“Fear The Remake” by Charles E. Singletary, Sr.

“Fear The Remake”

As a very young man, I was told in elementary school that there are no limits to the imagination.  Teachers use to tell us that the more you read, the more expansive you’re your mind, giving you the ability to tap into this incredible limitless imagination universe.

I use to imagine that there were galaxies upon galaxies of stories not unlike stars in the skies making a limitless universe of stories.  When an author wanted to write a book, he had only to look up and grab a story from this endless supply.  Science Fiction, Biographies, Novels, Cook Books, Drama’s and whatever story you wanted to tell was there for the picking, like choosing an orange from an orange grove.

Now it appears that my teachers were wrong, mistaken, or just plain lying.  The grove has been plucked dry, the skies are darken from no stars, there are no more stories to tell, the fuel gauge of the imagination is reading bone dry with no refueling station in existence.

I feel this way because movie makers tell me in the new (bad choice of words) movies that have come out.  No one has an original idea anymore.  Remake after remake or the new phrase, reboot.  I’m not even including sequels, which I am getting sick and tired of, I’m referring to these non-imaginative, looking for the quick easy buck, producers and directors that wouldn’t know an original idea if Jaws came out of the ocean and, no, if an Italian Mafia family in New York gave them an offer, no, if an alien space craft named Prometheus landed in their backyard, no, now I can’t even come up with something original.  It’s not generational either, young, old or in between, it doesn’t matter.  No one is coming up with new ideas.  This is a sad situation and it’s the movie goers that suffer the most.  We pay more for a lesser product.  Yes, the technology has advanced and that maybe part of the problem.  Maybe movie makers feel the more advanced the FX, the less important the story line.  I say regardless the technology; the most important thing about a story is, wait for it, THE STORY!

Please show us that the universe of ideas is not empty.  We’ve seen Warriors, Flash Gordon, Total Recall and so much more.  Lead us to a new light, I know it’s out there; I know you can find it.  If you make it, we will come see it (sorry, I guess I need a new movie to inspire me too).

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Freewrite: The Calm

Oh I cherish that moment before the storm. I run to my truck, rolling my windows up in preparation for the ensuing downpour. I turn around and look up into the grey, rolling clouds. Dusk brings a haunting light to the horizon, the red tint brushing the leaves of the trees in front of my building.

The trees sway in response to the winds persistent warning. They tell me a storm is coming, branches panicking and waving in despair. Oh…but there must be at least one tree as excited as I. There must be one ready to sway to the beat of the raindrops. Be lulled to sleep as the drops collide with the leaves outside my window.

Freewrite #3 (The Storm)

Fleeting, damaging, heightened and swaying; words are the barriers to the soul. They flow; they sway, they move with ease; often without contemplated consequences, pushing back those who dare to stand out in it.

The words are forming the weathering storm building in your soul, moving through your veins on a prowl from the mind. Bypassing your moral complexity. As the storm begins to build, the dark clouds mount, crash together and ignite, sending shock waves of lightening into the hearts of the people.

They build upon one another so quickly, piling up like leaves in the fall, one on top of the other on top of the other. The words keep pushing you back with a slight unbalance, causing you to sway and topple over in the grass.

As you regain balance the sky turns black overhead. The westward spin moves quicker and quicker and then the eye begins to form. Spinning rapidly down toward the ground… until it hits. It hits the ground with incredible force, destroying everything in its path.

The flight of the diction so carelessly expressed crashes into your face. It keeps coming and coming, trying to suck you under. You stand your ground and fight the vacuum trying to suck you in and spit you back out. You hold on.

Tether yourself to a metal pole, stay there and wait, show no fear. Before you know it, the storm begins to weaken. The vortex begins to pull back up, and the fierce winds begin to slow down. You remove yourself and peer outside the window; the trees are still swaying, branches scattered about.

The flowers are trampled and the smaller trees are uprooted, the city was displaced in the path of the storm’s wake. As you venture outside, the discourse lightly grazes your face. It’s cool, calming touch is soothing to your soul, laying down the storms of the past.

 

By Karina Rivera (@CaribBeautii)

Freewrite #2 (Wilting Sunflower)

 
 
I am 16 years of age and 2 months an old maid.
My skin will soon lose its fair and clothes to wear.
No Man will covet my heart, never from my father’s house will I part.
I am doomed to my mother’s breast and forever a burden on my families rest.
I am 16 years of age and 2 months an old maid.
I will die amongst the weeds forever a burden indeed.
 

By Toni Johnson (@JoYoga_Flame)

Freewrite #1 (Words Are Wind)

 I’ll be posting random musings under the heading of “Freewrite” from this day forth. I’ll also be posting freewrites from other authors (one already on the way). Contact me via email (Jinjokage@gmail.com) if you wish to be featured on the blog. Here is the first freewrite, “Words Are Wind”.

Its said that words are wind. So consider every compliment spoken a means to disturb the sails. Consider every declaration of affection a means to move this ship of ours from the shores to the open blue. Without every whisper, we’d float aimlessly at the whim of the waves. But with every breathe we expel, we move this vessel with purpose towards a fitting destiny.