Feb
22
2013

Rejection Letter #6

bya Gabrielle at 7:07 PM

This one came earlier than expected.  Someone, somewhere is bound to eventually like “Jenny Kissed Me” enough to buy her, right?  When I get to rejection letter # 100, I may consider changing my name legally to Rejection Queen.

Rejection Letter #6 – The Cincinnati Review

Dear Writer:

Thank you for the opportunity to consider your work. We’ve read it with care but have decided not to accept it for publication. Best of luck placing it elsewhere.

Our reading period is now August 15th through April 15th. If you want to know more about this change, please read our blog post on the subject: cincinnatireview.com/blog/uncategorized/rethinking-our-reading-period.

Sincerely,

The Editors of The Cincinnati Review

Categories: rejection,writing
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Feb
22
2013

In the Weeks to Come

bya Gabrielle at 12:00 PM

I haven’t received any rejection letters lately, which is good, but I haven’t received any acceptances either, which is a bummer.  However, I should be receiving a whole bunch of one or the other in the next week or two.

Since The New Yorker told me kindly that “Jenny of Lebanon” wasn’t what they were looking for, I’ve resubmitted it to two other publishers.  It’ll be another three months before I hear back from them, unless of course my manuscript falls on their desk and light from heaven illuminates it.  That would be cool, although highly unlikely.

I searched Duotrope and the internet for places to send her, but there aren’t many places that accept and pay for a story as long as she is, nearly 14,500 words.

I guess once I’ve tried every avenue for JOL, I’ll probably self-publish her.  I’m glad I live in a world where that is relatively easy, but I would much rather have someone else accept her first, then republish her later.  I’m looking forward to turning her into an audiobook, too.

And for those of you wondering, I have not become a millionaire with my first audiobook.  At least not yet.  🙂

Categories: writing
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Feb
14
2013

Rejection Letter #5

bya Gabrielle at 6:57 PM

Well, it was bound to happen, so I am not that depressed about it.  Rejection letter # 5 comes courtesy of The New Yorker.  It was very simple, to the point.  I’m sure hundreds of other people share a similar piece of paper/e-mail.  At least, I’m not alone.  In case you were wondering what a rejection letter from The New Yorker looks like:

Rejection Letter #5 – The New Yorker

We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider it.

Sincerely,

The Editors

Now I’ve got to find places that accept novelette length manuscripts.  Wish me luck.  There aren’t many out there.
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Jan
24
2013

Rejection Letter #4

bya Gabrielle at 4:48 PM

A day after my rejection letter from Words and Images, I got another, but this one was one of the most promising ones I have received thus far.  If one editor nibbles, one is bound to bite somewhere, right?  That is my hope at least.  I still have 9 others considering “Jenny Kissed Me” now.  If they all say no, and that is an extreme possibility, I’ll have to go back to the drawing board.  Let’s all cross our fingers that I don’t have to.  Here is the rejection I received from Room magazine.  I only wish they had liked it just a little more.

Rejection Letter #4 – Room Magazine

Dear Gabrielle Olexa,

Thank you for submitting your Fiction to Room magazine. While we are unable to accept Jenny Kissed Me for publication, we would very much like to see more of your work.

Members of Room’s collective read over 1200 submissions of poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction each year, of which less than 2% are accepted for publication. As you can imagine, we have to make some very tough choices. Each issue of Room is edited by a different collective member, and each issue editor is responsible for choosing manuscripts that most closely match her issue in theme and feeling.

Your submission was one of very few that gets passed on by our readers to an issue editor. We really liked it, but were ultimately unable to use it in one of our upcoming issues. Please be sure to send us more of your writing. You can find out what themes might be under consideration by visiting our website, http://roommagazine.com.

We look forward to reading more of your work.

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Jan
24
2013

Rejection Letter #3

bya Gabrielle at 4:35 PM

I got a highly unusual rejection letter the other day.  It wasn’t personal or anything.  It was a very standard, sorry, but thank you for trying type letter.  So standard, it didn’t even say Dear Gabrielle Olexa or mention the story I’d written.  So standard, it was only one sentence long.  That was expected, though, so I wasn’t too bummed about the whole ordeal – rejection letters are an odd source of nourishment for writers.  What made it unusual was that everyone else who had been considered and rejected were also included, instead of being blind copied like they should have been.  I got a second email not long after apologizing for the novice mistake.  For a very skinny minute, I thought about sending an email to each writer and telling them that I felt their pain and wishing them luck in their future endeavors, but once I realized how ridiculous that would be, I just moved the email into my growing rejection folder and moved on with my life.

The rejection letter was from the magazine Word and Images and it went like this:

Rejection Letter #3 – Word and Images

We thank you for submitting your piece to Words and Images but we regret to inform you it has not been selected for printing in the 2013 issue.
Sincerely,
The staff of Words and Images

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Dec
14
2012

Rejection Letter #2

bya Gabrielle at 12:07 PM

I woke up this morning to my second rejection letter.  It wasn’t the way I wanted to start this beautiful Friday, but at least I won’t have to wonder what The Fiction Desk thought of “Jenny Kissed Me” anymore.  Their response was, as expected, a form, and this is how it went:

Rejection Letter #2 – The Fiction Desk

Dear Gabrielle,
Thank you for taking the time to submit your work to us.
Unfortunately, we aren’t able to accept this story for publication. Don’t let this get you down, though. There are many possible reasons for turning down a story, and we regularly turn down great work just because it isn’t quite right for us. (Due to time constraints, we’re unable to discuss reasons for rejecting specific stories.)
We’re committed to publishing a variety of fiction from both new and established writers, so please do submit to us again.

If you’d like to find out more about this kind of stories we publish, you can download free samples of our anthologies, containing complete stories, for your iPadiPhone, or Kindle.


The Fiction Desk submissions team.

 

I looked up examples of rejection letters that other people have received, and it seems that just about everyone and their sister’s brother gets this one, so I wasn’t too surprised when I got it too.  However, I was surprised to find a typo.  Did you see it?  They put a “this” instead of a “the” when instructing me how to find out what kind of stories they publish.  I wonder if it is some sort of test, to see who is brave enough to let them know.  Well, it won’t be me.  I make mistakes all the bloody time.  I’ll be the last person to call out a literary magazine.  But if you want to inform them, be my guest.

I currently have 10 more possibilities for “Jenny Kissed Me”, at least in the paying market, and 1 in the non-paying market, but I won’t hear back from any of them any time soon.  The next one I will probably hear from is 42 Magazine, followed by The Lifted Brow.

Well, time to work on my novel, “Terminus”.

 

Categories: rejection,writing
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Dec
13
2012

Rejection Letter #1

bya Gabrielle at 11:13 PM

Today I got my first rejection letter for “Jenny Kissed Me”, a short story I wrote a billion years ago and just recently threw into the shark infested waters of the publishing world.  I completely expected to get a rejection letter, probably a dozen (or two hundred) before someone accepted her out of pity, but it still stung.  Not as much as the piping hot butternut squash that burned the top of my mouth earlier, but I’ll probably eat an extra large bowl of ice cream later to make myself feel better.

Who rejected me?  Echo Ink Review did, and this is what they had to say:

Rejection Letter #1 – Echo Ink Review

Dear Gabrielle Olexa,

Thank you for your interest in Echo Ink Review.

We cannot at this time use “Jenny Kissed Me,” but we appreciate the opportunity to read your work.

If you have additional, similarly toned work, please send it our way. Best of luck, and thank you again for your interest in Echo Ink Review.

Regards,

The Editors,
Echo Ink Review

I like that they 1) took the time to write out the name of my story and 2) that they included the bit about sending them similarly toned work.  At least they didn’t say, “You suck, get a life!”

