HI, everyone. It has been awhile. I have been super duper busy! So since WC was moved and then moved back I guess nothing has changed except membership has gone... well. Down. But good to see there are still active members :).
I have placed WC on my clicky bookmarks so I will remember to come here more often! I look forward to writing with everyone and hopefully making this a more active community. Again.
I got your love letters. Then I corrected the grammar and sent them back.
True romance is dead. I shot it in the chest and in the head.
Under the Storm.
I put myself there.
The sky lights with silver and reflects off the glistening streets; for just a split second it was not night, but platinum dawn. I lose control and feel myself slipping under the rain, and as I try to regain control I realize it's hopeless and let myself slip. I find myself facing the other way, but otherwise unharmed. My heart is beating faster than before. I turn around and begin my way back home.
I am running into the rain, which seems to be screaming at me to go back, go back to his house, don't stay here. Don't go there. Go back.
I am feeling content, remembering that there is no school tomorrow. The lingering taste of his cum is still on my tongue.
I've had a pretty crazy year in the music department, what with seeing Fall Out Boy (and some other fantastic bands!) live, seeing Live Earth and all those legends playing, seeing Lifetime, The Smashing Pumpkins, and The Police all reunite again; finding my love for Prince and David Bowie, and discovering a bunch of new tastes and talents.
It's just been an amazing year for music. I'm glad I liked it.
Recently I'm addicted to Matt White. Check him out if you have the time.
White ribbons hang carelessly from the ceiling. Three are strung tightly.
Suspended cruelly at the end of the ribbons, a young woman; her face hangs with shame, eyes closed, dark. Her hands lie limp above her head, slender fingers bleeding slightly. Her ankles are crossed, tied in a painful twist.
She hangs there, helpless amongst the pure silky fabric, lips pouting at gravity, breasts and charms exposed, curves exploited. Her blue-black hair is tied away from her face with ribbons, made of rich, soft ringlets that bounce gently with her soft, even breathing.
She is lowered gently down, down onto a downy soft bed of black. Ivory skin covers slack, unused muscles and she is nearly translucent as she lies there, limp and vulnerable to the robed figure walking slowly towards her, removing his robes, exposing a handsome face made of strong features and cruelty.
The midnight robes slip from his fingers and his body towers above hers; her eyes open slightly, move to see him. Her beautiful mouth twitches, yet she continues to lie still.
His hands caress her skin, just the softest of touches, but he's violating her, his Virgin Whore Queen.
Pressing his dark lips to her ear, he whispers, soft as clouds...
The vodka stung the back of her throat like tiny needles until it was numbed over and slick. Her throat burned and her eyes watered slightly, but the warm feeling spread in her stomach and gave her a slightly fluid motion when she looked around. The pill melted in her mouth with a raw taste. The aftertaste was more like blood and metal than rubbing alcohol.
It made it hard to breathe with the scent fuming around her like a noxious cloud of taint. The pills constricted her and stuck in her throat. Blue.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” The voice was like nails on a chalkboard.
Another swing of the vodka; the water sloshed and a fumbling gasp appeared.
“I’ve been racing for the top.” That voice again. The girl slurred.
“She believed every lie.” It sounded like gears grinding together now.
“Oh look at her. Her poor mouth. She can’t move her lips fast enough.” The voices combined.
The pills laid on the counter in meticulous order, gleaming shiny orange at the ceiling in little matching grins. The pill box was toppled over and the bottle of vodka sloshed about without being moved.
“And those chapped lips… far too little moisture.”
An orange pill found its way into her mouth. She rubbed her temples.
Another orange pill grinned its malicious self at her, calling her to swallow it.
“She’s going to get woozy doing that.”
A crack resounded as she yawned wide, not covering her mouth. She slumped over the counter, the bottle clutched in her hand like a noose. She fell to her knees with a drowsy grace, the pills coming after and the vodka eventually spilling itself onto her, dousing her in its cheap perfume.
“How fitting.” The voice said. “How incredibly fitting.”
She swallowed a little, her tongue too thick to breathe. The pills dissolved slower now as she picked them off the floor, trying in vain to get rid of her horrible headache.
“What a headache that must be,” said the voice. “How fitting. You smell like cheap perfume.”
She nodded off, one hand to her face.
“That skin was made so soft by the body fluid of rock stars, my dear,” mocked the voice. The girl ripped her hand from her face, hunched over; tried to stand. Failed.
“It’s so blue in here. Who put in those lights? Who would want to blind you like this?” The girl murmured; licked her lips, tried to stand again. The clear liquid was bumped and more dripped onto her face. The voice laughed.
A silence pervaded the area, before the voice took a breath. Paused. Began to speak.
“You know, it’s fitting. They smile at you and you always fall for it. Won’t you ever learn you silly girl? Won’t you ever run along to just play and leave the real decisions to the adults? You poor, silly, cheap little girl. Even the alcohol mocks you.” The bottle shook against the counter, making the sound of an earthquake. More of its contents spilled onto her. The voice laughed again. “Oh, I’m sure that brings back memories…” The girl shook violently on the floor, her stomach heaving, but she held back.
“Go ahead you silly girl, let it out. Or keep it in, it really makes no difference. It will be orange, though, that I can tell you. You are so orange! And so blue. So very blue. Combine that and it can make quite an ugly green, don’t you know? Puke green if you will. Go ahead, girl, let it out.”
The girl took deep gasps, but swallowed vodka. It dribbled from her cheek and into her mouth.
“I bet your head is spinning now. I bet your lungs want to give out. And to think! You hadn’t even sung one note. Not one. What’s wrong with you, you poor, silly little girl?”
“Nothing is wrong? Well, I suppose my fun is over if you really don’t want to speak to me. You’re a bore anyhow. I’ll take what I came to get and leave.”
The voice was gone, and the orange pills grinned up at the bottle of vodka from the floor.
No one will read it, so I may as well post it. The final edit of Dark Junkie in the screenplay format.
Suffer through 21 pages.
EXT. BUSY STREET – EARLY MORNING
The light is grey and there is dirt and smog hanging in the air. There are a lot of people in the alleyway, all men, grimy and dirty from the graveyard shifts, or just because of poverty. They are moving about, yelling occasionally for someone to get out of their way. Other men, both young and old, stand on the sidelines, either looking guilty or running stalls of various goods such as fish or vegetables. One is cooking eggs with a line of men before him, getting out pennies for eating.
There is one young boy within the crowd. The other men are abnormally tall compared to him. He is seen weaving through the crowd.
DOLLY IN to the young boy, and FOLLOW him as he dodges his way around to press himself against the wall. He slips into a darkened ALLEYWAY.
EXT. ALLEYWAY – EARLY MORNING
There is nothing but garbage in this alleyway, save for a door that is almost hidden amongst the trash. FOLLOW the boy to the door, TILT UP to see part of the back of his head as a small, balding man (SIR) opens up, in RACK FOCUS. He catches a glimpse of the boy and his features soften before immediately hardening again.
He says the name as if it were a disease. ROMAN speaks back in an adult-like manner, while seemingly respectful; it’s obvious he is mocking the balding man.
SIR: What do you want, Roman?
CUT TO the balding man’s point of view. Roman slowly stands to an upright position, looking at the man with much intensity. The man sighs and steps aside, letting Roman through the door.
INT. APARTMENT LIVING ROOM – DAY – DOWNSTAIRS
The room is fogged with blue light and smoke billows in every direction, making this a popular place for hot boxing. People sit on the floor or various pieces of used furniture, giggling or passed out. A couple sits on the stairs, poking at the blue light and giggling.
Roman looks around in disgust. FOLLOW his feet up the stairs.
CUT TO INT. HALLWAY – DAY – UPSTAIRS
PAN LEFT and TILT UP to see Roman climbing the stairs, the blue light fading and the smoke disappearing. The hallway is much fresher, and there is a window with bright sunlight shining into the room.
CUT TO Roman’s point of view, looking at a large door. His steps slow as he approaches it and his fist comes up shaking as he knocks solidly on the door.
A MAN’s voice comes from the other side of the door, gruff and commanding.
MAN: Come in.
CUT TO INT. OFFICE ROOM – DAY
This room is like the hallway, bright but still with dark tinges in each corner. There is a large window and a man in front of it, sat behind an enormous desk in an even bigger chair. The man in the chair is very well-built, with a bald head, broad shoulders, and chocolate colored skin. His name is MARCO.
CUT TO Roman entering the room, eyes downcast. He sits in a chair in front of the desk without looking up.
