ConspiracyPenguin
Nosey Penguin
With TimeFest in the back of my mind all I can think about is the passage of seconds. My mind drowns in thoughts of twirling hours swindling away like a limp line of thread. Then, like a bolt of lightning in the West, my attention is drawn to the broader scene. Centries, decades, years, months, weeks. One week. One week until the ScriptFest entries must all be collected in what Larry would call the "Proverbial Mod's Only Pool."
I had started my script about a week ago, based on an idea which assaulted my mind on night. Tired, blury-eyed and alone I punched vigrously and efficiently onto my grey HP brand keyboard. Now, realizing that the night is almost over, dawn on its way, I must finish the script before it is too late. I retire to my computer, without the aide of corrective lenses, and punch out the rest of my script. But is it good enough? Only you can decide...
I had started my script about a week ago, based on an idea which assaulted my mind on night. Tired, blury-eyed and alone I punched vigrously and efficiently onto my grey HP brand keyboard. Now, realizing that the night is almost over, dawn on its way, I must finish the script before it is too late. I retire to my computer, without the aide of corrective lenses, and punch out the rest of my script. But is it good enough? Only you can decide...