• Background: A classroom in a high school. It’s raining outside. Students are writing essays. Speaker is ignored, as if she isn’t speaking at all. She sits, staring at her paper, leaning back with her hands in her lap.

    Our teacher has told us to write about anything. Anything! I don’t know if I should take that literally…write something generic like losing my first tooth, or be creative to the point of being a smart a**. I mean I could write about porn. That’s anything, right? [scoffs]

    Random noises are focused on: someone tapping their shoe, someone, someone popping gum, the teacher flipping a page in his book. Between each action, the camera should shoot back to the ‘speakers eyes moving wildly about. Heavy breathing. Pans to the rain on the window. Goes back to girl.

    You know, I always did like writing. Stories mainly about heroes starting in poor circumstances, teenagers discovering faries or dwarves, or romantics. For some reason though, I am just completely stuck. I can’t…concentrate. Not when I hear, tap tap tap, pop pop pop, snap snap snap! Shh! [snaps her hand to her mouth, with a finger up]

    With each sound said, camera should shoot the action taking place. At the command, all movement stops. The whole class is seen motionless. The girl looks around, but then turns to look at the window, letting her hand fall.

    It’s raining.

    Pan to the rain again and back. Movement resumes in class. Now she crosses her legs

    I have ADD. My mind will wander to other places sometimes, not concentrating on the moment…like a rabbit? It’s a curious creature, nervous, jumping, quick…

    More movements, but different. One girl can be seen laughing quietly with a friend next to her. A boy accidentally drops a few pieces of paper on the floor. The teacher drinks a few sips of his coffee. Each sound is magnified. Again, eyes of the speaker are seen snapping back and forth before each scene takes place. Return to girl.

    s**t… [smacks the top of her desk quickly, but barely makes a sound, barely touching the surface. It’s almost like she tried to push her desk away. She sits back in her chair, crossing her arms.] I really do need to write, but I feel…so…stuck. What kind of…horrible teacher gives you the subject of anything? There are so many subjects: History? Fairy tale? Life story? Drama? Non-fiction? Fiction? Tch…[clicks her tounge] It’s like he put a fruit bowl in front of me [mimicking teacher. Low and droopy]: “Go on now. Pick a fruit for me and I’ll eat it.” Weight benefits and costs: he might be allergic to kiwis, but I remember seeing him nibble on grapes one time during class. But suppose he doesn’t like that now? What if I picked something odd out of there for him to try. It would be unique right? I…[she stops, eyes opening wide. She realizes that she has completely gone off in her own little world.] Oh! Ooooh, I hate doing this to myself. [She rubs her forehead like she could maybe rub an idea into her head, but then sighs and slumps into her chair, crossing both legs and arms again, tighter this time. She looks upwards like she can see the sky above.] I think of so much, but when it comes out…it’s a jumbled night sky that has no end…I could write to the end of the world, but not my report. [silence as she lets the weight of this statement settle in the air. She sucks in a deep breath, clasps her hands in front and rests her elbows on the desk. She rests her chin on her laced fingers and closes her eyes, almost like she is praying.] I could just write about my day, but a day in my life could be one whole novel alone; that’s how I feel anyway. I’m sure for someone….well, I shouldn’t say the word NORMAL, but that’s the best word I can come up with. Anyway, for someone normal [emphasis on normal, almost like she scoffs at the word], it would be more like…well, like reading some trashy gossip magazine. [She opens her eyes and laughs bitterly. Her eyes should seem almost far off.] Mine is just full of miniscule idiotic things; it’s Wonderland at it’s finest. [here the girl will begin describing the noises she hears. The noises are the shots from before. Each shot is the one described. As she describes the noises, her hands turn into fists and she begins to make small jerks with each noise said] It's like how Courtney in the corner of the class is laughing, Derek dropped some paper, and Mr. Collin is drinking his coffee, ha ha ha, whish whish whish, gulp gulp gulp, SHUT UP [this should be more of a sharp grunt. She reaches her fisted hands up, like she is trying to block something]!

