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ihavebiglips
05-03-2007, 05:33 AM
Okay folks. I'm starting a new thread to just post the entries to make it easier on those that grace us with reads and votes.

Already got a couple of entries!

Those of you that already contributed: Just remember that you are now allowed two entries, so you've got a month to come up with another idea if you like.

Thanks, any banter and or questions regarding the contest itself, I'll see you back in the original thread.

Peace!

ihavebiglips
05-03-2007, 05:55 AM
The lead off guy steps to the plate:

Entry #1 by Signal30

CODA (1 of 2)

FADE UP


EXT. MIDDLE EASTERN CITY – DAY

The desert sun burns down, air shimmering. Shattered sides of buildings sprout from the debris like windowed tombstones. Dust coils through the avenues.

Across from a mosque, a squad of troopers huddle behind the burned-out husk of a 2012 Mercedes. Gunfire coughs in the distance.

A Chinese jet shrieks by overhead, dropping its payload further down the road. An explosion... screams.

The Mirage bomber pulls up, begins to circle around... oily contrail in its wake. Bad fuel mix.

CAPTAIN DWYER squats, his back against the front passenger door. Camouflage faded, tattered, blotched with stubborn bloodstains. At age twenty, Captain Dwyer still has a good three years on the oldest of his squad.

He shakes his canteen and uncaps it, mudpack of dust and sweat cracking as he opens his mouth to drink. Drains it.

THWACK!

He looks up at the moist sound of impact, the unzipping of air, the cough of the rifle that follows as afterthought.

A young trooper sways on her knees, entry wound a pencil eraser-sized mole on her upper lip, helmet cocked down over her eyes by the exiting round. Her nametag reads VICTOR.

VICTOR
Oh.

She shudders, and her body armor pulls her to the ground.

Dwyer glances to his left: French Caporal-chef La Croix is on one hand and knees at the front of the vehicle, other hand tilting the loosed rearview mirror towards the mosque.

She sits back on her heels and twists around to Dwyer.

DWYER
How many?

La Croix blinks, finally gets what he’s asking. Holds up two fingers... then three. Shrugs.

He nods. Mimes smoking a cigarette. La Croix retrieves a battered pack of Lucky Strikes from her camo top, bats one loose...

Dwyer cups her hands as he accepts a light. Eyes meet. He takes a drag and hands it back to her as he looks back to the fallen soldier. Two of the other troopers have low-crawled over, struggle for her body armor.

Victor is on her back, upper torso bare, pale breasts still heaving raggedly beneath the scorching sun. What’s left of her brains have spilled out into the dust, blood sucked up before it can pool.

MULROONEY has put on the liberated helmet, a pink blob leaving a crimson snail trail down her cheek. Oblivious, she tugs at the vest.

MULROONEY
It’s too damn’ small for you, muthaf*cker.

COOPER tugs it from her grasp, slides his arm in and rolls over onto his back. Struggles to strap it up...

It’s too small.

COOPER
I’m a bigger target, bitch.

Mulrooney’s face pinches... she will have that armor...

Soon.

They continue to snap at each other as...

Dwyer glances over at a young girl in Australian gear, STIRLING. Dull eyes veiled behind oily bangs, she uses two fingers to spoon gray slop from a sun-bleached can. Arabic lettering. Crude cartoon of a dog. She chews with an air of obligation...

... pauses.

Snaps her bangs back with a toss of head and considers the horizon, eyes narrowing.

STIRLING
Oy.

Dwyer follows her gaze...

...as contrails streak in formation, six of them staggered and streaming south. Faster than any jet.

Cooper and Mulrooney pause in their quarreling. Faces go slack at the sight of the ICBMs.

STIRLING
Where they headin’?

DWYER
Turkey? India?

STIRLING
Where they comin’ from?

One of the Chinese jets has pulled up from its bombing run, flies counter to the distant contrails.

Considering.

DWYER
Does it matter? Get on the horn.

Stirling puts aside the dog food and fires up the transmitter. A chorus of shouting squawks from the headphones. Voices fighting to be heard over each other.

DWYER
Channel Nine.

Stirling clicks it over and Dwyer cups a headphone to one ear. Keys the mike.

DWYER
Alpha Charlie Three to HQ.
(beat)
Alpha Charlie Three to HQ.

What’s left of his squad has moved in around him. Wide-eyed. Silent. His nostrils flare as La Croix moves up beside him, a strand of auburn hair spilling from beneath her helmet.

(CONTINUED)

ihavebiglips
05-03-2007, 05:56 AM
CODA (2 of 2)

DWYER
Yeah, no... I mean, the men want to know if... well, since the world is ending... do we really need to go on with this?

He pulls away from the radio’s loud squawking.

DWYER
Yes, sir. No problem, sir... right away.

DWYER
What’s that, sir? Oh... you too...

He drops the microphone into the dust.

DWYER
... Sir.

Stirling nods.

STIRLING
Right.

She stands. Dwyer grabs her wrist...

DWYER
Damn it, Stirling...

STIRLING
F*ck you, Sir.

She pulls loose from his grip and walks around the rear of the Mercedes. Crosses the street, pulling her service .45 from its holster. She enters the mosque.

