I replayed the footage of last night. I can’t believe I broke into the school and took the tape just so I wouldn’t get caught. All of this for a paper. God i hate high school.
Kayla
“We have footage of the incident from three different angles.”, the official told me. “And we’ve watched them over and over, but we still don’t know how he did it!”
Everyone saw the footage of the shooting that night. No one cared to bow out of viewing the videos, haphazardly recorded on someone’s smartphone. No one spoke the entire time, the audio rattling our skulls as the screams for help never seemed to lose timbre or pitch.
Gerald sat the closest to the computer screen, fingers shaking so fast that even his knuckles seemed to blur. He watched the old man pinned down again and again, helpless against the cop’s cold gun.
Belinda Roddie
Roll back the footage. Pay attention. Analyze the scene. Pick out every detail. Distort every detail. Worry about every detail. Over. Over. Over. And over again.
I love photography. Although I know I am not the best, there are few things that make me happier or inspire me more than taking pictures of nature. I often stay up late at night only to take photos of the moon outside my window, or the thunderstorm keeping me awake. I often take my best pictures when I least expect to.
Sam
The footage of the man in the demented mask
Crawling acrosd the floor on his hands and feet
Pushing the two blades into the woman’s neck as she screams
He presses them in
Oh
So
Slowly
And blood is pouring out
And she’s dying,
Dying,
She’s dead
It’s burned into my brain
It’s driving me insane
The footage played over and over again before her eyes. She couldn’t keep her fingers off the replay button even though she didn’t really want to watch the clip a seventh time. She could not believe what was being played out in front of her eyes. This must be some mistake. There was no way that was him. No. It couldn’t be.
The footage showed the assailant leaving by the side door carry a large tray of lasagna. No one knows where the man currently is, but police strongly suggest that you hide your garlic bread and Parmesan cheese.
Saturday night I went out dancing
kind of didnt want to
was feeling lazy and introspective
but i went out
to support the friends who were throwing the party
even though i didn’t feel very social
and kind of felt
like spending the weekend in the mountains
with a friend
for his birthday
taking some time to think.
Broke my foot dancing
in bare feet
on carpet
(when i bust it out on the dance floor, i bust it)
took myself to the emergency
a little drunk
but not too bad
for 230 am
stayed there a few days
had surgery
titanium plate and screws in there now
looks pretty badass
now im at home, starting week 2 off work
guess i got that time to reflect after all
careful what you wish for
footage. i thought about it hard and i looked at what the others wrote and i still can’t think of one. single. thing. to write about that doesn’t remind me of the footage i destroyed of you and me together when i was twelve and hurt and lost. goodbye.
kat
Acrid. The documentary we watched.
Tape. Gum. Pop.
Taught like a drum.
Hiss like a snake.
I’ve heard this rattle before.
I had been gathering footage all day, I was beginning to become restless and hopeless. It was as if there was nothing new in the world. I felt like everything had been done and there was nothing left for me to discover. I had nothing that i could claim to have created because it had all already been done.
The footage cut from the movie portrayed a strange gray do with a hint of light eminating from its eyes. The dog was chewing on what appeared to be a small plastic rabbit with the squeeker ripped from its nose. In the background are what appear to be 3 eight year old children.
The reel continued to spin. I glanced back over at the worn screen, displaying an equally worn out film. The footage was blank and ruined in some parts but the different scenes had managed to capture a lost world of incredible beauty.
I sat in silence as the footage played in front of me. It flickered and danced, as it the film could not believe what it was showing, as I could not believe what I was seeing. Silently, tears streaked my face, trembling as they reached my jaw and then dropping to my shirt unheeded.
I have found some footage that revealed secrets of massive importance to me. I shall share it with the world, but I fear that it will make me a martyr. It will never believe in me or in the integrity of the footage until I am gone, and can no longer speak in support of it.
Tejaswi
He stopped and looked at the footage that he’d captured. Her brown hair was slightly wind-swept, brushing across her face. She’d made no move to stop it, but rather kept her eyes down and lidded. He wasn’t sure if she knew he’d been watching her; wasn’t sure if she felt his len’s gaze. Did he care? No. She looked up and their eyes met. Life was about to begin.
