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The Lost Ball by Cindy Marvell
The Lost Ball
(a juggling story workshopped at Celebration Barn Theater with Benny Reehl)
By Cindy Marvell
In the beginning there was nothing special about her. She was just a girl like other girls. She played along in other people’s games and fell into the rhythm of their ways. Until one day she found a ball; or it found her it later seemed. In point of fact, they found each other. The ball fit easily in the palm of her hand. At times it could be joyful… intricate… depressed… whimsical… complex… profound… nonchalant… The ball was full of surprises.
One day the girl had an idea; an inspiration, she thought. Come on, ball, we’ll travel around the world. We’ll make each other famous. But the ball wasn’t interested. She begged and pleaded but it refused. Their movements became awkward and unappealing. They argued constantly each struggling to gain the upper hand. And as the girl began to plan for the future she saw the ball less and less until eventually she lost sight of it altogether.
Without the ball her mind became as dull and uneventful as a blank wall. And when she looked out at the world it no longer seemed inviting but huge and scary. She began to look for the ball. She sensed its presence but she could not see it. At night she looked for it among the stars in the sky and on sunny days she peered among the cotton-ball clouds hoping to catch sight of it. She searched for it among the beads of dew in the grass but still it eluded her. Without the ball she felt herself rolling in a sea of darkness and despair.
Once in a while it reappeared momentarily only to vanish as quickly as it came. This went on for a while. Costume changes!
She lost her balance. She became contorted and confused. And always she had the feeling the ball was hovering just out of her reach – if only she knew where to look. Finally she gave up the search. She found other balls to replace the one she had lost. The new balls were shiny and sophisticated. They made the old balls seem naïve and unrefined.
The new balls always did what she told them. They never thought of having any ideas of their own. Her tosses became smooth and flowing, some of the time, her movements polished and her catches complete. When she tired of these she added another ball; and soon, another. And everywhere she went people cheered and applauded! They did not realize that she had sacrificed freedom for control.
Soon people who were never interested in her before began to ask her questions. What inspired you to learn this? How long do you practice this? Will you be getting a job soon? And she answered with whatever came to mind at the moment and they never realized that the real answer was the ball lost long ago.
Soon audiences no longer cheered as loudly for her tricks. Others came along who were swifter, suaver, more polished than she. And as the girl realized these things she began to get bored with her tricks. The audience became bored: right on cue. Finally even the balls became bored and they went off to find somebody more exciting.
And now the girl was all alone in the wide world. She thought she had nothing left to live for. But then, just when she was at her lowest point she noticed a light coming through the door and it was the white ball! They danced with each other as they had before, and the girl and the ball stayed together for the rest of their days.
Spacers by Cindy Marvell
SPACERS
We
Climbed
Five green steps
Shaped like mushrooms.
With Hunter on ground crew
Creating flares of hot momentum—
Bidding the paradox of Earth goodbye—
Astronaut Addison and I stood ready to fly.
She
Looked new
To galactic travel.
Hair curling in waves,
Face shining through a mask,
She reached for the second wheel,
Counting down to that pure enrapture
With a speed—like light—that’s hard to capture.
I
Saw myself
The vibrating strings
Uncurl beneath my wings
Until nothing relative mattered,
And no one watched or came or cared,
Because no force around us yearned or dared
To set things right or to make us come down as we
Zipped through the multiverse drinking light and sound.
You
May not follow
The spiraling gyration
Of anthropic teleportation.
Spectators said it would never work
But Addison and I found a scientific quirk.
Quantum-sharing spacers have super gullibility
Or I would have to change the laws of probability.
Catch
Life quickly,
Or glide if it seems slow,
Or seek your own intractable tempo.
I heard wild music in the theories formed
As the stars parted and our rocket ship soared
Back to one fine-tuned zone that allowed for life:
Where Addison sighed, and the possibilities were rife.
from (r)evolve, Naropa’s Summer Writing Program Magazine, 2009
Shadow Princess by Cindy Marvell and Tamara Fielding
Shadow Princess: An Indonesian Story
a film script by
Cindy Marvell and Tamara Fielding
Cindy Marvell
319 Spruce St. Boulder, CO 80302
303-506-7724
EXT. JAVA, NIGHT
KARTO SUPRAPTO, (17), a promising, ambitious Dalang, or shadow puppet master, casts images from behind a white story cloth. Puppets array either side of the screen from the Tree of Life to various animals, clowns, and kings. The performer’s mentor watches intently from the audience as elephants, deer, flying monkeys, ogres and giants take their parts in the drama to the chants of the Dalang.