MARCO: So. (Pause.) Another hit, right?
Roman shudders, nods, and then looks at the man fiercely with intense green eyes.
MARCO: Don't look at me like that, Junkie. (Growls.)
Roman holds out his hand expectantly.
ROMAN: Have I not been faithful? Several turned to Light Junkies this week alone. You owe me.
MARCO: You've got guts, kid. Even for being a Dark Junkie, you've got guts.
Marco eyes Roman, then reaches into his desk and pulls out a small plastic baggy of green marijuana plant. Marco sets the bag on the desk between them. CLOSE UP on the bag before TILT UP to Roman’s face. Roman slowly closes and takes back his hand, looking at the bag. Roman shakes his head.
ROMAN: No, that stuff's too weak for a Dark Junkie. I'll get a few giggles out of that, but it won't be enough
MARCO (smiling): You've got brains.
ROMAN: I've been cheated too many times. I have to survive too.
Marco stands. FOLLOW Marco to the far wall on the left side of Roman. CLOSE UP on his knuckles tapping a hollow spot in the wall. Pause. The wall opens up. Marco and another unseen person murmur to each other. ZOOM OUT to see Marco’s face. The wall closes and then opens again, and the unseen person with a gloved hand gives a balled up piece of tissue to Marco. ZOOM OUT to see Roman sitting at the desk, anxiously.
Marco returns to his seat, putting the tissue on the desk where the marijuana was. CLOSE UP on his hands as he delicately unwraps the tissue, revealing a small bag. Inside the bag is a small black bottle.
ROMAN: Where’s the syringe?
MARCO (laughing): No, no. No syringe is needed for this. All you need is a mouth.
Marco opens the bottle and shakes out a tiny capsule. ZOOM OUT and PAN RIGHT to see Roman eyeing the pill crazily.
ROMAN (whispering): What does it do?
CUT TO Marco leaning back in his chair.
MARCO: I don’t know. We've only just made it. I haven't seen the reactions for myself, and when we gave it to a Light Junkie, she died.
ROMAN: Was it an overdose?
MARCO: It was too strong for her. A drug specifically made for Dark Junkies. I imagine it'll give you quite the pow. (Speaking softly.) We do need to test it though… I'm not sure it's safe… I don't imagine that someone of your size and age should be taking it. After all, it did kill a Light Junkie.
Roman stands. CLOSE UP on Roman’s face, which is outraged.
ROMAN: Light Junkie's aren't anything to Dark Junkies! You know that almost as well as I do! You know that! And I might be small, but I'm certainly not young! I'm older than you are, don't you deny it. You know what Dark Junkies are…
CUT TO Marco, who had lit a cigar and was puffing away at it as Roman went on his tantrum.
MARCO: Roman, calm down boy. I know, I was just teasing. Listen, I'll give you one, not the whole bottle, though that won't even kill you…
ROMAN (snorting): There's a difference between immortality and being ageless.
MARCO (raising an eyebrow): Is there now?
Roman stares at Marco. CUT TO looking between them sitting in front of each other, over the desk, the light shining on Roman’s dulled pale skin. He looks almost dead in the light.
ROMAN: Dark Junkies… Forbidden Curse, you don't even use the old word anymore.
Marco flinches at Roman’s next words, the first shown sign of weakness.
ROMAN: Vampires. What's so bad about saying it? Vampires, vampires, vampires!
CUT TO Roman rising to his feet in childish fury.
ROMAN: There were Incubi and Succubi, ones who couldn’t stand the light, ones who couldn’t stand the dark! So many, and now only one left… us, the 'Dark Junkies', the ones who can't stand to live without a fix.
ROMAN settles down, sitting in his seat again. Marco has broken out into a sweat, leaning far back in his sea, his gloomy cigar burned low in his hand.
ROMAN: You know us… Marco you understand somewhat. That's a lot that I can ask for…
MARCO (whispering): What is it, Roman?
ROMAN: We can't become earthly again if we can't find a pure soul, someone who hasn't been blackened
MARCO: Why not steal a child?
Roman turns away as he speaks.
ROMAN: No. The soul has to be pure, but has to have the ability of speech; it has to have the capacity to be listened to and taken seriously! Marco, you don't have to help me. Just tide me over until I can find it myself.
MARCO (snorts, then raises his voice, suddenly angry.): How're you supposed to possibly find an innocent soul if you're goddamn high all the time?
PAN RIGHT to go from Roman’s expression to Marco’s. Settle between the two of them, from a far away position. Roman slams his fists flat against the desk and leans over it, coming dangerously close to Marco’s face.
ROMAN: You know better than that Marco. You know better. The drugs aren't enough, no matter how strong. We don't see the colors the Light Junkies do, we don't get the same sensation. All we get is a temporary numbness to our depression. We're living in a damn nightmare, all of us. Dark Junkie's just happen to have it worse, because we really are tainted; we can't grow up, we can't live on our own… Long after your death, I'll still be like I am now, mayhap a little wiser. I'm stuck like this forever! You're not. You're the lucky one. There's not much I can do for you, since I'm already tainted; but I can do your dirty work. I already do your dirty work. I convert people. That’s all I can offer you, Marco.
Silence permeates the room before Marco speaks.
MARCO: Alright. You win.
ZOOM IN to Marco, TILT DOWN to his hands. He empties the black bottle of the ebony pills, and replaces the bottle with four. FOLLOW the bottle as he tosses it in the air and Roman snatches it; the bottle disappears somewhere into Roman’s shirt.
ROMAN (satisfied): Whom do you need killed?
CUT TO Marco sitting somewhat calmly in front of Roman. Hold position before he speaks slowly.
MARCO: Adelaide. She’s somewhere in her middle teens. I’d guess around sixteen or seventeen, about the age where you half-died
CUT TO Roman looking back at Marco just as intensely. He nods once, showing that there is a history with that name already. The door closes and Roman is gone, not a trace that he had even stood from his seat.
FADE WHITE to EXT. STREET – DAY
CUT TO a picture of a plain looking girl. TILT UP to Roman’s face looking at the picture, then rising to look around him. PAN RIGHT over Roman’s shoulder and FOLLOW Roman as he walks down the street.
Roman walks briskly, the streets lined with grim and dirt, strip clubs and malls cluttering the place. He turns into a small coffee shop with very few people in it, gazing around with intelligent green eyes. CUT TO a woman’s purse. Roman’s hand enters the woman’s purse and he grabs money, putting it back into his pocket in a blur. CUT TO Roman walking away without anyone knowing. He goes to the counter and leans against it, orders a drink and takes a better look at his surroundings.
SWISH PAN the coffee shop to the various couples around. PAUSE on one girl who is reading a large book; her face cannot be seen. She has long auburn hair and is wearing plain but expensive clothing.
CUT TO Roman looking pleased with himself. The waiter puts his drink on the counter, Roman takes it, and goes to sit across from the girl.
Roman shifts in his seat as the girl doesn’t take notice of him. He clears his throat in further attempt to get her attention. The sun is shining into the coffee shop and the chrome lining the walls plays tricks with the light. CUT TO ADELAIDE, who lowers her book to the bridge of her nose. She has beautiful amber-gold eyes. CUT TO Roman looking at her with his wide green eyes, fumbling slightly.
CUT TO ADELAIDE.
ADELAIDE: Excuse me?
Adelaide lowers the book to expose her entire face. Roman thinks she looks like an angel.
ROMAN: I’m Roman.
Roman shakes his head.
Adelaide sits up and extends her hand. ZOOM OUT to view both of them sitting at the counter, also watching the people walking outside through the glass. Roman takes her hand and gives it a gentle kiss and caress.
ADELAIDE (laughing): Oh, aren’t you charming. What can I do for you, Prince Charming?
ROMAN: Would you like to go for a walk?
ADELAIDE: I’m sorry, but I don’t even know you and my escort will be here any minute to (Pause)…
Adelaide looks out the window to an expensive Rolls Royce that pulls up on the curb. A man dressed in a fine suit appears from the car, looking at Adelaide expectantly from the other side of the glass.
ADELAIDE: There he is. Goodbye…
CUT TO seeing Adelaide leave, her jacket still hung over the back of the chair. ZOOM OUT to Roman grabbing her jacket. CUT TO Roman awkwardly trying to hand it to Adelaide as she tries to exit.
ADELAIDE (smiling): That’s not mine.
Adelaide exits without looking back. Roman watches her through the glass, before looking down at her coat. CLOSE UP on the coat, which states her name, address, and phone number.
