(no subject)
Darkness prefixes a sharp click.
A rectangle of light flickers above a girl. Dim light fills the room she sits in.
Her arms stiffen, shoulders hunching over her bedside. A dull murmur sounds offstage. She looks at the floor, head lowered.
A small desk and chair stand in the corner to the right - headphones, alarm clock, stereo speakers, computer, monitor, keyboard, mouse, and a silver watch coated with rhinestones. A television faces a love seat in the opposite corner: static and "mute."
She wears jet black hair in a pony tail. Strands of bright blue highlights poke out the front and hang down her face. She blows them sideways. Another murmur repeats offstage, and a second voice replies in a higher tone.
Reaching down with both hands to her boot, she pulls a lace free, and reaches for the other, her arms stopping midway between her legs. The barely inaudible voices rise at each other offstage. She keeps hunching, reaches for a pair of Chartreuse Tweety Bird pajamas folded on the bed's end, then remains still for ten seconds, lifts her face and moves her arm away from her pajamas. Her mouth opens, lips coated cherry red in gloss, nose thin and slightly bent, with a thin ovoid face and swollen red mascara-clotted eyes.
She sniffles, reaches under couch cushions for television remote - no luck. Sighing, she gets up, walks to the door of her room, leans halfway offstage with one hand grasping her door frame, lifts her unlaced boot up in the air, pauses while murmuring offstage, kicks the boot off her foot while she waves her arm outside the doorway, leans back into her room. She sits again, and then lies in bed for fifteen seconds as the offstage voices continue, growing louder.
Getting up, she sits in her desk chair and puts on headphones, uses mouse, fiddles with speaker volume, fiddles again, holds her ears with both hands, yanks the headphones off her head, stares at her keyboard, then looks at the open door: the murmur of voices grows even louder. She reaches to slam it shut, then opens it again and walks offstage, screams, walks back in, slams her door shut, locks it, and sits down in her desk chair. She then reaches for her drawer, removing a pair of scissors and a mirror from it. Raising both to her face, she runs her right hand through the entire length of her hair, grasping her pony tail in a fist for ten seconds while she stares into the mirror. She then raises the scissors up to her face and snips off the blue highlighted tips of her hair. Getting up from the chair and grabbing the boot she threw off, she opens her window and climbs offstage as the blue hair floats to the floor.
A rectangle of light flickers above a girl. Dim light fills the room she sits in.
Her arms stiffen, shoulders hunching over her bedside. A dull murmur sounds offstage. She looks at the floor, head lowered.
A small desk and chair stand in the corner to the right - headphones, alarm clock, stereo speakers, computer, monitor, keyboard, mouse, and a silver watch coated with rhinestones. A television faces a love seat in the opposite corner: static and "mute."
She wears jet black hair in a pony tail. Strands of bright blue highlights poke out the front and hang down her face. She blows them sideways. Another murmur repeats offstage, and a second voice replies in a higher tone.
Reaching down with both hands to her boot, she pulls a lace free, and reaches for the other, her arms stopping midway between her legs. The barely inaudible voices rise at each other offstage. She keeps hunching, reaches for a pair of Chartreuse Tweety Bird pajamas folded on the bed's end, then remains still for ten seconds, lifts her face and moves her arm away from her pajamas. Her mouth opens, lips coated cherry red in gloss, nose thin and slightly bent, with a thin ovoid face and swollen red mascara-clotted eyes.
She sniffles, reaches under couch cushions for television remote - no luck. Sighing, she gets up, walks to the door of her room, leans halfway offstage with one hand grasping her door frame, lifts her unlaced boot up in the air, pauses while murmuring offstage, kicks the boot off her foot while she waves her arm outside the doorway, leans back into her room. She sits again, and then lies in bed for fifteen seconds as the offstage voices continue, growing louder.
Getting up, she sits in her desk chair and puts on headphones, uses mouse, fiddles with speaker volume, fiddles again, holds her ears with both hands, yanks the headphones off her head, stares at her keyboard, then looks at the open door: the murmur of voices grows even louder. She reaches to slam it shut, then opens it again and walks offstage, screams, walks back in, slams her door shut, locks it, and sits down in her desk chair. She then reaches for her drawer, removing a pair of scissors and a mirror from it. Raising both to her face, she runs her right hand through the entire length of her hair, grasping her pony tail in a fist for ten seconds while she stares into the mirror. She then raises the scissors up to her face and snips off the blue highlighted tips of her hair. Getting up from the chair and grabbing the boot she threw off, she opens her window and climbs offstage as the blue hair floats to the floor.