A beat.

Gunfire erupts, muzzle flashes flaring through shattered windows.

Silence. Shadows lengthen as the sun begins to settle.

Dwyer turns to find La Croix considering him.

DWYER
Huh... now what in the hell do we do?

Distant thunder rumbles.

She cocks an eyebrow -- she doesn’t have the slightest idea what he just said.

LA CROIX
Je n'ai aucune idée de ce que vous venez de dire.

Dwyer reaches up, cups her face with his hand. Her face softens... she leans forward.

They kiss. Long, hard... for the last time.

MULROONEY (O.S.)
Don’t even think about it, Cooper.

Dwyer pulls back, blinking.

DWYER
I never did had a chance to...

La Croix smiles, brushes a tear from his cheek with her thumb, dust smearing.

A whistle from above begins to build to a scream...

...they lean in and kiss again...


EXT. CHINESE BOMBER JET – TWILIGHT

The bomber pulls up, jets howling...

... as below, a shockwave ripples across the city streets, a fireball erupting from the epicenter.

Payload spent and no home to return to, the jet continues to pull up...

...up...

...up...

...the fading sunlight glinting against its hull, the jet becomes yet another distant star...

...and then sparks out.


FADE OUT


COMMENTS

-I caught some snatches of unique characterization but I can't honestly say the setting or story did anything for me, and that bleak ending wasn't anywhere near satisfying, sorry. –dp

-Excellently written. A little over written perhaps, but the writer certainly can write. I think if anything, the dialogue let this entry down. It's functional.I'd like to have heard more character in their individual voices. That said it felt realistic and there was clearly a high level of knowledge from the writer regarding warfare. Whether that be an interest/hobby or impressive amount of research, It made entertaining reading.

ihavebiglips
05-03-2007, 07:28 AM
Next up:

Entry #2 y OzFade

THE FIGHT

FADE IN:

ON AN UNIDENTIFIABLE VOID

An archaic television set juts out of a porous, scarlet red
ground.
All profound imagery and no substance, didn't tickle my fancy, sorry. –dp

THE FIGHT - Very surreal entry and too short for my taste. Well written nevertheless, and the writer understands the power of imagery. A short and sweet read.



STATIC flares up.

A black and white image slowly starts to bleed in...

A young SOLDIER stoically leans forward against a barrage
of wind and rain.

Another image. An INFIRMARY. Silent cries of the wounded.
Gangrenous limbs, charred faces, bullet ridden torsos.

Another image. A LEGLESS solder gripping the lifeless hand
of another.

An explosion inside a trench.

Fatigued men endlessly marching towards certain doom.

A lone helmet on a scorched field.

A bayonet slicing through the air.

A gun-turret firing round after round.

A tank rolling through smoke.

...people dieing.

...War. Anguish, horror and suffering boiled down to ten
seconds of hell.

And the image skips and starts again.

The young soldier waiting for his death.

The nightmare of the infirmary.

The men, the bombs, the bullets, the deaths.

Loops again.

War.

The clip continues.

In the darkness behind the television set, a flash of
light.

Another television begins playing the clip.

Three more televisions begin the clip.

Ten televisions showing the men.

50 televisions showing the bombs.

100 televisions showing the bullets.

1,000 televisions showing the dead.

The field of televisions stretch on, stuck firmly in the
red spongy ground...

Stuck to a CAPILLARY.

WE'RE INSIDE A BODY

Moving past the cells, the blood, the veins, the muscle,
the flesh.

Moving past the millions of television sets playing the
same harrowing clip.

Pushing through the skin into...

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

An overcrowded hospital room of chaos and confusion, devoid
of any homeliness.

A bustle of patients and workers all taking no heed to a
YOUNG BOY, pale and weary, laying in a bed.

His lips cracked and dry...

His breathing shallow...

His eyelids fluttering...

His hand becoming limp...and his grip on a red crayon
loosens.

It clutters to the floor.

FADE OUT:

The End

COMMENTS


-All profound imagery and no substance, didn't tickle my fancy, sorry. –dp

-Very surreal entry and too short for my taste. Well written nevertheless, and the writer understands the power of imagery. A short and sweet read.

ihavebiglips
05-08-2007, 11:03 AM
Entry #3 by ezread

THE DUNDER SQUAD(1 OF 2)

FADE IN:

JAX, mid thirties, side burns and a mustache, huddles next to a chimney. He hands two grenades to STONY, late twenties, a skeleton with skin.

JAX
Okay private, these are our last two.. so make em count.

STONY
No problem sarge.

Stony peeks around the chimney, his eyes widen at the sight of the two German soldiers sitting in the guard tower.

Stony closes his eyes, takes a deep breath then spins from behind the chimney, hurls a grenade at the tower.

The grenade lands smack in the middle of the German soldiers.

Stony and Jax take cover behind the chimney, plug their ears and wait.. and wait. Nothing.

JAX
Must of been a dud. Try again.

Stony hurls the second grenade. Takes cover. Plugs his ears and waits.. and waits. Nothing.

JAX
What the..