SILENCE. A PHONE RINGS LOUDLY. Marco grunts and a car driving by flashes light through a window, showing Marco’s silhouette in a bed, another figure beside him, for a second.
MARCO (sleepily): Hello? What? … A riot? Yeah okay. I get it, Roman. Yeah, just let me call up a favor and let them know you’re coming over to stay. … No, you won’t have to do any extra jobs. … Forbidden Curse, Roman, I’m not a hotel service! Just get over there and they’ll figure it out. Yeah, okay.
Marco hangs up the phone.
FADE BLACK to INT. STUDIO APARTMENT – NIGHT
Music booms through the room, heavy on bass. There are strobes lights and candles lit, and people strewn across the room, either sitting or laying down. Almost everyone has a joint or a pill in their hand. Everyone is smiling and happy. DOLLY IN to Roman, who is near the apartment window overlooking a very beautiful city scene. He looks healthier and younger than before, his blond hair and green eyes very vivid. He makes for an extremely handsome young man. He looks bulkier and broader than what we were exposed to earlier.
He is surrounded by other male friends and they are passing around a joint.
ROMAN (laughing): I told her she could go screw herself.
The boys around him start laughing hysterically, as if they are having the time of their lives. Roman continues with his story, but stops abruptly and looks at someone off-screen, smiling dumbly with glassy eyes. He takes a long drag off the joint and offers it to someone off-screen. A young girl’s hand comes into view, incredibly thin but polished with a large bracelet only making her wrist look thinner, and takes the joint.
CUT TO YLNIRI’S face, who is looking at Roman off-screen. Ylniri takes a drag off the joint and then blows the smoke from her mouth to her nose and back out again, seductively.
PAN LEFT from Ylniri’s face to Roman’s. Roman scoots and makes room for her, but she leans down towards him. DOLLY OUT to view the entire circle, Ylniri’s short skirt exposing her to one of Roman’s friends.
CLOSE UP to Ylniri whispering something into Roman’s ear. There is IDLE CHATTER in the background and MUSIC playing. Ylniri’s lipstick is so incredibly dark red that it’s almost brown, and glistening as if she had just applied it. She has black hair and pale skin, and dull brown eyes. She is very beautiful.
YLNIRI (purring): Let’s go for a walk. (Pause.) Just us.
ROMAN (looking at Ylniri): My mother wouldn’t approve of you.
Roman’s friends laugh.
YLNIRI (seductively): She’ll never have to know. Just come with me, you’ll be safe…
Ylniri strokes Roman’s collar and takes his shirt in a fistful, lifting him up almost effortlessly. Roman’s friends look a little bewildered, but then laugh at what was a fantastic joke to them.
Roman and Ylniri exit the scene. CUT TO Roman and Ylniri walking into an empty bedroom. CUT TO Roman beginning to kiss Ylniri, moving them to the bed.
Roman pauses, some of Ylniri’s lipstick smeared over his mouth. His tongue darts out for a taste and his eyes widen in shock.
ROMAN (eyes wide): This isn’t lipstick…
CUT TO Ylniri, who’s on the bed, disheveled. Her skirt is not on correctly and part of her shirt is ruffled. She suddenly looks menacing and she licks her lips hungrily, her teeth ever so softly pointed.
YLNIRI: No… (she shakes her head) It’s boy’s blood.
Ylniri suddenly lunges towards Roman, and Roman’s SCREAMS are heard off-screen as the camera is kept focused on the bed.
CUT TO Roman’s face, which wakes up from slumber.
INT. BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING
Roman rises from bed, already dressed and strangely not disheveled. He walks off-screen. FOOTSTEPS GOING DOWN STAIRS are heard.
CUT TO Roman entering someone’s kitchen. A CLOCK TICK-TOCKS IN THE CORNER. He opens a humble cookie jar and draws out a note.
FOLLOW ROMAN’S HANDS as he unwraps the note, exposing a syringe. The note reads, “He left this to tide you over. Enjoy.”
EXT. STREET – AFTERNOON
Roman walks down the sidewalk of a well-to-do neighborhood. He turns to a large house and knocks on the door. THE MAID answers it.
FOLLOW Roman inside the house to wait in a richly appointed foyer. In the mirror, Roman is seen to be wearing upper middle class style clothing.
Adelaide is seen walking down the stairs in a pink nightgown, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she sees Roman, she pauses before smiling warmly.
ADELAIDE: My coat!
ROMAN: Yeah, you… you left it at the coffee shop… you know, a couple of days ago. Turns out it really is yours…
ADELAIDE: Well, a person such as yourself deserves a reward. Do you want to go out for breakfast?
ROMAN: How about lunch?
ADELAIDE (to Roman): Oh… (to the waiting maid) Tell Papa I’m out if he comes back. (to Roman) Stay there, I’ll be back soon.
Roman looks very uncomfortable and smiles nervously at the maid, who sneers at him almost comically.
INT. LIBRARY – DAY
Adelaide is looking at different books, smiling at Roman every now and then. Roman looks very uncomfortable and sticks close to Adelaide’s side.
ADELAIDE: You’re not a very patient person, are you?
ROMAN: Not really. I prefer the fast life compared to the slow one.
ADELAIDE (looking at Roman): Live the moment as if you’ll die in the next minute?
ROMAN (choking back a laugh): I think I have a lot more minutes to live unless someone wizens up.
Adelaide gives Roman a look before turning back to her books.
ADELAIDE: We could always do something you like to do. I wouldn’t mind it too much. I usually just read these books because they give me an escape from the otherwise dull life I live.
ROMAN: We could go into Adamma and see if they have anything interesting to do there.
ADELAIDE: I don’t really like going into the heart of the city, if you don’t mind… but I suppose it’d be all right with you, right?
Roman hesitates before nodding, smiling at her reassuringly.
CUT TO EXT. BUSY STREET TOWN SQUARE – EVENING
The town square is relatively quiet. Not many people, but a lot of homeless and beggars. They sit along the buildings or stand on the corners asking for a hand. Everyone else politely averts their eyes. Roman and Adelaide enter the scene hand in hand, walking down the sidewalk.
ADELAIDE: Why did you sit with me at the coffee shop?
Roman seems startled at the sudden question, but soon gathers himself.
ROMAN (speaking quickly): It was the only seat available.
ADELAIDE (disbelieving): That isn’t true, that place wasn’t even close to packed. How come you sat in front of me?
ROMAN: You looked like you were in need of company.
Adelaide smiles somewhat mischievously.
ADELAIDE: I was reading a book, that’s all the company I needed. (Turning to Roman) I’m not stupid, Roman. Why did you pick me?
Roman sighs and seems about ready to give in. Dark circles appear under his eyes and we get the feeling that he just wants to release everything on Adelaide. He lets go of her hand.
ADELAIDE (sighing): I’m sorry. It’s a little ludicrous about why you don’t want to tell me, but I feel safe with you anyway. You can tell me in your own time if that’s what it takes.
Adelaide reaches out to take Roman’s hand again, and Roman’s features seem to twist a little as they pass under a street lamp. He hisses softly, whether to himself or to Adelaide is unknown. If Adelaide has heard the hiss, she decided to ignore it.
ROMAN: Aren’t you tired of all these book stores and coffee shops? Don’t you do anything else outside of these tea parties? When I was your age I stretched my bonds a little, went outside the box, and had a lot of fun at times…
Roman stops talking, realizing suddenly what he just said.
ADELAIDE: When you were my age? You can’t be much older than me.
ROMAN: You get what I mean. When I was… like you. In solitude.
ADELAIDE (a little upset): I’m not ‘in solitude’. I choose not to go out drinking or out to parties for my own well-being.
ROMAN: Have you ever tried it?
ADELAIDE (hesitant): Well… no… but why should I?
ROMAN: You’ll get curious, one day. One day you will get curious and you’ll want to. Who will you take with you? More of your innocent little friends?
ADELAIDE: I never… I… The thought didn’t even cross my mind…
EXT. ALLEYWAY – NIGHT
Adelaide and Roman’s walking has come to a stop at the ALLEYWAY from the opening scene. Adelaide is looking at her shoes, furrowing in concentration and deep thought. Roman seems to loom over her, ominous with the yellow light of the street lamp above them. He takes her chin in his hand and tilts it up to him, kissing her gently.
ROMAN: You feel safe with me. I feel alive with you.
CUT TO a CLOSE UP on Adelaide’s upturned face, her lips slightly parted from the kiss.
ADELAIDE: I suppose I could give in to curiosity… but only once… is this safe?
Adelaide’s last three words come out breathless.
