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A friend of mine has inspired me to get back on this and express my ideas. I need this to be an experimental breeding groud for ideas that may, at first glance, not appear to be "valuable" enough to be put in a script.

Plus, having them typed out makes it easier to cut and paste it into a script once one of these imaginative mutants is deemed worthy of being in a play or as a play in itself.

Anyway. Since I have no new "mutants," I'll give a taste of the new version of All Grace, which is erupting out of me. I haven't touched the play in nearly as much time as I've left this blog unedited. So, anyway... There's this sculptor named Jacques Lipchitz. And he's trying to... create sculptures. And this happens to him one night:

A LAMB appears-- small and fragile. Its sounds are welcoming and friendly. LIPCHITZ is taken in by the LAMB. LIPCHITZ approaches it, careful not to scare it away.

LIPCHITZ extends his hand to the LAMB. As his fingers near the LAMB, the LAMB suddenly bursts into flames.

LIPCHITZ recoils.

The LAMB screams in pain. LIPCHITZ covers his hears, shuts his eyes.
The flames die down, the LAMB is gone.

LIPCHITZ crosses to where the LAMB had been standing. HE kneels, picks up a handful of ashes. HE lets the ashes fall through his fingers.