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- Logline: In 1840s New Orleans, debutantes search for the Fountain of Youth in a graveyard.
- Any genre
- Any MPAA rating
- under 5 pages
Vote A or B
NOTE: I got a third one but for some variation I decided to post it in this thread after the showdown.
Revision History (2 edits; 1 reasons shown)
mcornetto - April 5th, 2011, 10:38pm
Logged
mcornetto
Posted: April 4th, 2011, 6:43pm
Guest User
A
FADE IN:
EXT. PORT OF NEW ORLEANS - DAY
Three young ladies, dressed in the fine attire of St Louis aristocrats, and an African slave stand on the deck of a steamboat as it docks in the French Quarter.
ELLY, 23, is a tall, curvaceous blond, a confident beauty with a predatory look.
ELLY Do you really think you will find your betrothed here, Julia?
GRACE, 22, is a freckled brunette, a girl whose stunning beauty weakens men at the knees, and who knows it.
GRACE And are you sure he wants to be found?
JULIA, 22, is a petite girl, wholesome attractive. Her eyes suggest both vulnerability and determination.
JULIA He would come for me, were it not for my father.
ELLY Perhaps your father is right, and you should find a man more suitable to your station?
JULIA We have waited four years, such is our love. Now that the war with Mexico is over we are to be married.
WILLY, 30, is her loyal and trusted slave, a man of modest size and intelligent eyes, his affection for her apparent.
JULIA Willy, go ashore right now and search for Hiram, please. Begin with the taverns. He may or may not still be in uniform.
WILLY Mam...
JULIA I will be fine. You go ahead.
INT. HOTEL DU ORLEANS - DAY
Elly and Grace are seated in the lobby of the luxurious Hotel New Orleans.
ELLY Fool of a woman. If her soldier had wanted her he would have come to Julia by now. He is no doubt sampling the many ladies of this town.
GRACE I should like to sample some myself, dear Eli.
ELLY (laughing) Have you tired of destroying men, Grace?
CHAREST DE SILVESTRE, 25, approaches, a woman of refined beauty in a long elegant dress. Her accent is French.
DE SILVESTRE Mesdames, I am pleased to see you again.
ELLY The pleasure is ours, madam.
Grace eyes Silvestre seductively.
GRACE I should welcome to see even more of you, Madam de Silvestre.
Silvestre returns the flirt with a subtle smile.
DE SILVESTRE You have accepted our terms then, oui? Brought us a girl of suitable blood?
ELLY As we speak she is about town looking for the man she is promised to.
DE SILVESTRE Her death is a small price.
ELLY Eternal life for one death? It is a bargain, Madam.
DE SILVESTRE When I was your age the bannière of Louís flew over this cití. Almost a century ago. You shall live to see many things!
Grace eyes Silvestre intensely.
GRACE There are many things I wish to see!
INT. BLACKSMITH TAVERN - NIGHT
HIRAM, 25, a serious man with sensitive eyes, half inebriated, sits at the bar in a frayed sergeant's uniform. He pours into a glass from his own whiskey bottle. He is not happy.
JACKSON, 40, the bar tender, a heavy man with a deep southern accent, is an army vet and still shows that bearing.
JACKSON Sergeant, either stop talking 'bout this St. Louis girl and go to her or get yourself another. For damn sure there's plenty 'round here!
HIRAM I can't marry her against the old man's wish. And the Colonel will never accept one of my rank into his family.
JACKSON Then let me set you up with one of the girls. At least for a night, boy!
HIRAM I would only see the face of Julia anyway.
Hiram pours the last of the bottle. He is a troubled young man hardened by war and skeptical of his future.
HIRAM Just set me up with another bottle.
EXT. LAFAYETTE CEMETERY - NIGHT
ROBERT, 30, a hulking man of solemn bearing, leads the three ladies down an avenue of crypts. The full moon casts long shadows of crosses and angels which top the tombs.
Elly and Grace are dressed to kill, Julia's attire modest.
JULIA Why here? Why couldn't your man meet us elsewhere.
ELLY My dear Julia, you are so naive. These are men who sell information. You want to find your Hiram don't you?
They reach a large crypt guarded by two giant sword armed men, and FRANCOIS, 37, an effeminate aristocrat armed with pistol.
De Silvestre is there, the area of the crypt lit by candles.
DE SILVESTRE Welcome, children. The hour is late, we shall waste no time.
JULIA We are here about...
DE SILVESTRE Be silent!
