Welcome To The Resistance: Breathe

Hi friends, I haven’t posted in a while. Last night I launched an IndieGoGo campaign to raise money for my first short film of 2019, Welcome To The Resistance: Breathe.

Pitch: Follow 4 women fleeing persecution on the new underground railroad desperately trying to get under the border wall and into Canada. 

Logline: They may not make it, but we have to try #WTTR

You can check out the campaign here.

There are a lot of stories to tell in the Welcome To The Resistance universe. Breathe is the first of four short films I will be making this year set in the verse. To help you understand the world I am including a short story I wrote for my horror anthology, Things We Didn’t Ask For. 

The resistance fights for human rights, civil rights, women rights, and operates the new underground railroad. 

Enjoy the story and please consider donating or sharing the campaign to help me make this film.

_____________________ Welcome To The Resistance: Under ___________________

To Whoever Finds This, hi. I’m writing this because I want someone to know I lived. It’s only a matter of time before they find and kill me. The paper and pen was left by the last occupant. Might as well put it to good use.

W.F.T (Whoever Finds This)- You probably know this but our problems started with the 2016 election. We had Lily VonHelm; a genius with decades of experience running against a fucktard with no experience, Daniel Thomas. Thomas won. Which was a death sentence to everyone that’s not a white dude. We protested, we fought, but most people didn’t see the bad. Just a necessary evil. Their government trying to protect them. In 2016 we had just over nine million LGBTQ+ individuals living in the US. That number’s down 5 mil in a year. Lost about as many POC and Muslims too. I was at work when they came for me ‘cause lesbo. My coworkers hid me in a box in the walk-in freezer. I lost my pinkie toe to frost bite. My name's Asha Frain, I'm 27, my mom's Mona, my dad's Egar. I'm an only child, used to be a barista for Starbucks. I ended up in a camp. But a guard thought he’d killed me during a test and dumped me in the body pit. A member of the resistance found me, got me as far as I am now. No one's coming, we’re alone and dying by the truckload. The camps have gotten worse. Everything's worse. I have about six feet of room I can scoot around in, can turn from stomach to back but I can’t sit up. A pipe brings water in but the food ran out. If I don’t die by hanging or firing squad the hunger could get me. -Asha

W.F.T- I’m not alone anymore! The footsteps and voices are jarring. I’ve been listening to the voice in my head long enough, strange to hear anyone else. If they find me I hope they’re resistance, or they kill me quick, instead of sending me back to the camps. They have a large duffle bag they just tossed on the floor, it leaked on me. Shit, I think someone just peed on me. Fuck, a person's in the bag! -Asha

W.F.T- I watched them build a torture chamber above me. Duffle Bag kept trying to get free, as I watched the room fill I tried to get the floorboards up, I cannot be under here, this cannot be where my story ends. I can’t find the loose one that’s used as our in and out. The last thing to come in was a mini fridge. I watched them stock it with cheap beer. At least I have beer waiting for me when I get out of here. Even shitty beer is something. Duffle Bag's still moving, just not as frantic when the Boots are in the room. The duffle bag lifts and lets out a startled yelp. I can see a little better. Oh man, WFT I don’t want to see better. This place is awful. As bad as the interrogation room at the camp. I need out of here. -Asha

W.F.T- I had to stop writing, I won't describe the fucked up shit that just happened. I closed my eyes and tried to block it out. Duffle Bag was screaming. I’m sure its a girl, may just be a guy that screams like a girl. Blood's dripping through the floorboards on the far left side of my little space. The Boots are both taking a cigarette break. Duffle Bag is crying and praying. I'm trying to figure out a way to GTF outta here. Wish I’d used my time wiser and busted through the floorboards when the last couple was taken. I dunno what I was thinking. I can feel the floorboards shaking, which means Boots are coming back. If the blood and guts start back up again, I may puke. I don’t know if I can listen to much more. -A

W.F.T- Holy shit, you will not believe the crazy shit they’re doing! The blood's pooling closer. I'm sure Duffle Bag’s dead, or I fucking hope Duffle Bag’s dead bc yeah, no details, right, it was gross, bloody, and just, these people are psychos. They’re hurting to hurt. At least @ the camps they’re stupid enough to think they’re patriots. These people r just doing it 4 fun. They have beers open and wheeled a TV in. Like actually wheeled a TV in. Sounds like they’re watching a late night show

I had to put the pen down. Boots muted the TV. I guess DB isn’t dead yet, poor bastard. More shit happened, made the blood pool grow bigger. Boy Boots and Girl Boots were talking about getting a friend for DB. They'll wait until tomorrow. I’m starving. I’m hoping the next thing that falls through the cracks is a sandwich. -A

W.F.T- Well now I’m sure Duffle Bag is dead. They cut the body up, a finger fell in here w/ me, this is disgusting. The house has been quiet for a while so I’m writing this while kicking the shit out of the floorboards. It’s like the floors are made of steel or something. I don’t want to be under here when they bring in DB’s replacement. I'll put this down and see if I can punch through the boards, or like stand up and Hulk through them or something. -A