Oh, well.  I was bound to get one eventually.  Here’s to hoping that one of the other 13 places I sent Jenny to will like her more.

Categories: rejection,writing
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Nov
09
2009

Wes Craven: The Man that Made Horror a Scream Again

bya Gabrielle at 8:00 AM

So, I’ve noticed something.  It seems my previous post, One, Two, Freddy’s Coming Back for You, from way back in 2008, has recently become my number one post of all time.  I am assuming it has something to do with the trailer for the new Freddy movie, A Nightmare on Elm Street, coming out.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-tSvrkKx2Y[/youtube]

I had mentioned in that post that I had written a rather lengthy essay when I was in college about Wes Craven.  I know that many of you probably don’t care to read it, but I can’t really think of better time to post it.  Wes Craven movies, or movies inspired by Wes Craven don’t come out as often as they used to, so I better post while the posting is good.  My essay covers many more movies besides the Craven Nightmare series, so if you want to learn more about him and his works, you may want to take the next several minutes of your life and digest it.  Who knows, you may end up on a game show some time in the near future and something you read in it may be one of the questions you are asked. Better to be prepared than sorry.

I’m not sure how I feel yet about the trailer.  The fact that Michael Bay directed it disturbs me slightly more than Freddy stalking me in my sleep, but I am sure I will end up watching it in the theaters regardless.  It would go against all things Gabe if I didn’t go.  I will be interested to see how much of the original shows up and what new story lines will be written in.  I have a fear that there will be just as many explosions as their will be pints of blood.  Perhaps it will be a good combo.   Well, without further ado, lets get onto one of my favorite essays that I wrote in college.  Oh, and I totally got an A.  I suppose I can thank my brothers.  I mean they did get me into all things Horror after all, even if it wasn’t their intention.  Enjoy, and remember, One, Two, Freddy’s Coming for You!!!

Horror was brought into this world centuries upon centuries ago, by minds that took pleasure in telling tales about characters who were utterly shocking and creating storylines that were sure to terrify. The subject of such fright first adorned the pages of books to fascinate the imaginations of our minds. Later the trepidation evolved into a visual form, film, not only to mesmerize our eyes, but also to give our human imagination an optical representation of our ever so dreaded fears. As the years have screamed by, a select few have graced the silver screen with their masterful visions and produced horrors that have echoed throughout time; it is Wes Craven, a writer/director, though, who stands out as one of the few remaining masters of horror that has provided a quarter century of unique contributions to the modern audience in his wide-ranging films filled with gore, jolts, and pure terror. For a while, horror seemed to become repetitive; the same monsters from the 30’s and 40’s continued to flicker on the screen, but Craven walked briskly onto the scene, took the norm and created a new vein in horror. That vein has been gushing fresh blood for thirsty audiences ever since and along with their screams of fright, there have been silent prayers that it never stops.

In the year of 1939, on August 2, a boy was born to strict fundamentalist Baptists in Cleveland, Ohio. Little did his parents know at the time, but they had just brought one of the significant generators of horror into the world. If they had been aware of what God, their wondrous creator, had blessed them with, surely they may have thought about returning their little bundle of joy into the hands that fathered man. There was no exchange for baby Wesley Earl Craven on that day; instead he took his place in the dysfunctional family that would later serve as the foundation of the creative genius of his career. “The strict rules, the broken household and the death of [his father] were to have an indelible impact on Craven’s philosophical outlook, and these early events would one day impact his art heavily” (Muir 7). His childhood was less than perfect, but in the long run, the honest, terrifying, and horrifying experiences of Wes Craven’s young life helped make a name for himself on the silver screen. The audiences with hungry stomachs for screams just sat back in their stiff chairs and absorbed it all, demonstrating that one person’s pain can be another’s pleasure.

The first quarter century of Craven’s present career contains an array of feature films, beginning in the year of 1972, thirty-three years after his parents brought a new little creature into their world. Craven’s first horror picture, The Last House on the Left, was definitely not made with weak stomachs in mind. The film’s content of rape, revenge, and substance abuse is portrayed so realistically that the characters’ behaviors are enough to make the strongest person turn their head away from the gruesome acts occurring on the screen. In the words of film critic Roger Ebert, “The Last House on the Left is a powerful narrative, told so directly and strongly that the audience . . . was rocked on its psychic heels” (Muir 39). The macabre performed by a young group of vigilantes lead by a young man named Krug, is truly disturbing; but that is what horror is about and it does exactly what it is supposed to do. People were not meant to leave the theater with smiles on their faces or happy thoughts meandering through their minds. The Last House on the Left was successful in that the film shocked, terrified, and left audiences questioning their own morality.

The brutality of The Last House on the Left was a brave, giant step for beginner filmmaker, Wes Craven. Audiences and critics had not viewed violent horror to such an extreme and reacted with much repulsion. Danny Peary, author of Cult Movies, said after viewing the picture, “The Last House on the Left . . . is a sick sexual fantasy for predators that is indeed an incitement to violence” (Muir 39). For most people the images seen throughout the film were intense, but it was a change that brought the word horror back into the phrase – horror film. Craven introduced a new scare to audiences that was extremely different from the norm. He removed the A typical monsters with hideous features and extraterrestrial themes. In their place he provided audiences with a film portraying humans in their ugliest form – as rapists and murderers who were a great menace to society. Krug and the gang were slightly different from other protagonists in horror films. Dracula, for instance, was pure imagination, but what Krug and his friends were doing could really be accomplished. The threat of horror taking the form of regular, everyday people crawled under people’s skin and truly frightened them.

The audiences that crowded into theaters on a nightly basis to view The Last House on the Left had such a difficult time dealing with the film because of Craven’s magnificent use of the camera. They were placed in a very voyeuristic situation and in return felt ashamed and involved even though the horrendous acts on the screen were only make-believe. An inventive way to make the violence not seem so shocking for audiences, a tag line was made – To avoid fainting, keep telling yourself ‘It’s only a movie, it’s only a movie. It’s only a movie . . . ’. This “disclaimer” did little to comfort audiences. They still reacted with disgust because they saw their own species doing the unthinkable and at the same time, appearing to feel little or no regret for the cruel acts they committed. Other films like “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre(1974), I Spit on Your Grave(1979), and Three on a Meathook(1973) owe a great deal of their vitality to Craven’s early exploitation classic” (Muir 2). Craven pushed the envelope and opened the doors for a new type of horror. It shocked viewers, yes, but it did not stop him from creating more films containing similar ideas.

As the years passed, Craven created a spree of other films. In 1977, The Hills Have Eyes debuted, a film in which two families, one the American middle class Carters and the other a savage breed led by Papa Jupiter, duel in a landscape completely opposite from that seen in The Last House on the Left: a desert. The film was based on a Scottish legend that Craven had heard. He realized that “he would have the opportunity not only to comment on a cult society dwelling inside modern civilization, but also the chance to comment on that civilization’s less-than-civilized retribution against the cannibals”, a subject sure to make audiences scream (Muir 14). There was a period of time that Craven was absent from the screen, until he manufactured another reign of terror; then four consecutive films, one a year from 1981 to 1984, were ripped from Craven’s mind.

The first of the four was Deadly Blessing in 1981, a supernatural slasher sub-genre film with interesting plots relating to Craven’s own life. One character in particular, John, like Craven, left his strict religious instruction behind in order to pursue more pleasing aspects of life. Shortly following the release of Deadly Blessing in early 1982, Swamp Thing, a film based on a character from DC Comics, crawled out of the murky waters and into existence. The dark super hero gracefully bombarded the screen, but did not do so well at the box office. It was not until the film came out on video that it “made back its investment and much, much more” (Muir 17). In 1983, the sequel to The Hills Have Eyes was made, but was not completely finished due to the lack of funding and time. It was then placed on the shelf until its screening in 1985, after one of Craven’s most successful films, A Nightmare on Elm Street, had premiered. Finding a home for the Elm Street film was truly a nightmare, but the end result definitely turned into a dream.

