In Keith’s words.
“Using this photo (below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.”
The photo.
The Dark by John W. Howell © 2021
“So here’s the plan. We are going to try and get the tree shot before it gets fully dark.”
“I don’t understand what’s so important about the tree shot.”
“It’s not your job to wonder about anything important. You are the talent. I’m the director.”
“Well, okay. Put that way, I’ll just be quiet.”
“A welcome change of pace. Now I need you to get under the tree.”
“Ew. Things are hanging in the tree.”
“Those are the vampire bats that are going to bite you on the neck in the scene.”
“Wait a minute. SAG rules are no biting.”
“For heaven’s sake. Have you read the script?”
“No. I saw I have no dialogue, so I just skipped it. Besides, you always tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“Too bad you don’t listen. So here’s the scene. You have run away from the pack of zombies—”
“No way.”
“No way what?”
“I don’t run. It’s in my contract.”
“I know we have a stunt double.”
“So why say I run?”
“Let me rephrase that. In the form of a stunt double, your character runs away from a pack of zombies and comes to this tree. She is all out of breath—”
“Who is out of breath?”
“The character.”
“Go on.”
“She looks up into the tree and then sees the vampires. She falls to the ground screaming, and then we cut. Any questions?”
“I don’t fall. It’s in my contract.”
“We will cut in the stunt double falling. The shot will have you screaming and then a closeup of you on the ground.”
“It’s wet.”
“What?”
“The ground.”
“Let me guess. You don’t get wet. It’s in your contract.”
“Yup.”
“Okay then. Well, put a cover on the ground and make it look like dirt. Then, you’ll be completely dry.”
“What’s the cover made of?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Can’t be latex. I’m allergic.”
“Okay, we’ll use a cotton cloth.”
“Sustainable, organic cotton.”
“It’s in your contract fight?”
“Right.”
“You know if you weren’t my daughter, I would fire you.”
“Oh, come on, Daddy, don’t be a grumpy grump.”
“And if this weren’t your drama class project worth a semester’s grade, I would fire me.”
“You going to keep grumping, or are we going to do this?”