EXT. BEHIND THE SCREEN, JAVA, NIGHT
KARTO’S mentor slides behind the screen as the audience fades away. The Dalang begins to place the puppets in a wooden cabinet, a box that stands on its side. Knobs form handles in the shape of hands that cradle a sphere. The Dalang turns as his mentor speaks.
MENTOR
Only a Dalang can unlock the secrets of the stories inside my puppet box.
Karto approaches the box. He puts his hands on the sphere to open the box and speaks with awe.
KARTO
When I saw you perform as a boy I thought these knobs could open to other worlds.
He hangs the puppets in the box.
MENTOR
Now you are the master of Wayang Kulit.
KARTO
(pauses with deer puppet in hand) This was my last performance in Java.
MENTOR
The box is yours on your journey.
The Dalang starts in disbelief then blushes.
KARTO
Mine. What if I never return?
TUMBUH
I have seen better ones in the storeroom.
FRANZ
Want to test it? Your blood is real.
Franz makes to grab Tumbuh’s arm. Tumbuh turns to run as Franz catches up to her. He blocks her path.
TUMBUH
The others are much sharper, with stones that make this one look dull.
Thunder cracks and a flash of lightening brightens Tumbuh’s face. Franz considers the options.
FRANZ
Take your stories back to your Oma. My father says your family is lazy. Shoo!
Tumbuh turns and runs as the rain begins.
EXT. EDGE OF THE RESORT PARK, SUMATRA, DAY
A gecko lizard hops down the sidewalk as Tumbuh takes cover in the bushes that line the resort. She starts as a furry tale brushes her cheek.
TUMBUH
Mooky! What are you doing here?
She wags her finger at the monkey.
TUMBUH (CONT’D)
Let’s find Yusuf’s shortcut. I’m not supposed to come this way.
She paws the branches, Mooky perched on her shoulder. He wraps his tale around her neck. They arrive at the entrance sign of the Orangatang Reserve. Mooky hops off Tumbuh’s shoulder and leaps into the forest.
TUMBUH (CONT’D)
Mooky! Come back!
Tumbuh chases after the monkey’s screeches. Tumbuh arrives at a clearing with a wooden house. Mooky scratches the door as she approaches. Chants emanate from a cracked open window. Tumbuh parts the shades and peeks through.
TUMBUH (CONT’D)
Ooooh!
She slaps her hand over her mouth to keep quiet.
CHEAP CHEAP SCREETCH!
TUMBUH (CONT’D) (whispers)
Mooky, quiet.
Tumbuh reaches into her pocket for a few nuts and feeds them to Mooky. As he munches she looks through the slats.
INT. ROOM IN WOODEN HOUSE, ORAGNATANG PRESERVE, DAY
A semicircle of adults and children sit on the floor in front of a white cotton screen supported by bamboo poles with an oil lamp positioned behind it to cast shadows. On the screen puppets move; a fantastical character with long arms and some with pointy noses with a hint of color that shimmers in the light. The Dalang continues to chant behind the screen.
In the corner, some teenaged boys play with the instruments from the gamelon, the Indonesian orchestra. Xylophones, gongs, chimes, and drums with traditional carvings such as typical gamelons use attempt accompaniment to the puppet play.
DRUMMER
(to the other musicians) Where is Yusuf?
MUSICIAN (shrugs with mallets)
He’s tying the fish.
BOY WITH GONG
And wet in the rain!
BOY WITH CHIMES
I have all the chimes.
He taps out a friendly scale as the Dalang glances over. His gaze falls on Tumbuh for a moment and they lock eyes.
Magic Carpet by Cindy Marvell
Magic Carpet
by Cindy Marvell
Forever poised for flight, arranged
With care,
The seven wait to be exchanged mid-air;
A moment of release, a change
So rare,
The forces of the world are held at bay.
When kept in flight, a tapestry
They weave
Whose untied threads are ever free
To leave;
This hopeless task may never be
Achieved
For all too soon the balls forsake their play.
Though now my work dissolves before
My eyes,
Sometimes the cloth remains to soar
Through skies
Above the seven on the floor, And flies
With me to seek exchanges far away.
Cindy Marvell, 1988
Suspended Animation