The news from the studios was “that the horror fad of the 80’s was over”, caput (Muir 18). Perhaps that was being said at the time, but the release of Craven’s film in 1984, A Nightmare on Elm Street, made Hollywood change their tune. The fire beneath the horror genre that seemed to be dwindling roared back to life with the introduction of Fred Krueger, who sliced his way into horror stardom. He was a character based on a childhood bully that terrorized Craven, whose name has also appeared in other Craven films of his. Robert Englund, the lucky soul who snagged the part, played the wicked character, Krueger, a man who slaughtered innocent children. A group of angry parents, seeking revenge for the hideous murderers he committed, destroyed the evil man, or so they thought. Craven ingeniously did not just bring Krueger back from the dead, he brought him back from the depths of death and placed him on a plane we usually treasure as we fall asleep at night: our dreams. A Nightmare on Elm Street, thanks to New Line Cinema, gave birth to “a franchise and America found a favorite new monster who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolf Man” (Muir 19). A Nightmare on Elm Street presented audiences with the idea that not even our dreams were safe anymore. The last frontier of fear had been breached.

Indeed, the blood and gore originally found in Wes Craven’s first film, The Last House on the Left, is mimicked throughout A Nightmare on Elm Street, especially within the first fifteen minutes. John Muir, the author of Wes Craven: The Art of Horror, argues that even the death of the supposed star of the film, Tina, “went far beyond anything seen in horror films, even The Last House on the Left or George Romero’s splatter epic Dawn of the Dead(1979)” (Muir 19). Craven properly built up to the first death scene, as he introduced the villain and his choice of a weapon, through the opening sequence of the film and the casual conversation of the teenage characters. Audiences had a slight inclination of the evil they would be witnessing, but nothing could prepare them for the way Tina would be slaughtered. In a horrific scene, she is pulled up the wall of her mother’s bedroom, held screaming for help on the ceiling(thanks to a spinning room and a locked down camera), and then dropped dead to splatter blood on everything, including the terrified (but reluctant to save her) boyfriend, Rod. This death scene set high expectations for the rest of the film, but surprisingly, the film in its entirety did not lead audiences to disappointment.

Shortly following Tina’s gruesome death, Nancy sits in her English class, sleep-deprived, as William Shakespeare’s play Hamlet is discussed. Craven is crafty as he uses the play to shadow the events of the film. Nancy, like Hamlet, also has to search out her parents’ lies and attempt to make right what once was wrong. One student volunteers to read a passage from the play and as he does, Nancy drifts off to sleep. Slowly, as the boy reads, his voice and appearance take a dark, sinister form. Quoting Hamlet, he says, “O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams” (II,ii,254-6). This statement is a cue that another dream sequence is about to begin – a rather creative one, where a dead Tina returns in a bloody body bag and the nemesis, Freddy, once again threatens Nancy’s life. Craven’s use of our famous literature helps describe the issues we are dealing with in A Nightmare on Elm Street, deceit and murder.

After the success of A Nightmare on Elm Street, another slew of Craven films were fed to his growing group of fans. Between the years of 1986 and 1991 four more films were generated. The amount of films per year slowed, but nevertheless, Craven still had the ability to frighten and give nightmares to the public. Deadly Friend, a picture with Frankenstein tendencies, which debuted in 1986, was not even meant to be a horror film; but “Warner Bros. executives instructed Craven to go back and shoot some more gory stuff” (Muir 24). As a result, Craven, who was truly beginning to be typecast in the horror industry, forged another horror film. For his next venture, Craven traveled to Haiti to film The Serpent and the Rainbow, which was released to audiences in 1987, a short year after Deadly Friend had hit theaters. The film was based on a book with the same title written by Wade Davis. The film and the book were fairly faithful to one another, but Craven brought to the film his own creative ideas, including the voodoo villain and a series of nightmares that reflected back on a number of his films. A few years later, Craven joined Alive Films and made a deal with them that required him to generate two more films. The first of the two was Shocker in 1989, which was to satisfy Universal Studios and give them “their very own horror franchise: à la A Nightmare on Elm Street” (Muir 28). Sadly, Shocker did not follow Nightmare’s path as well as Universal Studios had anticipated. The second two-picture deal brought Craven to a rather dark and formidable location: a fearful niche under the stairs.

In the year of 1991, Wes Craven took a refreshing step away from the nightmare sequences that had become a common occurrence in his films and produced The People Under the Stairs. This film was slightly different from all the others films penned under Craven’s name. It had its hair-raising moments, but it was also laced with comic relief. This showed audiences, critics, and Hollywood that Craven had more talents than the ability to scare people. In prior films, like Shocker, there were a few moments that were intentionally humorous; “but in The People Under the Stairs Craven was able to weave a consistently horrific atmosphere while generating appropriate laughs within the parameters of the scenario” (Muir 30). Too much humor can kill the mood of a horror film, as well as an exorbitant amount of blood and gore. The hint of comedy that Craven presents in The People Under the Stairs provides a nice balance between the two extremes. Audiences scream a good portion of the time but are given brief moments to relax and laugh in between the more intense scenes.

Much like Craven’s other films, The People Under the Stairs reflects the life of a dysfunctional, rather insane, middle-class, American family. This time, he not only uses the life he shared with his own middle-class family, but he also exploits the actions of a family he has never met, one he merely read about. The idea behind the horror flick was sleeping in the depths of Craven’s files and when he was given the two-picture deal with Alive Films, he used what he had readily available to him – an old newspaper clipping, that ended up being the basis of the film. One may not see the film as a means for Craven to display his feelings about middle-class America, but it is hidden in-between the screams and disturbing images. The majority of the film mirrors the selfish mentality common during “an important shift from the 70’s to the 90’s [where] in the eyes [of Craven], middle-class families have gone from bad to worse” (Muir 169). In the film, the Bible-thumping couple, similar to Nancy’s mother in A Nightmare on Elm Street, bar up their windows to keep out the crime even though they unknowingly are the cesspool spawning their greatest fears. It is as though Craven uses his films to market his hate of a lifestyle he grew up in and is still surrounded by to this day.

At the same time The People Under the Stairs was broadcasting the pit-falls of middle class America, there was another message hidden within this horror flick. Again, one who is not looking for hidden meanings in the film and would rather be scared, probably would not catch them. It is an artful tactic of Craven to weave in the storyline hideous truths of our daily lives, while at the same time maintaining focus on the true intention of the film – to frighten his audience. Throughout the film, the TV transmits scenes from the Gulf War. Craven uses this medium to “make a connection between our middle-class families and this 1991 war” (Muir 170). Horror may be finding itself on theater screens, but Craven does not fail to show the true horror occurring outside America’s borders. One can learn a lot about Craven’s opinions by viewing his films with a thorough inspection. This allows fans to see that there is more to the man so commonly known for his horror.

Alas, three long years passed until Craven returned to the silver screen. After stepping away from dream sequences in The People Under the Stairs, he returned to a series that he gave birth to many years ago, A Nightmare on Elm Street. Wes Craven’s New Nightmare in 1994 had a slightly different twist than the previous ones. Instead of teenagers being the victim, Freddy Krueger materializes and tortures the makers of the original film. New Nightmare did not bode all that well at the box office though, and unlike Swamp Thing, it did not catch an audience on home video. In 1995, Craven’s A Vampire in Brooklyn marched on the screen. A hopeful cast included big name, Eddie Murphy, but whether or not the film was actually a topnotch Craven film, it was not the season for horror. New Nightmare was not the only horror film to suffer that year, but it did manage to gross a mere $19.8 million, better than most released that year. Some may have counted Craven down for the count, but in 1996, Craven released his next masterpiece and proved to many that within himself he still had the craft to make audiences quiver in fear.