Silvestre brushes hair from Julia's eyes with her hand, leans in close, takes erotic pleasure in her scent. Julia cowers.
DE SILVESTRE You are here so that your flesh may satisfy our needs. Take her in!
She struggles as Robert seizes her, forces her into the crypt.
INT. BLACKSMITH TAVERN - NIGHT
Hiram pours from his bottle, looks up, and is amazed to see Willy enter. He stops pouring instantly.
INT. CRYPT
The ladies enter the candle lit crypt. Julia is gagged and tied securely to the top of a stone sarcophagus.
DE SILVESTRE Robért, remove her clothing.
Grace is aroused.
GRACE Please, Madam, allow me that pleasure.
Grace approaches Julia with a small knife, starts untying her boot. Her face is filled with lust.
LATER
Julia is naked, secured, in tears. She struggles to speak. Francois, Elly, Grace and Silvestre are within.
DE SILVESTRE Francois, prepare the sarcophagus.
Francois opens two small doors on the middle of the sarcophagus, one on each side of Julia.
Silvestre approaches the girls, puts an arm around Grace's waste, speaks seductively into her ear.
DE SILVESTRE Ladies, you will soon be a membre of the Ordre du León.
Suddenly there is a GROWL, movement from within the sarcophagus. Julia's terror turns to panic.
DE SILVESTRE Life. His hunger for it clings to him like stubborn flesh on a corpse. His power is our Fontaine. This night you will share in that power, and forever more.
Huge skeletal hands, remnants of flesh clinging to them, emerge from the holes, claw at her thighs. Blood trickles as the hands dig into skin.
Julia screams under her gag.
ELLY Love is for dreamers and fools, Julia!
At a signal from Silvestre, a large door is slid open at the head of the sarcophagus, under Julia's head.
She holds her head forward, gazes in horror at the hands clawing her flesh.
A gigantic, gruesome head, decaying and skeletal, lifts behind her neck. Its exposed teeth in a hungry grin, a black tongue extends and tastes her neck.
DE SILVESTRE I hope you have a strong stomach, mesdames. Brain is an acquired taste, but you will get used to it.
A COMMOTION is heard. STEEL on STEEL. A GUNSHOT.
SOLDIERS enter, men in well worn uniforms, swords drawn.
Hiram rushes to Julia. The skeletal teeth are almost on her neck. He inserts his sword in between, pushes the head down.
The tongue emerges, he severs it.
Other soldiers hack at the skeletal hands, which withdraw.
Julia's bonds are hacked free.
Hiram lifts Julia from the sarcophagus, removes her gag.
JULIA Hiram, my love, I came for you!
LIEUTENANT HANCOCK, 24, a lean man, looks at Hiram confused.
LIEUTENANT HANCOCK Hiram?
HIRAM It is my birth name. Ulysses didn't stick til West Point.
A full moon shines down on this city of the dead. Two figures walk among the vault tombs and ledger stones.
RUBY, 18, a comely brunette, raises the hem of her chiffon skirt ever so slightly as she treads near the graves.
CLEMENTINE, 18, squat and homely, waddles just behind her. She holds two fistfuls of her satin gown, pulling the hem up nearly to her knees.
CLEMENTINE My stars, Ruby, do you think we’re in the right place?
Ruby stops when she sees a large tomb built in the shape of a pyramid.
RUBY Mr. Deveaux said to meet him at the pyramid tomb at midnight.
DEVEAUX (O.S.) And so you have, mon chéri.
DEVEAUX, 40s, steps out of the shadows. A southern dandy dressed to the nines, he walks to the girls and bows.
DEVEAUX I do apologize for the frightful setting. But then, this is a place of souls and secrets.
Clementine quickly advances, takes his arm, bats her eyes at him.
CLEMENTINE I feel safe under your gallant protection.
Deveaux smiles, but he’s clearly repulsed by her.
DEVEAUX Before we commence with our business, I must unfortunately request that we first settle our financial arrangements.
RUBY Of course. Five hundred dollars each.
Ruby reaches into her skirt pocket, pulls out a wad of cash and hands it to Deveaux. Clementine does the same.
Deveaux counts the money, smiles, stuffs the bills into the inner pocket of his frock coat.
DEVEAUX A wise purchase, my dear maidens. Eternal youth shall soon be yours. Let us walk.
He holds out his arm for Ruby, who gracefully accepts it. Clementine quickly snags his other arm.
Together, they walk along the rows of stone monuments. Deveaux looks to Ruby.