They hear LAUGHTER coming from the tower. They peek around the chimney and see the German soldiers, one FAT one SKINNY, laughing uncontrollably.

JAX
What's so damn funny numb nuts?

FAT GERMAN
Very nice throw.

SKINNY GERMAN
Yes, nice throws. Very nice indeed. But you forgot one thing?

JAX
What's that pencil dick?

FAT GERMAN
You forgot, oh I almost can't believe it, you forgot to take the pins out?

The Germans nearly fall off the tower with laughter. Jax glares at Stony. Stony smiles nervously back at him.

SKINNY GERMAN
I mean really.. who forgets to take the pins out.

FAT GERMAN
(holds up grenade)
Not once..
(holds up other grenade)
..but twice.

Their laughter echo's through the streets.

JAX
Ha Ha, laugh it up monkey boys.

FAT GERMAN
I mean how stupid can you be? Really, I mean, come on. You see this little round thing here..

Points to the pin.

FAT GERMAN
..you just grab that, then pull the pin out..

Pulls pin out.

FAT GERMAN
.. then you see this little lever? You let that fall off..

The lever falls to the ground.

FAT GERMAN
..then you throw it at a chosen target.

He moves his arm through a throwing motion, but holds on to the grenade.

FAT GERMAN
Then you count: one, two, three..

SKINNY GERMAN
Oh shi...

BOOM! The Germans fall from the tower in a fiery heap.

Jax and Stony give each other a look.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

HALF-N-HALF, mid thirties, Three feet six inches tall, stands on a stool and struggles to keep his massive M60 balanced on the window seal as he stands guard.

GIRTH, mid twenties, a fat slob, snores in the corner.

Jax and Stony walk in.

HALF-N-HALF
Did ya get em?

STONY
Yep, went exactly as planned.

JAX
I'd like you guys to meet our new squad member.

VET, late thirties, face shows the wear and tear of many battles, walks in.

VET
Hey guys. I'm nearing the end of my third tour. My wife is giving birth to my third child as we speak. And I just bought a place back home, gonna open my own restaurant..

Half-n-half slips, falls off his stool. His M60 hits the ground. BANG. Vet is shot right between the eyes.

Girth jumps up. Scans the room, gun at the ready.

GIRTH
What the.. were are those Nazi bastards?

Girth sees Vet strewn out on the floor.

GIRTH
Oh my..
(turns to Half-n-half)
..not again. How many does that make this month?

HALF-N-HALF
Kiss my ass.

GIRTH
Can't get that low.

HALF-N-HALF
Oh yeah, let me help.

Half-n-half runs up to Girth, head butts him in the groin. Girth falls to the floor. Half-n-half sits on his face.

HALF-N-HALF
Kiss it, yeah, kiss it.

JAX
That's enough shenanigans. Lets get moving.

CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-08-2007, 11:05 AM
THE DUNDER SQUAD (2 OF 2)

EXT. FRONT YARD OF MANSION - DAY

The Dunder squad sneaks toward the Mansion. They encounter no resistance.

HALF-N-HALF
Well this seams easy enough.

JAX
Yeah, a little to easy.

GIRTH
Oh man, why did you have to say that? Don't you watch movies? Nothing good ever happens when somebody says that.

JAX
Stop with the superstitious shi..

Loud GROWLING from behind them. They all slowly turn their heads. Three massive German Shepherds stare back at them.

The squad runs toward the house. The dogs give chase.

Jax is the first to reach an open basement door. He jumps in. Stony follows close behind. Girth lumbers in right after him. They all watch Half-n-half as his little legs pump away, M60 dragging behind him.

STONY
Run Half-n-half, run.

Half-n-half nears the basement door. The dogs are right on top of him. Jax reaches out to help.

CRUNCH.

HALF-N-HALF
Awwwwww.

INT. BASEMENT - DAY

Jax places a bandage on Half-n-half's butt cheek.

HALF-N-HALF
Why didn't sombody shoot them?

JAX
They're dogs. I love dogs.

GIRTH
Yeah, you don't shoot dogs. That's just mean.

HALF-N-HALF
They bit my ass.

JAX
Yeah, that's unfortunate. Hey Girth, Go outside and make sure Half-n-half didn't leave anything.. behind.

HALF-N-HALF
Ha Ha, behind, real funny.

GIRTH
I'll check the front yard. Would you like me to check the Rear too?

HALF-N-HALF
You guys are frickin hilarious.

JAX
Lets just hope those dogs weren't Lactose intolerant. Get it? Half-n-half, lactose..

HALF-N-HALF
Yeah, I get it dick head.

Stony walks down the stairs.

STONY
There are about seven or eight guards up there.

JAX
Don't worry about it. I got a plan.

NEXT TO FURNACE

A tear rolls down Stony's face as he watches Jax throw his rucksack full of marijuana into the furnace.

STONY
Oh the sacrifice.

JAX
Stop your wimperin and close the vent.

INT. MANSION - DAY

Smoke seeps from the vents.

INT. BASEMENT - DAY

The squad makes their way up the stairs and into

THE KITCHEN

Were a German soldier digs through the cupboards. The German spins around. Points a gun at them.

GERMAN
Halt.