Naturally, slumps cannot last forever. Craven’s previous folly, A Vampire in Brooklyn, was soon to be forgotten when his latest venture, Scream, graced silver screens everywhere in 1996. The film was designed to pay homage to the horror films produced between the late 70’s and the early 80’s, where the villain was usually cast as a stalker that terrorized young, sexually active teens. Scream combined the three decades of horror and created a plot focusing on “America’s VCR generation [that portrayed teenagers] with their cell phones, Pentium computers, pagers, and extreme cynicism” (Muir 204). The mixture of the three decades was well conceived and took off at the box office. Scream at first did not seem to have much of a chance as it went up against some other big name films, like Jerry Maguire and The Preacher’s Wife, but it held strong. The film that was categorized as a sleeper soon began making millions, in fact $102.6 million within just a quick six months of its release. Audiences absolutely loved the film, and many critics did not complain. Scream, with its success, not only brought in hoards of profits, and two sequels, but it also made people even more aware of Craven, including Simon and Schuster, a publishing company. The film, like others that Craven had made, showed the world his wide ranging talent. Soon after the release of Scream, Simon and Schuster made Craven’s life-long dream come true – to become a published novelist.

In the same way that Craven profiled past decades and middle-class America in his other films, here too he analyzes the teen of the 90’s. Audiences are blatantly shown visually the kind of world they live in now. Some take this as humor and laugh, but it does have a dark, depressing, sinister-like aspect. Throughout the film, we observe the characters being almost overly involved in their technology world. In some cases, but rarely, it saves them, and in others the gruesome end of many of the characters is foreshadowed. For example, there is a scene where Randy divulges the “rules” that are found in every horror film. Randy “is positioned next to a giant-screen TV(a glimpse of the technology that surrounds them) which has freeze-framed an image [of] Mike Myers’s knife pointing right at him, suggesting that he too will be a victim” (Muir 206). Another instance of characters trying to solve the mystery via technology, is in a girl’s bathroom. One character, of little importance, reveals to Sidney who she thinks the murderer is by using information gathered from what she sees as an incredibly valid source, The Ricki Lake Show. The technology in the film is at the characters’ disposal, and they use it the way they see it : a source of survival, even if does not always work the way they planned.

Similar to Craven’s past films, Scream also possesses a lack of parental involvement. In A Nightmare on Elm Street, the parents of the threatened children assume they know what is to blame for their children’s irrational behavior. Instead of helping them, they leave them unprotected to face their problems alone, just like the parents in Scream. While the parents are off enjoying themselves, on business, or away on personal vacations, their children are left to defend themselves from the cruel realities of the world. Perhaps Craven is sending a message that the more families distance themselves from one another, the more likely bad things are to happen. In Scream, like in A Nightmare on Elm Street, by the time parents realize that something sinister has befallen their children, it is practically too late. People, including parents, do not take horror seriously, when well they should. Many of the problems, and possible solutions to them, are revealed in horror flicks all the time. John Carpenter, a friend of Craven, admits why horror is less likely to be an answer to the world’s problems by saying, “ . . . they tend to look down on you [when you work in the horror business] so if you do any serious work, you often don’t get taken seriously as you want to be” (Muir 31). Whether or not people heed the advice hidden within Craven’s films is up to the those who view them. History says they will not though because Craven has kept spinning movies off the reel with parallel dysfunctional families for years.

The rest of Craven’s film career is a blank canvas waiting to be painted with horrific colors and eye-shuttering images. He continues to amaze and terrorize audiences with his newfangled ideas as time ticks by. Every time that he appears to have left the scene, he comes back stronger. Even as new masters of horror are born, Wes Craven’s name is etched in time and in film history. One day, hopefully, all types of film amateurs will look back on his career and use it to refine theirs. The talent of Wes Craven is amazing, and it is depressing that many people overlook him because of the genre he choose. The last quarter-century of his career has kept many on the edge of their seats and fed their minds disturbing images to cause nightmares for weeks. It is hard to say what would have happened to the horror genre without him, but I cannot imagine the next quarter-century of horror if he does not continue his work as long as he can.

Bibliography

Muir, John Kenneth. Wes Craven: The Art of Horror. North Carolina: McFarland, 1998.

Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. The Riverside Shakespeare. 2nd ed. Ed. G. Blakemore Evans and J. J. M. Tobbin. Boston: Houghton, 1997. 1183 -1245.

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Mar
02
2009

Umm . . . Thank You

bya Gabrielle at 4:51 PM

Last week, an applicant walked into work.  He had been in a few days earlier trying to find a job.  Regrettably, we didn’t have any positions that he qualified for – like a lot of people.  With the economy the way it is, there aren’t near as many jobs available as there used to be.  I thought that he may be coming back to see if any new positions had become available, but that turned out not to be the case.  Instead of using our computers to surf for jobs, he took out his wallet and handed me a folded up piece of paper.  “I wanted you to have this,” he said.  It was a poem he had written.  Why he wanted me to have it, I don’t know, but I thought I would share it with you guys – misspellings and all.

Determation

life hasn’t been good

with god’s leadership u have hope

u have the ability, determation and willingness

in spite of the odds

i’m here and willing to help anyway possible

i don’t promise it’ll be easy

i know u can find joy, happiness and freedom

with hope and faith u will suceed

Post Footer
Jun
11
2008

1st Annual FBI Ball – An X-file Story

bya Gabrielle at 12:43 PM

I’m entirely too depressed to write anything meaningful, so I have decided to post one of those files/stories Phil was able to save off my older than sin Apple.

I used to be a huge X-file fan – I mean HUGE.  For instance, I had to be in front of my TV at 9 pm sharp on Sunday or else I thought the world was going to come to a shrieking halt.   Well, I combined my love of writing and X-files and managed to write a story starring Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.  I was a big fan of Mulder and Scully hooking up, so that is sorta what the story is about.  The story, like Brain Cell Bob, has all sorts of grammatical errors and what not – like my blog, so you shouldn’t be too shocked.  I wouldn’t even say the story is a good one, it just makes me laugh.  It makes me remember how retarded I actually am.  🙂