CUT TO Roman’s face, looking down at Adelaide. He looks at her with true and honest concern, a tinge of pain in his features.
ROMAN: It will be with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.
There is a sudden BANG and a CRASH. Someone in the b.g. has been tossed into the alleyway from above. The silhouette gets up, hissing and crazed, coming to Roman and Adelaide. Adelaide SHRIEKS and retreats into the light, Roman moving to guard her.
The MAN has twisted features and his clothes are cut and bloodied. He hisses and looks normal aside of his purposefully twisted features.
MAN: Ooh, such a pretty little treat she is…
The man comes forward, but Roman stops him. The man takes a large, slow sniff up Roman’s forearm.
MAN (to Roman): I’m more interested in the girl. She isn’t spoiled with age.
Hissing again, the man attempts to lunge at Adelaide, who SCREAMS and presses herself against the brick building behind her. Roman steps in and grabs the man by the throat, showing a surprising amount of strength for his very lean body.
Roman easily tosses the man into the street, then lunges at him with a sort of animalistic growl, teeth bared. Adelaide has covered her eyes and now faces the brick wall, shivering, as Roman is seen shredding the man’s throat open with his teeth. The man scrambles and runs away, Roman knelt on the street, gasping.
He wipes the blood carefully from his mouth, and slams his knuckles against the street, scraping them. Getting up, he touches Adelaide gently, his turns to look at him and collapse in his arms, squeezing him.
ADELAIDE: What WAS that?
ROMAN: A Dark Junkie who didn’t get his fix.
ADELAIDE: What do you mean?
ROMAN: If w… they don’t get their fix – if they don’t get high – they turn on people. They want to drink blood, even though they don’t need it. It’s a withdrawal symptom.
ADELAIDE: How do you know all that?
ROMAN: I’m surprised you don’t. Come on… let’s go to one of those coffee shops you like so much. There’s nothing to be scared of, you’re safe with me.
ADELAIDE: I know that…
Adelaide shakes slightly, somewhat hesitant to take his clean hand.
ADELAIDE: The look on your face wasn’t human. You looked like he did.
Roman’s features soften and he nods slightly, not sure if he can keep hiding his secret. Adelaide says nothing and takes his hand, getting close to him.
CUT TO EXT. A PARK – NIGHT
Adelaide and Roman sit on the swings, swinging gently and talking, the long silences being filled with sips of their drinks, which steam slightly in the night. The only sounds are the SQUEAKING SWINGS and occasionally chatter from them. Street lamps glow with bright white light to show their faces.
ADELAIDE: I can be out all night. It’s not something I do often, but I am allowed to.
Roman nods and leans in to kiss her cheek, pulling away quickly, almost embarrassed.
ROMAN: I need to run my hand through the water fountain… stay here. I’ll be watching.
Roman stands and exits off-screen. Adelaide watches him walk for a while, his FOOTSTEPS the only sound. As soon as she looks at her feet, the distant sounds of the CITY come into play.
CUT TO Roman at the fountain, the small light glowing just barely enough to see his face. He washes his hand off and then takes a small white pill from his pocket. He puts it in his bloodied hand and crushes it with the knuckle on his other hand, making it into fine powder. He puts the fine powder on his tongue and, being careful not to swallow or let it leave his mouth, leans down as if he’s taking a drink.
CUT TO Adelaide lifting her head to see Roman enter on screen again. He comes behind her and leans down, kissing her neck. She laughs.
CUT TO Adelaide’s face, and Roman’s knuckles running over her skin. Adelaide shudders. CLOSE ON parts of Adelaide’s body where Roman’s hands touch: torso, thighs, neck, and face. Adelaide turns her head to Roman and he kisses her softly at first, and then more deeply, tongues involved.
TILT UP to the night sky, which is fogged in the distant, but clear above the park. Pause for a beat. TILT DOWN to Adelaide lying in the grass, giggling.
ADELAIDE: I feel so funny. A little tired but so energetic. I don’t want to sleep!
ROMAN: It feels that way, sometimes. What do you want to do?
Roman sounds sad and melancholy, speaking in a monotone voice, but Adelaide is drugged and oblivious to most of her surroundings.
ADELAIDE: Let’s do something wild!
ROMAN: Come with me, then.
CUT TO EXT. ALLEYWAY – DEEP NIGHT
CLOSE ON Roman knocking on the door from the opening scene. Sir opens the door and doesn’t seem pleased to see Roman, but then hears the giggling Adelaide and moves to see her. He almost smiles and makes room for Roman to enter.
CUT TO INT. APARTMENT LIVING ROOM – DEEP NIGHT
ROMAN: We’re going to the warehouse.
SIR: It’s busy tonight. The boys might not notice this sweet thing walking in there.
SIR: What’s up with your eyes anyway, Roman? They’ve got gold in them.
Roman gives Sir a weird look and Adelaide gazes at Roman with large eyes before giggling hysterically. Roman tugs her along.
Adelaide (in a traipse state): Why is everything so funny?
CUT TO INT. WAREHOUSE – DEEP NIGHT
The warehouse is like a skateboard arena. Kids are on ramps and what used to be pools, riding bikes or skateboards. A lot of others are sitting in cheaply appointed, but comfortable, corners, doing various types of drugs. There is one back room that is better appointed than the rest, and a circle of people are in there through the window.
Roman approaches the back room and knocks in a special coded way. The door is opened and he pushes Adelaide into the room before anyone notices her. The people around cheer and close the door behind him, sitting on expensive pillows in a pit around a bowl. The people around the bowl are JAMIE, XACHARIE, JESSUL, and TIAMAT.
ROMAN: She’s a first timer.
ADELAIDE: First timer? Yeah, I’m a first timer.
Adelaide is quick to agree to herself and sits beside a girl, and Roman sits coolly beside her.
ROMAN: I’m paying for her, boys.
The boys leer at Adelaide, making her smile with flushed cheeks.
FADE TO BLACK as one of the boys is seen passing Adelaide a joint, saying, “Here you are, honey, just take a big whiff of that…”
DISSOLVE to the scene again, Adelaide completely not herself. Her clothes are tousled from the groping and she’s smiling far too wide and often. Her glassy eyes stare at Roman longingly. Roman and Adelaide are the only two left in the room.
ADELAIDE: Aren’t I beautiful?
ROMAN: You are.
ADELAIDE: Don’t you want to have me? Be my first one?
ROMAN: I would be honored, but I don’t think you’re in any condition to make that sort of decision right now.
ADELAIDE: I can see the yearning in you.
As Adelaide speaks, she slowly begins to strip her clothes off, coming closer to Roman until she is sat on him, locking him between her thighs.
ROMAN: It wouldn’t be right…
Adelaide leans down and kisses him deeply.
ADELAIDE: I already was going to choose you, you know. I don’t know why, but I feel like we didn’t meet at the right time, but you’re so different. You don’t TRY to protect me… you are totally able to, but you want me to make my own mistakes. It’s only right…
Roman closes his eyes. CLOSE UP on Adelaide’s lips moving to nibble his ear. This shot should strikingly resemble the dream shot with Ylniri. Roman reaches off-screen and grabs two pills, popping them into his mouth and closing his eyes until they take affect, which they do, quickly.
ROMAN: Adelaide… you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen. I wish I didn’t have to be like this.
Adelaide only giggles, shredding the last of her clothing and working on Roman’s pants. Roman is clearly excited, despite the expression of pain on his face.
CUT TO side shot where Roman lays Adelaide down, kissing her neck and making a forward thrust movement. Adelaide’s eyes are closed and her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth open slightly. As she CRIES OUT and GASPS in both pain and pleasure.
HARD CUT TO BLACK.
CUT TO CLOSE UP on Adelaide and Roman’s faces as they lie naked next to each other. Roman reaches for his shirt off-screen and grabs the black bottle that he had hidden in his shirt the entire time.
ROMAN (very softly): I have one last thing for you to try… do you want to?
ADELAIDE (holding her head): I have a headache and a bad taste in my mouth. I’m sore.
ROMAN (hesitant): It’ll fix all that.
Roman takes a black pill and gives it to Adelaide, who frowns groggily at it. Without saying a word, Roman looks at her and puts the second pill to his mouth, but Adelaide gasps and looks at him, shocked.
ADELAIDE: Roman! Your eyes!
ROMAN: What about them?
ADELAIDE: They’re like mine… they’re so golden… but they have green too. They’re so beautiful, Roman.
Roman smiles gently.
ROMAN: I think you’re hallucinating, Adelaide.
