs, right there behind you, will take you up to his office. I’ll ring him and let him know you’re on your way up.”

Finally back to his senses, “thank you very much Misses Lisa.” He said with a bow.

“No Misses, just Miss.” She corrected him. “Right up those stairs, can’t miss him.

“Thanks again,” he said. 

Turning from her, he walked for the stairs.

“Though, Lisa Darling,” She whispered just loud enough for him to hear. James stumbling at her words as proof of the fact, “that would sound rather nice.”

As he made his way up the stairs, James found it delightfully difficult for his feet to agree, tripping several times over what seemed to be, very dense air.

Chapter 2

The door of wood and glass read, ‘Mr. Howard, Chief Editor.’

What Lisa had said was true, there really was no way he could have missed it. The thick door sat at the very top of the stairs, and after a calming breath, James knocked three times.

“Come in. Come in!” Mr. Howard said from the other side of the door, perhaps even cheerfully. 

James wasn’t quite sure, as he opened the door. It was perhaps the deepest voice he had ever heard and was only sure that anger, would be the only for sure sound of emotion that one could hope to get out of Mr. Howard. And seeing the size of Mr. Howard as he walked into the room, he hoped he never heard a single whisper of anger from Mr. Howard, in his entire life.

The man was not fat, or bulgy in any way, just massive. Easily six feet tall, he looked like a man forged of only muscle. The kind of man to be found in a seedy boxing ring down some dark alley, and not behind some desk, working as an editor. But looking up at him again, James was sure that not a soul had ever voiced such opinions aloud to Mr. Howard before, and wisely he thought that he would defiantly not be the first.

“Good day Mr. Howard, how are you? My name is James John D—-”

“Young Mr. Darling!” Mr. Howard boomed with a giant smile, as he jumped up to shake James’ hand. “Why I haven’t seen you since you were but a babe!”

James looked down in disbelief as Mr. Howard’s hand completely surrounded his own, as if his own hand was but a child’s.

“And now look at you!” Mr. Howard said, grabbing James by both shoulders. His hands swallowing his tiny arms. “God, I guess that means I’m getting old!” He joked, slapping James on the shoulder, managing to knock every stitch of air from his lungs, as he turned back to his desk.

“And how is that rascal of a father of yours, still teaching?” Mr. Howard asked taking his seat.

“Yes, yes he is sir.” James managed between coughs, and breaths.

“Oh we did have he best of times, me and your father. You know it was he who wanted to be an editor and writer some day, and me who wanted to be a professor.” Mr. Howard said before filling the office with a booming laughter. 

“So close we were, that we wound up living the other’s dream!”

James tried his best not to cover his ears, as Mr. Howard again, sounded with a thunderous laugh.

“I did not know that. I thought father always wanted to be a professor.”

“No, your father was a mad man!”

“Father? A mad man?”

“Aye! The ‘Scourge’ the mothers of oxford called him. The things that man could do with a smile! No, writing and editing was his dream, until he was sobered up a bit. By two things.”

James had never heard of his father being anything but subtle and kept, but here he was hearing that his old man had the type of excitement he wished he had always had. He was hooked on Mr. Howard’s every word.

“What two things?” James asked desperately.

“Well the first was your mother. My God, she was like a dream that had escaped from sleep!”

“Mother?”

“Yes.”

“And the second?

“Why the second was you lad!” Mr. Howard said with another large laugh. “An editors life, let alone a writers life, isn’t necessarily designed for the needs of family. But knowing your father you wouldn’t of known. He took to teaching like a fish in water, and who could blame him. With your mother’s beauty as motivation, a man could find himself able to bare anything!”

“I. I did not know.” James said, slumping in the chair, in front of Mr. Howard’s desk. “I never would have imagined that father had wanted to be a writer. Never. He always tells me it’s a waste of time, a fools errand.”

“That perhaps, lad. Is your father fearing that you would fail, where he had also. It’s truly not easy to make it as a writer.”

James nodded in knowing agreement.

“Why, the only one of the three of us to make it was Louis!”

“Three? Who is Louis?”

“Come now lad! You have a Master’s in English and you don’t know Louis Lambert?”

Slowly James stood up, rubbing his eyes with both hands, “Lambert? You mean Louis Lambert? The writer?”

“Yes lad, I’m not to sure there’s another Louis Lamber worth mentioning really!” Mr. Howard joked, before becoming concerned. “Are you ill son?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, lowering his hands, “a complete fool apparently, but fine!”

“Oh I see, your father did not mention him. Oh my, I think I just committed a serious blunder!”

Mr Howard’s frown that followed was a frightful thing, yet even still, james could have sworn the ghastly sight blossomed from a tiny smile.

“What do you mean, blunder?”

“Well as you know, some time ago Louis became, sick. His mind was shattered, from reasons I’m still not sure of. But around that time your father was marrying your mother, and Louis refused to come to the wedding. Well we were best blokes before that, and your father took it, well rather hard really. From then on, he held a good bit of hate for poor old Louis.”

Mr. Howard shook his head, and held a sad look on his face, that for some reason just didn’t look genuine. He couldn’t place it, perhaps sadness just looked strange on such a large face.

“Father can hold a grudge,” James admitted. “But he should have told me.” James said pacing the room, “I told father countless times about how I wanted to be a writer, perhaps even better then the great Louis Lambert. And now I find every time I mentioned such, would have surly caused him some kind of pain. The pain of a dream lost, or worst a friend lost. I feel terrible!” James said, again slouching down in the seat before Mr. Howard.

“It’s not your fault lad, you did not know,” Mr. Howard said before jumping in sudden realization, “lad! Did you say you wanted to be a writer?”

“Yes. I graduated from Oxford, early last year.”

“Graduated with the highest marks of your class, is what I hear!” Mr. Howard boomed with pride.

“Yes. I went back home to the states after, to work on my book, but. Well lets just say, a free mind proved harder to tame, then one chained and guided by school. I lost all inspiration for my book, and I had promised father that if I had not finish by years end, that I would finally go and find work. When year’s end came, he found me and gave me a ticket for London, and a job appointment, here.”

“And here you stand.”

“More or less.” James said with a flourish of both hands, that made his depressed slouch in the chair, all the more noticeable.

“You know Mr. Darling I have perhaps a problem that you may be able to help with.”

“A problem?”

“Yes, you see I have a writer who like your self has hit a bit of a, road block with his latest work. And word has it, perhaps his greatest work to date.”

“But how could I help?”

“Well by helping him, I think perhaps you can help yourself, find exactly what you need to find. You know, inspiration!” Mr. Howard said, rounding the table to stand behind James.

“Inspiration? That would be warmly welcomed. But what would you need me to do?” He asked, looking up to Mr. Howard.

“Well this writer, over the years, has become quite particular about his writing, and now only does so by dictation. Yet even more bothersome is that he trust no one, not even enough to give the dictation needed to finish the book. What you would do for me is earn his trust, serving as his secretary. Keeping his dates in order and such, and perhaps in time he would even provide you with the rest of his book to be transcribed.”

“I guess I could do that sir, but what makes you think this writer would open to me?”

“Oh, just a gut feeling we editors in great need, some times get. So what do you say?”

“But I don’t even know who it is.”