DEVEAUX Mon chéri, seeing you in this moonlight, I believe the angels above are positively green with envy at your loveliness.
RUBY Oh, Mr. Deveaux, you’ll make me blush.
Clementine smiles, waits for her compliment. None forthcoming.
CLEMENTINE And what of my beauty, Mr. Deveaux?
DEVEAUX Uh, my dove, what you lack in pulchritude, you more than make up for in adiposity.
Clementine swoons, lays her head on his shoulder.
CLEMENTINE Such a way with words. You know, our debutante ball is tomorrow night. I’m still in need of a squire.
DEVEAUX Ah, yes. (beat) Godspeed in your endeavors.
LATER
They walk through a grove of magnolia trees. Nearby, a long-forgotten parapet tomb stands covered in Spanish moss.
Finally, they arrive at a small pool of bubbling water.
DEVEAUX And here it is. The Fountain of Youth. One drink from these magical waters, and all aging will instantly cease.
He gazes at Ruby.
DEVEAUX Unending springtime.
Ruby and Clementine look at each other, giggle nervously.
Deveaux reaches into his jacket, pulls out a small silver cup.
DEVEAUX Which of you shall be the first to partake?
CLEMENTINE I will!
She takes the cup from Deveaux, dips it into the water.
She hesitates for a moment, then drinks it down.
RUBY My turn.
Ruby takes the cup from Clementine, dips into the water, swallows it in genteel sips.
DEVEAUX There now.
He takes the cup from Ruby, puts it back in his pocket.
RUBY I don’t feel any different.
DEVEAUX Oh, give it a moment.
Clementine furrows her brow.
CLEMENTINE I feel most...odd.
Ruby feels her waist. It seems to have thickened in the last few moments. Strands of gray appear in her lush raven locks.
Deveaux takes a step back, watches impassively.
Clementine winces and grabs the small of her back.
CLEMENTINE Oh, my back! It feels like it’s breaking!
Ruby pulls up the hem of her skirt, gasps at her newly formed cankles.
RUBY What’s happening to us?!
DEVEAUX Oh, mon chéri, I fear middle age does not flatter you.
Ruby groans in pain as she hunches over. Her skin thins and wrinkles. Her hair, now mostly gray, begins to fall out.
Clementine falls to one knee, a prominent hump emerging between her shoulders. She looks up to Deveaux, spits out rotten teeth.
CLEMENTINE What have you done to--
Clementine’s words become a hoarse, agonized croak.
DEVEAUX My word, I believe I know what is happening here. And, I must confess, it is all my fault. You see, geography has never been my strongest suit.
Ruby, now an ancient crone, crawls toward him.
DEVEAUX You were searching for the Fountain of Youth, which history tells us is located in the tropical climes of Florida. Yet here we are in...Louisiana.
Clementine collapses, struggles to breathe through disintegrating lungs.
DEVEAUX A navigational error on my part. Yes, I now postulate that this little puddle is the somewhat less renowned Spring of Decay.
Ruby rolls onto her back, locks her sunken eyes on Deveaux.
DEVEAUX This is a graveyard after all, you insipid wenches.
He shakes his head, grabs Ruby by the ankle, then does the same with Clementine.
He drags their withered bodies toward the nearby parapet tomb.
DEVEAUX Please don’t feel too bad, ladies. You’re not the first females whose vanity has gotten the better of them.
He arrives at the thick, rusted iron door of the tomb. He presses his shoulder into the door and slowly opens it.
DEVEAUX And you shan’t be the last.
INT. TOMB - NIGHT
Deveaux drags the bodies inside. Moonlight reveals at least twenty other skeletons, still garbed in beautiful dresses.
The lower half of Ruby’s decayed leg pops off in Deveaux’s hand. He drops it like garbage, then leaves the tomb and closes the door.
Both scripts are fairly well done, all things considered. I do know in all certainty who wrote what, based on the actual writing. I'm going to do my damndest to not let that influence my decision.
A
Although the writing in A is definitely not bad, it is very awkward in many ways..not awkward, as in poorly worded, etc, but awkward in its delivery, in its character intro's, in its over abundant description, and in its constant use of asides (which probably aren't intended to be asides...but they are just the same, as there are so many unfilmables).
