And an excerpt from the story. . .
Three children are walking along the crumbling shoreline of Brooklyn and stumble upon a pile of detritus from what appears to be a shipwreck. Elements of a ship are interspersed in a pile in which a waterlogged violin in a weathered case, a barely-working music box in the form of a bird in its cage, a cracked magnifying glass, several ancient rusty keys, many water-damaged family photographs, and an old, crushed suitcase, are also strewn. . .
Inside Sophia’s drum is a tiny bird’s nest, which she tends to every few minutes. Anastasia carries a purse, inside of which are some stones and a folded up letter, discolored with age. Milo’s camera takes note of various unusual details--cracks in the ground and in buildings, plants growing from cracks, urban detritus strewn about, and the haunting specter of the post-industrial landscape around him. . .
Heaven tries the last rusty key in the lock and it finally opens, creaking. She and her friends step inside. They venture forth into a darkened room and follow the only light that emanates from a flickering film, projected into the back wall of a cabinet that has been propped open, the door unevenly teetering on falling off. . .
Once finished, Spirit Ship (working title) will function as Little Creatures' prototype/proof-of-concept, a piece that will appeal to potential investors. . . a tangible, beautiful, poetic, mysterious product that will win funders over to a vibrant new film company that produces a completely new kind of media by and for young children.