“I’ll pay you $50 dollars a week!”

James jumped from his seat in shock, “$50 dollars a week!”

“And not a penny more! Here,” Mr. Howard said, picking up a large envelope from atop his desk, “Here’s your first week’s pay, tickets and further instructions.” He rushed out, all a bit strange to the ear because of  his immensely deep voice.

Pushing James to the door with the envelope, before he could even reply he continued, “and you must hurry now, your train leaves in a hour. My daughter Lisa will take you to the train.”

“Train? But?” James squeaked out.

“No buts, I know you’ll do me proud! Now on your way!” Mr. Howard said, opening the door to his office and shooing James out.

“But sir,” James pleaded.

“What is it now lad?”

“But I don’t even know the writers name sir.” He said in confusion.

“The writer’s name?” Mr. Howard said with a impossibly broad smile, “The writer’s name is Louis Lambert! Now be off!”

And with that, Mr. Howard shut the door on the confused and now very frightened Mr. Darling.

Chapter 3

“Your the first yank I’ve ever met, you know that.” Lisa was saying as swerved through the busy streets of london by motor car.

“No. No I did not know that,” James stuttered out, with eyes locked shut with fear.

“Aye, you are. And for some reason I expected yanks to be more, I don’t know, lively,” she said almost careening into a old women and her fruit wagon.

“Sorry to disappoint,” James said, braving to open a single eye. But seeing what he saw soon eradicated any remnants of bravery in him.

“No, no need to apologize,” she said before kissing him on the check, “you don’t disappoint me one bit!” She finished with a wicked smile.

Eyes open, but utterly blind to the speed and easily obtained, possible death and mayhem around him, he saw only her. 

“You are a very dangerous young women!” He said with a smile of his own.

“Why thank you. You finally noticed!”

Finally realizing again where he was, James looked forward, his eyes automatically clinching shut, “How could I’ve not!” He said with a shaky laugh.

“Ah, here we are,” Lisa finally said, after what seemed an eternity. 

The motor car came to a stop.

“You can open your eyes now love,” Lisa joked.

Slowly James opened one eye, then the other. Blinking at the now, midday sun.

“That’s Paddington Station,” Lisa said, pointing to a long iron structure of a building,. “When inside, find Platform 7.”

“And where will Platform 7 take me?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, but if I know father, he would of given you a list of some kind.” Lisa said with a shake of her head, “Oh how father does love his little list.”

James brought up the envelope and stared, “I guess he did.”

“Well, I do hate good byes, but I shamefully do find my self wanting you to come back sooner then later,” Lisa said with a decisive sniff.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised before she hugged him. Shocked he stood frozen, and before he had the nerve to hug her back, the moment was gone.

“You just go and be safe! Father also has a knack for getting others in trouble!” Lisa said before shooing James off towards the ship, “others, namely me. But others none the less.”

After the confusion of first finding Platform 7, and then settling into his compartment car, a very comfortable compartment car at that, James made his way up to the observation car to sit and think.

“What just happened?” He found himself asking, no one in particular.

“Well I guess at least I should find out where I’m headed,” He said, opening the envelope Mr. Howard had given him.

Dear Mr. Darling

I am very pleased that you have agreed to help me in my little endeavor. At this moment, and for the past four years, the great Louis Lamber has been trying to complete a manuscript, that is quite possibly his best ever. All you must do to assist him, is to keep him on track. Not wanting you to go blindly into the lion’s dean, I have set up a few appointments with good acquaintances of Mr. Lambert’s, so that you may learn more of his troubling condition, and perhaps what to do in certain times, and more importantly what not to do.

Your first stop will be to the house of Lambert’s good friend Mr. Rodger S. Garrson. Your second stop will be to the offices of Misses Rachel Moore. Who has collaborated with Lambert on several works. And lastly Mr. Lee R. Tone, who was truly the closest before Lambert’s tragic breakdown. 

The Contents of this envelope is, as follows:

*A train ticket. With stops in Bicester, Stafford, Rochdale and finally Leeds.

        • $50.
        • Maps of each visiting city.
        • And lastly a copy of Lambert’s work, thus far.

P.S. I knew I could count on you. Good luck, and for heavens sack have a bit of fun while you’re at it!

Sincerely, Mr. Howard

Chief Editor

Odin Press Publishing

In disbelief James sat back in his chair.

“Not only Lambert,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “but Misses Moore!”

In school James had fallen for her words as strongly as he did for Lambert’s.

He read Mr. Howard’s letter again.

“I’m going to meet Rodger S. Garrson?” He said aloud, hoping that doing so would some how snap him out of the strange dream he found himself snared by.

“Greatest living poet, and I’m going to meet him,” James said in frightful realization, “for tea?”

“And to make matters worse, Lee R. Tone!”

The man had single handedly defined, what it was to be great! He could have an idea Monday, have a layout by Tuesday’s breakfast, and have a pulitzer for the same work by Friday evening, just in time for dinner!

“They’re all master of the written word.” James said, his eyes growing large. “I haven’t even finished a single work! How can I even think to rub shoulders them?”

“They do what I wish I could, as easily as I breaths air!” James said, finding his breathing at that moment not very easy. “I’m nothing. How can I face them?”

Shacking his head he read the last of the letter again.

P.S. I knew I could count on you. Good luck…

James barely knew Mr. Howard, but strangely the idea of letting him down, made him feel even worse.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to pull this off,” James thought aloud, “but Mr. Howard does clearly. Maybe he knows something I don’t.”

“And I promised father I’d try my best,” James said as his shoulders dropped considerably, “I suppose I must!”


April 22, 2012
Musings with a friend…

At what point do you settle? Truth be told, NEVER!

A friend once told me, “what does it matter, in the end we’re all alone.” I began to open my mouth to argue, but found my self stumped in thought. The fact is, he’s right. Nothing guarantees the presence of loved one’s at our passing, no one there to consoled and help you realize everything is alright. At the end of the day, our last day, it’s quite possible that we will be the only one’s present with any insight into our own lives. Which leaves to question, will you live a life that needs consoling and explanation, or will you live a life where the smile, on your own fading lips, is enough?!

We spend so much effort pleasing the next, be it family or friend, lover or stranger, that we forget the most important person to please is self! I know, a very selfishness statement but I stand by it. I’m not talking the kind of pleasure from material things or wealth, I’m speaking of spiritual fulfillment! I’m talking about the fact that many, if not most, live and die with only a few moments in the entirety of their lives, if that, where they could say they obtained that most elusive sensation, the feeling of absolute knowing. That instance where you are filled to brimming with an overwhelming truth; that you are here for the sake of all, and all is here for the sake of you! A euphoria that eludes to the fact that you are not only, precisely where you should be, but where you chose to be!

I am accused of always sounding as if my age is far greater, my explanation of this was the fact that for some, at a certain age we feel as though we should be so much more, doing perhaps not great things, but things all the same, great to us. And not doing such adds years of stress and regret. You aren’t to old, you’re simply so weighed down, burdened with regret that you feel far to old to succeed! It’s a survival mechanism in people of greatness! Your soul is telling you something is wrong, and the tightening of heart is it making damn sure it’s not ignored!

Passion is a holy whisper, a cosmic tell. And with it, the soul burns brighter and true, fending off the shadows of regret.

