The days stretch on in the cold and barren winter. Very little life exists, and it makes for difficult hunting. The occasional buck, or moose, provides only a few days worth.
Creative Writing by Tim Butt 2
Although poetry also falls under this category, that is in a separate section, and this is more to do with selected short stories, and possibly a few screenwriting samples.
Written February 11, 2013
Written September 30, 2009
No one believed her. And why should they have? They called her mad after the incident. Or, at least, they called it an incident despite no one bearing witness. Maybe it's best to start before then.
Written October 7, 2009
Gabrielle raised her silky arm above the water and back down, lifting the other above. Her swim was an elegant dance; a ballet performed in the early morning when the mist still crept off the silvery surface of the pond. She was bare in the cool water just as nature intended all mammals of the forest. She could see the silhouettes of the antelope grazing on the hill not far from the pond. The sun slowly crept up from behind that hill. Ducks and geese played in the water opposite Gabrielle, and she dove under when they dove. When she reemerged her curly black hair was as straight as a horses tail, and it hung off her perfect neckline down to her shoulders to float in the water with her. She swam to the pond's edge.
Written October 6, 2009
Even in this light I could see that my thumb was swelling purple. I glanced at Margaret, who held a broken piece of wood in one hand. It hung there, swaying back and forth. It's splinters frosting by the second. She dropped it to the ground, and took a seat on a chilled piece of meat. Although the room was getting colder with each tick of the clock, her blood must have been boiling like a thousand degree volcano in that moment.
Latest Draft October 30, 2009
FORWARD: The Fallen Protégé was originally a dream I had in early 2005, and was subsequently written for the 2005 Drexel University 10-Page Screenplay Contest. That script was written in a day due to how late I discovered it, and had very little time before the submission deadline. Nonetheless that script got an honorable mention. Later in the fall, during my senior year of high school, I took a fiction class. I decided to have another go at the story and thus wrote it in short story form.
Thus began a continued process of revisiting the story in both screenplay and short story form. The last rewritten draft of the short story was down for my Creative Writing class in college in the fall of 2009. This is that draft. This draft proved to be the best version of the story and so I took it to the screenplay for that current revision. That screenplay can be read on The Fallen Protégé In Development Page. Below enjoy the short story.
Bland bodies sped past, the pallid faces a blur, and their ghostly arms scraped Val's face and chest as he darted through the crowd's masses. The street was full of them, and they went from building side to building side, and each had an umbrella because it was scheduled to rain again. Thunder struck above, which shook the wet asphalt beneath the mob's feet from the BOOM that echoed between the tall structures. Val plunged deeper into the horde, spoiling a new leather jacket to the force and balding his sneakers against the concrete with each spurt. A light post popped up in front of him, and he diverted into a girl in a red skirt.