Reviving Desire's Revenge

I'm pulling up my short Desire's Revenge and turning it into a feature in response to a challenge on Triggerstreet.

I've always intended to, but planned to finish some other projects first...which has gone real well (not). At any rate, there's a deadline, and deadlines are my best friend for creative projects. Without them I tend to tinker and rethink and retool and re-imagine for ages.

NYC Midnight challenge round 3

Somehow, I managed to land in the middle of my group last round, and squeak by into the next one.

Of course, I thought it was going to be this coming weekend - and Yahoo glitched and held my mail from Thursday night through Saturday night... so I didn't even read that I had made it until Sunday am. I had to think of an idea at work, and come home and write it in a couple of hours.

Though, really, 2-3 hours seems to be par for this course. I always end up writing the script in about that time.

This one went more smoothly, as it was a more comfortable genre and setting for me: Fantasy in a Cemetery. The object was a first aid kit.

I uploaded to Google docs, since some folks find the Scrippets format hard to read for more than a few lines.

I had fun. Let me know what you think. Cemetery Lanterns

NYC Midnight challenge round 2

Genre: Comedy
Setting: The North Pole
Object: Crutches



Pole to Pole

FADE IN

INT. TV STUDIO - DAY

CHRISTINE, a perfectly coifed Asian woman in a tropical print dress addresses the camera.

CHRISTINE

They've made it to the finals. Our Pole-to-Pole contestants have traveled for hours, and now arrive at their secret destination.

Behind her, a huge screen shows brightly a painted helicopter landing on a vast expanse of ice. A CREW MEMBER opens the door, and helps 4 CONTESTANTS step out. They wear blindfolds.

EXT. THE NORTH POLE - DAY

CAMERA OPERATORS, MIC OPERATORS and CREW swirl around the helicopters.

The 4 blindfolded contestants, 2 men, 2 women, are taken by the hand and walked to a flag stuck in the ice.

They stand there, attempting to look heroic.

In the background, a head in a pointed cap pops up from a crack in the ice. No one sees it, and it ducks away again.

Trucks and generators are all on one side, leaving the view behind the contestants empty and imposing.

THE DP walks out from one of the trucks, and shouts

THE DP

And...cut. Keep your blindfolds on. Stay in place, OK.

The contestants are bundled up in fashionable gear.

TOM, late-30s, square-jawed and not much over 5'2", flaps his arms across his chest.

TOM

Fuck it's colder than a witch's tit out here.

BRANDI, 21, with blonde braids and cocoa skin, tilts her head, and puts her hands on her hips.

BRANDI

Are you for real? Who says that?

TOM

Hey, can you fucking guys get it together? Are we ready to proceed here already?

The camera operators huddle together. They ignore Tom.

CHAD, mid-20s, tall with dark hair, is shifting back and forth, and tugging at the neck of his coat.

CHAD

Where are we? I didn't think anyplace was this cold in July.

STEPHANIE, late-20s, perks up.

STEPHANIE

Actually, the seasons in the southern hemisphere are reversed. They must have brought us south of the equator.

She tilts her head back, trying to see under her blindfold.

INT. TV STUDIO - DAY

CHRISTINE

Unbeknownst to our finalists, one camera has continued to film them.

On the video screen:

TOM

All I know is this [beep]-ing place is [beep]-ing cold and I'm [beep] [beep] that this is taking so [beep]-ing long.

BRANDI

What is it with you and that mouth?

CHAD

I just hope this doesn't chap my skin. I don't want my cheeks to be all red.

EXT. THE NORTH POLE - DAY

The DP approaches, camera and crew move back in place.

THE DP

All right, folks, we're going again. And five, four, three

He motions 2 and 1.

The contestants put on their game faces again.

One of the boom operaters seems to have shrunk in size. And... are his ears pointed?

The contestants pull off their blindfolds with clumsy, frozen fingers. They look around.

TOM

Well, I'll be f....

He looks at the camera a moment.

TOM

...a monkey's uncle.

BRANDI

You have a serious problem. I don't know what kind, but you got it.

CHAD

We're...nowhere.

He spins in a circle.

Stephanie pulls a compass out of a pocket.