1ST ANNUAL FBI BALL

BY GABRIELLE COOK
11/02/96

DANA SCULLY SAT CURLED UP ON HER COACH WATCHING HORROR
CLIPS ON FOX.  THAT WAS HOW BORED SHE WAS.  SHE DIPPED HER
SPOON INTO HER HALF A GALLON OF ROCKIE ROAD ICE CREAM.  SHE
WAS FULL.  SCULLY HAD NEARLY EATEN HALF OF THE CARTON.  IT
WAS ONLY 8:15PM AND SHE WASN’T NEAR TIERD.
SHE AND HER PARTNER, FOX MULDER HAD JUST GOTTEN BACK
FROM ONE OF THEIR INVESTIGATIONS WAY OVER IN THE WEST.
SCULLY WASN’T SURE WHY SHE WASN’T TIRED FROM THE LONG FLIGHT
FROM CALIFORNIA.  SHE HADN’T SLEPT A WINK ON THE PLANE.
MULDER HAD THOUGH.  HE ALWAYS WAS ABLE TO FIND A COMFORTABLE
PLACE IN HIS HARD CHAIR.  SHE JUST READ THE WHOLE ENTIRE
TIME.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR SKINNER GAVE THEM THE NEXT THREE DAYS
OFF FROM WORK BECAUSE OF HOW LONG THEY WERE OUT THERE.
ALMOST A MONTH.  SHE WASN’T SURE WHAT SHE WAS GOING TO FOR
THREE DAYS.  SCULLY WASN’T USED TO THAT.  MAYBE SHE AND
MULDER COULD DO SOMETHING.  MAYBE GO SEE A MOVIE IN WHICH
SHE HADN’T SEEN ONE IN AGES.  SCULLY DECIDED TO CALL HIM SO
THAT HE WOULDN’T MAKE ANY PLANS.  SHE PUNCHED MEMORY #1.
THE NUMBER QUICKLY WAS DIALED.
“HELLO”, MULDER SAID.
“HEY, IT’S ME.  WHAT ARE YOU UP TO,” SCULLY SAID
FEEDING HER MOUTH A SPOON FULL OF ICE CREAM?
“NOTHING MUCH REALLY.  JUST SITING HERE WATCHING SOME
COOL HORROR MOVIES.  WHY DID YOU ASK?”
“MULDER I MUST REALLY REALLY BE BORED IF I AM WATCHING
THE SAME THING YOU ARE.”
“YOU MEAN YOU, DANA SCULLY, ARE WATCHING HUGE ANTS
DEVOIR HUMANS TOO.”
SHE LAUGHED.  “PRETTY SCARY HUH?”
“COMPARED TO THIS MOVIE, YEAH, I THINK SO.”
“HEY, MULDER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR YOUR THREE DAYS
OFF?
“OH, PROBABLY JUST SIT AROUND THE HOUSE.  WATCH MORE
DULL MOVIES ON FOX.  GO HANG AROUND THE LOCAL BARS.  NOTHING
REAL FUN.  DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING IN MIND SCULLY,” MULDER
ASKED?
“WELL, I MIGHT GO SEE A MOVIE OR TAKE A WALK AROUND THE
PARK.  JUST TAKE IT EASY.  IF I DID GO TO THE MOVIES, WOULD
YOU WANT TO JOIN ME,” DANA ASKED HOPING THE ANSWER WOULD BE
YES.
“WHY NOT.  IT BEATS HANGING AROUND LOCAL BARS OR
WATCHING ANTS DEVOUR PEOPLE ALIVE.  WHAT MOVIE WOULD YOU
LIKE TO SEE SCULLY?”
“I DON’T KNOW.  I HAVEN’T HAD TIME TO GET A PAPER.”

“I’LL PICK YOU UP IN A HOUR.  THAT IS WHEN ALL THE
MOVIES START.  THAT WILL ALOW YOU TO GET READY.  IS THAT
ALRIGHT WITH YOU?”
“YEAH, I GUESS MULDER.  I’LL SEE YOU THEN. BYE”
“BYE.”
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN MULDER SLIPPED INTO SOME MORE
COMFORTABLE CLOTHES.  HE HAD REMEMBERED THAT HE WAS NO
LONGER ON DUTY.   HE COULD WEAR WHAT HE WANTED.  MULDER
HOPED THAT SCULLY DIDN’T DRESS UP FOR THE ACCATION.  HE
HADN’T MESSED WITH HIS MAIL SENSE HE HAD BEEN HOME SO HE
DECIDED TO SIFT THROUGH IT.  HE NOTICED A BRIGHT BLUE
ENVELOPE THAT HAD “DON’T MISS IT” WRITTEN ALL OVER IT.
THE LETTER LOOKED LIKE SOMETHING HE MIGHT WANT TO OPEN
SO HE DID.  IT WAS A LETTER FROM THE OFFICE.  IT READ:

DEAR AGENT FOX MULDER,

WE ARE INVITING YOU (AND WHO EVER YOU CHOSE TO
BRING) TO THE FIRST ANNUAL FBI HEADQUARTERS BALL.  IT WILL
BE HELD ON NOVEMBER THE 7TH (AT 7:30PM TO 12:00AM) IN THE
FBI HEADQUARTERS BUILDING ON THE 8TH FLOOR.  YOU DO NOT NEED
TO BRING ANY MONEY OR FOOD.  ALL THAT HAS BEEN TAKEN CARE
OF.  PLEASE SHOW UP.  WE WILL HAVE A GREAT TIME.

SINCERELY,
THE FBI

THAT SOUNDED SOME WHAT FUN.  MAYBE SCULLY WOULD JOIN
HIM.  THAT WOULD BE ODD THOUGH.  THEM DANCING TOGETHER IN
FRONT OF ALL THE OTHER AGENTS.  THEM BEING CLOSE LIKE THAT
FOR A CHANGE.  HIM DANCING.  HE WOULD HAVE TO SHOW THAT TO
DANA, PERSUADE HER INTO GOING AND HAVING FUN.  MULDER WOULD
NOT LET HER SAY NO.  HE LOOKED AT HIS WATCH.  IT HAD BEEN
NEARLY A HOUR.  HE BETTER BE ON HIS WAY.
HE ENTERED THE ELEVATOR AND PUSHED THE NUMBER FOUR AS
THE DOORS CLOSED.  THE ELEVATOR SEEMED COLD.  COLDER THAN
NORMAL.  THE DOORS OPENED AND HE WALKED DOWN THE HALL AND
THEN TURNED TO FACE SCULLY’S DOOR.  FOUR-O-TWO STARED HIM IN
THE FACE.  HE KNOCKED.
“SCULLY, IT’S ME,” HE YELLED.
SCULLY WAS SITTING ON HER COACH FLIPING CHANNELS. SHE
GOT UP AND OPENED THE DOOR.  “HEY.”  SCULLY MOTIONED HIM
IN.  “I WAS HOPING YOU WOULDN’T DRESS UP OR ANYTHING.  I
THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE NICE TO DRESS CASUAL FOR A CHANGE.”
“YEAH, THAT IS WHAT I WAS THINKING TO.  HAVE YOU LOOKED
AT YOUR MAIL TODAY, SCULLY,” HE ASKED.
“NO, I HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN DOWN TO THE MANAGER’S OFFICE
TO GET IT.”
“WELL, MOST LIKELY YOU’LL FIND THIS,” HE SAID AS HE
PULLED THE BLUE ENVELOPE OUT OF HIS POCKET.  “OPEN IT.”
SHE DID AS SHE WAS TOLD AND BEGAN READING.  “A BALL?
WHAT GAVE THEM THE IDEA OF DOING SOMETHING LIKE THAT.  WHO
WOULD POSSIBLE SHOW TO UP TO DANCE.”