The fact is… to do otherwise then passion dictates, is a betrayal of self. I’ve finally realized this, only days ago. You want to live a life immersed in film, and yet the burden of life leads you to the conclusion, that what you wish is impossible. You go through the day convincing your self that stability, and certainty is pivotal for an adult. Your shoulders grow heavy, for reasons you can’t explain. You should be happy, why am I not happy; all you want to be is happy. You day dream of making movies every time you see one, you think, “it’s a shame, but I KNOW it wouldn’t of worked out.” And then there will be a day when you snap! When you realize, or perhaps truly don’t care about success, all you start to care about is giving it one hell of a try! A damn good fight! You feel as though each day is a struggle, and come to the conclusion that you now, want each day to be a struggle with MEANING! But then you receive bills in the mail, a friend is getting married, or having their second child. The appearance of success in the lives of others drags you out of your, not day dream but life’s dream, and back into a world where, easy small successes, are fulfilling and just…

Only after life’s last breath has time truly ran out. Till then the world is yours; you must merely be foolish enough to see it!


April 4, 2012
And so let us finish this… ‘Youngest’ A Novel by Akil N. DeBerry (EXCERPT) Chapter 1

This is a work of mine I decided late last year, would be my fist ever novel that I would complete! I wanted to finish it sooner this year but life pleasantly got in the way! So I’m taking this week out to finish it up and complete it, I’d love any input anyone has to give.

I don’t know how it is for others, when judging the feel and rightness of their own work, but I find I’m never really sure how my stuff truly sounds to others, let alone my self. To me it doesn’t sound right or wrong, great or terrible, it simply sounds  as it should, and perhaps what I need to learn is that that is not only enough, but far beyond it!

So take a read and let me know what you think! Thanks again for the help!

Illustration by Carlos Smith

‘Youngest’ A Novel by Akil N. DeBerry. Chapter1 (UNEDITED)

Chapter 1: Summons

“Stay true Mr. Gallen,” Toliver shouted over the storm.

“Aye sir!” Mr. Gallen yelled back, “worry not Captain, worry not!” He said as he wrestled the helm.

They stood only a foot apart, but Toliver could still only barely hear his First Mate.

The sea around them had become a monstrous thing without out cause.

Toliver looked up into to a clear sky. The sun in the distance just beginning it’s climb into the day, and as far as he could tell, the tempest effected only their ship in the straight.

This is mad! Toliver thought as another wave crashed onto the deck of his ship.

As the new day grew into midday, ‘The Wayward Dream’, a war vessel of even her size and girth, was thrashed about by wind and rain as if a toy.

“Latch down those lines!” Toliver shouted out to the few men he allowed to brave the storm.

The storm had shown no sign of weakening since it began, and so thinking it best, refreshed his deck hands as often as he could, wanting only alert men on his deck in this chaos. 

A fatigued man in this, Toliver thought as another cold wave washed over him, is a dead man.

As the storm raged on, time became a strange memory. He couldn’t tell what hour it truly was. 

Between the freezing spray and blinding wind, aglow with the light of the sun from the clear sky above. He no longer trusted his senses.

Not in this, Toliver thought, as a strange smell lingering in the the crazed air hooked his attention.

As the world around him boiled in turmoil, Toliver calmed him self and concentrated on the peculiar scent.

Toliver’s eyes shot open, salt water running across his unblinking eyes, as his jaw clenched in rage.

He knew who sent this evil storm. And he was sure he even knew why.

This is how you fetch me? Toliver wanted to shout, but the straining muscles of his neck and jaw would not permit.

“Captain?” Mr. Gallen asked, noticing even in the brewing storm, the the dangerous light in his Captain’s eyes.

Working his jaw Toliver managed only a whisper. “Stay true.”

“Aye Sir!” Mr. Gallen said nervously as Toliver’s whisper continued to echo in his ears, almost deafening.

The storm had lasted a day and a night.

Toliver stood in the dim morning light, as his men where already busy checking the ship for damage and fixing what could be fixed.

With a sneer he watched the horizon, just north of the just now rising sun.

“The stars have moved considerably, Captain.” Mr. Gallen stated calmly.

“Aye,” Toliver said looking up to the still visible stars, “have the men repair only what must be. I want all ranks, in honor dress, on the deck in formation within the hour.”

The never questioning Mr. Gallen, nodded his head and went off to make sure his Captain’s orders where carried out.

Toliver shook his head in guilt, they all trust me far more then they should.

Before the hour was out, the deck of the Wayward Dream, was brimming with mirror polished half plate. Shimmering swords, inlayed with gold and silver reliefs, and towering long spears, whose naps wavered with crisp white banners, depicting in gold tread, a winged horse with talons and claws, rearing and ready for flight.

A full legion of men stood ready upon the deck, as still as statues, waiting patiently for Toliver’s words.

Toliver took a deep breath.

The smell of lavender had peaked during the hight of the storm, and now only drifted in the air lightly. But a few had noticed it still.

First a violent storm without clouds, then a sea that smelled of Lavender, and yet not one of his men grew shaken, and for good reason.

In their time with Toliver they had seen far stranger, and now expecting the impossible as if common place.

Toiver also did not see it fit to fill his ranks with men who could not adjust to the unknown. 

They had all chosen an impossible task, and only men use to the impossible would stand victorious in the end.

“We have been summoned.” Toliver told his men loudly, “To a Hall far more dangerous then any before.”

Pointing northeast to the distance horizon, “soon a group of Isles will appear,” Toliver continued. “The Isles of Bailfray.”

That last earned a quite rustle from his men. They knew of the likes that called that forbidden chain of islands home.

“What business has the Council with us Captain?” Mr. Gallen asked.

“I don’t think it was the Council that sent that storm.” Toliver told him.

“Then who Captain?” Zane asked calmly.

“The High Lady I expect.” Toliver said.

Another rustle sounded through his men.

“Have we wronged her perhaps?” Jobe pondered aloud.

“That’s always possible with our lot.” Zeres joked.

“Aye.” Toliver admitted with a smile.

“Maybe she seeks hire?” Young Gin asked.

Toliver nodded, “Who knows why the High Lady Lillanna has called us.” He lied, “she has, and all we can do is prepare.”

A wave of nods spread across his men.

All eyes watched the Isles of Bailfray as they crept towards them from the horizon.

The tails of the islands, the homes of wizards, where as strange and bizarre as the rumors that surrounded Toliver and his men. Any of them could be true.

As they neared, Mr. Gallen ran to Toliver’s side.

“Captain I’m not sure what I’m seeing,” Mr. Gallen said motioning for Toliver to follow him to the edge of the boat, “but there,” he said pointing his massive hand at a strange break in the waters ahead.

Toliver clapped him on the shoulder, “You never cease to amaze, Mr. Gallen!” He said with pride.

Mr. Gallen’s back straitened as he smiled, “thank you Captain,” he said, then becoming confused asked, “but why Captain?”

Toliver placed three fingers to Mr. Gallen’s temple, “Because even without seeing, you manage to see.”

Mr. Gallen’s eyes grew wide as a massive dome appeared before him. Sprouting up from the strange break in the ocean, it’s surface, somewhat transparent, moved and swirled like water, while sparkling with tiny shards of violet light.