She excitedly steps up and down, and starts bouncing around.

STEPHANIE

This is so cool! Do you know where we are?

The others just look at her.

STEPHANIE

The North Pole!

CHAD

Where are the elves?

Brandi rolls her eyes.

The tiny boom operator slowly backs away, and slips away from the crew. An ASSISTANT carrying coffee sees him, and his jaw drops.

INT. TV STUDIO - DAY

Christine walks over to a stage with a stripper pole, and the logo "Pole to Pole".

CHRISTINE

They've danced all over the world. Now, our contestants must dance in freezing temperatures, on a pole at the North Pole.

INT. LARGE YURT - DAY

The floor is ice. Chairs are set up in front of a small stage with a stripper pole. Heaters are set around the stage.

The contestants stand in front of it staring.

STEPHANIE

I suppose the pole might be warm enough once the heaters get going.

TOM

Fuck this.

He stops out of the tent.

CHAD

I never understood how that troll made it this far.

EXT. THE NORTH POLE - DAY

Tom stomps past the crew trucks, muttering. Something catches his eye. He goes to a crack in the ice, and suddenly the elf reaches up, grabs his ankle, and pulls him down.

He gets stuck a moment at chest height, struggling to pull himself back out. Then stops.

TOM

Fuck me.

He disappears from sight.

INT. LARGE YURT - DAY

The other three contestants are at a sound board, getting their songs ready to go.

The elf darts out, holding a pot, and runs to the stage. He smears something greasy on the pole.

INT. LARGE YURT - LATER

A small audience hoots and hollers, while music plays.

Chad stretches, to the side of the stage, with big movements designed to draw attention. Stephanie hobbles on crutches.

Brandi, in a sexy dress, tries to dance, but can't get any friction on the pole. Every time she tries to climb up it, she slips down fast.

The audience boos.

She makes one last desperate attempt, flinging her legs upward, and wrapping them around the pole - only to slide down and land hard on her butt.

BRANDI

Someone greased this pole.

She hobbles off the stage, fuming.

Chad steps up, rips open his coat, and flings himself at the pole, trying to swing around it. His hand slips off, and he ends up falling off the other side of the stage.

CHAD

Ow. Not fair.

Suddenly, Tom walks in, wearing shades. But...he's even shorter. And his clothes are baggy. It's the elf.

The other contestants stare.

ELF

Fucking cue my goddamn music, bitches.

A moment of dead silence, and then a song starts.

The elf hops onto the stage, and whips off his scarf. He wraps it around the pole, and shimmies as he rubs it up and down, cleaning the pole.

Off come the hat and sunglasses. The audience gasps.

INT. TV STUDIO - DAY

On the big screen behind Christine, Tom, Brandi, and Stephanie sit in the yurt, bandaged. Stephanie's crutches are beside her.

CHRISTINE

And now, based on your votes from all across the nation, our first Pole-to-Pole champion!

The elf comes out, wearing nothing but a tiny thong and shades. He looks like a male model - shrunk in the wash, with pointy ears.

ELF

Thank you! Ever since the workshop branched out into adult toys, this has been my dream.

He takes a bow.

FADE OUT

Lemons: A Love Story

FADE IN

EXT. CORNER OF HILLTOP AND GROVE - DAY

Hilltop and Grove, the intersection of two streets that cut through open fields of tall grass and wild sunflowers. On one side perches a small bench, protected from the sun by a shingled hutch. A small metal sign marks it as a bus stop.

Across the street is a smug ranch home with a neat green lawn, tight beds of primroses and pansies, and a lemon tree bearing small yellow-green fruit. An short, open lattice fence defines the little patch of civilization.

Across one of the fields, a boy and a girl come running. MELISSA, in denim cutoffs and a red gingham shirt, is in the lead. TOM, in baggy overalls, closes the gap as they reach the bus stop. The pair are about ten years old.

MELISSA

I dare you to go pick lemons off that tree.

She twirls one of her short braids, adorned with gingham ribbons, in awkward imitation of a flirtatious older girl.

TOM

They aren't hardly even ripe, Mel.

MELISSA

Tommy Morgan, I think you're afraid of old Grumps.

TOM

Yeah, well, you think right.

