Fighting, Fire: The Man Who Transformed

Clearly, poetry is NOT my strong suit. I struggle a lot with poetry: from finding inspiration as to what to write about, all the way to actually being able to put words down in verses. I don’t know why. It shouldn’t be this difficult, because poetry and other forms of creative writing all come from imagination. And I seem to generally be able to do the other ones just fine.

Also, I suck at titles. Obviously.

Well, whatever. This was a random poem I wrote. It’s intended purpose was simple and very literal: because of the sizzling weather we’ve been having (compared to many places, it’s cold, but for us here in BC– maybe Canada, even– it’s a big change), there’s been a lot of forest fires. And therefore a lot of firefighters. I definitely went really extreme in the poem (like, a bit too far, I think), but I tried.

And that’s all that matters, right? :-P

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The Man Who Transformed

When the haze covers enough to dim the world

And the sun pierces through, a bright red laser beam

Unable to diffuse its energy,

He will take his truck and he will ride. He will have his

Great orange jacket, the sweltering, thick coat,

Orange like the raging inferno he struggles to control

Day and night. This heavy burden

Constantly on his back and yet if this load is removed

He will fall; will succumb under the blaze, under the veil of darkness

That swallows it all up. It will leap and twirl,

And he will run,

Sprinting for his meager life, because this meager life

Was a life made for saving and worth saving. And every time

He will carry his burden and no one will know,

Yet they will. Because they will see

The shapeless, powerful form of resistance,

And the man standing at the end of it, dripping with

Dedication and strength and perseverance. And he

Will transform into something more. Within the destruction,

He will create a corridor.

Telephones, Acting: Where did they go?

This was cool. There’s this website where it generates a setting, a starting phrase and 4 words to use in your story. Mine were:

Setting: in a forest

Starting phrase: I slammed down the telephone receiver (I changed the tense a tad)

Four words to include: Zest, Jumbled, Soap Opera, Splinter

Here’s the website if anyone wants to check it out: http://bonnieneubauer.com/storyspinner.shtml

It was rather strange. But it’s pretty awesome, and quite fun.

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I slam down the telephone receiver, furious. Useless. Absolutely useless. What was a phone if it didn’t actually work? I know it works, which is bizarre since the wires didn’t connect to anything, but when I actually need it, it fails?

I’m usually a lot calmer than this. My buddies know me for keeping my cool in face of any obstruction. Especially while filming—for some odd reason, my roles tend to call for dramatic zest, which made it painless to cover up mistakes. At this moment, however, I feel quite panicked.

See, we went out to the middle of a shadowy, eerie forest to shoot an episode of my soap opera. It was my scene—I play Peggy, the mysterious girl with something appealing about her, an air of sadness constantly enveloping her person. She’s skinny, with heavy eyes and clumsily set frizzy hair, yet stands graciously among others. I was unbelievably excited to play her. I yearn to understand Peggy more, since she frequently confuses me with her actions and behavior.

We were filming the scene, in which Peggy was tearing through the forest, barely able to catch her breath as her crazed father chased her. She tripped over her own feet, her gracefulness abandoning her. Arms flailing, soft cry escaping her mouth, she landed painfully, limbs jumbled in a pile. Frantic, she got up, crawling behind a bush. Her hands were embedded with splinters and her lungs were blazing.

Only, she—or, I—didn’t realize that it was strangely quiet until my breath calmed down a bit. What? That shouldn’t be right, I thought. My “father” should have sprinted past by now, along with the whole camera crew… And there should have been others yelling in the distance…

Something wasn’t right.

I decided that I might as well check. If they’re still there, we could always re-film the scene, at the cost of my lungs, but that was a minor price. I stood up, brushed some leaves off my dress, and froze.

It was deserted. Everyone that should have been there was nowhere to be seen, and nothing was left behind except for the camera equipment and a fake rifle. The only sound was the trees whispering as the rocked back and forth with the wind.

Stunned, I walked back to our meeting spot, a small clearing. Many people should have been gathered here. Yet, there was no human in sight. All the gear and costumes remained, and it looked as if my crew was busy working on things when they—disappeared? Ran off? What happened?

It was then that I spotted the phone lying on its side near my bags. It was a household phone, those ones that weigh a brick and have an exceedingly long line attached, but I remembered distinctly that Jake used it earlier, and it worked. So I tried it.

And here I am. Lost. In the middle of forest. Alone. Definitely my ideal situation.

Not knowing what to do, I grab a bottle of water, a sack, some granola bars that some clever friend of my brought, the phone, and an extra jacket.

Preparing myself for a long hike, I take a deep breath, and exhale.

And I start my journey out of the forest.