flickfolks – Crew/ Talent/ Projects/ Gear/ Jobs

Here is a sample of my writing:

Bubbles spiraled upwards, over, around, in, through and among the
leafy sticks and debris that laced the calm, dark, flowing water,
emanating from within the heroes gut and out of his nostrils, there
was only one destination for their journey be it ever so brief; the
surface, where they would be releaseed from beneath the water and set
free, free to rejoin their family in the infinite air, outside of
their submarine origin where for time immemorial they would be
welcomed, an eternal resting place where they would coexist
peacefully, out of harms way, and inconspicuous to the outside world.
He was sub-surface napping, resting from a day full of fly catching,
trapsing with his brothers around the swampy marsh, and he had dozed
off when one of his regular philosophical examinations pertaining to
his station in life and his desires to be noticed by all the other
frogs in the forest led him nowhere in particular. His sleep was
restful and eas nearing it’s fruition anyway when a big tremor sent a
shockwave through his spine and he was jolted awake.
“Wakey wakey little Jakey”. Spikey Pete the snapping turtle whistled
at our hero, smirking as he floated by effortlessly.
“Hey Petey where you headed?”, Jake scrambled to his feet trying to
catch up to his scary looking pal who, if he so desired, could swallow
him whole in one bite.
“You know, this way or that, whichever way the current takes me.”
Jake laughed at the nonchalance of his pal and secretly wished he
could feel the same way sometimes.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Feel free big man.”
And they were off.

Marsh, estuary, wetlands, whatever you called it, it was home. The
boys played twig hopping from sun up to sundown and never grew tired
of the monotony. Everyone except one that is. This estuary was
similar to most others in that it was a hub for all forms of life;
from the reptilian and the slow moving alligators and snappers to the
tree dwelling winged creatures and every form of vegetation you could
imagine. Still, it had it’s own characteristics; eight creeks fed
into or out of the heavy area, four into it up from the upper end and
four out of it from the lower end. Everybody lived around the edge of
the main body o water, where they were free to lounge in the sun and
take a quick hop into the basin. There was a heavy grass system
emanating from the center which spread out in finger formations
darting through the surrounding deeper water-like ponds. Jake
preferred spending his time in the creeks feeding away from his home
and that is where Pete had stumbled upon him earlier in the day.

Dreams were meant to come true here. Possibility was a regular subject
for family discussion and rarely was any wish deemed out of reach.
There was little to no human element tied into the marsh and each
creek ran as clear as a babys urine. Time was spent in and among
groups comprised of friends upon friends, each in their own peculiar
element. The flys spent their time dreaming of being huge ferocious
frog eating monsters, the frogs of being gargantuan leapers of the
trees themselves. The birds flew and frollicked in an orgy of gay
cheer that never seemed to dissipate, and whenever a member of any
group was lost the rest cheered because they were glad to be of the
knowledge that they would be granted another day to play and make
merry and spread joy devoid of fear or fear of reprimands for any
action deemed eronious or misguided. You see while their memories
were alive, they were only alive insofar as joy would allow them to
thrive. There was no sadness, no anger, no resentment, and above all
no fear, and in just such a capacity, everyone would learn how Jake
was so different. He was afraid of the unknown, the uncertainty of
the future; when his friends passed or were swept away with the howlin
of te trees and the flowing waters of the great storms that passes
from time to time, he mourned their loss; but he was forced to do so
silently as the requisite behavior in the marsh at te sight if such
behavior was the reticent blank stare, followed by a complete
avoidance of the subject.

To him all of the pleasant antics rubbed him the wrong way, and anyone
who expressed warm feelings or who attempted to be nice to him was a
pest.

There was one girl who pretended not to notice that he wa hea over
heels in love with her, and instead of returning his attentive gaze
which fell on her everytime they exchanged a glance in passing, she
would immediately run off and flirt with the most annoying toad in the
whole pond, Barky. Barky an Jake had a bit of a history together,
like when Jakes team was at the head of the pack during the annual
obstacle course relay race, Barky had set up a booby trap which caused
the key twig to snap on him on his way up the last tree that led to
the finish line and victory. Jakes heart became twisted with hatred
for Barky when he saw him keeled over and embroiled in laughter at the
sight of poor Jake recoiling backwards at the end of the epic race.
There were other instances as well, for when Jake was a mere tadpole
Barky, who was always a little bigger and stronger, would shove Jake
out of line for the feeding banquet and vanquish any chances e might
have had at becoming a well liked tad by telling fobs about him to the
other tad girls and boys such as; he was a thumb sucker, his grandpa
had run the other way during the great battle of the estuary ten years
ago (nothing bothered Jake more than this tid bit of falsehood for his
grandfather had been one of, if not te greatest heroes of the day, it
was only his own humility which kept him from sharing the virtuous
deeds he committe that fateful day which left hundreds of his kinsman
buried, flesh rotting in the mud from that day forth), among numerous
others not least of which was Barky’s proclivity to torture young Jake
with endless pursuits and flirtations with Cora, Jakes one and only
true love. Jake was feeling freshly burned from a fresh encounter
with the whole crew when h meandered home to find his GPa rocking
gently on the water lilly, his usual spot, out front of the pad
smoking a nice moss-lined stogie,
“Hey GPa,”
“Hows my boy doing today?,” GPa spouted feeling confident as to the
response.
“Eh, alright I guess.”
“You know Jake, there are so many leaves here in the marsh that each
one of us and every other living creature under the stars that calls
it home could wrap up ten of them and have ten beds and sleep
peacefully right up there in the trees and not worry about flooding or
snakes and never have a worry in the world. You know why Jake?”
“No GPa.”
“Come on boy! Venture a guess! You know I raised you better than
that!”
“Because we would be high up off the ground.”
“Good one. Good guess. But nope, that’s not it. It’s because the
leaves Jake, they will always grow back, and there is nothing you or
anyone else can do about it to change that.”
“Thanks GPa.”
“But it doesn’t work out that way son. You know why? Because none of
us can get along. We see each other and we see how each of us is
different and we steer clear of each other, and nothing ever changes.
I admire you boy, how you hang out with those slow movin turtles and
sometimes web talk to the birds. No one else, there is no one else
quite like you, and let me tell you, THAT, is a good thing. You go
get some rest now son, and don’t let that bully bother you. Your
mother told me how he’s been acting lately and trust me, I’m not the
only one who ain’t blind around here.”
His GPas words punctuated by his smooth truncated voice cheered him
tremendously, an he hopped into te house and straight to his barnacle
bed to think about who else, Cora.