“Captian?” Mr. Gallen said with with dry lips, “what is that?”

“That Mr. Gallen, is a blessing wall,” Toliver said looking up a the giant dome. “Only those with permission or those summoned by the council, can pass through it, alive. Cast long ago in history by Bailfray himself.”

Mr. Gallen turned from the dome in thought, “Alive? But then Captain,” he said looking to Toliver, “was it we, or only you that was summoned?”

Toliver smiled again, “only me.”

Mr. Gallen jumped with realization, “But we can’t let you go ahead alone! We are your guard!” He demanded.

Toliver shook him by the shoulders, “my dear man. I have no intentions of going alone.” He said as a memory flooded his mind.

“‘Never do as expected.” Toliver cited, “Uncertainty breeds fear in the strongest of men, and fear is the strongest of weapons against unkind odds.’” He finished.

“We are about to enter a world of unkind odds, Mr. Gallen.” Toliver told him, “And I will not be leaveing, not a single one of you behind, to miss out on all the fun.” He joked warmly.

“But how Captian?” Mr. Gallen probed.

“Have the men link,” Toliver said turning from him to the isles in the distance, “all of them to you.”

“Me?” Mr. Gallen asked, nodding with a flowering undersanding of his Captian’s plan.

“Yes,” Toliver said turning back to Mr. Gallen, “and then you will like with the ship.”

“The ship?” Mr. Gallen asked, all again confused.

“Don’t worry man,” Toliver said stricking Mr. Gallen friendly arcoss the shoulder, “it’s the same as a normal link. And you’ll be abe to manage it better then any else.” Toliver boasted.

Still not sure Mr. Gallen nodded, “as you command Captian.”

As Mr. Gallen turned to give orders to the men, Toliver turned back to the Isles, and up at the spell that encircled it, remembering.

When last he passed through it, he could only feel it, being far to weak to grasp it’s presence with his eyes. 

A strange sensation, he could clearly still remember. A tingling of both hot and cold, as if his skin was confused as to what it felt, passing over him heavily. 

And there it was. As he was now, he could see it. 

A sphere of air that shimmered in the light. Half of it rising from the waters surrounding the main Island and soaring up, endlessly into the sky where at some point all sides met. While the other half sunk beneath the oceans waves, coming together and finishing the spheres‘ field of protection, down deep in the icy depths.

“From back ranks to forward ranks, link!” Mr. Gallen shouted.

Turning around to watch, Toliver smiled with pride.

Even a simple linking was considered High Magic. 

It evolved the manipulation of one’s own essence, their very soul. Drawing it out at a single point, from the the heart being the most stable, and joining it with the essence of another. Becoming one at the base of your very existence. 

At which all was shared, all but memories, with skills and knowledge only available through reflex or great need.

Beginning at the end of ranks, from the center of their polished plate, a stem of wispy white light, only visible to those linking or linked, grew and stretched forth, connecting to the center of the man’s back to their front. 

With each connection a wave of of euphoria washed across the eyes of all connected. 

The web of lights jumped from man to man, creeping up the ranks to the first man, where Mr. Gallen stood ready to receive them. 

All at once, from each of the thirty lines of ranks came a ghostly, now rope, of light that reached out and pierced Mr. Gallen’s heart. 

From the shock of so many emotions, wants, and hopes he staggered, but only for a moment. 

He’s grown quite strong, Toliver thought.

Gritting his teeth, Mr. Gallen centered him self, and once sure of his step, walked to the ships main mast. 

From his heart came a stretch of pure white light, a hand’s span wide, that entered the wood of the mast, and ignited every board, nail and rope of the ship with the same white light. The eyes of his men looked in wonder at the ship as it glowed with their combined essence.

“Well done Mr. Gallen!” Toliver said turning back to the spelled sphere, now very close.

“Thank you Captain.” Mr. Gallen said looking in awe with the other men.

“Now, every man take a knee, and brace your selves!” Toliver commanded.

Everyone of them fell to the deck with their left knee and awaited.

Toliver stood near the bow of the ship, and from his chest a light began to bloom. 

But unlike the others, his was not a wispy thing, ghostly in presence, his was unimaginably solid. Like a beam of steel ready for shaping, white with heat, the world seemed to shy away from it, or perhaps was absorbed by it, as the two hands wide length of light snaked to the very tip of the ships’ bow. 

At it’s touch, the emotions of his men burst into being, in his mind. 

So many, Toliver thought as he breathed slowly to steady himself, “everyone alright?” He asked, turning to his men.

Half of them laid face down on the deck, breathing raggedly, as the other half still held a knee, if only barely. 

“Thank you” Toliver whispered to the Wayward Dream. It had served as a buffer in the linking, and had preformed beautifuly. 

All of them are still alive, Toliver tought thankfully.

“Aye Captain,” Mr. Gallen said raising with sure footing, breathing deeply and slowly.

Toliver smiled with pride, “good man Mr. Gallen. Now take us through the spell.”

“Aye Captain!”

The Wayward Dream, at full sail came fast at the protective shield. 

Every man on deck, now recovered, waited confidently for the unknown. 

Toliver, at the Bow, was the first to past through. 

His skin tinglinged with heat and shuddered with cold, all at once. As he and ship pierced the dome.

Turning, he watched as his men and rest of his ship pass through the spell unharmed.

  Toliver released a long breath, he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

Sailing up to an the main island, they docked at an ancient stone dock, void of any movement.

As his men finished docking, Toliver looked out to the empt dock, irratated.

“All lines secure Captain. Shall we…”

“We aren’t even enough of a bother,” Toliver pouted, “to even send an escort, are we?”

“No Captain, ‘you’ are not.” Mr. Gallen joked. “Remember, you were to arrive here by your self,” Mr. Gallen said, then taking notice of the mischief grin on his Captain’s face, “I know that look.” He said with laugh, “Dear Gods Captain, what are you about to do?”

“Not me, ‘we’.” Toliver said with a sly grin. “Let’s stir things up a bit shall we,” Toliver said turning to his waiting troops, “Men,” he said, addressing the deck,”how about we start a little trouble.”

The nervous expressions that spotted a few of his men’s faces, soon vanished as they all grinned boyishly.

“Spears at the ready, Shields at the ready!” Toliver yelled, not a soul moved, only their eyes becoming vague with a distant stare, “Spears target the castle,” Toliver said, pointing in the distance to the barely visible tops of a grand castle. “Shields worry not of strength, only size. I want your largest field! And worry not everyone, with us linked, your range and power will be,” Toliver said as his grin deepened into a broad smile, “very surprising.” 

He turned back to look at the tower tops of the castle in the distance, “now!”

The home of the Great Council, the Castle Bailfray, buzzed with life. 

It’s halls filled with the movings and comings of hundreds. 

Great Wizards and Sorceress, to new apprentices went about their important business with purpose and diligence. 

The Great Halls boomed with chatter. Over history or science, of news or faith. 

The Dining Halls sounded with the scrape and rasp of hundreds of forks and knifes, as the Castles’ inhabitants filled themselves with the Castles’ unparalleled cuisine.  

The Library Halls vibrated with the quiet sound of turning pages and mumbled words.

