How not to confess your feelings to a teacher

(sneaks into a class peering around to make sure no one’s nearby) Hey miss!

Oh hello William, how’s it going?

William: Yeah not bad. Not bad at all.

Miss Mason: Yes?

William: (Taking a seat) Oh right, Yeah, I came here to talk to you about something…
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Timeless

 

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Alfred awoke with a fright. He wondered perhaps if everything was alright. He felt healthy. He felt conscious even, but something was strange. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it but something was different. But what exactly was it? He thought. He considered. He came very close to meditating even. Perhaps he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed? He had had such days before when everything seemed right and yet everything felt wrong from the moment he woke. “Bed, of course!” he thought to himself in sudden relief. He thought it likely that he simply wasn’t in the mood, or perhaps his shell of a body wasn’t. His body was as stiff as a statue, but his mind felt as free as a bird in the sky. Alfred attempted to move, but somehow he struggled, it had never been such an ordeal. A wiggle to the left. Another to the right. His body still remained as stagnant as ever.

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Change of Heart

A short play

Hal, the protagonist sits comfortably at a local bar sipping his drink

He glances around occasionally and no one seems to be watching him, he seems relieved but also a little agitated, perhaps we have reason to believe there is something troubling him…

After a few circulations Hal zones out as he thinks of something distant..

Flashes are shown of him in a confined space mumbling to himself as shadowy figures walk around him…

As he finishes his beer he remembers the image of himself being tortured brutally, right before closing his eyes, almost in anticipation of the recurring pain he feels inside…

Bartender: You’ve been staring into that empty bottle for the past 5 minutes, you looking for more or you buying another?

Hal: (Turns the bottle upside down and a single drop falls out) Guess I’m buying another.

The bartender walks off and Hal continues to stare thoughtfully when someone seats themselves right next to him…

Mysterious man: Hello.

Hal: (Glances towards the man and ignores him as he gets his drink)

Mysterious Man: I’m Lionel.

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The Fight

The fight comes in many forms, it speaks through an amalgam of conduits and encompasses everything from peaceful protests to acts of violent abandon. Even its most extreme form of terrorism is in a sense a facet of the never-ending fight. Some devote their whole lives to it, others only a fleeting period, for those not unaffected or uninvolved, it remains distant battle raging in some unknown nether-region far from the centerfold of the waking consciousness. Though there are those that doubt, as such beings will always be. But one thing is certain, at some point or another, everyone’s life will be affected by the plight, whether they will it or not. Be it the fight for equal pay, the end to police brutality or freedom of religious liberty, the never-ending nature of the this battle will reach even the most remote corners of humanity with each passing generation.