Kimberly Williams

========== Off Camera ========== This run down home would appear, at first glance, to be abandoned.   It appears to be un-kept and completely ignored, allowing time to do its dirty work of destruction.   Sections of ceiling hang limp in the stagnant air. Fragments of plaster lie damp over a long un-trodden floor, their only purpose to soak in the seasonal rain. Cold water seeps through window frames, rotten and blistered, to nurse the mildew and rise up wallpapers that peel.   Dust lay over every surface like dirty snow, pristine dust layer, not a foot print anywhere, dust bunnies the size of bowling balls tumbled across the floor boards toward unseen skittles, free papers piled up to the letter box and cascaded all the way to the foot of the rough wooden stairs, old tea cups lay on a coffee table thickly encrusted with dried up mould, dust covered mirrors, smell of mildew, stale air, air thick with dust, shafts of light bursting through gaps in the boarded up window, light

========== Off Camera ========== Kimberly Williams walked past the heavy gates and closed so no one would suspect that she has entered this place. If you do not have anyone to mourn upon, you must not disturb the peace that hovers above the death bed of many or you will be haunted but she did not care, as if they would do any harm to her.   The sun was sinking fast below the horizons, giving her hair more reddish hue. Gravestones lined the eerie graveyard, some recently placed, whereas others, cracked and crumbling. Mold covered the engravings dedicated to the dead, trees leaning towards the stones, branches reaching out to each other. Spiked, black fences surrounded the graveyard almost like it was a prison. The smell of old stone filled the dry air, weeds covering the graves of the dead, loved ones long since stopped visiting. Gravel paths weave through the maze of graves, allowing passersby to pay their respects to the people lined up in the earth’s embrace. Rows

========== Off Camera ========== “Hellllllllooooooo?” Kimberly Williams comes prancing (yes, prancing) into her living room which is decorated rather hideously with shabby, battered armchairs, a gate legged table with chipped Formica, a torn and worn lazy boy recliner, stained canvas chairs, dented and scratched pine table.    This living room is decrepit, stinking, reeking in cigarette burns.   In other words, it is Kimberly Williams up one end and down the other. The self-described sociopath and “Woman Scorned” seems overly happy right now.   If you focused entirely on her EMERGE career you might wonder why she is so happy.   She hasn’t managed to make many waves ever since failing to defeat Peyton Rice in the Emerge championship tournament. She’s been wallowing in mediocrity, barely treading water.   She went from main eventing Emerge to facing Ryan Singer and barely making the show.   She recently failed in her opportunity to cash in on a shot at the EMERGE Cham

========== Off Camera ========== The sky of just an hour previously was too bright, garish around the brilliant clouds. The coldness of the bench under the moonlight feels right beneath worn denim, the remnants of a rain shower soaking in and beading the fading green paint to either side. At last the shrill cries of the daytime, the happiness presence of faces, or even the ability to appear indifferent has passed. Just the way Kimberly likes it. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Kimberly Williams is creeping ever so quietly across this park.   The bushes and trees were almost silhouettes, the blackest of greens. The path was the only pale thing stretching into the wooded gloom.   Then the wind died, the leaves ceased to rustle, even the rumble of traffic was absent. In those frozen seconds Kimberly could hear the crunch of dried twigs under boot, just enough to give her the location of her quarry. “Surprise!” Kimberly jumps over a bush and turns ju