While the he Practice Halls echoed with rigorous instruction, as teacher taught student about the wonders, hidden in the world around them. 

The Castle as always roared with the sound of knowledge and the pursuit of it; until that is, a clear wall , like visible heat washed over and through it’s halls. 

Through brick or bone, spell or ward, it mattered not. The wave pierced all, and at it’s touch each soul saw their end. Dealt almost lazily by a man most did not know, and yet a small few did. 

Silence filled the castle like water, for impossible moments till the cries of the weak and unhindged replaced it with the wales of fear and dread.

The invisible wall of killing intent, coninued on past the castle, coming to the other end of the island, and then moving even further. 

Venturing over the stretch of ocean between the main island and the next. The wall came to an island, nearly as big as the main island. And as the wall moved through the forest, it brought the natural chatter of the beast that lived there to an errie still. 

As the wall of vile intent moved for the center island, it came to a small circular hut, of bark and wood. 

The wall smashed the hut with the same force as it did the castle, and seemed to have reached it’s limit as it diffused and fluttered away into nothingness.

The door of the small hut opened, and from within walked a women of great beauty in a flowing gown of dark violet. 

“At last,” she said with a loving smile.


March 13, 2012
A look back at Script Frenzy 2011!

A few pages of my Script Frenzy screenplay from last year, and no I did not finish it! Yes I know, shame! It started off as a simple idea then morphed into stranger fields like metaphysics, the nature of perception it’s self, religion and lots more. I know, I got carried away with a good idea, that soon became a great idea, which at times for us writers, can also mean an impossible idea! 

Lidia is a world with the usual cyberpunk themes and a few new ones. Corporations that rival for power, as governments bend to their power. Social differences are vast and near permanent! Mega cities and mega slums. World wide connections dependent on bio components, I call Technicians.

The tag line was, “Evolution is not always forwards, at times it moves back.”

‘Lidia’ A Script by Akil N. DeBerry

Cyberpunk

(UNEDITED)

          FADE IN:                                                         

          EXT. OUTER CITY - THE FIELDS - DAY                               

          A group of young boys sit, crouched beside a wide ribbon of      

          trash and debris. They dig in the trash until their hands        

          strike a dampness that covers their hands with cold water.       

          They take an assortment of varying sized buckets, stained        

          and dirty, and plunge them beneath the trash using the holes     

          they dug by hand. When they pull the buckets up, they splash     

          with the cold river water that lays beneath the thick veneer     

          of trash and waste.                                              

          With their buckets in hand they run up a narrow trail,           

          littered with trash and covered by a dense forest canopy.        

          They stop and and look at their home.                            

          EXT. OUTER CITY - THE GROVE - DAY                                

          The Grove, a mega slum towering into the sky on the backs of     

          oblong and misshaped buildings built from the very trash of      

          the mega city of Lidia, and topped with a forest, that fill      

          it’s combined roofs.                                             

          The boys continue their run through the thick masses that        

          fill the cramped slum, of winding streets and narrow spaces.     

          They come to an entrance at the base of one of the massive       

          buildings and run inside.                                        

          INT. SLUM BUILDING - DAY                                         

          They run up a flight of lopsided stairs. A combination of        

          electrical cables and roots webbing and knotting along the       

          buildings’ ceilings and walls, of it’s dark lightless halls      

          and corridors.                                                   

          They come to a large room that has a rift in its ceiling,        

          leaving it open to the sky, hundreds of feet up. A group of      

          men man a fire pit that holds a massive cauldron of bubbling     

          water in which the young boys add their contribution from        

          the river.                                                       

                              MAN 1                                        

                    Nicely done, boys.                                     

          The man gives each of them an approving smile and then goes      

          back to manning the flames.                                                                                                    

          The men place a large metal top on top the cauldron, that        

          has a long spout that runs down and drips the steamed water      

          into large buckets.                                              

          The men grab buckets of clean water and begin to carry them      

          deeper into the building. The young boys, taking two of them     

          to carry a single bucket follow the men slowly but               

          determinedly.                                                    

          They come to a door surrounded by people, all carrying           

          worried or concerned expression.                                 

          The sound of CRIES and MOANING permeate the door from the        

          other side.                                                      

          The men place the buckets of water down, next to the door. A     

          woman opens the door as they do, the SCREAMS of pain fill        

          the long narrow halls.                                           

                              MIDWIFE 1                                    

                    Thank you, more then enough.                           

          She forced a smile.                                              

                              MAN 1                                        

                    Is there anything else we can do.                      

                              MIDWIFE 1                                    

                    No, no the others should be on                         

                    their way with…                                    

          The women stops and looks down the corridor in the opposite      

          direction the men came from, as did everyone. A group of         

          women where moving almost at a run for the room.                 

                              MIDWIFE 1                                    

                    Here they are. No, we need nothing                     

                    else but stay close, just encase.                      

                              MAN 1                                        

                    Of course.                                             

          The group of women finish the distance to the door and hand      

          the MIDWIFE a bundle of tattered rages.                          

                              WOMEN 2                                      

                    They’re the cleanest we could find,                    

                    I hope it’s enough.                                    

                              MIDWIFE 1                                    

                    It will have to be.                                    

          SCREAMS fill the corridor from behind the door.                  

          INT. SLUM BUILDING - LIVING SPACE - DAY                          

          In the the filth and dirt that covers the tight, cramp room,     

          a young women CRIES out in pain, surrounded by a small group     

          of women. Candles fill the windowless room with a warm           

          light.                                                           

          A man sits in a corner and looks on with concern flooding        

          his features.                                                    

          The young women is giving birth.                                 

          She wales as she pushes, as the Midwives help as much as         

          they can.                                                        

          The young women CRIES out and one of the Midwives around her     

          reaches down and pulls up into view, a baby boy.                 

          A midwife brings the bundle of tattered rags and unrolls         

          them. She then shakes her head at the dirt stained cloths.       

          She looks down at her dress, a much cleaner garment even         

          with the edged border of grime along the dress’s hem. The        

          midwife looks to the others and shrugs. She drops the rages      

          and tears a good portion of her dress, shakes it free of         

          loose dirt and then hands it to the others.                      

          They rap the baby in the dress and hand the baby to the          

          mother. The man in the corner, the father, moves to the          

          mother and kisses them both.                                     

                                                              FADE TO:     

          EXT. OUTER CITY - THE FIELDS - DAY                               

          Ten years later.                                                 

          A boy runs through the fields of trash with his friends,         

          laughing and playing.                                            

          They come up to a clearing and pause in awe as they gaze         

          into the distance.                                               

          The boy looks on, smiling.                                       

          A loud spike of STATIC burst into life, and only the boy         

          reacts to the deafening sound.                                   

          He becomes scared and frightened as his vision pixalates,        

          and  the sound of STATIC and countless VOICES grow in his        

          head. He falls to the ground screaming. His friends crowed       

          around him, in worry.                                            

          The boy squeezes his he eyes Shut.                               

          BOY’S POV                                                        

          In the blackness the hectic waling of VOICES, STATIC and the     

          boys quickened BREATHING peak, then begin to slowly fade as      

          the boys BREATHING slows and steadies. Replaced by a growing     

          sound of a woman’s SINGING, but that to quickly fades.           