They stop, put their hands in the air. The German stares at them for a moment with his blood shot eyes.

GERMAN
Hey, you guys have any Cheetos?

JAX
Excuse me.

GERMAN
You know, Cheetos, Tony the Tiger. Groooowl.

GIRTH
Tony the Tiger is Frosted Flakes. You're thinking of Chester Cheetah.

GERMAN
Whatever dude, you got any?

Girth reaches into his bag, pulls out a bag of Cheetos. Throws it to him.

GERMAN
Oh hell yeah.

The German runs into the next room.


GERMAN(o.s.)
Look guys, I found some.

GROUP OF GERMANS(o.s.)
Sweet dude. Yeah. Bitchen.

Jax turns to Stony.

JAX
Told ya it would work.

STONY
Not worth it man, not worth it.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

A woman in a white dress sits on the floor. Watches a small TOP spin round and round. Sings a song.

WOMAN
Dradle, Dradle, Dradle.I have a little Dradle. I made it out of clay...

The Dunder squad storms into the room. They point their guns at the woman.

JAX
Oh, sorry miss. Must have the wrong room.

The woman stands up, turns around.

The squad takes a step back, gasps.

The woman is not a woman, it's a man with a tiny mustache the width of his nose, and evil beady eyes. It's HITLER.

GIRTH
That's just wrong.

HALF-N-HALF
Yeah, you Germans are fricken crazy.

JAX
I know. Who wears white after labor day?

The rest of the squad looks at Jax through a raised eyebrow.

WOMAN/HITLER
But it's my favorite.

JAX
Whatever, are you Roth Volker?

HITLER
Nope.

Jax pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. Reads it.

JAX
This is six six nine Olo street right?

Hitler saunters up to him. Grabs the paper out of his hand. Turns it right side up. Hands it back to him.

Jax reads the paper.

JAX
Ohh, were looking for six nine nine. Sorry to interrupt, carry on sir, mam, sir. Whatever.

The Dunder squad walks out of the room.

Hitler waves goodbye.

FADE OUT:

COMMENTS

-Tries hard to be funny, maybe too hard, corny lines and setups abound but ultimately it ended up feeling like an ad-libbed skit gone wrong, sorry. -dp

-Another odd entry. I made my mind up before I read any entries that I wouldn't give a placing to any comedy. Memorial Day contest just doesn't, in my view, lend itself to comedy. That said it was again well written and an enjoyable read, but it just felt like a bunch of teenagers playing war (in fact I half expected that as a twist) and that felt wrong in the context of the contest.

ihavebiglips
05-11-2007, 06:41 AM
Got a good one in!

I was sent an HTML file - the formatting is a little different, so it seems a little wordy.

Read it anyway!

Entry #4 by Harbinger

THE DYING SONG (1 of 2)

FADE IN:

EXT. THE RUE EMILE DES OURTEAUX - ORADOUR - DAY

Sheet rain falls across a quiet street, lined with fire
damaged ruins of what were once buildings. The rainwater
drips off the crumbled edifices of old French Architecture,
all that remains of the old town of Oradour.

The roaring engine of a Mercedes-Benz cuts through the eerie
silence, as it screeches around the corner. The stereo pumps
a hardhouse baseline through the tranquility of rural France.

The car picks up speed, slicing through puddles. Water sprays
an elderly woman shuffling along the side of the road.

ISABELLE, 68, sighs to herself as she glances down at the
soaked hem of her dress. She looks up to see an empty beer
bottle smash against the ruins of one of the buildings.

Isabelle solemnly closes her eyes as the Mercedes roars into
the distance. She collects herself and continues on her way.

INT. THE CHURCH - ORADOUR - DAY

The ruined remains of the old church of Oradour. Isabelle
shuffles along the aisle towards--

--a memorial tablet fixed to the wall. A list of soldier's
names engraved into the stone and an inscription in French;
A NOUS MORTS GLORIEUX GUERRE 1914-1918

Isabelle looks to the church's small side window, then turns
back to the tablet. She probes a trembling finger into one of
two bullet holes in the tablet. Tears well in her eyes.

INT. THE CRYPT - ORADOUR - DAY

Isabelle inspects an aisle of old artifacts. Charred by fire.
Crumbling with age. A number of damaged clock faces catch her
eye. All set to the same time.

A GUIDE to the crypt looms over her shoulder.

GUIDE
(in French)
They're all the same. Stopped dead
at four o'clock. That's when the
burning began.

Isabelle covers her mouth. She bolts from the church, as fast
as old frail legs will carry her.

EXT. CHURCHYARD - ORADOUR - DAY

Isabelle sits on a grassy embankment, oblivious to the rain
pelting down. She glances at the sodden ground. Sticks a long
bony finger into the wet soil. Draws something in the mud--

--Two letter 'S's side by side. Shaped like lightning bolts.

EXT. GIRL'S SCHOOL - ORADOUR - DAY

A young Isabelle, barely seven years old, stares up at the
same image. Two silver lightning bolts on a black background.
A badge sewn to the collar of the soldier marching beside
her. EDWIN GOTTLIEB, A German trooper of the Waffen-SS.