MELISSA

He's just one old man.

She saunters into the road, heading for the yard.

TOM

Mel, don't. Are you crazy?

MELISSA

I was gonna make you lemonade, but now I will jus hafta keep it all for myself.

He runs toward her, but she's already scrambled over the fence. He stops at the barrier.

Melissa jumps up and grabs a lemon off the tree.

From the shadowed front stoop emerges the barrel of a shotgun followed closely by old MR. SIMMONS.

MR. SIMMONS

I told you damn kids, stay offa my property.

Tom freezes. The blood runs out of his face.

Melissa passes him, waving the purloined lemon in his face. One of her hair ribbons falls to the ground.

MR. SIMMONS

Thieves!

He fires the shotgun into the air.

Tom snaps back to himself. Starts to run, but turns back and reaches through the lattice to pick up the lost ribbon, then runs past the bus stop, back across the fields.

EXT. CORNER OF HILLTOP AND GROVE - DAY

Same corner, but a few of the fields have been replaced with homes. Long ranch-style homes mostly, with expansive lawns.

The bus stop shed is weathered and grey.

Tom, now 17, sits on the bench reading a book. His clothes still look too big on his skinny frame.

Melissa walks up, her hair cut like Farrah Fawcett. A TEENAGE BOY hangs out the door of an orange Pinto that rolls past.

TEENAGE BOY

Who woulda thought Mel would grow up into Mel-iss-a.

MELISSA

Oh, shush.

She flips her hair, flirtatiously. The car revs its engine and zooms away.

TOM

Hello, Melissa.

MELISSA

Oh, hi Tom.

She barely looks his way, watching the Pinto as it does doughnuts in an empty lot.

A bee lands in her hair.

TOM

Um, Melissa.

She waves him off, without turning to look at him.

He pulls a red gingham ribbon from the back of the book, and marks his place.

TOM

Mel, there's a...

He stands, and reaches up to wave the bee away, but before he can, she runs a hand through her hair.

Her eyes get very wide.

MELISSA

Oooh, CRAP. Oh shit.

TOM

I'm sorry, I tried to... there was a bee.

She waves her hand, and the sting swells up.

TOM

I know something that can help.

He looks across to the lemon tree in Mr. Simmon's yard, now just visible over a tall whitewashed fence.

He gets a running start, and manages to get over it, leaving black scuffs on the paint.

A dog barks when he lands on the other side. The tree rustles.

Tom's head pops over the fence. He loses his grip and falls.

The dog growls, and there are sounds of a scuffle.

Tom scrambles back across, his pant leg now torn at the hem.

MELISSA

Tom, are you OK?

She blows on her bee sting, and winces.

He holds up a lemon.

TOM

These can help relieve a bee sting.

He pulls out a Swiss army knife, and cuts the lemon.

Gently lifting her hand, he rubs the juice onto the sting.

MELISSA

When did you get so brave, Tom Morgan?

Melissa beams at him.

EXT. CORNER OF HILLTOP AND GROVE - DAY

The wood hutch at the bus stop has been replaced by a concrete shelter. The fields are now entirely replaced by houses, small and close. The paint on Mr. Simmon's fence is worn.

Tom, 24, carries a briefcase as he waits on the bus. His clothes not only finally fit, but are a little tight across his muscular arms and thighs.

A car pulls up, a LITTLE GIRL in the passenger side.

Melissa gets out of the car, and smacks the roof. Her Farrah hair has been replaced with a poodle perm and bandanna.

MELISSA

Is that you, Tom Morgan?

Tom cocks his head, and takes her in.

TOM

Melissa? Well, it's been...I haven't seen you went to college.

MELISSA

Yeah. Just visiting the folks. Had no idea you were back here.

TOM

Never left.

Melissa takes him in a long moment, then nods to the child.

MELISSA

Came to show my daughter my favorite lemon tree.

The little girl is climbing through the car window.

TOM

Oh? Well, hello. What's your name?

LITTLE GIRL

Jessica. I'm this many.

She holds 6 fingers in front of her face.

TOM

Wow, you're 6.

He looks at Melissa, and back at the little girl.

A car screeches around the corner.