          RETURN TO SCENE:                                                 

          The boy opens his eyes, his friends help him up with worried     

          faces. The boy looks to them smiling, and then locks eyes        

          with the mega city of Lidia in the distance.                     

                                                              FADE TO:     

          INT. OUTER CITY - THE GROVE - DAY                                

          A year later.                                                    

          The boy walks through the body packed streets, the towering      

          slums blocking much of the open sky, the forest on their         

          tops blocking what ever was left.                                

          The boy shakes his head, and looks disoriented. He moves to      

          a side alley and hunches in the filth. The crushing sound of     

          STATIC and VOICES fill his head. He shakes in pain.              

          He closes his eyes, and begins to breath deeply. The sound       

          of STATIC and VOICES fade and becomes slowly replaced by a       

          woman’s SINGING, but that to quickly fades.                      

          The boy open’s his eyes and smiles.                              

                                                              FADE TO:     

          INT. SLUM BUILDING - BOY’S ROOM - DAY                            

          The boy lights a candle, filling his cramped, windowless         

          room with orange light. He sits down in a corner of the room     

          and closes his eyes. He breaths deeply.                          

          He moves his head about, as if searching for something with      

          his closed eyes. Turning his head to the side, he hears it.      

          Lowly, barely audible to him, he hears the sound of a woman      

          SINGING, but it soon fades away. He open’s his eyes and          

          smiles. With a face of triumph he closes his eyes and again      

          try’s to hear the song.                                             

          EXT. SLUM BUILDING - ROOF - DAY                                  

          Climbing from out of a crack that splits the buildings open,     

          the boy pulls hims self up to it’s roof. He walks amongst        

          the sea of antenna and wires that cover the roof almost as       

          thickly as the dense roots. Antenna stand attached to            

          anything, building or tree trunk clustering the elevated         

          forest bed with webs of metal.                                   

          He comes to the edge of the forest, and the edge of the          

          buildings’ roof and sits against a broad tree trunk, facing      

          the mega city in the distance. Holding his folded knees in       

          his arms he closes his eyes and concentrates.                    

          GROVE FOREST - TIME LAPSE MONTAGE                                

          The boy holds his siting position, but his cloths and hair       

          rapidly change as the sky turns from day to night and back       

          again.                                                           

          As he sits the sounds of STATIC and countless VOICES grow so     

          loud that they become no longer distinguishable.                 

          The boy’s head turns to the side and concentration fills his     

          features. The sound of his slow and steady BREATHING begins      

          to over power the noise of STATIC and VOICES.                    

          All the sounds slowly begin to fade away, leaving the boy in     

          a soundless void.                                                

          And out of this void a faint sound of SINGING grows slowly,      

          until it fills everything, the slum, the forest, and the         

          boy.                                                             

          The boy open’s his eyes and smiles, the sound of SINGING         

          staying with him, and not once fading.                           

                                                              FADE TO:     

          INT. REPUBLIC OF LIDIA - KARDON CORPORATION HQ - MEETING         

          ROOM - DAY                                                       

          A group of men sit around a table, in a grand room that          

          looks out over the entire city.                                  

                              CHAIRMEN DIRECTOR SMITH                      

                    It has come to my attention that                       

                    our population of Techs has                            

                    steadily been dropping, what is the                    

                    reason?                                              

                              DIRECTOR JOHNSON                             

                    It is true, I fear Mr. Chairmen.                       

                    Other companies have been sending                      

                    out heavy recruiting patrols, to                       

                    every possible corner of the world.                    

                    Even here, foreign corporations                        

                    have invaded our land and stole our                    

                    most precious commodity.                               

                              DIRECTOR WILLIAMS                            

                    It was only last quarter when a                        

                    division of our men stumbled across                    

                    a foreign cell. We attempted to                        

                    capture one alive, but by the time                     

                    the smoke cleared all were                             

                    terminated.                                            

                              CHAIRMEN DIRECTOR SMITH                      

                    What is our current holdings in                        

                    terms of Technicians?                                  

                              DIRECTOR JONES                               

                    Currently our bank of Technicians                      

                    numbers 60,000 fully trained and                       

                    operational and an additional                          

                    12,000, currently in training.                         

                              CHAIRMEN DIRECTOR SMITH                      

                    And our competition?                                   

                              DIRECTOR JONES                               

                    As our current information holds,                      

                    Steiner Corp. a mere 30,000. Horak                     

                    Industries an estimated 52,000.                        

                    Morozov Inc. 26,000. And our main                      

                    comparator Thomson Dynamics,                           

                    68,000.                                                

          The room of men shift in their seats uncomfortably.              

                              CHAIRMEN DIRECTOR SMITH                      

                    As of today, all Tech recruiting                       

                    will be boosted by 40%. We are the                     

                    world’s great power, and it will                       

                    remain so! Director Jones.                             

                              DIRECTOR JONES                               

                    Yes, Mr. Chairmen?                                     

                              CHAIRMEN DIRECTOR SMITH                      

                    Amplify and boost all city wide                        

                    signals. I want every last soul,                       

                    sensitive to Analog Sickness to cry              

                    out in the streets for our gracious                    

                    help. Every soul inside… and                       

                    outside the city.                                      

          The corporation finds more techs in the Grove then the city,     

          because signals a far weaker normally when they leave the        

          city. So the Corporation aims signals directly at the Grove      

          to gather all the A.S. victims that they had missed over the     

          past years.                                                      

                              DIRECTOR JONES                               

                    As you wish, Mr. Chairmen.                             

          INT. REPUBLIC OF LIDIA - KARDON CORPORATION TOWER - CONTROL      

          ROOM - DAY                                                       

          Director Jones walks through the highly advanced building to     

          the main control room.                                           

          A scientist looks to him as he walks into the room.              

          Director Jones nodes to the scientist, then leaves.              

          The scientist moves to a control board, and begins the           

          process of amping the city’s signals.                            

          INT. SLUM BUILDING - BOY’S ROOM - NIGHT                          

          The boy lays in his bed, asleep and dreaming soundly along       

          with the sound of a woman’s SINGING.                             

          The SINGING is slowly replaced by a deafening amount of          

          STATIC and VOICES. The boy wakes in shock to the noise, and      

          stumbles to his feet.                                            

          Confused, he stands still and closes his eyes, breathing         

          deeply. The sounds begin to lower, but then stop.                

          The boy open’s his eyes, fear filling his face as the sound      

          of STATIC and VOICES fill his head, yet not till bursting.       

          He falls to his knees and begins to rock back and forth.         

          CITY OF LIDIA - MONTAGE                                          

          INT. REPUBLIC OF LIDIA - GROCERY STORE - DAY                     

          A women is busy at work in a grocery store. She falls to the     

          ground screaming, holding her head in her hands.                 

          A group of men, Recruiters, walk into the grocery store          

          through the crowd of people standing over the women. One of      

          the Recruiters places a small device on her neck. The women      

          stops shouting.                                                  

          The Recruiters walk her to their vehicle out side.               

          EXT. REPUBLIC OF LIDIA - STREET - DAY                            

          A man driving his vehicle, jumps and grabs his head in shock     

          as it’s filled with a crushing noise of STATIC and VOICES.       