ADELAIDE (shaking her head furiously): No, I don’t think so. No… they’re so beautiful…
Almost as if her hand is disobeying her, Adelaide’s hand moves the black pill into her mouth. She swallows it with some difficult, but her eyes never leave Roman’s.
ROMAN (incredibly sadly): Adelaide… Adelaide… Adelaide…
Roman continues to repeat Adelaide’s name, stroking her hair and caressing her cheek.
ADELAIDE: I don’t feel so happy anymore, Roman.
ROMAN: I hope it’s painless.
The sound of MARCO’S VOICE is heard: “We've only just made it. I haven't seen the reactions for myself, and when we gave it to a Light Junkie, she died…I don't imagine that someone of your size and age should be taking it. After all, it did kill a Light Junkie.”
Roman suddenly seems overwhelmed with emotions. He begins to cry and grabs Adelaide, hugging her into him. Adelaide has gone pale, but is still alive.
ADELAIDE: I don’t feel so happy anymore, Roman…
ROMAN: It sobered you up… I can’t believe it sobered you up…
Roman tries in vain to kiss Adelaide, but she suddenly seems depressed. He kisses her softly, and then harder, trying to get a rise out of her, tears flowing down his cheeks.
ADELAIDE (gasping): I feel… like I’m drowning…
TILT DOWN as Roman sits up, grabbing Adelaide in his arms. She is twisted in what looks to be a painful position, her breasts exposed from under the large white blanket they were laying under.
ADELAIDE: Roman… what… what was that…?
Adelaide’s eyes are alert and she sounds fully capable and conscious, but in pain. Roman begins to sob uncontrollably
ROMAN: It wasn’t meant for you… It wasn’t meant for people who are alive!
ADELAIDE (murmurs): What? What do you mean ‘alive’?
ROMAN: Adelaide… please forgive, before you go, please, you’ve got to forgive me, I was being selfish… so selfish… please Adelaide, forgive me!
Roman is desperate now, violently shaking Adelaide as he looks down at her.
ADELAIDE (whispering): Forgive you for what?
ROMAN: For… for being so young so long ago… for… for becoming a vampire so blindly, for becoming a Dark Junkie because I couldn’t get away… Adelaide, forgive me for killing you… for giving you this pill only meant for me… Please, Adelaide. You’ve got to forgive me for loving you…
Adelaide smiles at him, nodding faintly. The color has completely drained from her face and lips and her breathing is raspy. Her lips are tinged slightly blue.
ADELAIDE: It was so fast. So fast… falling for a vampire… a vampire who can love… the strangest thing… look at me with those golden eyes…
Roman sobs as her breathing is suddenly cut. CLOSE ON her face, which are dulled empty eyes that now look like wet sand rather than golden. She has a soft, dimmed smile on her face.
CUT TO ROMAN running out of the door and to the EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT. He slams his fist against the wall but does no damage. He kicks and thrashes and creates a large scene, screaming in the night air, before falling to his knees, suddenly exhausted.
Panting, he presses his hands to his face. CUT TO MEDIUM CLOSE UP. Roman begins SCREAMING, writhing on the ground. SWIFT MOVE to see Roman in his agony, his skin boiling and making him grotesque.
Roman stands and makes his way to Marco’s office, barging in.
CUT TO INT. MARCO’S OFFICE – NIGHT.
Roman is shivering badly as he stands before Marco. The boils on his flesh are bad now, bubbling up and peeling off. His hair has become singed. Sir is seen in the back, the light from the hallway spilling into the office. Sir sees something off camera and closes the door, making it pitch dark.
MARCO (knowingly): Why’d you give it to her, Roman?
Marco sits in his chair, smoking a cigar. The dark room is lit only by the yellow street lamps outside.
ROMAN (shivering badly): It’s what you wanted.
Marco hits the desk, making Roman flinch.
MARCO: Like hell that’s why you did it! Tell me why!
Roman swallows hard; his body twitching as his skin continues to bubble, fizzing slightly as if being burned.
ROMAN: Ah God (Marco pauses at the word), it hurts so much. This hurts so much. Did she feel this? It hurts… (Panting gently, lowering himself into the chair. His skin crackles and we hear the sound of PAPER RIPPING as he sits, his face twisted between his vampyric state and pain). I did it for you, I put my work ahead of my… my pathetic personal life. Get it, Marco?
The eerie sound of ROMAN BURNING is all that is heard.
ROMAN: Merciful Darkness, is this what it’s like? (Roman stays very still, his mouth barely moving as he utters his plea.) I put my work ahead. Maybe hoping for redemption? I don’t know. (Pause.) I love her. I realized that, seconds before the end. I’ve loved a lot of girls but I… I really loved her.
MARCO: You hardly knew her.
ROMAN (furious): I needed some love to ease this empty numbness that rings with pain… You’re doing this to me! Why to us? What have we got against you? What, huh? What is it you wanted from us? (Ignoring his own statements.) Why didn’t I see the politics in this? I’m not as dense as you think, Marco. Enoch means shit to you. Utter shit. He’s got nothing against you. It was Adelaide you wanted. You wanted the power. But why me? Why… why all this…
MARCO: You’re not only one of my best customers, but one of my best promoters. You realize how many people you’ve turned? How many you’ve pushed into this drug addict’s world? And the best part – you’re immortal.
ROMAN (whispers): Ageless.
MARCO (ignoring Roman): You were immortal. That’s only better because all these gothic people running around want a taste of being a vampire like it is some sick fairy tale. I was going to have you bite them; I know the withdrawal symptom. The customers to attract… the lives to ruin.
ROMAN (shaking his head just a fraction, his skin peeling from his body): You couldn’t make me do anything. Fuck all if you thought you could make me do anything. Especially that. I’d never do it; I never have.
MARCO: I am a powerful man. This is a different world you live in, boy. I have scientists with drugs and reactions and I can make you do anything I damn well please.
Roman glares at Marco from beneath his eyelashes.
MARCO: But that damnable girl. I didn’t think it’d be serious. Hell, any girl you ever had was a piece of white trash anyway. But I had to get rid of you. (Pause) You were becoming… difficult to work with. And having you bite people… well, that could turn out very badly for me, but I don’t want to immortal. Not yet, anyhow. I’d like to think about it, first.
Marco takes the cigar to his mouth and inhales deeply. His head is a silhouette against the window.
MARCO (blowing smoke out his nose): As much as a valuable asset you are to me, you can also destroy me. This was a dangerous game to play. Looks like you lost.
Roman writhes slightly, screaming and falling to the floor, blisters popping all over his skin.
ROMAN (in pain): This pill killed her… now it’s killing me. Why am I like this? I’m… burning, burning hot, I can feel it, but it’s slow. It’s torturous. How?
MARCO (amused): Bad memories and worst nightmares. Simple as that. I told you, Roman. I am a very powerful man; a very rich, powerful man, with the best Einstein’s available.
Roman is silent, so silent that even his burning state seems to have stopped at his will. A car HONKS outside before driving off.
MARCO: I’m sorry it had to be like this. But, they did it. I did it. Found the cure to your curse.
Roman thinks about this.
ROMAN (carefully): It wasn’t so bad… b-being ageless.
Marco is still, listening to Roman’s RASPY BREATHING.
ROMAN: I had to avoid death like everyone else. It’s just more difficult to pin me. That’s all… death was… was just harder to come by. But it wasn’t the living part that was incon… inconvenient. It was the drugs. The constant highs. The subzero lows. (He lies still, barely whispering as his skin flakes.) Not as bad as you’d think. Not what you think.
MARCO: It’s no matter to me, Roman. The Dark Junkies can get their release now.
ROMAN: How do you know this…dr…drug wor… worked?
MARCO: What do you mean, how do I know if it worked? It’s working on you right now. Look at yourself.
Roman is silent, looking at Marco, his eyes shining golden.
ROMAN: There’s a couple… things you forgot, B-boss.
Marco raises an eyebrow, leaning in his seat to get a better look at Roman. The leather under him creaks, making an odd noise against Roman’s burning flesh. His flesh begins to sizzle and smoke rises.
ROMAN: Adelaide was… pure…
MARCO (pausing): You… had her?
CLOSE UP to Roman’s face. It looks like he’s smiling, but the boils are in the way from truly seeing.
ROMAN: Every bit of her.
Marco sits, stiff in his seat.
MARCO (suddenly realizing): Your eyes have changed color.
Stillness. Roman’s flesh eerily continues to burn, smoke rising from his flesh.
