[LESS INFO] 4 VIEWS | ADDED 15:32:30 09/18/07
Quodia Performance group using film, live music and stories www.quodia.com1 The boy is sitting on the bank. Water moving from the right to the left. And down. But not as if from a waterfall. The water is cold. Behind is a high wall. With no caves. The water is too noisy to discern more than it’s speech. So he listens into the water. 2 There is motion on the other side. But the weeds are tall. They had cut his skin when he had come through. The wind stopped and a bird flew in front of the sun. He used to know this bird. Then the motion again. Something was moving at the back of the weeds. When the water became still, his breath stopped. 3 At times before, when he’d been out, alone in the wild, pushing the edge of fear, right up to the toe of panic…. and then pushing through. It gave him a sense of power. But here, he was not alone. And his heart jumped. 4 Something was moving. pushing through the weeds. close to the ground, its breath heavy as it moved closer, closer to him. He backs away into the folds of the rock. Then it appears Pure blackness... a shadow emerging from the weeds. THICK AND THORNY