Tom grabs Jessica and pulls her from the car as it crumples from the impact. Melissa is knocked back and out of sight.

The girl's scream pierces the air.

EXT. CORNER OF HILLTOP AND GROVE - DAY

Trees are grown tall, and the bus stop has been spray-painted by gangs. The bench is missing a plank.

Beside the concrete shelter a cross is in the ground, tied with a worn gingham ribbon.

A middle-aged Tom, bends down, takes off the old ribbon, and replaces it with a fresh one. He steps back a few paces, wipes sweat from his brow, and looks up at the sun.

A car pulls up. It idles a moment, then stops. A YOUNG WOMAN steps out, wearing a dark suit.

She goes to the cross, and sets a candle at the base.

Tom watches her light it.

TOM

Jessica?

She turns slowly, and nods.

YOUNG WOMAN/JESSICA

Tom Morgan?

Tom nods yes.

JESSICA

You were there.

TOM

Yes, I was.

JESSICA

I was going through old papers, and. Mom never told me, but I think you may be... might be my...

Tom nods.

TOM

Tell you what. Why don't you come inside for some lemonade, and we can talk.

He gestures across the street, where a new mailbox is labelled "MORGAN". They cross, he opens the gate, and they disappear into the yard.

FADE OUT

Done!

Well, I did it.
Stuck with the micro-epic screenplay idea.


Very interested in the feedback on this one. I enjoyed writing it, but is it any good?

Will post it as soon as I get confirmation from the contest organizers that it's good to go.

An Epic in 5 Pages (or less)??

I must be crazy, but I am actually attempting to write a story that spans 35 years and two generations in my short screenplay challenge.

AND (the crazy part is) I think it will work.

Surfacing - Second Life, Role Playing Games, a new (old) challenge

Sometimes I just need to shut off for a while. Sometimes that while is several months. So I've been engaging in hours of mindless and sometimes downright filthy activity through various avatars in Second Life.

What I learned there is that even the most detailed carefully constructed characters (some of my avatars ROCK), set in the most fascinating and detailed environments (some the the SIMs are very well imagined and meticulously designed) are still boring if nothing happens to them.

You can go out and try to make things happen, but initiating action only goes so far if the responses are uninventive or poorly executed. Really, very few people can get the hang of role playing when the animation isn't doing all the work.

So, I return now to writing one month before my 40th birthday (when the fuck did I get that old??) and just in time for the NYC Midnight screenwriting challenge.

I got open genre for my first assignment, with a bus stop for the setting, and "a lemon" for the object. Ya know, I've sat at many bus stops, in multiple countries over the years, because I didn't learn to drive until I was 32. Yet there is one particular stop that comes to mind above all with three or four others close behind.

Well, I have an idea... off to create enough conflict to make my 5 pages or less sing!

Getting Frenzied

I'll be participating in Script Frenzy this year. I've filled in the points on the Blake Snyder beat sheet, and will be attempting to write an entire screenplay in the month of April.

Actually, my goal is even more ambitious. I plan to finish it in 20 days (6 pages a day is not unreasonable for me), and have time to polish it a little by the end of the month.

Working title: Spaz

A teenage girl hides her epilepsy to convince a former CIA agent to be her mentor, and ends up in over her head with the local Mexican mafia.



I've got the beats laid out. Now, time to write!

Barefoot In a Cactus Garden

EXT. SUBURBAN BACKYARD - DAY

A cactus garden - several shapes and kinds, cluster around a concrete platform. In the middle of them rises a mushroom-shaped aluminum vent, the blades on top spinning.

LYN (18), her red hair in braids, walks by. The edge of her Indian-print skirt catches on a large prickly pear. She bends to disentangle the fabric from the cactus.

Charlie (33), looks around the yard, and scratches his stubbly beard.

CHARLIE

Where is your pad, chickie?

LYN

Right here.

She frees her skirt, steps away from the cactus and onto the concrete, and points down.

INT. FALLOUT SHELTER - DAY

Lyn maneuvers around a small couch at the center of the cramped space.

Shelves are stocked with dusty cans. An AM/FM radio in the corner. An ashtray filled with butts, and some empty cans litter the floor.

Charlie makes his way down the ladder.

