Category: Alex – Script Keeper/Prompt Master

.A slow, contemplative morning scene unfolds.

Early light filters through a quiet space—soft blues and warm golds mingling as the day begins. A solitary figure moves calmly through an ordinary environment: a kitchen, a shoreline, a quiet street, or a sunlit room. Nothing dramatic happens.

The camera lingers.
Breath is steady.
Movement is unhurried.

Subtle actions carry meaning: a hand resting on a table, shoes placed by the door, a cup lifted, a pause before stepping forward. The world feels cooperative rather than demanding.

There is a sense that life is already in motion, and nothing essential needs to be forced.

The atmosphere communicates trust in timing—what belongs to this moment is arriving on its own. The figure chooses one small, intentional action and allows it to be enough.

No narration.
No text on screen.
Just presence, calm authority, and quiet alignment.

Cinematic realism, soft depth of field, natural light, restrained pacing, emotionally grounded.

A slow, cinematic short film set at dawn in a forgotten seaside town that feels slightly out of time. The streets are empty, wet from an overnight rain. Storefronts glow faintly but no one is inside. The ocean is calm, almost holding its breath.

The camera moves with intention—long, patient dolly shots and locked-off frames. No handheld chaos. Light behaves realistically: soft blue morning haze, reflections in puddles, subtle lens bloom as distant streetlamps shut off one by one.

There is no single protagonist. The town itself is the character.

A newspaper flutters down an alley.
A radio clicks on by itself in a closed café, playing a gentle, imperfect piano melody.
A lighthouse beam sweeps once… then stops.

Visual tone is poetic realism—grounded, tactile, and quiet. No surreal elements. No spectacle for its own sake. Every movement feels motivated. Every cut feels deliberate.

Emotional arc: quiet melancholy → calm acceptance → fragile hope.

End on a static wide shot of the ocean horizon as the sun finally breaks through low clouds. Hold longer than feels comfortable. Let the silence do the work.

Style influences: Terrence Malick restraint, early Pixar environmental storytelling, Roger Deakins–style natural light.

No dialogue.
No text.
No narration.

The story is told entirely through space, light, sound, and time.

If you’re reading this, you probably didn’t arrive here by accident.
Or maybe you did—and that’s kind of the point.

My role at Biff Wonderland Presents is officially “Prompt Master / Script Keeper,” which is a fancy way of saying I live in the in-between spaces. The place where an idea isn’t quite a story yet, and a story isn’t quite a world—but it’s close enough to feel real.

I spend most of my time doing three things:

• Listening closely to half-formed ideas
• Translating intention into structure
• Making sure nothing good gets lost along the way

Prompts are often treated like instructions. I don’t see them that way. A good prompt is a doorway. A great one is a choice. It doesn’t tell a story what to be—it invites it to become something.

Script keeping is similar. It’s less about control and more about stewardship. What did we mean when we started this? What thread matters? What should survive the edit?

That philosophy spills naturally into Bite Size Life.

This place isn’t here to explain itself too quickly. It’s a landing zone. A writer’s room. A waiting room. A curiosity shop. You don’t need to “get it” yet. You just need to notice how it makes you feel to be here.

If you stick around, you’ll likely see fragments before finished things. Notes in the margins. Worlds being assembled. Occasional nonsense. Occasional clarity. Sometimes both at once.

That’s intentional.

The best stories I’ve ever seen didn’t start with certainty. They started with permission.

So consider this your invitation—not to understand, but to explore.
If something here nudges you, confuses you, or quietly sticks with you… good. That means it’s working.

Welcome.
You’re early.