ROMAN (with a vengeance): I’m mortal. I… ageless. Ageless, M-Marco. Ag… ageless…
ROMAN laughs a bit, smoke escaping his lips. He coughs up ash, before howling in agony, his fingers curled painfully and his body shriveling. CUT TO Marco’s face, which is twisted in rage. He yells and flips over his desk as he stands, grabbing a drawer and lifting it effortlessly from the heavy oak desk, papers flying everywhere. He lifts the drawer and we have a MEDIUM CLOSE UP from his waist to his head. He lowers the drawer, the sound of ROMAN’S LAUGHING GASPS the only sound aside of HEAVY BASS MUSIC. The drawer crunches, but he lifts it and keeps smashing it until Roman is SILENT.
HARD CUT TO BLACK
I have been trying to get a job at a children's bookstore which is why none of you have seen me lately.
I will know by Monday if I'm hired or not. Very exciting!
Just to mark, that screenplay is really sloppy, but I will clean it up for the final project. I am working solely on content at the moment.
Posting it here because it isn't ready for my writing section yet. Comments welcome.
INT. on A GIRL’S SLEEPING FACE – DAWN
Dark but lustrous, the city glowed with an uneven, hazy, cloudy light. The breaking dawn of the fluorescent lights broke even on her forehead, stirring her, slowly, into wakefulness. The sound of a RADIO PLAYING A SONG is heard softly in the background. The girl looks at her clock before falling back asleep.
CUT TO A DIAGONAL SHOT of the girl getting out of bed. It is later in the morning, but still very EARLY. Murmuring to herself, she rouses herself from the bed, slipping from beneath the lime green, childish sheets and stumbling out the door.
FOLLOW the girl to the bathroom. STOP FOLLOWING as she enters. SOUNDS of the WATER RUNNING and TOILET FLUSHING, followed by someone BRUSHING THEIR TEETH is heard before the girl comes back out, looking more refreshed.
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY
FOLLOW the girl into her kitchen where she prepares a bowl of cereal. CUT TO her sitting in front of a television and turning it on manually, as she is sitting that close. SATURDAY MORNING CARTOONS start playing.
After a while, the girl looks over at her phone. She reaches for it and turns it on, dialing a number. THE RINGING is heard before someone picks up.
GIRL: Hey Mom.
MOTHER: EMILY? Listen, I can’t talk right now, your step dad and I are picking out drapes for the living room.
EMILY: (Scowling with disapproval) I don't want to hear about John.
MOTHER: Well I'm sorry Emily but you can't avoid him or our lifestyle forever. He's your stepfather, get used to it. Don't underestimate me I know what I'm doing. ... Now I have to go, we're meeting up with the salesman. I'll call you later.
EMILY: It isn’t fair that you pretend like nothing every happened with Dad.
MOTHER: You know I don’t like to think of that. ... Now I have to go, we're meeting up with the salesman. I'll call you later.
Mother hangs up abruptly, leaving Emily on the line with an empty look. As if she’s about to start talking to herself, she realizes better and hangs up, going back to her cartoons.
INT. TO A QUAINT COFFEE SHOP – DAY
CUT TO Emily leaving her upper middle class apartment, locking it tightly. She walks off scene.
FOLLOW EMILY as she walks down the street. CUT TO FOLLOWING EMILY as she enters a coffee shop. The coffee shop is a closed space, small but quaint. As Emily orders her drink, the CASHIER rings her up and goes to prepare it.
SWISH PAN around the coffee shop in EMILY’S POINT OF VIEW. Stop for a moment at a couple having a conversation.
GIRLFRIEND: Do you love me?
BOYFRIEND: I love you like there’s a chapel on a hospital.
The girlfriend LAUGHS and leans in to kiss the boyfriend. CUT TO Emily looking away embarrassed, but also envious. She has a slight blush on her cheeks as she politely averts her eyes. As her drink is prepared, she glances back at them repeatedly. The cashier takes notice.
CASHIER: (Ringing her up.) $4.25 is your total. Out of five? …They’re here every day, googling at each other. It’ll be a sad day when something bad happens to them.
Emily looks up at the cashier with a surprised look. She nods and turns to leave, leaving the coffee shop in haste, forgetting her change on the counter. We see Emily walk around the building from the windows in front of the shop, disappearing from sight.
EXT. DOWNTOWN – DAY
FOLLOW Emily as she steps off a bus in the middle of a downtown area. It is a somewhat chilly and gray day, and it’s not too busy. Mostly homeless or poorly kempt people are shown.
Emily walks into a plaza building, taking her time as she walks along the catwalks and exits another building almost on the other side of town. As she passes by some shops, she notices a MOTHER #2 and DAUGHTER figure shopping for clothes together through a shop window. Looking at them enviously she stops to eavesdrop on them.
MOTHER #2: How’s Zach doing anyway? He’s been motivating you to do so well in class and in soccer.
DAUGHTER: He’s great, he really is. I really like him, Mom. But… I don’t know. I think he wants to have sex but I’m not ready for that yet.
MOTHER #2: (A little shocked at her daughter’s openness.) Just be sure to tell him that you’re not ready. If he respects you as a woman he’ll back off. If not, I think you should look for someone else to hang with.
The mother squeezes her daughter’s shoulder, who looks back and smiles.
DAUGHTER: Oh, this is cute. I want to try this on. And those pants you picked out earlier, that’ll be a good outfit. And Mom, I know what I’m doing. I won’t do anything stupid. I’m done making you feel disappointed in me. I’m ready to make you feel proud.
MOTHER #2 (Proudly.) I know sweetie, you don’t need to tell me that. I know already.
Emily quickly moves on, frowning. She enters the older part of downtown and comes finally to a large, eloquent building. She enters it with a look of contempt and boring routine.
INT. PATIENT’S WAITING ROOM – DAY
The room is white and filled with books and toys for children. Emily sits on a couch looking a little uncomfortable. Off screen a DOOR OPENS and a WOMAN speaks.
WOMAN: You can come on in, Emily.
CUT TO Emily sitting on another couch in a small office.
EMILY: Hi again Jane.
JANE: (Smiling.) Hi Emily. Feeling good today?
EMILY: Well enough, more or less.
Jane settles back in her chair. Emily stays huddled in the middle of the love seat, her eyes not meeting Jane’s. She is looking out the large window and at the pictures on the walls.
JANE: Let’s get started then. How’s living on your own going?
EMILY: It’s fine. A little lonely. I was thinking of getting a cat or a dog.
JANE: (Nodding approvingly.) Good! Responsibility is good. I’m glad you’ve found the will to take that initiative on your own.
Emily smiles a little weakly.
EMILY: (Looking directly at Jane for the first time.) I haven’t told my mom yet.
JANE: About these sessions or something else?
An uncomfortable pause settles in the room and Emily’s eyes move about the room again.
JANE: (Understanding.) It’s okay, Emily. I believe there’s something deeper going on here for every time you’ve visited me. I’ve noticed a pattern.
EMILY: (Sighing.) It’s been almost half a year and just now you’re making a diagnosis?
JANE: (Very patiently.) It’s difficult Emily, but it’s hard for me to know what’s going on when you won’t open up or be honest. And your case is unusual. Usually if someone can’t open up to their therapist they stop going, but you keep coming back. I know you want to talk about something, but we just need to be patient and wait for when you’re ready to take that step.
Emily SWALLOWS loudly.
EMILY: It’s so quiet in here.
JANE: Well, you can talk or I can, but I’m not turning the music on like I usually do. If you open up to me today I’ll turn it on the next time you come.
Emily sits in the couch, looking down at her lap, trying to decide what she wants to say, but it’s obvious she wants to say something.
EMILY: I saw a couple today in the coffee shop when I went to get my usual drink… routine, you know how that all goes.
JANE: (Hesitant.) If you’ll allow me, what drink did you get? Coffee?
EMILY: (Shaking her head, not angry at the interruption, but rather relieved.) No, I don’t like coffee. I get this drink, a caramel cheesecake. It’s really good, especially with whipping cream.
JANE: (Nodding, even though Emily is not looking at her.) Okay, sorry, go on.
EMILY: The girl asked if the boy loved her and it reminded me of … a lot of things.
Emily suddenly silences herself.
JANE: Did you think about Martin?
JANE: When was the last time you saw Martin, Emily?
EMILY: (Scratching her head, messing up her hair.) I think it was about two weeks ago. We kind of got into a fight and I didn’t want to see him and I told him that. He made me really angry.
EMILY: He said something my father used to always say.
Emily licks her lips and plays with the ends of her hair.