Lyn sits, uncomfortable, on the edge of the couch. Charlie sits beside her, she nervously jumps up - then sits again.

Charlie cracks a smile, an elfin grin of both sympathy and amusement.

CHARLIE

Tell me - what troubles you?

LYN

How - How did you know?

CHARLIE

Up in the Haight, I'm called the gardener.

He reaches into a shirt pocket and pulls out a joint, then sticks it behind an ear.

CHARLIE

I tend to all the flower children.

Lyn stands up now and faces him, but stays close.

LYN

Charlie. It's Charlie, right? I'm no delicate flower. And I don't need any gardener planting his seeds.

Charlie looks at her.

CHARLIE

Lynette. Lyn. Even a cactus -

He grasps the edge of her skirt, where it had caught the cactus above, and finds a needle there.

CHARLIE

-blooms once in a while. Flowers come in infinite variety. Some of them with thorns.

He pulls her arm out in front of her, opens her hand, and drops the cactus needle in her palm.

CHARLIE

That makes it special when you can get close to them.

Lyn melts, and flops back onto the couch. She leans slightly toward him, then pulls back again.

LYN

I guess I dig what you're saying.

CHARLIE

So, we're copascetic.

He pulls out the joint, and pats his pockets for a light. He stands, and starts looking through the stocks.

LYN

Over there. Matches are by the radio.

He lights the joint, then squats in front of her, and passes it to her. He waits for her to take a hit.

CHARLIE

When did your old man kick you out?

LYN

Wh- uh - he. How did you know?

He just grins.

She laughs.

LYN

Any little thing and he'd go ape, man. So, you know, I figured it was time to split.

She starts to tear up.

CHARLIE

Look, I've spent most of my life behind bars. Stupid shit mostly. Petty crimes.

LYN

Oh, that's golden. I've invited a criminal down here to get high. That's supposed to make me feel better?

CHARLIE

I'm tryin to tell you, man, for a lot of years I was seriously down on myself.

He holds her chin in his hand. Curiosity overwhelms her fear.

CHARLIE

Do you miss your daddy?

Lyn shakes her head no.

He holds her gaze a while longer.

She shakes her head yes.

CHARLIE

You wanted daddy to hit you.

She pulls away. Pushing Charlie from her, but with no real insistence.

LYN

Fuck you, Charlie.

CHARLIE

All little girls want their daddy's attention.

Lyn freezes. He gently pulls her into his arms, and strokes her hair.

CHARLIE

Prison was like that for me. I hated it, but I wanted it.

LYN

Do you still?

CHARLIE

No, man. I learned that the way out of a room was not through the door.

He taps his head.

CHARLIE

It's up here. Just don't want out, and you're free.

They both laugh.

CHARLIE

We've got a bus. Painted black, full of cushions and groovy people.

LYN

Yeah? OK.

CHARLIE

We're going up north again. Into the woods. Maybe back to the Haight. Come with us.

LYN

I can't.

He pushes her away from him.

She tries to lean on him again, but he pushes her up.

He stands up, and goes to the ladder.

LYN

You're leaving already?

He shrugs and goes up the ladder.

CHARLIE

Well, I can't make up your mind for you. Stay here with your Daddy if you want... But I think you'd love the Family.

She sits a moment, and looks at the cactus needle still clutched in one hand. She takes it and presses it into her fingertip, drawing out a small drop of blood.

LYN

Charlie? I'm coming.

She licks the blood from her finger, and follows him out of the shelter.

round 2, Murder at India House

FADE IN

EXT. INDIA HOUSE HOSTEL IN NEW ORLEANS, BACK PATIO - NIGHT

TOPHER (24) is slumped over in his wheelchair with a backpack on the back, a wine bottle propped between his scrawny legs.

A beach ball comes flying through the air and bounces off his head.

He pulls himself straight, one eyebrow raised high, smacks his lips and looks around.

FEMALE VOICE

Knock it off, guys. Hey Topher - you OK?

Topher whips the wheelchair around, and pops a wheelie - but ends up losing control and tipping backward. The wine in his lap spills all over his shirt and face.

Laughter (O.S.)

Inside the house, Topher sees the shadows of partiers on the walls, movement and dancing.