          He swerves off the road and into a building.                     

          Recruiters arrive and walk up to the crashed vehicle. They       

          open the vehicle door, and the man is still inside, rocking      

          back and forth. One of them place a small device on his neck     

          and he stops screaming.                                          

          The Recruiters walk the man to their vehicle.                    

          EXT. REPUBLIC OF LIDIA - STREETS - DAY                           

          SCREAMS of pain and fear fill the streets of Lidia, as           

          hundreds of Recruiters fill and scour the streets, Their         

          vehicles filling the streets of the city.                        

                                                              FADE TO:     

          EXT. OUTER CITY - THE GROVE - MONTAGE                            

          Recruiters walk and fill the streets and buildings,              

          searching. Groups of recruiters enter the hundreds of            

          buildings, as other groups exit with a person in their           

          custody, a small device flashing on their necks.                 

          INT. SLUM BUILDING - DAY                                         

          A group of  armed Recruiters walk through the dark               

          corridors, as people try their best to get out of their way.     

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    What are we doing back in this                         

                    sector?                                         

                              RECRUITER 2                                  

                    Scouts were receiving some strange                     

                    signal patterns in this area,                          

                    possibly a Corporation Cell.                           

                              RECRUITER 3                                  

                    So, here to investigate, and if                        

                    need be…                                           

          RECRUITER 3 locks and loads his weapon.                          

                              RECRUITER 3                                  

                    Terminate.                                             

          The squad of Recruiters come to a door, and position them        

          selves around it.                                                

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    Go!                                                    

          The squad burst into the room.                                   

          INT. SLUM BUILDING - LIVING SPACE - DAY                          

          The squad discover a single man and a single women in the        

          room, force them to the ground, and search the room.             

          A pair move on to the other rooms but find nothing. Upon the     

          last room, they burst in, guns ready to fire.                    

          INT. SLUM BUILDING - BOY’S ROOM - DAY                            

          The boy sits in the corner of the room, completely oblivious     

          to the armed men, rocking back and forth. Not making a           

          single sound, eyes closed.                                       

          The Recruiters enter the room, and look at the boy               

          curiously.                                                       

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    Have you ever seen that?                               

                              RECRUITER 2                                  

                    Never.                                                 

                              RECRUITER 3                                  

                    He’s suffering from A.S., but he’s                     

                    holding the full force of it back                      

                    somehow. I’ve never meet one that                      

                    wasn’t screaming.                                      

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    Parks! Get me a reading!                               

          Recruiter PARKS pulls from his belt pouch a scanning device      

          and holds it in front of the boy.                                

                              RECRUITER PARKS                              

                    He’s reading hot sir. Sir…                         

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    What is it Parks?                                      

                              RECRUITER PARKS                              

                    This boy… the boy is the                           

                    disturbance, all signals around him                    

                    are being… bent away?                              

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    Snap him out of it, tag him!                           

          Parks pulls a tag from his pouch and places it on the boy’s      

          neck, the tag begins to flash. The boy open’s his eyes.          

                              BOY                                          

                    Who are you. Where’s mom and dad?                      

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    What were you doing, just now?                         

                              BOY                                          

                         (confusedly)                                      

                    Listening.                                             

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    To what?                                               

                              BOY                                          

                    The music. It helps keep the noise                     

                    out. Where’s mom and dad?                              

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    You’ve got new parents now.                            

          The lead Recruiter turns from the boy, to his men.               

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    Call HQ, tell them we have                             

                    something… something new.   

          EXT. OUTER CITY - THE GROVE - DAY                                

          The group of armed Recruiters and the Boy exit the building.     

          They walk through the Grove as the other Recruiters go about     

          their work. But as they move through the slum the eyes of        

          everyone falls on the small boy and the armed Recruiters         

          escorting him, with guns drawn.                                  

          They arrive at their vehicle and help the boy in.                

          The Vehicle moves out, at the head of a progression of like      

          Vehicles, that run back endlessly into the slum                  

          INT. RECRUITER VEHICLE - DAY                                     

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    What are HQ’s orders?                                  

          The Recruiter driving answers.                                   

                              DRIVING RECRUITER                            

                    We haven’t been able to get a clear                    

                    line. We’re getting nothing but                        

                    noise, there’s interference coming                     

                    from somewhere.                                        

          All the Recruiter’s in the back of the vehicle look to each      

          other then at the young boy, who sits smiling deeply.            

                              RECRUITER 2                                  

                    Can’t be. Is his tag working, he                       

                    should be shielded.                                    

                              RECRUITER 1                                  

                    Parks?                                                 

          Recruiter Parks takes out a scanner and checks the tag.          

                              RECRUITER PARKS                              

                    No the tag is working properly,                        

                    but… He’s receiving signals any                    

                    way. Not signals…                                  

          BOY’S POV                                                        

          The boy looks up to the Recruiters talking, but hears            

          nothing they say. Their voices are muted by the sound of a       

          woman’s SINGING.                                                 

          RETURN TO SCENE:   

                              RECRUITER PARKS (CONT’D)                     

                    Noise? He’s forcefully pulling                         

                    noise through the shield tag?                          

          The Recruiters look at each other uncomfortably.                 

          RETURN TO SCENE:                                                 

                                                              FADE TO:     

          INT. RECRUITER PROCESSING CENTER - DAY                           

          The Recruiter’s vehicle comes to a stop in a massive room,       

          lined with similar vehicles and other types.                     

          A stream of people, escorted by Recruiters are making their      

          way through the room, to a white hall in the distance.           

          The vehicle door opens and the Recruiter’s hop out, still        

          carrying their guns at the ready. They make sure the area is     

          secure, and then motion for the boy to come out.                 

          The boy steps out and looks at the cleanness of the room.        

          The Recruiters begin to move and the boy follows.                

          The boy looks ahead at the white hall, where everyone one is     

          headed, but then looks confused when the armed Recruiters        

          veer him to the right to a large elevator.                       

          The boy enters the elevator, followed by the Recruiters, who     

          surround him, facing out as the elevator doors close.            

          INT. RECRUITER PROCESSING CENTER - SHUTTLE ROOM - DAY            

          The elevator opens, then the armed Recruiters exit, keeping      

          an eye on the perimeter.                                         

          The shuttle room is lined with, great tubes, which are           

          filled with open topped shuttles, that ride an electric           

          single rail.                                                     

          The boy is escorted to the arriving shuttle. With part of        

          the group of Recruiters sitting in front and the other           

          behind him, the shuttle moves down the rail at a ever            

          growing speed.                                                   

          They travel a dark tunnel lined with lights, until up ahead,     

          day light strikes the tunnel tube.             

          INT./EXT. SHUTTLE TUNNEL/CITY OF LIDIA - DAY                     

          The shuttle tube exits the walled tunnel and exits into the      

          open air of the city, miles into the air, yet still between      

          the countless spires, towers and sky scrapers that fill the      

          sky endlessly in the distance.                                   

          The shuttle travels through the tube, about the building         

          tops, and the boy raises from his seat in shock, at The City     

          of Lidia.                                                        

          INT. KARDON CORPORATION SCIENCE LABS - DAY                       

          The shuttle stops inside a room part of the main lobby of        

          the building. Hundreds of people walk about, in fine dress       

          or lab coats, going about their task.                            