MOLDER LOOKED UP AT HER LOOKING HURT.  “I WOULD.  OR MAYBE
“WE” COULD.” SCULLY STARTED TO LAUGH.
“MULDER, I COULDN’T DANCE IF I TRIED.  DO YOU KNOW HOW
LONG IT HAS BEEN SINCE I DANCED,” SCULLY ASKED.
“I HAVEN’T DANCED IN FOR EVER EITHER SCULLY BUT WE
COULD TEACH EACH OTHER.”
“WE BETTER GO TO THAT MOVIE WE PLANNED ON OR IT IS
GOING TO START WITHOUT US.”
“THE MOVIE THEATER IS BEING PUT UNDER CONSTRUCTION AND
THE OTHER ONE IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN.  WE WOULD NEVER
MAKE IT ON TIME.  I SAW THE SIGN IN FRONT OF THE THEATER ON
THE WAY OVER.  WE COULD JUST RENT INSTEAD OR FLIP CHANNELS.
MAYBE EVEN TEACH EACH OTHER HOW TO DANCE AGAIN.”  HE LOOKED
UP AT HER AGAIN GIVING HER HIS BEST SMILE.  HE APPROACHED
SCULLY GRABBING HER HAND IN A DANCING MOTION.
“COME ON SCULLY JUST ONE DANCE.  WHERE IS YOUR RADIO,”
MULDER ASKED.
“OVER THERE IN THE KITCHEN.  THERE IS A PLUG IN HERE.
BUT I’M TELLING YOU NOW THAT I AM ONLY DANCING TO ONE SONG
AND THAT IS IT,” SULLY SAID WITH A SERIOUSNESS HE HAD NEVER
HEARD BEFORE.  MULDER PLUGED IN THE RADIO AND TURNED IT ON.
HE BEGAN TUNNING ON ONE OF THE 80’S STATIONS.  AS SOON AS IT
WAS TUNED HE HEARD THE D.J’S VOICE.
“THIS IS A NEW SONG FROM THE BROADWAY PRODUCTION RENT.
IT’S CALLED I’LL COVER YOU.”
THE MUSIC BEGAN.  MULDER GRAPED SCULLY’S HANDS AGIAN
AND BEGAN “TRYING” TO DANCE.  THEY SWAYED BACK AND FORTH.
MULDER LIFTED SCULLY’S HEAD UP.
“DON’T WORRY ABOUT STEPPING ON MY FEET.”

LIVE IN MY HOUSE
I’LL BE YOUR SHELTER

“I WASN’T WORRIED ABOUT STEPPING ON YOUR FEET.  I WAS
WORRIED THAT YOU WOULD STEP ON MINE.”  THEY BOTH CHUCKLED.

JUST PAY ME BACK WITH ONE THOUSAND KISSES
BE MY LOVER AND I’LL COVER YOU

“YOU KNOW SCULLY WE AREN’T IN SOME MIDDLE SCHOOL GYM
WHERE THEY SAY YOU HAVE TO BE ARMS LENGTH AWAY FROM EACH
OTHER.”  MULDER STEPPED A FEW FEET CLOSER.  MULDER WAS SOME
WHAT WAS ENJOYING THIS.  EVEN THOUGH HE CARED SO MUCH ABOUT
HER HE NEVER HAD TIME TO SHOW IT.  ALWAYS OUT CHASING
SOMETHING.  THE WORDS ROLLED ON.

ALL MY LIFE I’VE LONGED TO DISCOVER
SOMETHING AS TRUE AS THIS

SCULLY LOOKED UP INTO MULDER’S HAZEL EYES.  THE
TWINKLED TONIGHT.  MUCH MORE THAN USUAL.  THEY LOOKED AS
THOUGH THEY LONGED TO TELL HER SOMETHING.  A FOR LONGED
SECRET KEPT INSIDE.  SCULLY BLUSHED.  SHE HAD LOVED MULDER
SINCE SHE HAD FIRST MET HIM FOUR LONG YEARS AGO.  WHY SHE

NEVER REALLY SHOWED HIM WAS A QUESTION SHE LONGED TO FIND
THE ANSWER TO.
“YOU KNOW MULDER, EVEN IF I DID GO TO THIS BALL I
WOULDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO WEAR,” SCULLY SAID.
“I’M SURE YOU COULD FIND SOMETHING TO WEAR.  IT DOESN’T
HAVE TO BE THAT FANCY, YOU KNOW.”  THE SONGS CHORUS BEGAN
MAKING THE BEAUTIFUL SLOW SONG NO MORE.  SCULLY BACKED AWAY.
“WHY DID YOU STOP?  THE SONG IS NOT OVER.  YOU PROMISED
TO DANCE THE ENTIRE SONG.”
“MULDER, I’M TIRED AND THE CHORUS OF THE SONG ISN’T AS
SLOW AS THE REST OF THE SONG.  YOU CAN’T DANCE SLOW LIKE
THAT.  I NEED TO GO TO BED.
“WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO HELP YOU TO BED?”
“MULDER…”  SHE HUSHED HER SELF WITHOUT MAKING HER
SELF SOUND MORE REJECTED.  IF SHE TURNED DOWN HIS PROPOSAL
HE MIGHT NOT THINK SHE HAD THE SAME FEELINGS AS HIM.  “JUST
GO AHEAD AND MAKE SOME COFFEE.  I’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND.”
MULDER SMILED.  HE WAS GLAD SHE HAD NOT HAD SAID NO.  HE
QUICKLY BEGAN MAKING THEIR COFFEE.  HE DASHED SOME SUGER IN
TO HER GLASS.  MAYBE WAKE HER UP.
THE LAST DROP DROPPED OUT OF THE COFFEE POT.  HE POURED
THE COFFEE INTO THE MUGS.  AS HE ENTERED THE LIVING ROOM HE
SAW HER LYING ON THE COACH.  SHE WORE A LIGHT RED LONG SILK
GOWN.  HE COULDN’T HELP BUT STOP AND STARE.  SHE LOOKED
AWESOME.
“WHAT MULDER?”
“OH, NOTHING.”  HE HANDED HER HER GLASS.
“THANKS.”
“NO, PROBLEM.”  SHE SAT UP GIVING HIM ROOM.  SHE SIPPED
HER BOILING COFFEE.  THE HOTNESS MADE HER EVEN MORE SLEEPY.
THE SUGAR DID NO GOOD.  HER EYE LIDS STRAINED TO STAY OPEN.
MULDER SAW WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IF SHE FEEL ASLEEP.  SO
HE GRABBED HER CUP.  HE PLACED IT ON THE COFFEE TABLE.  HER
EYES FINALLY WENT COMPLETELY  SHUT.  HER HEAD DROPPED ON HIS
SHOULDER.  SHE WAS IMMEDIATELY ASLEEP.
HE GOT UP EVER SO SLOWLY SO HE WOULDN’T WAKE HER.  HE
LAYED HER HEAD ON A PILLOW AND PUSHED HER AUBURN HAIR OFF
HER FACE.  HE STARED AT HER.  HOW BEAUTIFUL SHE LOOKED.  SO
ELEGANT.  SO PEACEFUL.  HE BENT DOWN AND KISSED HER CHEEK
WITH A SLIGHT BRUSH.  HE THREW THE SHAW THAT LAY OVER HER
COACH ONTO HER.  MULDER TURNED OFF THE LAMP AND OPENED THE
DOOR.  NOT YET LEAVING.  HE LOCKED THE DOOR AND TURNED TO
LOOK AT HER ONCE MORE.
“GOOD NIGHT DANA.”  HE SHUT THE DOOR.

*** THE NEXT NIGHT ***

MULDER SAT UP IN HIS BED.  HE LOOKED AT HIS CLOCK THAT
READ 10:34PM.  HE HADN’T TALKED TO SCULLY SINCE LAST NIGHT
WHEN HE LEFT HER TO SLEEP.  HE WAS BORED OUT OF HIS MIND.
HE HAD SPENT HIS WHOLE DAY JUST SITTING IN HIS BED WATCHING
TV, LISTING TO GAMES ON THE RADIO AND LOOKING OVER A OLD AND
DUSTY X-FILE.  WHY HADN’T SCULLY CALLED.  MAYBE SHE WASN’T
FEELING WELL.  SHOULD HE CALL HER?  MULDER DECIDED NOT TO

