WOMANS INTUITION: A NOVEL - PART 2 of 3 (WOMANS INTUITON: A NOVEL)
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Camera moves forward. Cut to shot of at least twelve black middle-aged women in a pavilion-type wooden structure, all dressed in elaborate white gowns. At least four are sitting with their legs hanging over the side on the floor of the pavilion, and at least eight are standing.
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Camera pans behind women, who are perfectly still. She holds onto the railing of a wooden fence-like structure with her left hand. Able to exist in two places at once. Cut to shot of black woman in green dress, sitting on a set of wooden steps, eyes closed. Cut to shot of woman dressed in white, about ten feet away, rocking in rocking chair.
In the foreground, the leaves of a plant block the face of the woman in t he rocking chair. The past, and Cut to shot under the table, with backside of woman sitting at wooden porch steps in view, picking at something. What a fucking curse. Title is displayed over a zoom in on her chest area, the golden zipper on her black jacket being undone by her left hand.
Unzipping the jacket reveals a nude-colored dress. Close up shots of her calm face come, then, and one of her sleeping on the floor emerges. Wore white.
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O : Abstained from mirrors. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. Air bubbles come freely out of her mouth. Back to shot of body floating upwards towards light source above. Air bubbles float into her nose instead of out of it.
The Role of Women
I said Ameen. I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. Shot of her body floating upwards, eyes covered by bubbles, mouth slightly open, body language open and vulnerable. Her head pivots, mouth closing. More violent successions of shots, body warping quickly. The bubbles start moving into her nose instead of out of it. O : I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God.
Shot from behind her, maroon tarp floating freely in water. Light source shines directly on her face. Her face penetrates the curtain of bubbles as the shot progresses forward. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me? A monster truck enters left and begins crushing the line of cars on the far side of the street.
Cut to left-panning shot of a suburban neighborhood. Cut to the women, marching along in equally flashy getup. They perform different gymnastic moves as they proceed. Cut to a group of women in dresses with too-long sleeves standing together in a parking lot.
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They are writhing in unison. Water droplets fall from the ceiling, but the footage is reversed to make it appear they are falling upward. Cut to a closeup of the writhing women. Cut to a staircase in an abandoned building. Cut back to a closeup of the women, then to a wider shot, then back to a closeup. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. Cut back to the stairs. Pan below the upward flight to reveal the downward flight into darkness. All three of us, immortalized.
You and your perfect girl. Cut back to a closeup of the women. With their hands above their heads, they all bend backwards in unison. Cut to a flickering lightbulb. What I know is no one I know has it. She is dressed in fur and her hair is in cornrows. Fruit too ripe to eat. Cut to a Black woman sitting at a drum set. She is looking backwards over her shoulder at the camera. Cut to a distorted image of three women from behind, walking down the ramp of a parking garage. Cut to a clip of the drummer girl playing in slow motion. Why can't you see me?
Why can't you Why can't you see me? Everyone else can. She is motionless. The lights flicker on and off. Lights are reflecting off of its surface.
Cut to an assembly of feet lining the seats of the subway car. Cut to reveal the feet belong to a group of Black women, their faces painted in different white designs. They are swaying left to right in unison, and then begin to perform a choreographed dance. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted, most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness. Cut to a single person sitting alone in the subway car.
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Their face is obscured by a rimmed hat. Cut to an extreme closeup of lights playing off the roof of the subway car. Cut to an upward view of trees in the sunlight, then to the front of a manor surrounded by gardens. The camera follows them from behind, moving through the grass. Zoom on the streetlight until the light consumed the entire frame. Cut to a forward panning shot of a wet concrete floor doused in orange light. Wakes up smelling of zinc. Cut to a closeup of the fabric of a red dress. She is wearing the red dress.
Return to the upward panning shot on concrete. Wrap your legs around me and pull me in, pull me in, pull me in. She is wearing an ornate gold head adornment consisting of chains and spikes, and a patterned gold collar. Cut to black, then to a narrow hallway veiled in red light. There is a square of white light at the far end. Slow zoom towards the white square.
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Dear moon, we blame you for floods We blame you for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts. After the first few bars of the song, the music stops. Cut to a room lit with the same red light as the hallway. Cut to three other women who are also in the room. They are sitting side-by-side on a couch. Red lights flash across her face.
Slow zoom out to reveal she is standing in front of a burning building with four other women. They stand motionless in the smoke. Cut to a bayou, and then to a bedroom in a manor on the bayou. But for the first eight months hardly anybody bothered climbing those 21 steps. The few who did had a habit of inquiring about crystals, another subject about which the women knew nothing.
Then the nervous owners gambled and spent a few thousand dollars on a shipment of crystals—only to let the minerals sit in storage for a month.