I really like the story here. So much going on, so much unsaid...but then again, too much being said and WAY too many characters and detail for a short short. I also really don't like the ending at all, and it seems like there wasn't anymore room, so it ended on a joke that came out of nowhere and meant nothing. With alot of chopping of completely unnecessary lines of description, asides, and even characters, I think it could have ended much more powerfully, which is a shame, as it really leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
B
The writing here is better, and much easier to take in. Where in A, I feel I'd need to read it several times to truly get a handle on it, there isn't a single line that needs rereading here, and that's a HUGE advantage every time.
The story may be rather simple, and almost bordering on black comedy/horror, but it's also well conceived and handled overall. Actually, it's much simpler and maybe lacks the passion that A has, but again, it succeeds in what it set out to accomplish completely and that again, is a huge plus.
A needs work to achieve what it can be and should be...maybe even alot of work.
B is what it is and it works well just the way it is.
I'm going to do something I rarely do, and that's choose the script that needs the work, and I'm dong that because the story within is just better, IMO, and considering that it was written so quickly on a subject that is very non standard...and involves research, which is a time constraint in and of itself.
Both are pretty good. Not an easy choice. A is one of those rare shorts that has a lot going on and a bombardment of characters yet it works. B works just fine. Maybe a little routine IMO but still good.
I give the edge to A because the final line cracked me up. There's still waaaay too many characters, a 2-to-1 page ratio in fact, but I did like what I read.
I'd love to show my support for you guys, but I'm coming down with the flu. Any chance you can hold the thread open a little bit longer? It's an insane hour here right now and I'm just hanging out with my Merlin cat in my office, but I don't feel like doing any serious critique right now.
If you need to close it though, I'll come back and read later without reading comments first and give my opinion then.
Both of these are well done considering the obscure logline and time constraint.
A - Complex colorful tale mired by unfilmables and choked by too many characters. Ruses and clear motivations help get through the chunky parts. Bonus point for the salacious lesbo tease. Bad form with the punchline end. I'm still unsure how Hiram knew where to find his beloved. Lot going on overall.
B - Simple story efficiently executed, the ladies feel a tad cookie cutter. Pretty obvious from the opener where this one is going. Disappointed it was about money, Deveaux should be old and "need" the girls. That way it's still a fountain of youth for someone, via a form of transfer. A twist like that would have put this one over the top.
I think A would make the better film, but B is the better written script. This is not the SimplyFilms site, so I voted accordingly. I voted B, so we're back to a dead heat. It was a tough call.
E.D.
LATEST NEWS CineVita Films is producing a short based on my new feature!
This one is a VERY close call. And at the end of the day, I'm shallow and voted for the one with lesbianism in it.
All right. I'm just kidding. I did vote for A, but not because of the lesbianism, though.
I think Jeff (Dreamscale) nailed my thoughts exactly on both scripts. Except the over-abundant descriptions in A. I only saw one unfilmable (about him being hardened by the war), but it did get an image in my head of the character's mood, so I'm not going to take any points off for that.
In fact, I think the dialogue in both scripts were about equal and the real reason I chose A was because of the descriptions. To me, A just read better for some reason. I also think I'm leaning towards it because it seemed A just had a lot more going on, a little more complex.
But like I said, it was really close. Both scripts were about equally good to me. It was razor-thin close. But A levels off just a tad tad bit higher for me because of the complexity.
A - I thought it's a bit many characters and that wouldn't allow me to stick with one and root for her/him. (great choice of the name Hemin by the way). Also I couldn't understand few visual aspects in the middle. My other gripe is - it went from light to impossibly heavy. I haven't expected that. But I did get very cool vibe from it at the end.
B - it's a tale of vanity. All of it, the dialog and the descriptions build up to the powerful ending - don't be vain, you'll suffer from it. I loved it. And funny too.
Oof, This one is close. Fine writing both of you. Pretty sure I know Ryan's stuff by now though it didn't sway my decision.
A. Definitely has the most going for it as far as POTENTIAL. I thought Willy could've and should've played a larger part in the rescue, instead he ended up dissapearing. What was the purpose for his admiration of his employer?
B. Slightly better writing, a quick and concise story. Not something i see becoming much more in the future.
To me this is a showdown. 48 hrs. Best script you can write and thats it. So to me, B. was more coherent overall eventhough I agree with many that A has the most potential after a rewrite. So I vote B.
Much closer this time! I think it’s pretty clear who wrote which (one interesting thing that’s happening here is that it’s becoming clear that people do indeed have a certain ‘voice’, which is great and encouraging), BUT the standard is high and both scripts are fine pieces of work. Different in their approaches, but both successful and enjoyable in their execution. You’ve both done great.