          The boy exits the shuttle and is escorted through the the        

          crowds, surrounded by a perimeter of the armed Recruiters,       

          and the massive lobby pauses and watches their progression.      

          INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - DAY                                      

          The young boy sits in the middle of a room, void of any          

          color but white. A bright light shining on him from above,       

          leaving shadows in the corners of the room. One of the rooms     

          walls, was completely glass, that only reflected the young       

          boys image.                                                      

          He sits, frightened. A VOICE sounds in the room from the         

          walls.                                                           

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    What is your name?                                     

                              BOY                                          

                    Akeno.                                                 

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    And how do you feel, Akeno?                            

                              AKENO                                        

                    Fine.                                                  

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    And now?                                               

          The room floods with signals, and AKENO grabs his head in        

          shock, closing his eyes, he rocks back and forth.                

          He begins to breath deeply, and the sounds of VOICES and         

          STATIC begin to fade, yet never leave him.     

          He looks up, shaking his head.                                   

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    What are you doing, are you aware                      

                    of what you are doing, Akeno.                          

                              AKENO                                        

                    Breathing, it helps the noise stop.                    

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    Yes it does. Who trained you,                          

                    taught you how to, to breath?                          

                              AKENO                                        

                    I did.                                                 

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    You?                                                   

                              AKENO                                        

                    No.                                                    

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    Then who?                                              

                              AKENO                                        

                    The song, I learned from the song.                     

                              VOICE (O.S.)                                 

                    Song?                                                  

          INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - OBSERVING ROOM - DAY                     

          A group of men stand behind another, dressed in white lab        

          coats. In a dark narrow room, with one of it’s walls made of     

          a glass that looked in of young Akeno.                           

          The man at the front of the group speaks, never looking away     

          from Akeno on the other side of the glass.                       

                              VOICE                                        

                    Interesting. Have him enter Tech                       

                    training, as all the others, but                       

                    keep a close eye on him. His                           

                    abilities to dampen signals around                     

                    him may mature into something else,                    

                    with teaching.                                         

          The men behind the man all node in agreement.                    

          INT. KARDON CORPORATION TRAINING FACILITY - MONTAGE              

          In a massive room with a high ceiling, hundreds of young         

          children sit cross legged on the floor, all dressed              

          identically. They sit motionlessly, eyes closed, features        

          firm, Akeno sits among them.                                     

          In a large room, 50 young children sit upon the floor, each      

          of their eyes following the movement of their instructor, as     

          he walks back and forth across the front of the room.            

          INT. KARDON CORPORATION TRAINING FACILITY - BOARD ROOM - DAY     

          In a long room, lined with windows that run it’s length,         

          showing the city of Lidia on the other side. A long row of       

          children sit upon the floor, facing each other with a large      

          display screen between them. The display is sectioned into       

          small grid blocks. Their is one white block at the bottom of     

          the display, representing the child facing the display, and      

          a black block at the top of the display, representing the        

          child on the other side of the display. An image appears on      

          the screen of their Instructor.                                  

                              INSTRUCTOR                                   

                    These are gird boards, the object                      

                    of this exercise is to capture all                     

                    the grids. When a grid is being                        

                    contested by your opponent, the                        

                    grid will begin to flash, giving                       

                    you warning. So you must capture                       

                    grids as quickly as possible, and                      

                    over ride the grids your opponent                      

                    has already taken… understood?                     

          The children all node to their INSTRUCTOR.                       

                              INSTRUCTOR                                   

                    Good, then begin.                                      

          The children close their eyes, some of their faces straining     

          with concentration. At first the grids light slowly towards      

          the opposite side of the board, but soon the children get        

          the trick of it and girds begin to flash endlessly across        

          the boards of the room, a small noise sounding as a child        

          wins a match.                                                    

          Akeno sits with eyes close like the rest, his face calm          

          without effort. The board before him lighting up faster then     

          any other, and sounding with a small noise. Faster and           

          faster Akeno wins his matches, until there is hardly a           

          second between the beginning of a match and the sounding of      

          a winners NOISE. His board springing with life, with lights,     

          devouring his opponents grids in a flash.                 

          As Akeno continues to consecrate harder and harder, a faint      

          sound begins to fill his head, the sound of SINGING. He          

          slowly opens his eyes, then slowly turns his head to look        

          behind him at the Lidia city scape. The sound grows.             

          The sound of the winners NOISE, sounding off constantly          

          draws the attention of all the other children in the room,       

          they all open their eyes to look down the row at Akeno, all      

          other games stopping, only his board lighting up.                

          Akeno board flashes with light, but stops, the sound of          

          SINGING leaving his head. He turns from the window and looks     

          at the board, a confusion covering his face. He bends and        

          looks around the board to his opponent. He sees the child on     

          the other side, sweating profusely and breathing heavy, eyes     

          closed with exhaustion.                                          

          Akeno bends himself straight again then notices the stares       

          of the other children, and attempts to shrink in size,           

          bringing his arms and head close to his body.                    

          A door opens at the far end of the room, the Instructor          

          enters and walks down to Akeno’s board, on the other side        

          and checks up on the exhausted child.                            

                              INSTRUCTOR                                   

                    Are you okay?                                          

          The Child nodes to him. The Instructor motions for the child     

          to move to the side, and he takes the child’s seat.              

          Akeno tight in his ball, notices nothing until his boards        

          begins to light up. He looks up and sees a small grouping of     

          white lights, slowly being to flicker and turn black. He         

          straightens himself, then closes his eyes.                       

          The white grids, all of them stop flickering. The ring of        

          black grids around his white begin to flash, then turn           

          white, but then the same black grids begin to flash again,       

          turning back to black.                                           

          Akeno concentration deepens as his face begins to reveal         

          just how how much, but his features begin to loosen and calm     

          as the sound of SINGING grows within his head. Akeno opens       

          his eye’s and turns again to the city behind him, the            

          SINGING grows louder.                                            

          The Instructor sits, eyes closed, face calm as he captures       

          another one of Akeno’s girds. But then the board remains         

          still for a second, and the Instructors’ face begins to          

          reveal confusion. One of his blocks begin to flash, one          

          lining Akeno’s last remaining grid, then another on the          

          opposite side of the board, then another, and another. The     

          Instructors face begins to strain, and he opens his eyes as      

          everyone of his grids begin to flash. As he looks on in          

          disbelief, everyone of his blocks are captured and the           

          winners NOISE sounds. Akeno stands, and walks to the side of     

          the board and bows to the Instructor.                            

                              AKENO                                        

                    Teacher, how is it a Technician is                     

                    granted permission to leave the                        

                    premises?                                              

          The Instructor looks up to the Akeno, he’s head still bent       

          waiting on his reply, and smiles to him proudly.                 

                              INSTRUCTOR                                   

                    Technician’s are the very reason                       

                    the world is able to function.                         

                    There is no service or commodity                       

                    valued greater, and no item more                       

                    sought. To be able to leave Kardon                     

                    premises a Technician must be of                       

                    weapon grade, so that they may                         

                    protect themselves if need be.                         

          Akeno looks up, turns to the window behind him then back to      

          his Instructor…         


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