There it was, lying as still as a corpse in the woods. Was there a slight movement or twitch? You wouldn’t know if you don’t squint hard enough. No matter, it was captured on film. All in the day’s work of a paranormal activity hunter
coffee-anarchy
There is footage of the thunder and lightning taken by my dad when I was little playing on the tv. I thought it was alive and kicking. The rumbling could have been my stomach.
I found footage of a cow getting shot four times.vi ran to the construction site, the image just burned though my head for hours on end. If that video went viral no one would care. Maybe it would help me get over it. I am twenty one, I am not lovely, nor alone, but this detached head of mine must have been beeaded last century.
Mark
I realised that I’d never actually loved shooting anything, as much as I loved the idea of being one of those clever guys that turned people’s ideas into something that could ultimately change someone’s life. It’s sad that I’ve fallen so far away from everything I ever wanted to do.
Maybe I should end it.
Alex M.
There was so much incriminating footage that Joel had a hard time editing it out. He knew his job was on the line, and his family’s fortune … not that there was much of a fortune to lose. That was the problem. In any case, it was up to him to spin gold from straw, and he wasn’t at all sure he was up to the task.
This made me remember a big truth about media that Jessica Savitch said once.
It was something like: ‘The bad news is that 40 people died in a hotel fire; the good news is that we got exclusive footage.’
It’s really true. I mean, think about it for a second. In the end, for those people who present or bring the news, it’s not important what happened as long as they are the ones who have exclusive photos and/or informations. As long as they gain money.
This made me remember a big truth about media that Jessica Savitch said once.
It was something like: ‘The bad news is that 40 people died in a hotel fire; the good news is that we got exclusive footage.’
I once saw a film that documented real footage of a woman who was lost. She was lost, but incredibly happy. She knew no one. She had no money. She was wandering. Looking. For what, no one knew. She said she will be looking for the rest of her life. When asked “For what?”, she replied, “A moment.”
Heatherann
recorded something or other of the relevent….perhaps just up for discussion ….the abundance of the footage that turns into meterage and then into mileage and when you really have a problem acreage. The pile looks down at you asking what are you going to do?
The television was on. It showed footage of some disaster in another country. It was quickly discarded for the local pet shelter trying to adopt out a dog. Priorities; yeah, we have have them here in America.
Kellie H.
I didn’t make a fool of myself for once. Even though I smashed three drinks in the matter of minutes. My tolerance seems to have risen. I am glad. The worst I did was show her my shoe collection. We talked about all things. And I made sure to keep from making anyone uncomfortable. Success!
This reminds me of a film it also makes me think about houses and foundations
Stan Chapman
The work was long done. Lights were flickering softly, disturbing peace in white room. Parts of clothing were still thrown around the place, on the ground. She had goosebumps all over her body. Maybe this was the last time.
She glanced the lens of the camera as she pointed it at the small child. Looking up she began to click away, catching shots as she followed his movements. She could not believe it had been so long since she had seen him last.
It is like watching footage of another’s life, this space I’m in, like wavering on the edge of unconsciousness, seeing the robotic rush of movements of others through a fisheye lens and being at once impartial and fearful, detached, a meaningless being belonging nowhere. How did I come to be in this place of things that have become familiar out of necessity? What of the place I came from? The dimness of my memory scares me the most, that I might leave and come back and have not even this inkling of who and where I am and what I am supposed to be doing.
news at eleven, we will have all the images fit to print, the dead babies, the patriotic song, the president’s statement. all citizens peering deeply into the abyss simultaneously
I just need to be honest so I’ll tell all of you that I have no idea what this word means. In Romanian it is translated as ‘pictures’, but I don’t know what to say about it, seriously.
I replayed the footage of last night. I can’t believe I broke into the school and took the tape just so I wouldn’t get caught. All of this for a paper. God i hate high school.
“We have footage of the incident from three different angles.”, the official told me. “And we’ve watched them over and over, but we still don’t know how he did it!”