LEVI, a short guy with a trendy hair, looks down at him, and winds an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Without turning, he gestures for someone behind him

HIRO, expensive digital camera in front of his face, comes to the window. Levi whispers something in his ear.

Hiro lowers the camera, and gives Levi a playful punch.

Levi makes pistols with his fingers and shoots, "bang, bang" - not at Topher, but at someone nearby.

Hiro turns his camera in the same direction.

EMILY comes to his rescue and and lifts the chair back up.

EMILY

Those guys are jerks when they drink.

TOPHER

Me, on the other hand - I'm an amateur in the drunken asshatery department, but I think I've got a good start.

EMILY

Epic fail, dude. Next time aim the wine spillage in his direction.

She points up at Levi.

TOPHER

What's your name again?

EMILY

Oh? I may have to re-evaluate your amateur standing.

TOPHER

Oh come on. We just met. I would've forgot your name even sober.

EMILY

Well, that's reassuring. Emily.

Levi comes over with a drink in his hand.

LEVI

Topher my man, you seem to have run dry.

TOPHER

I don't think you could call me "dry."

He gestures to the spilled wine.

LEVI

One more. My signature cocktail.

Topher accepts the beverage, takes a sip.

Levi crouches down behind Emily, leans his chin on her head.

LEVI

Now, Em, if you don't get your rest, tomorrow I'm just going to kill you.

EMILY

Ha. Ha.

Topher nods off again.

INT. INDIA HOUSE, DORM ROOM - NIGHT

Topher is passed out, drooling on a pillow.

A scream somewhere in the building awakens him with a start.

TOPHER

Emily?

He sits up, and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

Woozy, he sways a moment. The room is dark. In fact, the whole place seems remarkably dark and quiet.

Another scream.

TOPHER

What the fuck? Hello? People?

His chair is parked at the foot of the bed. He scoots down to it, rummages through the backpack hanging on the back, and pulls out a flashlight.

He flashes it around the dorm room. No one is in any of the other beds. Hiro's camera sits on one of them, pointed at a spot in the middle of the floor, on and recording.

Topher rubs his face to wake up, and pulls his wine-stained shirt away from his body. He climbs into his chair, and wheels over to the camera.

He starts rolling, and then suddenly stops. Something wet and sticky on his hand. Something wet and sticky on the wheel.

He takes a deep breath, and shines the flashlight at his hand. Red. Not wine. Thicker. Visceral. Blood.

He shines the light around the room again. Stops on the camera. Looks in the direction it's pointed.

Face down on the floor, in a pool of dark wetness, is a body.

TOPHER

Oh shit.

He wheels to it, shining the light on it.

It's Hiro. And wet tracks lead back to Topher's bed.

Topher pulls his backpack into his lap, and digs through it. He pulls out his phone, flips it open, and gets a black screen.

TOPHER

No. No. I refuse to accept that.

He tried turning it on, and nothing happens. He throws it across the room.

Levi stands in the shadows at the doorway.

LEVI

Temper, temper.

TOPHER

We've got to call 911.

LEVI

No.

TOPHER

What?

He shines his flashlight on Hiro.

TOPHER

We've got to call 911, man.

Levi shakes his head. Walks away.

LEVI

Hey, man, where's your little girlfriend?

He disappears into the dark hall.

Topher's face drops.

FLASHBACK

Levi making a shooting gesture at someone, just before Emily picked up Topher's chair.

END FLASHBACK

Topher starts toward the hallway, but then pauses, and shines his flashlight around the room, desperately looking for something. He stops, then weighs the flashlight in his hands. It's got some heft. He swings it, then turns it off.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he adjusts to the dark. There is some light coming from outside, so it's not as pitch black as he first thought.

He slowly wheels into the hallway, flashlight in his lap, listening carefully.

HALLWAY

A squeak. The faint silhouette of Levi, who seems to be facing him.

He pushes forward.

Levi steps back.

COMMON ROOMS

They are in the common area now, with a little more light coming in from outside. Christopher stops and looks around.

There are people here - all sitting quietly, as if waiting, like they are waiting for a bus.

One of the party girls from last night sips a mug of coffee.

A guy nods to him.