A:
- The dialogue is ever-so-slightly awkward. It’s a gallant attempt at ye olde speake, but it doesn’t QUITE work. Can’t put my finger on why, but hopefully you’ll know what I mean when I say it sounds too formal. Quite stiff somehow, like someone doing an impression of a 19th century woman rather than real people speaking that way.
- Wow, subtle with Grace, huh? I do get that there are time restraints though.
- The misspellings in De Silvestre are deliberate attempts to convey accent, yes? Don’t do that. ‘citi’, for instance, just looks like a mistake. Just put “she speaks with a thick French accent” and spell as normal.
- Jeff is a real stickler for unfilmables. I’m pretty easy-going about them, but I do think “He is a young man troubled by war and sceptical of his future” is too much. It feels like an afterthought character intro in the wrong place.
- Ah, villainous lesbians. How novel. Why can’t the hero be gay and the villains straight, for once? That’s a wider point, but it did feel a bit arbitrary and unnecessary here. How can we make these villains more threatening and villainous? Make them gay!
- I do like the sacrifice scene, very ‘The Mummy’. Good description of the soldiers’ entrance. Good writing generally, actually, apart from this line: “the ladies enter the candle lit crypt. Julia is gagged and tied securely to the top of a stone sarcophagus.” Is that happening as that line happens? Because if so where’s the struggle, the people tying her, Julia’s screams? Or are “the ladies” just Grace and Elly, and Julia is already bound when the scene starts? It’s confusing. I do understand there may have been space limitations, though.
- The ending! It just...ends. Not being American I may be missing the joke (Ulysses Grant reference?), in which case it may be my ignorance that’s to blame BUT even so...it’s poor. It’s a shame, as well, because you were doing so well up until then. It’s a good idea and the setting does feel authentic. You could definitely try expanding this – “The Mummy” in 1840s New Orleans, but the sudden ending does deal a heavy blow to what you’ve got here. Well done though!
B:
- Virtually nothing to say here. Well-written, well-crafted, well-paced. Genuinely funny, great dialogue and characters. The only thing I do think is that it may be a little...light? Don’t get me wrong, writing a funny joke is no mean feat and this is genuinely funny. But it could possibly be described as an easy way out. You get away with it because it’s so well done, but it’s nowhere near as ambitious as A. It’s a sketch rather than a story. Then again, it is a very enjoyable use of the few pages you have to play with.
Hmm. As I’m writing this up it suddenly becomes less obvious who to vote for. B is better crafted and written, has a good ending and is very, very solid. BUT A is more ambitious, and is a better evocation of time and place. One small point, though – where’s the fountain? I know it’s referenced but I would have liked to have seen it at play, even bubbling in the background. And the ‘evil lesbians’ counts against you in my book, I’m afraid, because it’s a very tired characterisation. The two scripts are so different in tone that it’s hard to know which one is better. I definitely see why Jeff voted as he did, and actually I agree that there’s a lot more depth to A. But B is better written, the characterisations are more assured, and it’s more aware of the length limitations. A is a very fine effort, but the lack of a proper ending to the story means that I’m going to have to go with B. This one was really close, though! As I said before, well done to both of you.
Well, one thing you won't have to do Michael is have people guess who wrote what. It seems everyone knows! One has characteristic smooth writing, one the usual clumsy!
Surrounded by cheap huts on one side, woods on the other.
WHITE GUARDS corral several groups of chained BLACK CREOLES, most of them young and healthy, only a few elders, into caravans lining the road.
One GUARD walks by ARMAND (20’s, male) and ETIENNE (30’s, female), both very dark skinned. He makes sure their chains are snug.
ARMAND We’ve lived here for seventy years. You have no right to up and move us.
GUARD Keep those thick lips shut.
The guard moves on to the next caravan.
MARGARET, a young white woman in a frilly pink flower print dress walks by. She eyes the black people.
ETIENNE Wha’shoo doin’ here, little flowery girl? Ki l’aj to gain?
MARGARET Speak English to me.
ARMAND She asks how old you are.
MARGARET I’m seventeen. And don’t call me flowery. You won’t speak to me or my father that way.
Etienne gestures to the dozens and dozens of people around her.
ETIENNE Your fatha really need the lot of us for his slavin’?
MARGARET Don’t be stupid, woman. You’ll stay with us until you’re trained proper. Then you’ll be auctioned on the fairgrounds.
ETIENNE Pretty girl like you should be home wich yo’ motha.