    Shot of a frozen class. All actions stops. Even Mr. Collin is mid gulp. Audience sees the girl again. Her expression is tortured and crunched, like she could cry any second. After a shaky breath, she seems to relax again, losing the frustration in her body, changing quickly. It’s almost like she forgot what she had been saying, but instead of confusion, her stare should be blank. She turns to the window again.

    It’s raining.

    Repeat: pan to the window and back. Class is in movement again. She glances at the clock, which shows that only a few minutes have passed, but you can hear the ticking of the clock. The girl picks up her pencil and touches the paper, but writes nothing.

    I’ll let my pencil rest here. After all, the movement alone should motivate me to write something, right? Physically? [A few seconds of nothing, but soon her hand begins to shake. Sharply, she smacks a hand to her face, covering it with fingers splayed. She leaves it there for another couple seconds, almost gripping her face violently before smacking it on the desk.] OK! I can….[slowly, she does begin to write, but all that she does put down is a header, as well as other useless things that don’t have anything to do with the paper. Her expression begins to twist a little with anxiety before she puts down the pencil, fists her hand, and rests her face in them. She begins to glance around again at different noises.]

    The ticking clock is shown again, a couple minutes past before. A boy is shown scratching his head. Another boy gnaws on his pencil nervously. Each movements’ sound is loud. Again, the girl’s eyes are shown darting back and forth between each movement, a faster paced breathing in the backround. A heart beat that is slowly quickening can be heard along with the other noises. Going back to the girl, her position is still the same. She almost mumbles now.

    I wish I was born healthy. I have a horrible history of health problems that no one can see, but it’s there. I feel it. Tachyarrhythmia, AVM, and ADD to top it all off. I’m sure that is what makes me feel so panicked all the time- [she pauses suddenly, realizing something and smiling] Hey, it’s made up of 3 syllables…[She smiles as she starts counting out the syllables on her fingers, but then stops, letting hands drop. She sighs and leans back, glancing at the ceiling, but not craning her neck.] I really did get the luck of the draw, didn’t I? [bitter chuckle] My family is all very smart and hard working. Two sisters, one younger and one older. Both of them succeed in school: friends, grades, work, independent, strong... It seems so easy for them! They’ll put off studying till a few days before, while I’m at it for weeks, and they still get better grades! They are the shining stars of my parents’ work. Me? I’m a crooked lamp with a dying bulb…because all I hear is [again, shot of sounds described. She sounds more angry, but it is soft, harsh, jagged even] Jerry scratching his head, Michael gnawing on his pencil, and the clock snapping at me, scratch scratch scratch, gnaw gnaw gnaw, tick Tick TICK, STOP!! [She slaps her hands loudly against her table, but she is ignored. Again all freezes. The girl breathes, and tries to reign herself in, almost like she is trying to meditate. She grips the edges of the desk, as if it will keep her grounded. She whispers, almost shaky.]

    It’s raining.

    The rain seems to hit the window harder, making her flinch. Again, movement resumes, random things focused upon. A girl texts under her desk. Another applies some lip gloss on her cherry red lips, mashing them together. A boy is shaking his foot wildly without thinking. Again, eyes, picture, etc. The girl opens her eyes and keeps the stiff posture.

    My parents have had a hard life too though, immigrating from Vietnam, rising to high positions in their jobs over the years. I am always grateful for all of them. In general, they are normal. I feel so…out casted. [She begins to smirk, tilting her head downwards] My doctors have described me as “more than usual.” Multiple times I have heard that, and ironically, I agree. I have a more than usual innocent perspective on life than my sisters. I have a more than usual need to keep my hair short. I have a more than usual dislike for rap. [She snickers, but then the smile drops. As she continues, her speech becomes faster, more agitated, bitter.] I have a more than usual strength on one side than the other, a more than usual heart, a more than usual attention span, a more than usual need to be with my family because I am so more than usual that I feel like I will lose them and become a stranger in my own home, in this world, and what’s nagging me is [again, shot of sounds described. Her tone is angry and loud now, voice increasing in volume.] Abby texting, Lisa mashing as she applies her lip gloss, Tyler as he shakes his foot, click click click, mash mash mash, shake shake Shake, DAMN IT!

