https://artslondon.padlet.org/jwilcock0320211/srzizjjs9llqjmbn
No Thought Brainstorming
The route home was a straight forward and fast one. Every day without fail I’d walk through the increasingly cluttered ruins of a city once adored for it’s luxury. Stores would shut down, one after another every other day, untended to neon signs would blink and flicker till they were tired of illuminating the bleak corridors of concrete metal.
Despite this, like clockwork, the route home was the same. But for some reason, today feels different. The delipidated buildings felt closer. They felt alive. Something has changed, I’m not sure what but the street doesn’t feel how it used to. The little life that would sometimes make itself known was nowhere to be seen.
Every now and then, a stray can would fall from the upper levels, like asteroids attempting to wipe out what was left of the life at the bottom.
The walls felt as if they are drawing closer and closer. The dead ends and empty stairwells visible through windows and panels and broken door frames were alluring, but ultimately ineffective in their task of drawing me further into the dilapidated structures.
If you looked up the city would reveal the mess of pipes and bridges and whatever else was built for those in the classes above you and me.
Panic soon set in when I realised there was no going back or forwards, as darkness pulls on the corners of the dim neon sign lighting my space next to the heaping bin bags and rotting metals.
The empty abyss of the dark drew closer, lapping at my final lifeline home, the twitching neon lights of establishments long since abandoned.
Bullet Points
- Starts with speaker explaining route home through a ruined city’s cluttered pathways
- Exposition showing that the lower parts of the city have been left to ruin whilst the higher parts remain luxurious and thriving
- As the speaker continues their route, the darkness draws in and the walls fall closer and closer together
Draft 1
Anyone who lives on the ground level knows how important it is to get back before dark. As bothersome as it was to trudge through the discarded waste of the societies built above, it was miles faster than ascending the many winding and confusing stairways to reach the makeshift bridges. A rapidly approaching veil of night was rolling in over the city miles in the sky; the light pollution that would bleed down from the very top of the towering monoliths would only reach so far down for so long.
Otherworldly lights would alight the many dead ends and crumbling stairwells, visible through decaying doorways just off the main “street”. Though their warm glows were always alluring to passer-by’s, they were ultimately ineffective in their mission to draw the residents of the lower levels into their dilapidated structures.
Scuttling through the cluttered streets was a young girl, clutching her bag tightly to her chest. She spirited as if the darkness was targeting her, hunting her. As the walls drew closer and closer and the mess of pipes and bin bags grew more and more complex, she began to lose her footing. Soon enough she found herself flat on the ground, the darkness gnawing at her ankles. Her only saving grace, a toxic spill of luminous neon, spluttering across the composting grounds around her.
Final Draft
Anyone who lives on the ground level knows how important it is to get back before dark. As bothersome as it was to trudge through the discarded waste of the societies built above, it was faster than ascending the winding stairways to reach the makeshift bridges. The night was rapidly rolling in over the city; the light pollution that would bleed down from the very top of the towering monoliths would only reach so far down for so long.
Otherworldly lights would alight the many dead ends and crumbling stairwells, visible through decaying doorways just off the main “street”. Though their warm glows were alluring to passer-by’s, their charms ultimately ineffective at drawing the residents of the lower levels into their dilapidated inner walls.
Scuttling through the cluttered streets was a young girl, clutching her bag tightly to her chest. The darkness hunted her, as the walls drew closer and closer, and the mess of pipes and bin bags grew more and more complex. She soon lost her footing and found herself on the ground.
The darkness gnawed at her ankles. Her only saving grace, a toxic spill of luminous neon, spluttering across the composting ruins around her.