[Petals of the Reincarnate]: 612.Winter Angels (A rough Script)

This is a very rough script idea for a play or television drama called 'Winter Angels. It starts off relatively morbid, or negative, but as the story progress, it turns more into a dark fantasy, with a very positive and beautiful outcome, meant to deterr people away from unwelcome, upsetting feelings..

Inspired, in part, by my studies in psychology.



Act I


Ext. A forest. A young woman with long, dark curled hair wears an old, 

but very beautiful corset dress. It is her wedding

dress. She is huddled by an old, gnarled tree, reading a letter within her

mind. The girl is letting the audience hear her thoughts.


GIRL:
  

As I lay, looking at the stars that blink like new-born eyes in the skies, I wait

for you.

As the skies open, and the heavens tumble forth delicate snowflake, angelic

halequins that dance in delicate uniformed lines, watched as the wind chases

them like angels.



(Smiles, as the snowflakes begin to cling to her hair and eyelashes) She continues,

huggled against a lonely tree, in a wood of thousands, face up toward the heavens.

(ECHO)

I hear them, Alex. I hear them calling. I don’t feel cold anymore.

(Smiles once again)

I no longer fear death.It is only closing your eyes. I just pray I wake by your side

once again.

GIRL:

I clutch the roses that you gave me in my hands. They remind me of life. They are

both my wedding nuptial, and my funeral wreath. They remind me of death.

They are a symbol of what is most delicate, and what is most fragile. What is

strong, but ultimately weak. I remember your face as you showed me the roses.

You knew that I love roses. And yet I never told you. I did not need to. Knowing

things, just as if we’d always known.

Secret looks, a universal language spoken only by lovers across the globe.

Without words we narrated a whole story book. Nay, a saga.

I have known love. And love had loved me, in the only way that love knows how.

And so I am to die here, all alone, at peace within myself . It is not the act of

dying that scares me, it is the act of leaving those I love most dealy behind.


(Glance sideways at both her wrists. There is a white bandage wrapped neatly

on either wrist.)

GIRL:

How did they get there? I still did not know.

(ECHO)

Don't you remember?


I don't remember.

I was happy.


ECHO)

It always hurt .

GIRL:

I was past feeling cold, and my wounds no longer hurt. The blood stains

the pure white snow in such a way that I actually felt guilty. It was like soiling

something innocent. I was sorry for that.

My eyes closed again, and probably for the last time. I invited death. It felt so

serene, and close. I no longer worried about those I loved. I began to dream.


(NARRATOR) (TWO VOICES, BLENDING INTO ONE, A YOUNG

VOICE AND AN OLDER.)


Crisp, miost illusions, projections of my life, presented to me almost like a

movie flip chart. I was the star. Every beat of my heart, laid out, recorded, for me to

witness once again. I held my fear, and I let it go.Like the dove of my own fears,

made free by my own serenity and peace with myself, free to ride the winds of

the past.In the palm of my hand, lay my own life, the power to begin again.

Amidst the snow, the shadows of my past skitted about me like a neglected

friend.

(YOUNG GIRL'S VOICE SPEAKS, A LITTLE ERRATIC, THE ELDEST

VOICE CARRIES ON AS NORMAL)

I could see them, in my mind’s eye, being so close to death.Half-opened

eyes, blue against the stark white of the snow that blanketed the earth, could see

many things. I could see many shapes, dense and fine.I was seeing the ghosts of

the past, speeded up in time, to catch up with the future. I never thought this unusual,

possibily due to the state of my mind. Or maybe, just maybe, they really were with me,

in this time, just mere echoes of a past I forgot long ago.


(CHILDS VOICE, FEARFUL)

I see him! He is waiting for me. I do not know him, yet he is familliar straight away.

I am dancing with angels one minute, then running from demons the next.

(ECHO)

I dream! This is my nightmare. It is always the same. The grown-up me, running through the

snow, leaving a blazing trail of roses. They burn the snow! The purity is taken away from the

snow. My arms and legs are bruised. My face is bright with red lips, a contrats with the palest

of skins and the darkest of hair. I am snow white, I am sure of it. But I am not wearing a

pretty dress. It is black, and hateful. And I am running towards a cottage, but it is bigger

than that of Snow White's. 

And I have wings. Wings broke, reminding me of the the cygnat that I once rescued

from a park, neck also broken. It died.

broken. I couldn't fix her.



The girl closes her eyes for the last time, curled up in the foetal position, the roses

scattered about her, withered and black.