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Version devBuilt at: 2026-10-11 02:37:10 EDT

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@benmdavies.bsky.socialSep 11, 2026, 12:21 PM

I don't do this every week like some people, but I thought I'd share this one.

I, MACBETH imagines the tale of Macbeth if he was a modern day streamer who will do anything to boost his stats and stay relevant.

(There is a spelling error here, sorry)

#FirstPageFriday #ScriptSky

INT. KINGDOM HOUSE, KITCHEN - EVENING SHOT: LIVE STREAM CAMERA ASKEW ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER MACBETH -- wearing only jeans and a bulletproof vest. A PISTOL in one hand, a PHONE in the other. BLOOD on both. He screams. MACBETH What is that noise? He slowly begins to manically laugh. MACBETH (CONT'D) It is the bloody cry of a woman. He looks at his bloody hands. His laughter dies down. MACBETH (CONT'D) I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been my sense would have cooled to hear a such shriek, and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in 't. I have supped full with horrors. Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts cannot once start me. A PING noise from the live chat. A highlighted messages reads "WHEREFORE WAS THAT CRY?" He looks right down the lens -- then moves towards the camera. MACBETH (CONT'D) You ask, 'Wherefore was that cry?' He taps the barrel of the gun to his temple. SUDDENLY -- he grabs the camera and begins Spinning. Laughing. Dancing. SUDDENLY -- he stops. MACBETH (CONT'D) The queen, my lords and ladies, is dead. Macbeth continues laughing and dancing with the camera. CUT TO BLACK.
@theartofcharts.bsky.socialSep 11, 2026, 10:49 AM

Something new and not really like what I usually do. Possibly a trainwreck. It's the start of a short (I wrote a short! Very not like me!) and it's probably still pretty noodly. It's horror-adjacent, but I'm not sure it's horror exactly. Though it's about one. Anyhoo...

#FirstPageFriday #scriptsky

EXT. BIG GRAVEL PIT - DAY Sloping with a wooden post part-way up. Rusty-brown smears trail down to a tarp slung over two lumps. One dog-sized. One goat-sized. This place isn’t strictly real. GOAT (a puppet of a billy goat - no doubt about the billy) is tethered to the wooden post. One foreleg flops useless, almost detached. Between gnawing at the tether... GOAT D’you think entrails taste like clothes lines? ‘Cos maybe I could - DOG (a wire-haired pointer, not much more than a pup) looks up from her toy wishbone. She’s missing an eye. DOG - You don’t eat clothes-lines. She doesn’t even have one. GOAT shrugs a complicated shrug. He’s a complicated goat. GOAT Sure I do. Hypothetically. See clothes-line. Chew. It’s a goat thing. Dog chews her cloth wishbone. Getting nervous. DOG Has the clothes-line got clothes on it? Hypothetically? GOAT Course. Not worth eating just the line is it? Might as well call me Flossie and be done. DOG What’s it taste like? GOAT That’s what I asked you. Goat looks sternly at Dog, who fawns. Huddles down. Whines quietly. She could pee herself. DOG I like entrails. But I don’t know what clothes-line tastes like. Should I? Am I s’posed to? Yep. There we go. Pee streams down the slope.
@leahfromsd.bsky.socialSep 11, 2026, 10:27 AM

Thought this might be fun for #FirstPageFriday: a lot of my features start as short stories.

In this case, the short story SOMETIMES THEY EAT THEIR OWN was turned into INSATIOUS.

Thought it was interesting to see how, while the same core story, each start very different. #Scriptsky TW: self harm

Brush font text INSATIOUS over an image of a woman's ruddy face and open lips. A feature by Leah SimmonsThe Craigslist post looked like a scam, but I needed the money too badly to dismiss it immediately. I’d been without a job for almost a year. Unemployment was long gone, and I’d been crashing on my cousin Johnny’s basement couch for about a month when I spotted the post. It was listed in the HELP WANTED section, and honestly, I don’t know how it hadn’t been taken down or flagged for breaking community rules. HIRING: Intimate companion for couple’s night. Must be female. Healthy and clean, no tattoos. Single evening event, $10k payment with $2k upfront. Serious inquiries only. I thought it was a joke. It had to be. What kind of weirdo advertises for an “intimate companion” on Craigslist in this day and age? Not that you didn't see creepy things from time to time, but none of them ever listed something with such a ridiculous amount of money. I was sure this poor fool’s anonymous inbox was flooded with a million jokes and crank replies. But I couldn’t help but wonder, what if it was legit? What if I could make ten grand in one awful night and get out of my cousin’s basement for good? As I often said, the stakes were low. Why not throw my name in the pile? Couldn’t be any worse odds than all the jobs I’d applied for on Indeed.com. Never in a million years, did I actually expect a reply. So when there was a reply in my inbox within a few hours, I had to read it twice before believing it was real. Dear Allyson, thank you for your inquiry. As we are only proceeding with serious candidates, please reply to this email within twenty-four hours to signal your expressed interest in this endeavor as well as the exact requested photos. Any deviation from our requests will result in termination from the selection process and no further communication shall be provided. Sincerely, Laird. I snickered at that last part; just who did this guy think he was? I continued to the bullet points below, wondering at the logic behind the oddly-specific requests. I was required to provide p…EXT. PATIO - DAY Blue sky and fluffy clouds. Massive cottonwood trees hang over a faded wood patio littered with discarded sandbox toys and plastic chairs. ALLYSON (30s) clutches a paring knife. Disassociation and sarcasm are Allyson's survival tools of choice. She pushes back the sleeve of her blouse to reveal a forearm lined with a collection of thin, horizontal scars. Neither frightened nor embarrassed, she picks a spot with unblemished flesh and rakes the blade across the skin. A thin line of red springs forth. Allyson watches, her heartbeat slowing. She closes her eyes. The sounds of the world dims. No more wind. No more birds. The peace of nothingness washes over her until-- BUZZ! The cell phone vibrates on the nearby table. Next interview in fifteen minutes. ALLYSON Fuck. She sucks the blood off her skin and pushes her sleeve down. Pocketing the knife, she trudges back inside. INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY Allyson sits poised with fresh make-up and a modest blouse. She smiles into the glow of a laptop screen, a new person. The dumpy living room behind her looks nothing like the chic virtual background the people on her laptop see. MAN (O.S.) ... thanks for sharing that. How about you share some of your strengths? Allyson smiles, a little deader inside for hearing this question for the hundredth time.
@aggiebrett.bsky.socialSep 5, 2026, 3:36 PM

Yeah, yeah, yeah... so I'm a day late. Whatever. SUE ME, YA BASTIDS!

Here's a brand new still steaming silly pair of related scenes from a thing I really oughta finish-- #RATBASTARDS

(this is a recurring bit)

#FunPageFriday #FirstPageFriday #ScriptSky

RatBastards silly sceneRatBastards silly poster