BOTHER.  IF SHE HAD WANTED TO TALK, SHE WOULD HAVE CALLED.
HE SHOULD GET A GOOD NIGHTS SLEEP FOR THE FOLLOWING NIGHT
AHEAD.  HE TURNED OFF HIS LAMP AND FELL ASLEEP.
SCULLY HAD SLEPT MOST OF THE DAY AWAY.  THE FLIGHT BACK
HAD CAUGHT UP WITH HER.  SHE HAD AWOKEN THAT NEXT AFTERNOON
LYING ON THE COACH WITH THE SHAWL OVER HER.  WHEN HAD MULDER
LEFT?  HOW LATE WERE THEY UP.  SHE LOOKED INTO HER MUG FULL
OF COFFEE.  MOST LIKELY NOT LONG.  SCULLY COULD SLIGHTLY
REMEMBER DRINKING THE COFFEE AND THEN DOSING OFF.  SHE
WONDERED IF HE HAD CALLED WHILE SHE SLEPT.  OH WELL, SHE HAD
TO CLEAN UP HER APARTMENT AND FIND A DRESS IF SHE WAS GOING
TO THIS BALL TOMORROW.
AFTER HOURS OF CLEANING HER APARTMENT SCULLY TURNED ON
HER RADIO THAT WAS STILL PLUGGED INTO HER WALL IN THE LIVING
ROOM.  SHE WAS SICK OF THE SILENCE.  SHE COULDN’T TAKE IT ANY
LONGER.  AS SOON AS THE RADIO WAS TURNED ON THE SONG THAT
SHE AND MULDER HAD DANCED TO CAME ON.  IT HAD JUST BEGAN.
SCULLY SIGHED.
“NOW IT IS GOING TO HAUNT ME FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.”
THE WHOLE NIGHT MULDER DIDN’T CALL OR COME BY.  SHE WAS
SURPRISED HE HADN’T ALL READY COME BY ASKING FOR JUST ONE
MORE DANCE.  SCULLY FAINTLY REMEMBERED THE NIGHT.  SHE HAD
BEEN SO TIRED.  SHE COULD REMEMBER THEM SWAYING BACK AND
FORTH TO THE SLOW BEAT OF THE MUSIC.  MULDER’S GENTLY
HOLDING HER.  THAT WOULD BE NIGHT TO REMEMBER.  ALWAYS.
SHE HAD LOOKED THROUGH ALL OF HER CLOTHES THAT DAY
TOSSING THINGS ALL ABOUT HER ROOM.  SHE WAS BEGINNING TO
BECOME FRANTIC WHEN SHE PULLED OUT A DRESS SHE WORE SEVERAL
YEARS BACK TO A DANCE AT COLLEGE.  IT WASN’T REAL FANCY NOR
DULL.  IT HAD IT’S OWN BEAUTY TO IT.  ANYWAY BLUE STOOD OUT
ON HER WITH HER RED HAIR.  SCULLY PICKED UP ALL HER OTHER
CLOTHES WHEN SHE NOTICED THE TIME.  11:48PM.  SHE BETTER GO
TO BED.

*** THE NEXT MORNING ***

THE PHONE IN MULDER’S ROOM RANG.  MULDER STILL HALF A
SLEEP PICKED IT UP.
“HELLO,” HE MURMURED.
“GOOD MORNING AGENT MULDER.  THIS ASSISTANT DIRECTER
SKINNER.  I WAS CALLING TO SEE IF YOU WERE COMING TO THE
BALL TONIGHT.  ARE YOU COMING,” SKINNER ASKED.
“YEAH, I AM.  I AM BRINGING AGENT SCULLY ALONG WITH
ME.”
“YOUR BRINGING AGENT SCULLY!?,” SKINNER SAID SOUNDING A
LITTLE SHOCKED.
“YES, IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT,” MULDER
ASKED.
“NO. NO, I WAS JUST A LITTLE SURPRISED.  THATS ALL.
WELL, I HAVE SEVERAL OTHER AGENTS TO CALL SO I NEED TO GO.
I’LL SEE YOU TONIGHT AGENT MULDER.  BYE.”
“BYE.” MULDER LOOKED AT HIS CLOCK NEXT TO HIS BED.  IT
READ 10:38AM.  TIME TO GET UP HE THOUGHT.  THE SUN PEEKED
THROUGH HIS CURTAINS.  HE WAS HUNGRY.  MULDER SEARCHED HIS

REFRIGERATOR BUT FOUND NOTHING GOOD TO EAT.  HE HADN’T BEEN
IN HIS HOUSE THIS LONG IN FOREVER.  IT WAS ODD.
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN SCULLY SAT ON HER FLOOR IN
BETWEEN HER COACH AND COFFEE TABLE.  SHE WAS EATING SOME
CORN FLAKES DOWSED WITH SUGER.  SHE SIPPED HER ORANGE JUICE.
SHE THOUGHT ABOUT THE THE BALL THAT WAS GOING TO BE HELD
THAT NIGHT.  SHOULD SHE GO?  SHE ALREADY TOLD MULDER SHE
WOULD BUT THERE HAD BEEN SEVERAL TIMES WHEN MULDER NEVER
SHOWED UP PLACES WHERE THEY PLANNED ON MEETING.
WHAT WAS SHE THINKING.  TONIGHT WAS GOING TO BE FUN.
BEING WITH MULDER AND DANCING WITH HIM.  MAYBE EVEN MEETING
SOME NEW PEOPLE.  GARFIELD AND FRIENDS WERE ON.  NOT THAT
SCULLY WATCHED CARTOONS BUT SHE HADN’T SEEN A CARTOON SEEN
IN SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHEN.  HER HAIR POOFED IN ALL DIRECTIONS.
SHE WAS MOST LIKELY GOING TO HAVE TO PIN IT BACK TONIGHT.

*** 6:53PM ***

MULDER SLIPPED INTO HIS BLACK AND WHITE SUITE.  HE
THOUGHT HE RESEMBLED A PENGUIN HE HAD RENTED IT FROM THE
PLACE DOWN THE STREET.  MULDER DIDN’T WANT TO WEAR HIS EVERY
DAY WORK CLOTHES TONIGHT.  HE RAN HIS FINGERS THROUGH HIS
HAIR ONCE.  HE PICKED UP HIS PHONE AND QUICKLY DIALED
SCULLY’S NUMBER.  HE COULD DIAL HER NUMBER IN HIS SLEEP.
SCULLY SAT IN FRONT OF HER BATHROOM MIRROR HOLDING A
PIN IN HER MOUTH AS SHE INSERTED ONE INTO HER HAIR.  SHE HAD
PUT HER HAIR UP INTO A BUN AND LET SOME SIDE PIECES DOWN.
HER PHONE RANG.
“HELLO.”
“HEY, SCULLY.  WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO PICK YOU UP?”
“NO THATS OKAY MULDER.  I’M NOT QUITE DONE AND IT’S
GONING TO TAKE ME A BIT TO GET COMPLETELY READY.  I’LL JUST
MEET YOU THERE OKAY?”
“OKAY, I’LL SEE YOU THEN.  BYE.”  HE HUNG UP BEFORE SHE
COULD RESPOND.  HER BLUE DRESS FELL RIGHT BELOW HER KNEES.
IT HAD LONG SLEEVES AND HAD A SLIGHT LOW CUT FRONT.  SHE
DIDN’T CARE.  IT WAS BETTER THAN WEARING HIS NORMAL WORK
CLOTHES.  SHE PLACED A PEARL EAR RINGS IN HER EARS.  THEY
HAD BEEN A PRESENT FROM HER MELISSA TWO YEARS AGO AND SHE
NEVER FOUND TIME TO WEAR THEM.  SHE GLANCED BACK AT THE
CLOCK AND IT READ 7:10PM.  SHE NEEDED TO GO.  SHE QUICKLY
CURLED HER LOSE PIECES OF HAIR AND SMOOTHED THE WRINKLES OUT
OF HER VELVET DRESS.  SHE GRABBED HER KEYS BUT FORGOT HER
CROSS NECKLACE.  SHE PICKED IT UP FROM HER DRESSER AND WAS
ON HER WAY.
MULDER ARRIVED ABOUT TWENTY EIGHT MINUTES BEFORE IT
ACTUALLY BEGAN.  HE STOOD TALKING WIH HIS FRIEND AGENT ALAN
BURGESS.
“DID YOU BRING ANYBODY MULDER,” AGENT BURGESS ASKED.
“YEAH, BUT SHE’S NOT HERE YET.  SHE SHOULD BE HERE
SOON,” MULDER REPLIED.
“WHO IS *SHE*?”
“AGENT DANA SCULLY.”