MARGARET My mother has passed. You’ll be wise not to speak of her again.
ARMAND Pay no mind to her, flowery girl. The old mind leaves at her age.
MARGARET I said don’t call me flowery girl.
ETIENNE Then do not wear flowery dresses.
MARGARET And what do you mean old? She is not even over forty yet.
ARMAND So it appears on her face and body. All actuality, she just celebrate her hundred and eight birthday not two months ago.
Margaret looks the woman up and down.
ARMAND That is what truly upsets us. De white folk like you are taking us away from our longevity.
MARGARET I don’t understand.
ARMAND Myself. I’m near ninety-four year-old. You take us away from our pond, and we can no longer sustain the young tissue.
ETIENNE Armand!
MARGARET Pond? You mean...
ARMAND What de explorers have searched for for hundreds of years over, we’ve created in our own backyard.
MARGARET I don’t believe you.
ARMAND Look around, flowery girl. Why are there only but a few elders? Because they are the ones who would not drink from it. They wouldn’t bathe in it.
She looks at him skeptically.
ARMAND Imagine never losing the softness of that skin on your cheek. Imagine never losing the firmness in your hips. Not becoming stout after childbirth.
Margaret becomes aware of Armand’s eyes on her body. She pulls her shoulders back so her chest sticks out more.
MARGARET Where?
Armand motions through the woods.
ARMAND Lala. Through the tr-
ETIENNE Armand! No!
MARGARET Let him speak, old woman!
ARMAND There, through the trees, and past the stones.
Margaret looks.
ARMAND For seventy years, we’ve drank and washed in that water. And look at us. A century old and flesh like new. Muscles like oxes.
ETIENNE Do not listen, child.
ARMAND She doesn’t want you to discover the powers to your advantage.
MARGARET Silence now. Both of you. There'll be no more words.
Margaret trails off to the front of one of the caravans. Looks to make sure none of the guards watch her.
She takes a blanket off a wooden seat and tucks it under an arm.
She casually strolls off through the trees.
ETIENNE Wha’shoo go tell her that for, fool!
EXT. TOMB YARD - DAY
Margaret hurries past the stones and toward a pond.
ETIENNE (V.O.) We were going to let the disease die in that water.
Margaret pulls her dress off and only wears her undergarments. She slowly immerses herself.
ETIENNE (V.O.) You’ve seen the virus in that pond infect our mothas and fathas. You’ve seen them spread it to each other with their fluids.
Margaret cups her hands and drinks the water.
ETIENNE (V.O.) You watched the water rot their blood. You seen the deficiencies. You know no one is immune. You know the disease must not get out of that water hole.
ARMAND (V.O.) If the young girl keeps her loins to herself, it will be contained.
Margaret dries with the blanket. Slips her dress back on.
ARMAND (V.O.) If she spreads it to the other white people through her fluids, they deserve the lesions and the waxy blisters.
ETIENNE (V.O.) That is not fair to de other people. They do not deserve that disease in their blood.
Margaret walks back through the grave stones and woods.
ARMAND (V.O.) What they are doing to us is not fair.
EXT. DIRT ROAD - DAY
Armand and Etienne watch Margaret walk past them to the caravan she got the blanket from.
Armand smiles at her wet hair.
ARMAND (under his breath) Toutswit. Swinn-twa.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. PLANTATION FIELD. - DAY
Hot. Armand sweats and bails hay by himself. Other black creoles harvest cotton way out in the field, watched by guards.
He doesn’t see Margaret approach behind him.
MARGARET You’ve learned to use the tools very well over the weeks.
ARMAND Shoo doin’ here, flowery girl?
MARGARET I’m going to let you call me names, today.
She walks closer to him and grabs at the front of his trousers.
MARGARET In fact, today, you can speak to me however you want.
ARMAND Shoo doin’? Don’t do that.
He steps back from her clutch. She looks at him, threatening.
MARGARET If you don’t do what I want you to... (lifts her dress up) I will start screaming right now and they’ll be at my side like that. (snaps) And don’t think for even a second they need proof to shoot you for raping a little white girl.
She gets on her knees, her mouth equal height to his groin.
MARGARET Now walk to me.
Armand looks at her open mouth and hiked dress, fear in his eyes.
A gust of wind makes it pivot 360 degrees, raising dust and carrying it over to the--
EXT. SAINT CHARLES GRAVEYARD - NIGHT
A light from the nearest lamppost illuminates a gravestone: MARIA ROSALIND, LOVING MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER with the portrait of young Maria next to the inscription.
