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.

Faith

I now have more faith in my country than I ever thought possible.

I have said for several years that what we needed as president was a leader. Not a politician, or a negotiator, or a businessman, or whatever else a president might be - but a leader. Someone who would hold up a vision to inspire the nation, and then encourage us to get there. That to re-invigorate innovation, promote service, and generate real change - we needed someone who could make us see that a) it is possible, still and b) it is our job as individuals, to make it happen - not to rely on the government.

Kennedy was such a leader. Martin Luther King. Lincoln, and Susan B. Anthony.

But I didn't think I'd see such a leader anytime soon. A leader like that requires not only their particular skills and charisma, but the right atmosphere for their message to flourish. I simply didn't think things were bad enough for the public to be motivated in any significant way.

When I first heard Obama speak, knowing nothing about him but the small rumblings that he might run for president one day. I don't remember what he said, I just remember being impressed...but I did not think we were ready to elect a black man president. The more I learned about him, the less chance I thought he had. Bi-racial, African father, raised abroad, hippie mom. I thought his name alone would be his downfall. That his opponents would just have to say "Barak Hussein Obama" a few times, and that while there was little chance the majority of voters would vote for someone with an ethnic name, there was no way they would vote for someone with a muslim name - and not just any muslim name, but one specifically demonized and associated with the worst kind of despotism.

And they tried...

...but we got past it.
Mr. Obama got us past it, but we were ready to go there.


We turned out in record numbers. We got past race, past ethnicity, past the demonization of a name.
And I am so proud, right now, to be an American.

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.





recipe: Strawberry Ginger Salmon

Before I forget what I did, I want to get it in writing:


Salmon steak - spread with a thick layer of ginger paste (the stuff in the tube, could use a lesser amount of fresh grated ginger as well), sprinkle with a little fish sauce, a dash of lime and a splash of sherry. Set aside to marinate (about 30 minutes)

Strawberries - about half a pound for two generous servings
Cut them into chunks. Add the juice of 1/2 a small lime. Sprinkle with a little basil. (About a dime sized amount in the palm for dried, or about 2x that for finely chopped fresh basil.) Drizzle with honey (about a 1/2 a tablespoon), soy sauce (about a teaspoon), and sprinkle with wasabi powder (about 1/2 teaspoon). Stir.

Coat a skillet with a light film of olive oil, and bring it up to high heat. Place the salmon in the pan, skin side down. Cover. Let cook on high heat for about 1 minute, then add a splash more sherry, a pinch of salt, cover again and turn to low. Let cook about 6 minutes, or until salmon just starts to flake a little when pressed. (It should still hold together well. If it flakes too much, it's overcooked.)

Heat strawberries in microwave about 1.5 minutes, till just warm.


Serve the salmon topped with a generous portion of the strawberry mixture.
I paired it with asparagus and wild rice - but the sweet strawberries made the asparagus taste bitter by contrast and the rice just wasn't quite right. In retrospect, I'd go with acorn or butternut squash, or sauteed spinach and quinoa or cous cous cooked in chicken broth with saffron.

ack!

I entered the NYC midnight screenwriting challenge. For those not familiar with it, you are given a genre, a location, and an object and have 48 hours to write a 5-page screenplay.

I entered. Excited. Figured I had time off to work on it, since it was around my birthday.

...didn't realize that I'd be busy all day, shopping and getting a mani/pedi, then going out to dinner with my sister and my dad. (And a really outstanding dinner it was. Craft is my new favorite restaurant in Dallas. A little room for improvement with the service, but the food is uncomplicated and just heaven. Pricey. But heaven.) I mean, I knew I'd be busy, but thought I'd have some time to write. I didn't.

Still, I didn't stress about it, figured I'd write when I got home. Did not anticipate the results of eating braised short ribs, buffalo tenderloin, lamb shoulder (all dishes are served family style) and roasted jerusalem artichokes, pumpkin risotto, sauteed wild mushrooms...not to mention dessert. Oh, and let's not forget the mushroom fondue amuse bouche and the fois gras and roasted fig appetizer.) Specifically, I fell asleep with the notebook on my chest.

I never fall asleep while writing. Really. There is literally only one other time in my life I've done that.

OK, so today. I figured I could write a little at work. However, after two days off I was busy all day sorting things out, and preparing for the meeting after work, and finishing updating the stats for the clinic. I got out of there around 8, and realized that I had even less time than I thought - because the deadline was 11:59 EDT... and it takes me almost an hour to get home.

Get home, eat dinner rapidly, sit down, and it's 9:20.

at 10:48 I realize I'm almost done, but not quite - so I open up the website to start the entry, then return to my script and finish the last page. I squeak by, at 10:58 I'm uploading - and my spotty internet connection cuts out. It comes back a few minutes later and I am able to submit.

So, if they time it based on when I started the entry, I'm cool. If they base it on when I actually uploaded the file, I'm about 8 minutes late.

Of course, it's totally unedited or proofread and really desperately needs to be tightened and then finessed. Its not what I hoped for...BUT it did give me a really cool idea for a full length screenplay.

I'll post the script here soon, though I do not pretend that it's anything more than adequate... it's certainly not bad for having been written entirely in an hour and 38 minutes.

yes I'm still alive out here

Managing the clinic takes a huge amount of energy. It's stressful, and I'll be honest: I'm not happy doing it. It's not quite what I'd imagined: a lot more administration, a lot more dealing with complaints and with needy people - both clients and employees.

So I've given myself permission to not think or write - a mental vacation - and spend my free time playing Warhammer Online.

Sometimes it's necessary to shut off for a while.

I'll be back. I always am. Either I'll find balance at this job, or I will go back to doing massage.