Dotted all around Isabelle are her classmates. Escorted along
the street by other German SS troops in uniform.

Isabelle's TEACHER, a portly woman, calls after her. Voice
shaky, desperately trying to hide the fear.

TEACHER
Hurry along now, Isabelle. Lets not
dawdle.

Isabelle ignores her. Her inquisitive eyes move upwards to
Edwin's face. A poster boy for Hitler's master race. Perfect
symmetrical features, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

Isabelle and Edwin's gaze meet. She stares into his eyes.
Stern, unflinching -- then, a flicker. Of something more.

Sylvie, one of Isabelle's classmates, catches up alongside
Isabelle. She puts an arm around her shoulder.

SYLVIE
They just want to check our papers,
Belle. Father says this happens all
the time in Limoges. There's no
need to be afraid.

ISABELLE
I'm not afraid.

She shrugs Sylvie's arm away. Edwin's unflinching eyes watch
Isabelle skip nonchalantly ahead to the front of the group.

EXT. THE CHAMP DE FOIRE - ORADOUR - DAY

The march reaches the end of the road. They're met by the
children of the Boy's school, escorted by more SS troops,
coming the other way. Both parties merge together as they're
marched into Oradour's busy market place.

A young SCHOOLBOY saunters up beside Isabelle. He secretly
palms her a scrap of paper with a sideways wink.

Edwin's sharp eyes observe everything. He steps amongst the
marching children. Snatches the paper from Isabelle's grasp.

Edwin reads what's written on the paper. That same sudden
flicker in his eye. He looks first at the boy-- then
Isabelle. Both sheepishly avoid eye contact.

Edwin pockets the scrap of paper and separates the two of
them. He personally marches Isabelle into the market place.

EXT. THE CHAMP DE FOIRE - ORADOUR - CONTINUOUS

The market place becomes a hive of activity as the children
pour into the square, reunited with anxious family members.

Isabelle ducks away from Edwin and joins her MOTHER, stood
with open arms beside the well of the market place.

EXT. THE CHAMP DE FOIRE - ORADOUR - LATER

Edwin stands on guard at the edge of the square. He observes
the murmur of quiet confusion from the gathered villagers.

A BAKER, still in his apron, remonstrates with a soldier as
thick plumes of black smoke emanate from his bakery chimney.

Beyond the baker, Edwin sees Isabelle. She struggles as her
mother tries to restrain her. Prevent her running away.

Edwin walks over. Crouches beside Isabelle. His eyes focus on
a broach pinned to her coat -- A dove with olive branch.

EDWIN
You like birds?

Isabelle doesn't reply. Her mother steps behind Isabelle and
protectively rests her hands on her shoulders.

Edwin looks at her, then Isabelle. He reaches into his pocket
and takes out the scrap of paper passed to her earlier. He
folds the paper in half. Makes a crease along one side. Then
another fold - and another, until a shape begins to form.

EDWIN
They say the mute swan never makes
a sound through it's entire life…

Edwin folds the final wing into place. He places a small
paper swan reverently in the palm of his hand.

EDWIN
Until the moment it dies when, for
the first and last time, it sings
the most beautiful heartbreaking
song.

Edwin passes the paper swan to Isabelle.

MOTHER
What do you say, Belle?

ISABELLE
You know an awful lot about swans.

MOTHER
Isabelle!
(looks up at Edwin)
Th... Thank you.

Edwin forces a slight smile. It quickly fades as he spots
another OFFICER marching towards him.

The Officer whispers something in his ear. Edwin's face
drops. His eyes glaze over. He glances around him.

Across the square a villager offers one of the soldiers a
cigarette. Beyond that, soldier and villager share a joke.

On the far side of the market, two SS troops set up machine
guns on tripod mounts, pointed at the assembled crowd.

Slowly the troops converge on the crowd. They begin
segregating the families. Fathers escorted away from crying
children. Wives clinging to their husband's sleeve.

The women and children are herded into one large group and
surrounded by SS troops. They're marched out of the square.

Edwin is ordered to follow. He hesitates. A glance to the
church spire, visible over the roof of the market barn.

HANZ, a no-necked meathead of a soldier, walks up behind
Edwin. Shoves the butt of gun into his back.

HANZ
We have our orders.

EDWIN
The orders are wrong.

HANZ
They're never wrong. We do this for
the glory of the Reich.

EDWIN
This is the Reich. They
surrendered. These are our allies.

Hanz strokes his chin. He looks up as a party of men are
escorted to Laudy barn, a turning just off the market place.

HANZ
Not today.

EXT. CHURCHYARD - ORADOUR - DAY

Edwin watches the women and children marched into the church.
He takes his position, alone, at one of the side windows.

INT. THE CHURCH - ORADOUR - DAY

The women and children crowd into the church. Isabelle is
hustled and bustled as she pushes her way along the aisle.

CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-11-2007, 06:46 AM
THE DYING SONG (2 OF 2)
EXT. CHURCHYARD - ORADOUR - DAY

Sweat drips from Edwin's brow as he shakily loads his rifle.
He's startled by the sound of tapping. He looks up to see--

--Isabelle stood at the window. Innocent. Unaware of what's
happening. She presses her index finger against the glass.