Sounds of shovels at work.
ANNA ROSALIND (1 and MARGARET ROSALIND (1, knee deep inside the grave, plunge their shovels deeper and deeper in.
They shiver from cold in their pantaloons and shirts.
Anna stops and tosses her shovel aside.
ANNA I think I’m onto something.
She crouches down and digs with her hands.
Margaret climbs out and returns in a moment, a small bag in her hand. She pulls out a gas lantern, illuminating a skull in Anna’s hands.
Margaret jumps back in and steps on something curvy.
MARGARET Wait. There’s something here too.
She bend down and digs out two other skulls, smaller in size.
Both girls stare in shock.
ANNA This is insane. What did the witch do? Who are the other two?
MARGARET Don’t say that. She’s our great grandmother after all.
ANNA (sarcastically) Yep. Sweet witchery-loving grandma who died in her 80’s looking fifteen. She turns to look at Maria’s portrait on the stone. Illuminated by the lantern, Maria is shockingly beautiful.
Anna eyes the lantern with contempt.
ANNA Kill the light. It’s safer in the dark.
Margaret shivers but shoves the lantern back into her bag.
Margaret grabs a skull and tries it on for size.
MARGARET This is the way to know which one. ...since we are related...
ANNA (hissing) Stop it. It’s all a joke for you, isn’t it? All of it.
Margaret drops the skull. She glances at Anna and her eyes well.
MARGARET ...still sore, are you? I know. I’m so sorry for what I did, Annie.
Anna’s lips thin.
ANNA Quit it. I’m glad you did what you did. Good luck marrying that immature bastard. I promised him my hand you know before you came between us...
Margaret casts her eyes down.
ANNA He’s an outsider, he can lie and cheat, I wouldn’t care. You’re family.
Margaret’s eyes shine with guilt.
MARGARET ...I love him, Anna.
Anna grabs one of the skulls. Blows the dirt off of it.
ANNA Whatever. Let’s do it. We didn’t come here to talk about you two.
Margaret grabs a bag and pulls out a corked glass container filled with red liquid. She pops the cork open and immediately blocks her nose.
MARGARET Does it have to be the period blood?
Anna snatches the container from her.
ANNA Yes it does. There are rules, Marge, and we have to play by them. Always.
She carefully pours the blood into the skull and takes a swing from it. Swallows at once.
Margaret extends a hand, very much hesitant.
MARGARET I don’t even know if I need this...
Anna thrusts the skull into Margaret’s numb hand. She gives Margaret a long unflinching stare.
ANNA You can’t back off now. Too late.
Margaret hides her eyes.
MARGARET I wronged you Anna. That’s why I agreed to this. I don’t want to stay young, I want to age with him...
Anna doesn’t even blink at that.
ANNA Do it.
Margaret holds her breath for a minute, the smell makes her cringe
She stretches time as long as possible.
MARGARET Remember Nostradamus? Someone drank from his skull once and was promptly shot to death...
Nothing works with Anna.
Margaret carefully sips from the skull--
And as she does, Anna grabs the shovel and hits Margaret hard on the head. Her eyes glint with menace.
ANNA How’s that for ‘promptly to death’.
Margaret drops down with a dull thud. The skull slides out of her lifeless hand.
Anna hits her on the head again.
Anna smiles at the sight of splattering blood.
ANNA ...I love him too.
She is about to climb out when a white fabric touches her face. She slowly lifts her head to see it’s a hem of a white nightgown which belongs to--
MARIA ROSALIND (20s), above the grave, extends her hand to help Anna out.
Anna recoils.
MARIA You picked the right skull, you know that?
Anna’s breathing intensifies. She pulls herself up and leaps out of the grave. Parrot-like, to herself:
ANNA This’ not true. Can’t be true.
Maria giggles:
MARIA It is true. You’ll stay young and beautiful forever. Just like you wanted.
Anna raises her eyes at her. Glances into the grave but there’s no Margaret there. A look of realization forms.
She picks up a shovel again and starts piling the dirt back into the grave.
MARIA Forever and ever....
Anna turns to look at Maria once again and sees--
Margaret, emaciated, peeking at Anna from behind Maria. She holds the lantern in her hand.
MARGARET Why did you do this to me? For him? I’m your family, he’s an outsider.
Anna shivers.
ANNA Stop it. I’m alive. Alive as in flesh and bones! You two are dead.
Maria points towards the grave.
MARIA One of those is yours. Guess which one.
