2021-08-30 Writing in 3D Exercise
#2 of Writer's Crossing
This is Godzilla's point of view from what I (mis)remember of the beginning of Gojira.
Writing in 3D is always a blast. This week's exercise was to write a scene from a movie from the perspective of a different character. I took some liberties, but I had fun.
"Gronk." The mighty bellow would be music to her ears. The studly song she imagined in her slumber brought to mind dreams of machismo and good wrasslin' arms. Oh, how she longed to hear that voice, but who it would belong to was a mystery for the ages. Would he be green? Purple? Short? Spiny? Have a carapace? She always found terrapinic features quite handsome. Murmuring softly in her aqueous slumber, she tucked in tighter around herself and clutched her tail, longing for the day her arms would embrace another of her kind. Someone she could have long strolls past the beach with. Someone with the same diet of fire and sea life as her.
She had a wall. Right above where her nest was. The nest that had no egg yet. The wall was covered in pictures she drew, pictures she cut out of magazines from the great trash island clogging up the Pacific. She cut out the images of mens' heads so she could try and imagine someone more suitable to her species to bring her love, and give her a child that they could raise on that mutual love.
As she scoured the depths of the abyss, looking for a shark or three to munch on, she kept logging names in her head for the child she hoped would come. Zonknor. Groombot. Plank. Phrargrg. And yet, she didn't have a name for the father. She had no identity yet for the man whom she would keep as her mate, to cherish and to hold, 'til their dying days.
She met him in her dreams. Time and again, she would meet him, in different ways, but sometimes the same way again and again, when her heart was especially yearning. She wanted to find him, to reach out, but by the time she awoke, her solid memories of that dream slipped away like so many bubbles. "Gronk," she would whisper to herself, to her tail, pretending it was his voice.
But nowhere could she find him.
She must have swam the oceans twice from one end to the other. Past the great barrier reef. To where the ocean was freezing cold and she could barely keep going. She was on the brink of death, and she couldn't find him.
Then came the rumble. A quake of ocean. A shudder of poison that stang all the way down into the depths, showering the ceiling so high up in bits of sand and rock and tree. What was that, she wondered? It was not a "Gronk". It was a terrible other noise that shook her to her core. She had to be sure, however. She had to see what this noise was. Perhaps it was him. She awoke with a start, which was not something that happened to her very often, and she swam up, up, up, in search of her love.