Edwin checks to see no-one is looking, then walks over. He
presses his finger against hers. Only the glass between them.

Movement at the church entrance catches Edwin's attention.
His eyes grow wide as he watches--

--SS troops carry a large crate into the church. Wires trail
from the crate. Behind them a soldier carries the detonator.

INT. THE CHURCH - ORADOUR - DAY

A panic slowly begins to break out amongst the women as the
soldiers place the crate down at the entrance to the church.
A soldier crouches to link the detonator to the crate wires.

EXT. CHURCHYARD - ORADOUR - DAY

Edwin gestures for Isabelle to step back. He slams the butt
of his rifle into the glass, shattering the window.

INT. THE CHURCH - ORADOUR - DAY

--the wooden crate explodes. Women and children incinerated
by fire. A cloud of black smoke engulfs the survivors as the
panicked mass scrambles back towards the rear of the church.

EXT. CHURCHYARD - ORADOUR - DAY

Edwin pulls Isabelle outside as thick smoke explodes outwards
from the broken window. He quickly lowers her to the ground.
He crouches on his haunches. Rests a hand on her shoulder.

EDWIN
There's an old mill west of here.
Run. Whatever happens, don't you
ever look back, understand?

A tearful Isabelle looks back at the church.

ISABELLE
Mommy.

EDWIN
She'll meet you there.

ISABELLE
You… you promise?

Edwin bites his tongue. He looks up to the sound of boot
soles crunching on gravel. Marching in perfect unison.

EDWIN
Go! Now!

Isabelle turns and runs. Tears stream down her face. She
disappears from view, hidden behind the wall as--

--two SS troops appear from the side of the church. They
gesture for Edwin to join them at the broken window.

Edwin takes his position beside the soldiers. Like them, he
points his rifle through the window. The SOLDIER to his left
reaches over. Taps two fingers lightly on Edwin's gun barrel.

SOLDIER
Women…

He pushes Edwin's gun barrel down to just below waist height.

SOLDIER
…and children.

Edwin's finger trembles as he aims the gun, waist height, at
the seething mass of terrified women and children. His finger
twitches, ready to fire-- Something catches his eye.

Isabelle's mother stands near the front of the congregation
almost enveloped by thick black smoke. Edwin's eyes meet hers
over the gun sight of his rifle.
She and Edwin close their eyes in unison as the first gunshot
rings out. Edwin hesitates, then squeezes the trigger. He
fires the rifle, again and again. Indiscriminate shots into
the crowd. Never once opening his eyes.

A tear trickles from Edwin's closed eyelid. He finally
manages to swing the gun barrel away. His stray bullet slams
into the memorial tablet fixed to the church wall.

EXT. FIELDS - ORADOUR - DAY

Isabelle runs through the fields. The wind roars in her ears,
but does little to drown out the echo of sporadic gunfire.
She glances back over her shoulder. Thick black smoke fills
the air above the town as all of Oradour burns.

She stops to rest against a tree. Below her a large group of
Oradour's men are herded into a barn. A line of soldiers
stand at the barn doors. They raise their rifles in unison.
An orchestra of Gunshots. Anguished cries -- Then silence.

A soldier steps away from the plumes of gun smoke. He stoops
to switch on a radio-- A female Soprano sings her heart out.

In the silent aftermath of the gunfire, the music soars. An
angelic voice, so pure and saintly-- A dying song. A tearful
Isabelle closes her eyes. Feels the music surge through her.
The single most beautiful thing she's ever heard.

Isabelle reaches into her pocket. Takes out the paper swan.
Trembling fingers unfold the paper. Smooth out the creases.

INT. THE CHURCH - ORADOUR - DAY

Trembling fingers, now old and wrinkled, hold the crumpled
scrap of paper, yellowed with age. Childlike writing scrawled
across the paper faded, but still legible; I'LL PROTECT YOU.

Isabelle's old arthritic fingers struggle as they fold the
paper in half. She perseveres, carefully refolding each
crease. Until the paper slowly forms a shape once more--

--A paper swan. Yellowed, crumpled and wilted over the years.

She wearily crouches at the foot of the memorial tablet.
Places the paper swan on the floor beneath the tablet.

ISABELLE
Thank you.

A last glance at the two bullet holes in the tablet, before
Isabelle turns and shuffles solemnly away.

FADE OUT:



COMMENTS

-Nicely done, interesting opening, good flashback timing, good suspense buildup, good imagery, real characters, humanity shines among the inhumanity. Only thing I didn't quite get was why Isabelle comes back now, after all those years? I'm just saying, a Saving Private Ryan-esque "family tour" angle might fit well, Isabelle is pulled from reverie by her 6-year-old great-granddaughter. Or not. 2nd place. –dp

-Oscar worthy. I cried. This writer is some kind of genius. .and modest...and without any delusions of grandeur!