TOPHER

Where is she? Where's Emily?

PARTY GIRL

It's her turn to die. I'm next.

No one reacts.

Levi continues to back away, leading him. In the dim light, Topher can see that Levi has another camera.

From under the door of one of the private rooms, a bright light shines.

Topher ignores Levi and rushes to it.

He slams the door open, and floodlights blind him for a moment.

PRIVATE ROOM

When they adjust, he sees Emily, gagged and tied to a leg of the bed, struggling. Her wrists are raw. Her clothes are slashed and bloodstained.

She sees Topher, and her eyes widen. She shakes her head no desperately.

Topher rushes in, but can't negotiate the small room.

A camera hangs from the ceiling, spinning, recording Emily's struggle.

Topher throws himself from the chair, and crawls to her.

Levi is behind them, recording them.

Emily looks at Levi, confused, then at Topher.

She reaches up, and pulls the gag out of her mouth.

EMILY

Dude. You ruined my scene.

Levi laughs.

Topher looks confused.

Levi walks over to the dangling camera, and turns it off.

He leans in close to Topher.

LEVI

Cut.

FADE IN

*squeeeeeeeeeeeee!!*

So, uh, that competition?
The one I barely managed to complete the assignment for, with zero editing?

Figured I'd do Ok. Top third. Enough so that I could do well in the overall, since the points for each round accumulate.





I placed #1 in my group.



Wow.


Just a reminder that deadlines are good for me.
Specifically short, tight, non-negotiable deadlines.
Keeps me from over-thinking.

Desire's Revenge

Here it is, exactly as submitted. Genre: Horror, Location: Shipwreck, Object: Pillow
Written in 1 hr 40 minutes, with zero outlining, editing or proofreading.

(My first try posting something with scrippets, still have some kinks to work out with the formatting.)

EXT. OCEAN - NIGHT

Darkness, and the subtle shimmer of moving water.

Light, the beacon from a lighthouse, sweeps across the water, revealing sharp rocks and churning waves breaking on them.

The light sweeps by, then is gone leaving darkness for a moment. When it sweeps by again, a broken board floats by.

On the third pass, more flotsam - and among the wreckage, a man clinging to the remains of his bunk, clutching a white pillow. He appears dead, until his hands start to tremble, and he shivers.

One more pass. Something slippery and scaly slips from sight just as the light hits it. The man tilts into the water, floats a moment, bobbing, then is pulled underneath.

FLASHBACK

EXT. THE SCHOONER DESIRE'S REWARD - DAY

Quartermaster JOHN DUNHAM oversees the distribution of fish and goods from a net.

JOHN DUNHAM

Looks like we'll be eating well for a week boys.

The sailors, about a dozen men on the boat all cheer.

Just past the Desire is a fishing boat, run up on the rocks and sinking slowly.

JIM BLACK, the boatswain, watches the wreck.

JIM BLACK

Mister Dunham, sir, if I may?

JOHN DUNHAM

Yes, Boatswain?

JIM BLACK

If we could anchor here in the shallows a while, I could use some of the lumbar and ropes from the fishing boat to finish some repairs to the Desire.

John looks around, spys Captain WILL POWER inspecting the rigging, and waves him over.

JOHN DUNHAM

Ask the Captain.

WILL POWER

What can I do for you, Johnny?

JOHN DUNHAM

Mr. Black here proposes we stay a while, and cannibalize that unfortunate tub over there for the Desire's betterment.

WILL POWER

Is that so Jim?

JIM BLACK

Yes Captain. Since we've got food here to hold us a bit, I thought it would be a good time to remain still for a couple of days.

WILL POWER

Allrighty then, we will.

He notices something shine among the fishes in the nets, and reaches for it. It's a fancy comb, silver and mother of pearl. A pretty thing, tangled with seaweed.

WILL POWER

Quartermaster, I claim this small prize for myself. A pretty for one of me wenches when we return to Port Royal.

He plucks out the seaweed, and then is overcome by a sudden shiver, despite the sunny day.

INT. CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS - NIGHT

Will and John sit at the captain's table with the FIRST MATE.

John and the First Mate are laughing. John eats with his fork, carefully cutting of pieces of fish, and squeezing lemon over the top.