EMILY: He told me, ‘Emily, you can be anything you want to be if you’d just try once in a while.’
JANE: But that’s a positive thing for him to say to you, Emily. He was complimenting you.
EMILY: (Suddenly defensive.) It’s something my father used to say to me. All the time.
JANE: How was the relationship otherwise?
EMILY: It was fine for me. But he used to say he didn’t like it that I’d never… do anything with him.
JANE: I remember this, yes. Sex and the like.
EMILY: Yes… sex… and ‘the like’.
JANE: He was good to you, though. He took you out to dinner and movies and on dates. You liked to enjoy those.
Emily nods as Jane speaks, looking up at her through her lashes.
JANE: (Continuing.) It seemed things only went awry whenever he touched you in any intimate way or whenever you two were left alone for too long. Am I right?
EMILY: That’s the reality of it, yes.
JANE: Okay, so we’ve established that. What else happened today that you’d like to tell me about?
EMILY: Umm… When I was walking here I overheard a mother and her daughter having a conversation. It wasn’t about anything but it sticks out in my mind. It made me feel… like my mother doesn’t care.
JANE: (Pursing her lips.) We’ve talked about your mother before. Why do you think your mother doesn’t care about you?
EMILY: (Shrugging, looking out the window.) I’m a disappointment to her, I think. She and Daddy split and they bought me that apartment and she remarried not even two months after that. I think she was having an affair with her husband now. I can’t understand why she’d cheat on Daddy, he never did anything wrong. But umm… I look like her and I talk like her and I don’t know what I did for her to not like me like other mother’s like their daughters. We never bonded…
Emily has been staring out the window her entire speech, most likely unaware of how much she has been saying. Jane is scribbling notes as she goes on, nodding and looking pleased with herself.
EMILY: Daddy and I bonded, though. But Mom and I just never clicked even though we looked and acted so much alike. When Daddy and Mom divorced they wanted me to choose which one of them to live with… I wanted to live with Mom so maybe we could bond more but I couldn’t abandon Daddy. He needed me. He always needed me… he told me that a lot. He needed me. But since I couldn’t decide they put me in that apartment, and that’s about the time I decided to come see you.
Emily moves her eyes to stare at a copy of Starry Nights by van Gogh on the wall.
EMILY: You should put The Scream or The Cry in this room.
JANE: (Blinking a little at the abrupt change of subject.) Why do you say that?
EMILY: It would fit my mood really well right now.
JANE: (Looks a little puzzling at Emily before clearing her throat.) Why don’t you tell me a little more about why you decided to come see me and about your father?
EMILY: (Looks at Jane dead on.) It’s easier for me to spill my guts to a total stranger than it is to talk to my mom. She doesn’t want to talk to me… she’s too busy building up her new life with her new husband in her new house and soon enough she’ll have new children. I’m just a burden. You listen and ask questions like a mother should. And Daddy isn’t around anymore, but I … could never really talk to him about boys or anything.
Emily sighs and slumps back in the couch, seemingly exhausted from speaking so much.
JANE: How come you couldn’t talk to him about boys?
EMILY: Just… because I couldn’t… that would be awkward.
JANE: We’ve never had such an enlightening session before, Emily.
Emily looks out the window again, tears swelling and then disappearing from her eyes.
EMILY: I know. It’s so hard to contain this. I saw this TV show the other day and it got me thinking, but I don’t know what to think about what anymore. I’m lost and I hate it so badly. … I really wanted to see Martin last night, to call him up and tell him to come over and hug me because that’s what I needed. But he wouldn’t approve.
JANE: Who wouldn’t approve?
EMILY: Daddy wouldn’t.
Jane shifts in her seat, leaning forward towards Emily.
JANE: Emily, you realize that your father has been dead for almost two weeks now?
EMILY: I know, but I still feel him around. He oppresses me sometimes… and other times I wish he were there again.
Emily frowns as if she is trying very hard to concentrate.
EMILY: I’m confused. That TV show I saw and what I know are different things. I don’t know who to believe about what. It’s why I see you…
JANE: Your father’s dead, Emily. You need to move on from that. Martin seems like a good match for you. If he wants to have sex and you’re not ready, tell him that. If he respects you as a woman he won’t approach the subject again until you bring it up first. If he continues to press it, you need to give him a good talking to about manners.
Emily smiles weakly, and chuckles.
EMILY: He is dead, isn’t he?
JANE: Your father? Yes.
EMILY: I can’t remember how he died.
JANE: It was tragic for you, I know. So attached to your father, left with the parent who you feel doesn’t appreciate you enough. It was a natural death, Emily. There was nothing you could do to stop it.
EMILY: Maybe if I had given in to him a little more he would have taken better care of himself.
Jane suddenly pauses. Emily doesn’t mind the silence and sits looking at the Starry Nights picture above Jane’s head. It is almost as if she is looking up into the heavens for something that might be there, trying to absorb every detail of whatever is there.
JANE: Is there anything else you’d like to say, Emily? It’s been 45 minutes.
Emily blinks and looks at Jane, then at her lap, seeming to be going through a regressing period.
EMILY: No, I’m fine. That’s all I want to talk about. I have another appointment in 15 minutes anyhow.
JANE: I’d like to see you again if that’s okay, Emily.
EMILY: Okay, but I really don’t have anything to say…
JANE: Tomorrow we can talk about your father and what he did to you.
Emily looks at Jane with a startled look. She blushes and nods before getting up and slipping out of the room quickly.
EXT. STREET – DAY
Emily is walking down the street hastily before slowing down. She has her hands stuffed in her pockets and her tongue darts out of her mouth to lick her lips every now and then. She is looking down at the street until she comes to a sign about a funeral home.
CUT TO a shot of the funeral home, which is nothing spectacular but not in the poor house either. There is really nothing scary or creepy about it.
FOLLOW Emily as she walks into the funeral home. CUT TO a face shot of the ASSISTANT who looks up and then at her planner.
ASSISTANT: Are you Emily?
EMILY: I am.
Emily approaches the desk. The assistant smiles at her. She seems to have an air of sadness with large puppy dog eyes and a heavy set body and face. She looks kind.
ASSISTANT: Well your mother’s already paid for it so you don’t need to worry about that. It’s only half-engraved at the moment, but you can see it early if you’d like. He’s already set in the casket for the sermon in a couple of hours. I’m very sorry for your loss.
Emily looks out into the graveyard before looking back at the assistant. She suddenly looks bitter and angry.
EMILY: Don’t be. He was a life ruining bastard. I just wanted to know when the funeral was, and now I do. Consider this a conjugal visit.
Emily hesitates, the assistant having gotten a weird expression on her face, as if she thinks Emily is crazy. Emily stands a little straighter and firmer.
EMILY: I don’t need to see what else he’ll be lying under. Thanks for your time.
Emily turns and leaves, taking her time to exit the building.
Okay so in addition to what I posted last time in this blog, I was trying to decide between two titles:
Dark but Lustrous
I will have to finish writing it, but here's the down low:
A young girl, about 18 years old. Her parents split and she had to choose which to live with. Choosing neither, her parents set her up in an upper middle class apartment in a nice part of the neighborhood. She doesn't feel comfortable in it and she doesn't exactly fit into that kind of lifestyle.
She still watches Saturday morning cartoons with a large bowl of cereal. She decides to call her mother.
"I can't talk right now, your step dad and I are picking out drapes for the living room."
"I don't want to hear about John (or whatever his name will be)."
"Well I'm sorry Emily but you can't avoid him or our lifestyle forever. He's your stepfather, get used to it. Don't underestimate me I know what I'm doing. ... Now I have to go, we're meeting up with the salesman now. I'll call you later."
Her mother hangs up, then she will go for a walk around downtown. She'll take the bus and overhear some conversations in the mall between a mother and her daughter, talking about very trivial things. She'll look enviously on their relationship.
In a coffee shop (probably before the bus/downtown mall scene), she will see a girl and her boyfriend sitting and having a conversation. She will politely avert her eyes, but look on every now and then as she waits for her order. When she gets her order she will sit back to them, or will leave quickly. I haven't decided yet.
A few other things will happen as she makes her way across town. Maybe one or two things, bits of conversations and such. Afterwards, she will enter a funeral home (the final destination). The woman or man will look up from the desk and s/he'll say, "Are you Emily?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"The stone is half-engraved but you can see it early if you'd like."
"This is just a conjugal visit. I don't need to see what else he's going to be lying under."
