ConfederateUnion

Act One Scene A INT.  CAFETERIA – DAY MANY POPULAR PEOPLE ARE ROAMING AROUND AND SHOUTING AT EACHOTHER FROM ACROSS THE CAFETERIA BRICE MACADAMS LOOKS TOWARDS THE DOOR AS SORYN TERERA ENTERS THE CAFETERIA AND WALKS TOWARDS BRICE. CINDY FORD FOLLOWS HER WITH HER EYES. SORYN SMILES AT BRICE SORYN Hey. (SMILING) You doing okay? BRICE (LOOKING UP FROM HER LAP) I guess. It's not that I can do anything about it, though… SORYN (SLANTING EYES) You say that now. Come on, It'll get better, you hear me? CINDY WALKS PAST THE TABLE AND PURPOSELY SPILLS HER MILK ONTO BRICE'S WHITE SWEATSHIRT CINDY (SARCASTICALY) Whoops. Slipped out

Have you heard the story? Have you heard the story of the girl with the pink ribbon? My mommy says it wasn't real, that bad people make up these shenanigans to get attention. But Mommy was lying; she always lies. I know it is real, no matter what Mommy tries to shove down my throat and preach to me.    The swing on the playground was her favorite toy. It would teeter by itself in the feathery lightness of the autumn breezes, beckoning her to return to it. It was growing lonely; no one else ever used that swing. However, it wouldn't be alone for long; she always comes back on her birthday, to play with on her favorite toy on the school playg

Below the cerulean oceans hollow Through which the metal key Cannot fit. Through the moist Waterless river, seeing the Seeds to the tree at the Bottom. Fish swimming along the Skyline, gills glistening In a plethora of Purple, swim, swim away. Go on little fish; Fly away from the light Of good.

The wheels keep on turning As the truck rolls away; the hinges Sounding that of a shrieking child, Such a glorious a sound, Both satisfying and humane. And as the truck turns a corner The lights flash at its direction With an aura of hue Seen and unseen. Through the tunnel the truck now goes But not through the lighted, No. There isn't another route Out of this town Than the other exit. Where is it even going That it's in such a rush? It doesn't matter where It goes It only matters That it returns every night For its nightly pick up.

Welcome to the jungle of morbidity and woe There's blood splattered everywhere and no where to go So sit back and relax while I begin the show And as you sit here please beware; the vines will start to grow. Welcome to the jungle where everything's astray Everyone here is nameless and you are forced to stay And the feeling of someone watching you will never go away Here is the Hell on Earth where face up the bodies lay Here there are vines and trees galore, and the leaves barely fall And everywhere you go, you can hear the dead call How grand would it be to be someone else's doll? Here in this realm your futures are not seen throug

The world's dead to me, but I'm not dead to the world. The paint on the walls still needs to dry. My eyes may be shut, but I can still see. There's blood on the rainbows, but it's not mine. My grip on my brush does not slacken; Splotches all over the graying canvas. They should be white, Not already tainted with the disease of bleak… No questions asked, no rebuttals. Now I wish I was dead to the world So I can join those who are. There is no color anymore, no light in the sun. So what's the point of living On a planet with no life If no life can be given to it? Or is this why I am still here? To give it the life it des