T h e r e w i l l b e n i g h T

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window."

The camera enters the cabin through the window, a conversation is taking place. The shot settles itself right in the middle of the action with a 365° panoramic year-view.

“I cannot wrap my mind around it, it is so complex so sophisticated that I really don’t believe any of us can do anything to stop it from happening.” says one (whom shall be called 1 from now on)

The secret assembly had some of the most violently dominating elders burying the hatched and sharing a joint. They were all a bunch of hooded silhouettes, all tagged, question marked.

2 says: “Well, you know what they say about complexity, it is best met with simplicity, which one of us is the simpletron?”

366 raises her hand. Or his, difficult to say from this angle.

The camera is both spot and shot. On the spot taking the shot. For the record.

“I believe it is I.”

66 says: “Unhood yourself and unanonymate yourself.”

366 let her hood and cape slide over her naked body, unveiling a series of very complex and provocative tats all across her handles. The many handles she could be reined with, strapped with, controlled. And the tats invited the watcher to steer her into shot. unadulterated shot where she could be declared the cyclical winner of the most unpredictable associations.

“My name is Miss February Twentynine. I am the shortest day of the century.”

99 which was seated opposite 66 in this strange circle inside the cabin, with the candle that is now lit but without shrinking. The camera zooms in on all associates present and discussing their own apparition. Alien tele-transportation through space and time whilst having the most ridiculous conversations.

1: ”Do you believe you can dismantle the predicament we find ourselves in, Miss February Twentynine? Can you say how you will proceed?”

366: “No, elder One, But I used to do 3hrs long porn shots. I know my way around a flaccid pole that has lost all magnetism. I know my way around spitting and tugging at the sensitive skin and rip my needles in, with a precision of a night time gaolbriggerd.”

“What the fuck is a gaolbriggerd?”

“It is the Gaol that briggs. You don’t know the words Elder One?”

“You poos featherfucker, coming in with your fancy words, One lettered syllable sucking hatch, go feather yourself into the nicest giggles Zitch, Fuck this I am out of this EGA!”

Elder one leaves the mush-room.

The others start to fuck as if freed for the first time.

The camera captures gonzo shots of petal pearls splashing into water, slow motion, differently pitched cow sounds ring like bells each time a gaolbrigger briggs some gaol. The mush-room is now moist and sweaty as fuck. No one understands what’s going on. The high keeps on getting higher until reaching volcanic proportions.

It was now night

500 comes in all of a sudden.

“You Pus loving fickle flowers! I was sent here by G0 to clean up this dirty mess. 77 seconds is al I get to throw the bin out with you clearly way out of your socks. I will bleu the snot out of your noses you twinkle eyed fusfecksters. I am tired of this shot. Give me my moon ey. My moon ey!!!! This story is going no where, all aboard the rift we’re leaving.”

They all pop away, like lift-balloons. Ejected.

The camera lingers a while and captures the candle that is still.