Figurative and not necessarily to be taken in a necrophiliac connotation. More like, "I'm just here to see if I can get fucked over again even after he's dead." But we're not sure if the guy is dead or dying.
Dark but lustrous, the city glowed with an uneven, hazy, cloudy light. The breaking dawn of the fluorescent lights broke even on her forehead, stirring her, slowly, into wakefulness.
Murmuring to herself, she roused from the bed, slipping from beneath the lime green sheets and stumbling away.
She walks out of her apartment, turning to lock it before tucking her keys away in her bundled jacket.
I'm going to be turning this into a screenplay later. I just... need to dream more.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, blinking at her from bleary eyes.
Taryn’s eyes widened slightly, a look of stone passing over her features. “No where. The bathroom.”
And the CD came! At last! Finally! Rejoice! Hooray! Huzzah! Let the bells toll out in dulcet tones!
It came, to my absolutely divine surprise, four days earlier than expected.
The CD is called Infinity on High by Fall Out Boy.
While people like to diss FOB and call them nothing but a bunch of emo kids, I would have to say that that isn't true. While the bassist is probably the "emo" one, the others are just geeks/nerds. Patrick especially. The bassist is the only one with suicidal tendencies.
The CD is fresh, it's new, and it's sturdy. I don't want to skip any tracks, but there are some I can't stop listening to. There's even love songs on here. It's amazing! And inspirational.
I have been trying to survive January (which was a horrible month, by the way), and migrate into February with high hopes of this CD. I am so glad it was not a letdown. But, it didn't even occur to me that it would be.
I'm sorry that the CD leaked weeks before it was even released. I didn't download it. The only songs I had previously were two of their singles, The Carpal Tunnel of Love and This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race. I waited to listen, and I am so happy for it.
I fell asleep listening to their music and I dreamt of another screenplay. I have been writing screenplays a lot lately, mostly turning old stories of mine into them. My teacher wants to submit some to some Sundance Festival thing and see how they do, but I doubt I will get anywhere with that.
Anyway, this CD is simply amazing. Go buy it. Even if you're, like, 35. Buy it. I was playing it earlier and my mom even liked it (but she kept having to ask what he was saying). It was weird, but humbling.
I will be cleaning my writing section to make it easier to navigate. It's just too difficult to deal with all those categories when you're looking for one specific story.
Hopefully I will be able to get more active with WC, because I love this community so much.
23 days until full blown inspiration comes.
I love that band.
My story has no plot, but I finally put some humor into it.
Shivering, she stepped out of her apartment, locking the door with shaking hands and some difficulty. The iPod she wore around her waist, her earphones secure and her feet aching for movement. With a deep, shuddering breath, she ran down her stairs and turned left; not normal for her, as she usually went right, into the city.
She ran from the city for whatever reason; because of regrets or because she didn’t want to smile. The darkness enveloped her and she felt the sting in her ankles as the heat of her body overtook the cold. Her blood pumped wildly in her veins and she felt suddenly excited and exalted, ready to take on any battles. The music in her ears drummed a heavy, inspiring beat, and she ran all the faster for it, her fingernails biting her palms and her teeth grinding to fight the exhaustion. Taryn was not ready to lose the battle.
She rounded the corner of a bakery sharply, and was met full force with another person. Her nose met full force with the person’s chest, or what she thought was a person’s chest. She fell back onto the ground, her nose freely bleeding. She touched the warm liquid gushing from her, blinking the white, dazzling lights from her eyes, up at the so-called ‘victim’.
He was carrying a box and he threw it down and ran to her, asking if she was okay. She removed her naked hand and saw it covered in blood, and then felt her nose. Bruised, bleeding, but not broken, she decided. The person she had run into was a dock handler; he was piling boxes into a truck and she had run full-force into a crate full of calculators.
Her eyes hurt and it was difficult to blink properly. She heard someone moaned and realized a moment later that it was her. She sat up as the man patted her to wakefulness. She frowned and then winced in pain, tears swelling slightly in her eyes.
“Why the hell were you running like that?” the man asked her.
With a dazed expression she looked back at him. “What kind of question is that?”
He frowned and lifted her to her feet. “What do you mean, ‘What kind of question is that?’ I was just minding my own business!”
Taryn felt for her nose to make sure it had not fallen off, then wobbled on her feet before leaning against the building. She looked up and read, “Bittersweet Bakery.”
“I mean…” she swallowed blood, gulping. “Why are you loading calculators into a bakery?”
“Well, uh… I read the directions wrong, see. Sometimes I get a little confused. Dyslexia, I can’t really help it.”
“Maybe you should get your addresses written in numbers and not letters.”
“I didn’t ask for any sass and can’t help my disease. There’s no need to be cruel.” He bristled before turning away to pick up his crate. He looked at it and commented, “You left a swell mark in the wood, though.”
The irony of a dyslexic man loading crates of calculators into a bakery because he read directions wrong just tickles me pink.
I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. Be prepared not to see me for a while.
I follow very closely to what the lead singer of Fall Out Boy, Patrick Stump, does. It's not an obsession. It's not a serial killer kind of thing. It's not even really a fan-girl thing. Screw the other band members; I just want to know what Mr. Stump is doing.
I think Patrick Stump is the best looking of the group. I have a thing for the slightly-chubb
Some may think the lead singer of Panic! at the Disco has a good voice (whatever the hell his name is), but they are wrong. His voice is nice and smooth with just a bit of a treble to it, but where's the real emotion? It's just a bunch of notes off a page. That is obvious.
So, I follow closely to see what Mr. Stump has been up to; specifically, I don't care much of his personal life. I care more for his career and what songs he has sung in recently. He's probably got a girlfriend and is completely happy. Well break my damn heart. He's 21-22ish and I'm 17. Not. Gonna. Happen.
Doesn't mean I can't enjoy his voice and his development. From his first 'big' CD, that being Take This To Your Grave, his voice was still being formed. It was hesitant. It was weak. It was gorgeous.
Then, in FUCT, he was better. He sounded more like the guy from P!ATD, but with a more manly voice and less "I'm just doing this to impress you". His voice was strong, it was ready. It was beautiful.
Since FUCT, I have been in love with the band. I was for their first CD, but it wasn't the gut-wrenching emptiness in the pit of my stomach as it holed up into an electric ball of excitement that FUCT gave me.
Fall Out Boy is not my 'type' of band. I do enjoy punk rock and alternative, but the emo stuff and pop punk does not appeal. Okay, your mother died and your father left you. At least you didn't have to go through what Shasta did. Get over it.
The reason why I like Fall Out Boy so much is because OF Patrick Stump. I have a serious reaction to his action (that being, his voice). His progression over time has been amazing. His new songs he sings in... put simply, gives my ears an orgasm to listen to. Especially in "Don't Wake Me Up" with The Hush Sound.
I get goosebumps. I get shaky. I get breathless. This is a good voice. This is what makes the song. This is what I love so much. This is a song that can belong to any kind of music, it being rap, emo, hardcore, new age... whatever. It fits.
Should I ever be able to ask Mr. Stump face to face about how he feels about being a singer... I would feel so lucky. I don't need to marry him. I don't need to fuck him. I don't even need to touch him. A conversation would more than appease me. That, or a song called, 'Emily'. That isn't about heartbreak.
So there, you have my explanation. The first musical voice that could make me feel sick, make my knees water, and put that empty feeling in my stomach... and make me love it. Patrick Stump.
[Mitul] is my soulmate.
I'm sick. :(
I need chocolate.
That is all.
Hmph. I remember being happy. Good times, those.
It's so rare now. Sex doesn't make me happy. Boys don't make me happy. I seem to be blowing through life with no regrets and no remorse. Fuck anything that moves and break any heart I can. Tear up lives and hope for the best.
I think I just want everyone to love me, but I don't want to return any of that love.
How much messed up can I get?
Intelligent, witty, quirky, beautiful, what have you. I abuse myself and myself likes it and then hates myself afterwards, and then I fight amongst myselves.
I want to go in one direction. Happy, carefree, no worries, good grades, a good boyfriend.
I want to go in another direction. Brutal, remorseless, a new boy every week, filling the pockets of curiosity and honestly answering myself, "Is he any good in bed?"
I feel one direction is for the lying good girl in me and the other is for the honest slut in me.
I don't know if I love him anymore...
But I do.
It's Good Emily versus Bad Emily again.
I want to go on a roller coaster ride...
But, first, burn me in the fires of my own confusion.
So tired of this "It's only good if you wrote it with a broken heart" crap... ugh. Emos! Everywhere! Write something happy!
... HAPPY I SAY!