-I’m not a big fan of the return-of-the-aging-survivor bookends tactic, but this one was well utilized. Although the writing was a little too dense, it still worked for me. Nicely-handled moment of poignancy with the return of the passed note, and a succinct point about the nature of the beast not being in black ‘n white. Solid. Would make a very interesting short.

ihavebiglips
05-12-2007, 01:05 PM
Entry #5 by ezread

SNAKE(1 of 2)

INT. MALL - NIGHT

A line, hundreds of kids long, waits to sit on Santa's lap.

Crowds of last minute shoppers scurry around a large
overly decorated Christmas tree.

INT. FOOD COURT - NIGHT

JOSH HARKING, 40's, a man's man with a square jaw
watches his daughter JENNY, 10, devour a hotdog. HOLLY
HARKING, 30's, sits next to Josh, picks through a salad.

Josh watches his family with a sly smile of contentment. He
looks around the crowded food court and sees:

A young BOY tugging at the shirt of a flustered MOM. The
Mom shouts and points at the Boy. The rebellious Boy
slaps his soda onto the floor.

A FAT MAN, carrying one too many bags, slips on the
spilled soda. His bags scatter across the floor.

A young middle eastern man in a suit and tie helps the
Fat man to his feat.

Josh perks up. He studies the middle eastern man's face
a little closer, particularly the scar that runs down his
right cheek.

JOSH
I'll be right back.

Holly nods.

AT ANOTHER TABLE

AHMAD IBRAHIM, 18, places his briefcase on the table.
Unsnaps the locks. Lifts the lid..

JOSH(O.S.)
Ahmad?

Ahmad closes the briefcase, looks up at Josh.

AHMAD
Do I know you sir?

JOSH
It's been a few years.

Josh looks at the empty chair across from Ahmad.

JOSH
May I?

AHMAD
Please.

Josh sits down. Ahmad's eyes narrow, he studies Josh's every move.

JOSH
You were a little out of it back then,
so I'm sure it's all a little fuzzy.

Ahmad looks into Josh's big brown comforting eyes.

AHMAD
A little fuzzy? Who are you?

JOSH
The school.. Afghanistan.

A glint of recognition as Ahmad's eyes widen.

FLASHBACK TO:

Complete DARKNESS

Heavy breathing.

Groans of pain.

Faint sounds of rocks grinding against each other.

VOICE #1(O.S.)
Leave him. This place is going to collapse!

VOICE #2(O.S.)
He's alive.. I can hear him.

VOICE #1(O.S.)
Sergeant, come on!

VOICE #2(O.S.)
Get everybody out of here!

The sound of grinding rocks gets louder.

A beam of light breaks the darkness. Two hands desperately
throw the remaining debris to the side.

Under the debris, a young Ahmad wipes the dust from
his eyes. Blinks. His eyes slowly focus. He looks into
the big brown comforting eyes of his rescuer, Josh.


JOSH
(to himself)
Just a boy.

INT. HALLWAY - DAY

Josh leans down, pulls Ahmad from the rubble. Throws
him over his shoulder.

The building shutters.

Josh runs. Ahmad groans with every step. Small bits
of debris pelt Ahmad's face as the building shutters..
He passes out.

INT. MEDICAL TENT - DAY

Ahmad lays in bed hooked to several I.V. tubes and
monitors. A long gash on his right cheek is held together
with dozens of stitches. His eyes blink open.

Josh sits on the bed just across from him.

Ahmad looks Josh over. Stares for a moment at the
bandage around Josh's elbow. Josh notices his stare,
points to the bandage.

JOSH
We have the same blood type. Imagine that.

Ahmad looks at the ceiling.

JOSH
What's your name?

Ahmad clears his throat.

AHMAD
Ahmad.

JOSH
Well Ahmad you were one of the lucky ones.

Ahmad's eyes well up, he looks at Josh.

AHMAD
How many?

JOSH
Forty seven.. forty seven kids.


INT. FOOD COURT - NIGHT

Ahmad smiles at Josh.

AHMAD
Yes, yes, I remember you.

JOSH
Glad to see you made it out of that
hell hole in one piece.

Ahmad just smiles at him. Josh looks over at Holly and
Jenny. Ahmad does the same.

AHMAD
That you're family?

JOSH
Pride and joy.

AHMAD
They're beautiful.

JOSH
Yes, yes they are.

Ahmad stares at Holly and Jenny for an uncomfortable
amount of time.

CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-12-2007, 01:07 PM
SNAKE (2 of 2)

AHMAD
I never got a chance to thank you..

Josh smiles.

JOSH
Just doing my job.

AHMAD
..thank you for giving me a chance to
redeem myself..

JOSH
Don't mention it.

AHMAD
..and make up for my failure that day.

Josh's smile fades.

JOSH
Your failure? you didn't do..

AHMAD
Was supposed to martyr myself, but I got
scared, thought I could get out before
it detonated. Guess you can't blame a
thirteen year old for being scared..

JOSH
What are you saying?

AHMAD
Come on, who better to blow up a
school..

Ahmad opens his briefcase.

AHMAD
..than a school kid?

Josh gawks at him in disbelief. Ahmad looks around the
crowded mall.

AHMAD
Now I get a chance to redeem myself.

Ahmad reaches into his briefcase, pulls out a detonator.

JOSH
What.. no.. these people, they're
innocent.