“REALLY!  AGENT SCULLY.  I DIDN’T KNOW YOU TWO WERE
INVOLVED.”
MULDER SMILED AT WHAT BURGESS SAID.  “WELL, WE AREN’T
REALLY.  WE JUST DECIDED TO GO AS FRIENDS.”
“YEAH, WHATEVER YOU SAY AGENT MULDER.  WE ALL KNOW
ABOUT YOU TWO.  WE AREN’T REALLY ALL THAT DENSE.”
“WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?  I KNOW I CARE ABOUT HER
BUT SHE IS MY PARTNER.  AM I SUPPOSED TO HATE HER OR
SOMETHING,” MULDER SLIGHTLY YELLED.
“NEVER MIND MULDER.  THERE SHE IS,” AGENT BURGESS SAID
AS SCULLY WALKED IN THE DOOR.  MULDER LEFT AGENT BURGESS TO
GO TOWARD SCULLY.  SHE SAW HIM COMING THROUGH THE SOME WHAT
CROWD THAT HAD FORMED.  MULDER RAISED HIS HAND TO MAKE SURE
SHE SAW HIM.
“HEY SCULLY.  YOU LOOK GOOD,” MULDER SAID.
“THANKS.  YOU DON’T LOOK HALF BAD YOUR SELF.  THERE ARE
MORE PEOPLE HERE THAN I THOUGHT.”
“SEE SCULLY THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO KNOW HOW TO
DANCE.  UNLIKE US.”  SHE SMILED.  THEY BEGAN WALKING TOWARD
THE REFRESHMENT TABLE.  “WOULD YOU LIKE SOMETHING TO DRINK,”
HE ASKED HER?
“SURE, IS IT PUNCH,” SHE PONDERED.  (COULD IT POSSIBLE
BE SPIKED)
“THATS WHAT I’M THINKING.”  HE HANDED HER HER PLASTIC
CUP.  SHE RETURNED IT WITH A SMILE.  A SCULLY SMILE.  THE
D.J’S VOICE CAME ON THROUGH THE SPEAKERS.
“WELL, HERE WE ARE AT THE 1ST ANNUAL BALL EVER TO BE
HELD FOR THE FBI,” CRACKED THE YOUNG AGENT WHO WAS ASKED TO
BE A D.J.  “EVEN IF THIS IS A BALL YOU ALL CAN DANCE TO
THESE FASTER ONES.  THE FIRST SONG IS ONE OF MY FAVORITES
AND I CANT WAIT TO SEE ALL OF YOU DANCING TO IT.  IT IS THE
MOCKERANA!”  THE SONG BEGAN TO GO THROUGH THE SPEAKERS.
SCULLY LOOKS OVER AT MULDER TO FIND HIM HAVING THIS AWKWARD
SMILE ON HIS FACE.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT MULDER.  YOU GO RIGHT AHEAD AND DANCE
TO IT.  I’LL WATCH YOU FROM HERE,” SHE ORDERED.
“YOU’RE NO FUN YOU PARTY POOPER.”  HE JOINED THE
EXCITED CROWD.  SCULLY ONLY LAUGHED AT HIM.  THE REST OF THE
NIGHT DREW ON AND SCULLY KEPT ON TURNING DOWN MULDER’S
PROPOSALS TO DANCE.  THE CLOCK ON THE WALL READ 10:48PM.
“OKAY, THIS WILL BE OUR LAST DANCE FOR THE NIGHT.  IT’S
A SLOW ONE AND IT’S MENS CHOICE,” THE D.J SAID TIREDLY.
“ALRIGHT SCULLY.  I’M NOT TAKING NO FOR A ANSWER.”  HE
GRABBED HER HAND AND PULLED HER TO THE CENTER OF THE FLOOR.
THE SONG BEGAN.  HE PULLED HE CLOSE.  MULDER’S EYES LOCKED
ON HERS AND HERS WITH HIS.

YOUR EYES, THE ONES THAT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE
THE NIGHT YOU CAME INTO MY LIFE
WHERE THERE’S MOONLIGHT I SEE YOUR EYES

“YOU COULD HAVE JUST ASKED YOU KNOW.  YOU DIDN’T HAVE
TO PULL ME OUT LIKE THAT,”  SHE SPOKE ANGRILY.

“IF I DIDN’T WE WOULDN’T BE THE CENTER OF ATTENTION,”
HE WHISPERED.  SHE LOOKED AWAY FROM HIS HAZEL EYES AND
PEERED ABOUT THE DIMMED ROOM.  THEY WERE THE CENTER OF
ATTENTION.  SEVERAL COUPLES WHO WERE DANCING JUST STARED.

HOW’D I LET YOU SLIP AWAY WHEN I’M LONGING TO HOLD YOU
NOW I’D DIE FOR ON MORE DAY ‘CAUSE THERE’S SOMETHING I
SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU

HE TURNED HER HEAD TOWARD HIM AGAIN.  THERE EYES LOCKED
ONCE MORE.  SCULLY STARED IN TO THEM.  THEY WERE THE MOST
BEAUTIFUL COLOR EYES SHE HAD EVER SEEN.  THEY TWINKLED SO.
SHE NEVER WANTED TO LET GO OF HIM AGAIN.  SHE LAYED HER HEAD
ON HIS CHEST.  HIS HEART PONDED SO VERY STRONG.  MULDER
SWAYED BACK AND FORTH WISHING HE HAD MADE THE D.J DEDICATE
THIS SONG TO HER.  IT WAS SO TRUE.  IT TOOK THE WORDS RIGHT
OUT OF HIS MOUTH.

I SHOULD TELL YOU I SHOULD TELL YOU
I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED YOU
YOU CAN SEE IT IN MY EYES

MULDER PICKED HER HEAD OFF HIS CHEST AND STARED INTO
HER EYES ONCE MORE.  HE NO LONGER RESIST.  HE LEANED FORWARD
AND BRUSHED HIS LIPS GENTLY AGAINST HERS.  HE PULLED AWAY.
SCULLY’S EYES ASKED SO MANY QUESTIONS.
“THAT SONG SAYS EVERYTHING,” HE WHISPERED.  MULDER COULD
SENSE ALL THE EYES.  ESPECIALLY AGENT BURGESS’S EYES.  “EVEN
THOUGH I HAVE NEVER TOLD YOU DANA, I HAVE ALWAYS FELT THAT
WAY.  FROM THE VERY DAY I LAYED EYES ON YOU.”  MULDER LOOKED
UP AND NOTICED EVERY BODY HAD STEPPED OF THE DANCE FLOOR TO
WATCH THIS REMARKABLE EVENT.  THEY STOPPED DANCING AND TOOK
EACH OTHERS HANDS.
“FOX…I LOVE YOU, TOO.”  HOOTS AND HOLLERS WERE HEARD
ALL OVER THE ROOM.  SCULLY RETURNED MULDER’S KISS.

-THE END-

DEDICATED TO BUDDY WHO WITHOUT HIM THIS WOULD HAVE
NEVER BEEN POSSIBLE.  IT WOULD HAVE JUST BECOME ONE OF
SEVERAL OTHER X-FILES.  THANKS BUDDY!

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