JOHN DUNHAM

Fresh fish and fresh lemons.

FIRST MATE

Better than salt cod and ancient limes. My skin was starting to form a salt crust.

Will is distracted, pulling bites of fish off the bones with his fingers and eating them. He toys with the comb under the table.

LATER

Alone, Will lays on his bunk, and tucks the comb into the cover of his pillow.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, a beautiful woman is lying close beside him. Her blue-green eyes are full of the dreaminess of a calm sea, and her smile is warm and inviting.

She strokes his cheek, and then suddenly kisses him with forceful passion. Rolling him on his back, she rips open his shirt, and he realizes she is naked.

He reaches for her breasts, and she slides downward, kissing his chest, wiggling along his body.

LATER

Will opens his eyes again, and sits up. He's alone. He starts to shake off the dream, but notices his shirt is torn.

He touches the pillow where the mysterious woman appeared. It's wet.

EXT. DESIRE'S REWARD - DAY

Will wanders along the deck. The sharp eye that was inspecting the rigging has faded, his gaze is dull.

The sailors whisper to themselves as he passes.

The wreck in the distance has been stripped down to its bones.

FIRST MATE

Captain Power, sir, the men were wondering.

WILL POWER

The men?

FIRST MATE

Well, I was wondering - when might we be setting sail again?

WILL POWER

Well, when we are done with repairs.

FIRST MATE

Allright then sir.

He looks concerned and confused and walks away.

JOHN DUNHAM

Will, the repairs were completed yesterday. You said we'd sail after one more night.

WILL POWER

Oh? Did I? Then we will. We will sail tomorrow.

JOHN DUNHAM

What is going on? I can't remember the last time you were content to be in one place for nearly 7 days.

WILL POWER

This place has its charms, is all. But we'll sail tomorrow. Time to head to Port Royal.

INT. CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS - NIGHT

Will lays on his bunk, clutching the pillow to his cheek, eyes squeezed shut. He opens them again. Nothing has changed. He is still alone. He tries again, with the same result.

EXT. DESIRE'S REVENGE - DAY

Will has more bounce in his step, he's focused and awake.

WILL POWER

Allrighty men, what are you waiting for? To Port Royal?

EXT. DESIRE'S REWARD - NIGHT

A storm lashes at the ship.

Will stands at the helm, but there's a glazed expression on his face. He stares into the distance, as if he sees something.

JOHN DUNHAM

Will! Mind the rocks!

WILL POWER

Do you hear it?

JOHN DUNHAM

I hear only the storm.

WILL POWER

Her voice.

He walks away, and John tries to grab hold of the steering and bring the ship back under control, but the wheel is too hard to turn.

Suddenly a calm overcomes the ship.

Women climb over the railings. A dozen of them. Beautiful and naked, their skin glowing pink like the red tides. They each approach a man, taking his hand. The men all leave their posts and follow them. They lay down on the deck with the women.

John still fights with the wheel, as if he still sees the storm. He looks up and across the deck, as a wave washes over it, and sees the men, alone, lying down.

JOHN DUNHAM

What are you doing?

The captain, looking at the same deck, but in a calm and foggy night, sees the woman from his dream. She takes his hand and leads him into his room.

INT. CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS - NIGHT

She lays him down gently on the bunk, lays beside him, pressed against him, both of them resting their heads on the pillow.

Suddenly, again, she flips him on his back and straddles him.

EXT. DESIRE'S REWARD - NIGHT

The ship's bow breaks against the rocks, splintering, splitting open and letting the stormy water rush in.

Darkness, and the subtle shimmer of moving water.

Light, the beacon from a lighthouse, sweeps across the water, revealing sharp rocks and churning waves breaking on them.

The light sweeps by, then is gone leaving darkness for a moment. When it sweeps by again, a broken board floats by.

On the third pass, more flotsam - and among the wreckage, Will, clinging to the remains of his bunk, clutching a white pillow. He appears dead, until his hands start to tremble, and he shivers.

One more pass. Something slippery and scaly slips from sight just as the light hits it. William tilts into the water, floats a moment, bobbing, then is pulled, still clutching the pillow underneath.