.
Everyone saw the footage of the shooting that night. No one cared to bow out of viewing the videos, haphazardly recorded on someone’s smartphone. No one spoke the entire time, the audio rattling our skulls as the screams for help never seemed to lose timbre or pitch.
Gerald sat the closest to the computer screen, fingers shaking so fast that even his knuckles seemed to blur. He watched the old man pinned down again and again, helpless against the cop’s cold gun.
Roll back the footage. Pay attention. Analyze the scene. Pick out every detail. Distort every detail. Worry about every detail. Over. Over. Over. And over again.
I love photography. Although I know I am not the best, there are few things that make me happier or inspire me more than taking pictures of nature. I often stay up late at night only to take photos of the moon outside my window, or the thunderstorm keeping me awake. I often take my best pictures when I least expect to.
The footage of the man in the demented mask
Crawling acrosd the floor on his hands and feet
Pushing the two blades into the woman’s neck as she screams
He presses them in
Oh
So
Slowly
And blood is pouring out
And she’s dying,
Dying,
She’s dead
It’s burned into my brain
It’s driving me insane
The footage played over and over again before her eyes. She couldn’t keep her fingers off the replay button even though she didn’t really want to watch the clip a seventh time. She could not believe what was being played out in front of her eyes. This must be some mistake. There was no way that was him. No. It couldn’t be.
The footage showed the assailant leaving by the side door carry a large tray of lasagna. No one knows where the man currently is, but police strongly suggest that you hide your garlic bread and Parmesan cheese.
Saturday night I went out dancing
kind of didnt want to
was feeling lazy and introspective
but i went out
to support the friends who were throwing the party
even though i didn’t feel very social
and kind of felt
like spending the weekend in the mountains
with a friend
for his birthday
taking some time to think.
Broke my foot dancing
in bare feet
on carpet
(when i bust it out on the dance floor, i bust it)
took myself to the emergency
a little drunk
but not too bad
for 230 am
stayed there a few days
had surgery
titanium plate and screws in there now
looks pretty badass
now im at home, starting week 2 off work
guess i got that time to reflect after all
careful what you wish for
I play it back in my head
My memories flip, rewind, fuzz
I don’t know where we went wronggnorw tnew ew erehw wonk t’nod I
I’ve dreamed of you smiling
Oh how I miss your smileelims ruoy ssim I woh hO
Sometimes I thought you were my dream
We were in love for 443 days
I did not say it enough
You did not mean it enough
Too bad so saddas os dab ooT
I am still so saddas os llits ma I
footage. i thought about it hard and i looked at what the others wrote and i still can’t think of one. single. thing. to write about that doesn’t remind me of the footage i destroyed of you and me together when i was twelve and hurt and lost. goodbye.
Acrid. The documentary we watched.
Tape. Gum. Pop.
Taught like a drum.
Hiss like a snake.
I’ve heard this rattle before.
I would like to say
that between the cliff and ground
lies more than footage
I had been gathering footage all day, I was beginning to become restless and hopeless. It was as if there was nothing new in the world. I felt like everything had been done and there was nothing left for me to discover. I had nothing that i could claim to have created because it had all already been done.
The footage cut from the movie portrayed a strange gray do with a hint of light eminating from its eyes. The dog was chewing on what appeared to be a small plastic rabbit with the squeeker ripped from its nose. In the background are what appear to be 3 eight year old children.
The reel continued to spin. I glanced back over at the worn screen, displaying an equally worn out film. The footage was blank and ruined in some parts but the different scenes had managed to capture a lost world of incredible beauty.
I sat in silence as the footage played in front of me. It flickered and danced, as it the film could not believe what it was showing, as I could not believe what I was seeing. Silently, tears streaked my face, trembling as they reached my jaw and then dropping to my shirt unheeded.
The age of a foot, weather it be new born, middle aged or an elder the foot had and age!
I have found some footage that revealed secrets of massive importance to me. I shall share it with the world, but I fear that it will make me a martyr. It will never believe in me or in the integrity of the footage until I am gone, and can no longer speak in support of it.