W.F.T- I'm still under the floor. 2 replacements for Duffle Bag: Ginger 1 and Ginger 2. One's above me, which isn’t something I’m stoked about. The other's on DBs old table. Hasn’t been too bad yet. Girl Boots is eating Cheetos. A few fell through the cracks. Zero shame I ate them, and they were as disgusting as I remember them being. But I’m starving and living under a murder room so I’ll take them. Maybe I’ll eat enough of them and gain magic powers. I’m considering trying to tunnel out. I can’t get the floorboards up w/o the help of someone above me - & murder room - so pretty sure no 1 can help me, or that I want them 2. Boy Boots is up now. They’re both eating. Whatever he’s eating sounds different and has the Ginger’s freaking out. I’m guessing I won’t want whatever he drops. They’re talking about what toys they want to use, so I’m guessing about to get gross again. -A

W.F.T.- I guessed correctly, I had to move; I am now covered in blood. I'm writing this to get myself focused on anything but what’s happening above me. It’s taking everything in me not 2 scream, cry & piss myself. This is terrible, WFT. I'll talk to you like ur an actual person, & ur in this with me. Oh my god, shit, the one was above me is now making sounds no person should make. They aren’t taking as much time with these 2. I’m clamping down on the pen cap which hurts my teeth, but giving me something else to focus on. I’m wishing they would go back to dropping Cheetos through the cracks again. The next time there’s quiet I'll see if someone from the murder room can get me outta here. I may be safe but I’ll lose my shit if this is my new reality. The screams and smell triggers memories of the body pit and my time in the camp. A scalpel just fell through the crack. I’m totally fucked if they come get it. Boy Boots is super pissed, that was his favorite scalpel. Oh man, I just realized while writing that, Boy Boots has a favorite scalpel. God this guy is creepy! -A

W.F.T.- Not sure how I’m still here. Boy Boots used a crowbar & pulled up the board so he could get his scalpel. Great news is he hasn’t nailed it back down. Bad news is I am 1000% positive I’ll definitely die; no way they won't find me. Gonna end up on one of those stupid tables, and I will get cut to pieces, and that'll be my end, fuck. The Ginger’s are still screaming, which makes it hard to hear Girl Boots and Boy Boots. I’m writing this in hopes talking 2 u can give me courage 2 move closer 2 the loose floorboard & get outta here. It’s worth taking a quick peek. If it looks clear, I can run. Hopefully find someone in the resistance to guide me to a safe space.

OK, this has given me enough I don’t know like will or strength, stupidity? I’m finally feeling stupid enough to try to get out and run. I’m wiggling my way over to the loose floorboard. Have you ever tried 2 wiggle & write? Good luck reading worm lines. The room- empty. A bag of chocolate chip cookies on top of the mini fridge, yum! Risking everything and going for them WFT, I’ll be back.

W.F.T- I’m back in the floor with beer & cookies. The Ginger’s couldn’t see me, their eyes are gone. I could hear the Boots coming back. I didn’t want to risk running into one of them so I am back here. The board is still loose, the cookies and beer were well worth the adventure out. Sad thing is it has been such a long time since I had anything to drink that one beer has me buzzed. I'll use the can to fashion some kind of weapon. I know it sounds stupid but I can get the guts to do something if I pretend I have a weapon. The Boots are back to their fun above me; I am only hearing one of the two Ginger’s screaming which means one’s either dead, or passed out. I think is a thing, isn’t it? U can pass out if the pain gets 2 b 2 bad. I may make that up, but lucky for me there isn’t anyone around here to argue with me. -A

W.F.T- Holy shit, I nearly had a heart attack. Girl Boots stepped down into the space; she forgot the board was loose. Boy Boots promised 2 put the board back. He likes seeing the blood pools. The talk of blood pools got them all riled up.I don’t want 2 think about it, because boy parts going near girl parts is gross, like the idea legit makes me want to vomit. hoping they’ll take their escapades anywhere else. so I can get back out of here and run. I hope I am reading this with someone else. That we’re laughing at all of this w/like an umbrella drink, and bbq. Thomas isn’t president anymore, the country is back to normal. Oh gross, they’re still doing whatever they’re doing but sounds like it now involves a body above me. Oh I do not need this. Can they go back to the torture? -A

W.F.T- So they’re asleep & u & I a r about 2 make a run 4 it. Why am I writing & walking this is so stupid? We are climbing out of the floor now. They r asleep on a body. I’m risking cookies no beer. I can see the front of the house from this room. I’m going 4 the front door now. I’ll write again when I get out of the house. -Asha

Boots got me, hiding in a closet, irony not lost on me. Bleeding bad, WFT. Tell mom and dad I love them. Remember me.