Anna turns her head towards the grave and looks inside. There are five skulls down on the ground.
ANNA My foot it is. Mine is on my head. You're nothing but illusion.
Maria smiles. She tries to stroke Anna’s cheek but Anna jerks away.
MARIA People age. Dead don’t. You’re young and beautiful. Forever.
Anna vigorously shakes her head.
MARIA Prove you’re alive. If you do we disappear.
Margaret steps forward.
MARGARET Young forever... Wasn’t it what you wanted?
MARIA (whispering) Prove it, child. Prove you’re alive.
Anna’s head spins. Her breathing intensifies.
She GRUNTS and plunges the shovel deep into her ankle. The blood pours out of it. She is about to give Maria and Margaret a victorious look but goes limp and unable to keep the equilibrium falls into the grave with a muffled SCREAM.
Her body flips in the air. She lands on her head first. Then her whole body drops down inside.
The wind picks up and fills the grave with dirt in a matter of seconds.
The grave appears as if it’s never been touched by the girls.
FADE OUT
OVER BLACK
SOUND OF SHOVELS at work.
FEMALE VOICE Look, five skulls! Isn’t it supposed to be just one...
I want to thank those that read and commented. Some notes from my script: I submitted a title that was supposed to tie in with the end, Eternal Grant. I guess we can't do titles though.
Funny thing is, my favorite part of this story was the end, which was everyone's least favorite. I wanted to insert real history in this. Ullyses is obviously future Civil War general and President Grant. His name was in fact Hiram, but there was a type o at West Point, and his middle name became his name.
Grant married Julia, debuttante from St Louis in Aug 1848. He returned from the Mexican war some time in the preceding months. Julia's father was a Colonel who did not approve the marriage. It's conceivable Grant stopped in New Orleans on his way to St Louis. He was a notorious drinker, so he probably did, if he went by sea.
William was a slave of Julia's family who came to be owned by Grant. Though Grant desperately needed the money, he freed William.
People asked me why Willy didn't do more, why his loyalty was described. Willy is protective of Julia. A slave, but a friend. When he finds Grant, and explains they are meeting De Silvestre, the bar tender knows what's going on and alerts Grant. I couldn't fit that in though.
Hancock is the famous general Hancock of the Civil War.
Finally, I want to touch on the gay thing, since it was addressed above. Grace is NOT a lesbian. She is a woman who has had a full plate of men, and is curious, hungry. Her insatiable sexual appetite refuses to limited to one gender.
Silvestre is also a heterosexual. But after a hundred years, stimulation requires bolder and bolder efforts, so she is bisexual by now.
There was no effort to inject any commentary on gay or lesbian issues. Didn't even consider it.
I knew going into this I had better write well, or everyone would know who was who. Not only did I not manage to remove my clumsiness, once I read Ryan's I knew it was just too smoothly written for people not to know. Hopefully by the time of the next OWC I will make it harder to tell! Thanks everyone, congrats Ryan.
Read C. Not sure what to say about the ending yet. But I will say the dialogue was exceptionally well done. And I want to note that in the 1840s no one had ever seen a virus yet. Just change that word to disease or infection. They didn't really understand infection either, but enough to use the word.
There was no New Orleans, and no cemetery. Actually, no debutante either. This is a plantation daughter, which is not quite the same.
Great job with the dialogue, wish I could do that!
Good challenge. Once I read how ambitious Kevin's story was, I knew a lot of people would like it. Knew this one would be close. Yeah, mine was just a simple little tale with dark comedy. Nothing more. When I read that freaking logline, I just had this ridiculous image of two goofy debutantes in gowns wandering around a graveyard. Had to go with comedy.
Finished D. Generally a good tale, and another one where the dialogue is very good, very natural, very believable. Damn, you guys are talented.
I am not sure I bought the ending, though I like the attempt, and definitely respect it for a day's work. I don't think Anna would stab herself in the foot with a shovel just to prove the ghosts wrong. And I don't think it would lead to her falling death. But I really like the idea of the ghosts tricking her into death. Perhaps another trick would be more believable.
This story certainly would have been worthy of votes. Nice job!
I'll reluctantly throw my hat into the mix if no one else is already up.
Ryan is a formidable challenge and a great writer, but I'll take his ass down if you'd all like. Just fuckin' around, stirring' the old pot, obviously.
If so, I'd have to be able to do this starting sometime tomorrow.
Vote for A or B
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Showdown #5 Ryan vs Kevin
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