He stopped and looked at the footage that he’d captured. Her brown hair was slightly wind-swept, brushing across her face. She’d made no move to stop it, but rather kept her eyes down and lidded. He wasn’t sure if she knew he’d been watching her; wasn’t sure if she felt his len’s gaze. Did he care? No. She looked up and their eyes met. Life was about to begin.
There it was, lying as still as a corpse in the woods. Was there a slight movement or twitch? You wouldn’t know if you don’t squint hard enough. No matter, it was captured on film. All in the day’s work of a paranormal activity hunter
There is footage of the thunder and lightning taken by my dad when I was little playing on the tv. I thought it was alive and kicking. The rumbling could have been my stomach.
I found footage of a cow getting shot four times.vi ran to the construction site, the image just burned though my head for hours on end. If that video went viral no one would care. Maybe it would help me get over it. I am twenty one, I am not lovely, nor alone, but this detached head of mine must have been beeaded last century.
I realised that I’d never actually loved shooting anything, as much as I loved the idea of being one of those clever guys that turned people’s ideas into something that could ultimately change someone’s life. It’s sad that I’ve fallen so far away from everything I ever wanted to do.
Maybe I should end it.
There was so much incriminating footage that Joel had a hard time editing it out. He knew his job was on the line, and his family’s fortune … not that there was much of a fortune to lose. That was the problem. In any case, it was up to him to spin gold from straw, and he wasn’t at all sure he was up to the task.
This made me remember a big truth about media that Jessica Savitch said once.
It was something like: ‘The bad news is that 40 people died in a hotel fire; the good news is that we got exclusive footage.’
It’s really true. I mean, think about it for a second. In the end, for those people who present or bring the news, it’s not important what happened as long as they are the ones who have exclusive photos and/or informations. As long as they gain money.
This made me remember a big truth about media that Jessica Savitch said once.
It was something like: ‘The bad news is that 40 people died in a hotel fire; the good news is that we got exclusive footage.’
I once saw a film that documented real footage of a woman who was lost. She was lost, but incredibly happy. She knew no one. She had no money. She was wandering. Looking. For what, no one knew. She said she will be looking for the rest of her life. When asked “For what?”, she replied, “A moment.”
recorded something or other of the relevent….perhaps just up for discussion ….the abundance of the footage that turns into meterage and then into mileage and when you really have a problem acreage. The pile looks down at you asking what are you going to do?
The television was on. It showed footage of some disaster in another country. It was quickly discarded for the local pet shelter trying to adopt out a dog. Priorities; yeah, we have have them here in America.
I didn’t make a fool of myself for once. Even though I smashed three drinks in the matter of minutes. My tolerance seems to have risen. I am glad. The worst I did was show her my shoe collection. We talked about all things. And I made sure to keep from making anyone uncomfortable. Success!
Footage of the Slender Man.
This reminds me of a film it also makes me think about houses and foundations
The work was long done. Lights were flickering softly, disturbing peace in white room. Parts of clothing were still thrown around the place, on the ground. She had goosebumps all over her body. Maybe this was the last time.
A rich dark brown bed of leaves provided the soft footage that her ravaged feet needed , and there was so much more to go.
She glanced the lens of the camera as she pointed it at the small child. Looking up she began to click away, catching shots as she followed his movements. She could not believe it had been so long since she had seen him last.
It is like watching footage of another’s life, this space I’m in, like wavering on the edge of unconsciousness, seeing the robotic rush of movements of others through a fisheye lens and being at once impartial and fearful, detached, a meaningless being belonging nowhere. How did I come to be in this place of things that have become familiar out of necessity? What of the place I came from? The dimness of my memory scares me the most, that I might leave and come back and have not even this inkling of who and where I am and what I am supposed to be doing.
news at eleven, we will have all the images fit to print, the dead babies, the patriotic song, the president’s statement. all citizens peering deeply into the abyss simultaneously
I just need to be honest so I’ll tell all of you that I have no idea what this word means. In Romanian it is translated as ‘pictures’, but I don’t know what to say about it, seriously.