    As she shouts the last few words, she stands up and pushes her chair violently, but again, she is ignored. However, the movement does not stop. The sounds and movements intensify even more as the scene is shot back and forth between a movement and her eyes. She combs her hands through her hair, gripping it. Suddenly, between her eyes and the actions, a scene flashes by every now and then of her in an empty class room with the desks bunched around her, covered in books and papers. Lightning flashes in the room. The scene seems to stay on the girl, while it is actually flickering by so fast that her movements seem fluid. Her teeth bite down hard, and she shuts her eyes tightly.

    And every moment, every second, every day, every year this just keeps going going going, tick tick tick, [starts grabbing her head with one clawed hand while the other begins to poke her] pop pop pop, ha ha ha, and it never ever STOPS! [throws her hands arms upwards, gnarled, harsh] Because this world will keep on TURNING, and as long as it does that, there will always be NOISE, and as long as that exists, my torture will NEVER END! [tears stream down her face now as she falls to her knees on the final word. She opens her mouth wide, bearing teeth, like she is giving the most tortured, wild scream of anguish but nothing comes out.]

    The room is the same except everyone is gone. However, as she falls to her knees, things seem to fly about the classroom in slow motion, like a tornado was in there throwing small things about: pencils, paper, books, etc. The girl is ignorant of all this as she grips her hair and bends down to the ground, still silently screaming, writing in almost jerky movements, like a puppet that can’t control itself. Finally, the debris quits falling, and the girl laying on her side, a dead like stare on her face. Tears are still seen, but they no longer flow. The rain still flows outside, but softer now. She whispers again, honestly, like she is revealing a secret part of herself.

    How do I calm myself, when I feel so out of control? How do I compose myself, when I’m all over the floor in little pieces?

    She closes her eyes, and breathes again.

    I think of an ocean.

    Suddenly, the scene becomes a beach. Again, the sky is grey. It is peaceful, calm. A statue with a temple beneath it is seen far off. A soft, almost snow like, rain falls on the beach. The girl rises from the sand, but her eyes are still closed. She faces the ocean, so the audience can only see the back of her. She takes a few steps forward. She is still tense, but she is starting to loosen up.

    My family visited Vietnam this year. We visited an ocean that is right next to a temple. [shot of temple] It’s a splendid snow white statue with the temple underneath his feet. The peaceful smiling face of Buddha calms me.

    Pan to girl again, seeing her from the side, close on her face. Her frown is slowly fading, her eyebrows loosening. Zoom in on nose. She breathes in through her nose; a strong sniff. Zoom to mouth.She smiles a little. Zoom to hands that become unclenched, fingers waving slowly like a flag, making patterns in the rain. Zoom out to girl’s back, providing a view of the ocean. When the girl is heard again, her voice echoes.

    I think of the ocean, the smell, the sound, play with the rain snaking between my fingers. Just as the waves come into the shore, all of it washes over me like a blanket. I breathe with the ocean as it flow in [show waves rolling in. She is heard inhaling] and out [ she exhales and the waves roll back out to sea]. My worries, anxieties, fears, and even my troubled soul flow out with the ocean, and I am made clean by the rain [pan back to her closed eyes] Nothing but this is around me, no studies, no voices, no distractions, and finally, I reach this point and I…am....

    She opens her eyes again, and she is back in her classroom in her seat. She seems dazed as she glances at the clock. Only a few minutes have passed again. She gazes out the window and smiles. It is still raining. She realizes her teacher had come to see what she was doing, and he stares down at her with a blank stare.

    Teacher: You should be writing. Not napping. [He picks up her pencil and holds it out. She stares at it for a few seconds before raising a hand to take it.] Start writing. You only have till the end of class. [He walks back to his desk, and the scene focuses back on the girl. She looks at her pencil and then the few words she had written. Then with a smile, she starts to write. After some scribbling, she straightens back up and the audience can see what she has written: “On a rainy day, I discovered one of my most important places in the world for me: the beach.” Fade to black.]

    END