AHMAD
Nobody's innocent, they're all soldiers.

JOSH
No.

Josh leans forward, makes a quick move for the detonator.

Ahmad pulls his hand back.

AHMAD
You're not quick enough old man. Not
quick enough to stop destiny.

Ahmad chuckles. Josh, face red with anger, glares at
him.

AHMAD
This reminds me of that story.. that story
about the nice man and the sick snake.

Ahmad returns Josh's glare.

AHMAD
I'm going to tell my story, and when I'm
done..

Josh jumps from his chair. Runs to his family. Picks up
Jenny.

JOSH
Let's go..

HOLLY
What is it?

JOSH
Now! There's no time.

Ahmad in a slow and deliberate manner tells his story.

AHMAD(V.O.)
There was a man walking home one day,
came across a sick and injured snake..

INT. MALL ESCALATOR - NIGHT

Josh carries Jenny in one arm, holds Holly's hand with
the other as they run down the escalator.

AHMAD(V.O.)
..the man was deftly afraid of snakes. But
despite his fear he picked the poor snake up
and carried it home..

Josh and his family reach the bottom of the escalator.

AHMAD(V.O.)
..took care of it, fed it, bandaged it. Treated
it like his own child..

Josh plows through the crowd toward an exit.

AHMAD(V.O.)
..until slowly but surely the snake began to
take care of itself..

A security officer grabs Josh's shoulder.

AHMAD(V.O.)
..once the snake was back to full health, the
man took him outside..

Josh punches the security officer. Continues toward the exit.

AHMAD(V.O.)
..and to show it's gratitude the snake bit the
man, bit him on his cheek..

They reach the exit.

AHMAD(V.O.)
..as the man lay on the ground, with his last
dying breath he asked the snake. Why..

EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Josh and his family run as fast as they can away from
the mall.

AHMAD(V.O.)
..the snake replied, because I'm a snake.

Simultaneous explosions throughout the mall send huge
fireballs skyward.

Josh and his family are knocked off their feet.

Josh stands up, brushes himself off. His face trembles
as he watches people run from the burning mall.

He looks down at Holly and Jenny.

JOSH
You guys okay?

HOLLY
Yeah.

JOSH
Good, stay here with Jenny.

Josh heads toward the chaos.

HOLLY
Where are you going?

JOSH
To help.

FADE OUT:

COMMENTS

-Truthfully this wasn't my favorite, subject-wise, but the writing impressed me and the characters felt real. Maybe Josh could have told the security guy there's a nutjob upstairs with a bomb instead of hitting him, giving others a chance, but then again I can see why he'd think of his family first. Regardless, good job and a real contender. -dp

-Well written, compelling, and structurally well contained, although the overt message kind of rankled at first. Although of the lot, this is the one that had me mulling over the message the most. While it comes across at first as kill-‘em-all-or-they’ll-end-up-killing-you agitprop, the protagonist’s actions (screw everyone else, my family comes first) layered the piece with some interesting subtext. Biggest problem was that there was no (identifiable) bridge between the protag’s realization of what was about to happen, and his getting the family out. Also, the concept of a suicide bomber being the only kid to make it out of the backstory blast seemed… odd.

-An interesting attempt. No-one went down the suicide bomber route and the subject matter was crying out for it. The dialogue was effective, but I cringed at the snake story which is a carbon copy of the indian scene in Natural Born Killers. That said were it not for the familiar dialogue it would have been close to placing.

ihavebiglips
05-12-2007, 01:09 PM
Entry #6 by J Off Course

ONATHEA'S GHOST



EXT. SOUTH AFRICA -- 1800's -- NIGHT

A campfire. Flames of bright orange outlast a shifting wind.

ONATHEA (V.O)
The wise among us tell us long before
our people first felt the sun across
our faces, a piece of it fell from
the sky to land in a thousand pieces,
all scattered which way.

Around the campfire on wooden crates, three black Africans;
an ELDER, whose sun-wrinkled face glows from the fire as he
speaks to a SMALL BOY at his side who cradles a BABY GOAT,
and ONATHEA, a woman in her early 30's. Her face, beyond a gentle
beauty, is ripe with intelligence and a curiosity for all things.

The three each wear a combination of western and native
clothing of the period.

ONATHEA (V.O)
The pieces of the sun took shelter
within the stones to hide from man.
But man, hungry for whatever he deems
treasure, will find even the most
secret of hiding places...

Labored breath, dust kicked up from a TEENAGE native AFRICAN running
with all haste.
His worn leather shoes beating against the earth along with the sound
of a metal hinge clacking against metal.

ONATHEA (V.O)
...even the deepest part of one's heart
will he discover.

The teenage boy runs up to the group breathless. He is dressed
completely in western wear and cradles a long, heavy rifle with an obvious
pride. He flashes a smile at Onathea.

Up above the campfire on this group.

The teenager raises the rifle to the air.

Onathea covers her ears from the ungodly blast.

EXT. ROADSIDE -- DAY

A small caravan of HORSE-drawn wagons. White Boer SOLDIERS escort
a small group of BLACK SOLDIERS. The teenage boy is among this group.

Watching at a distance on a nearby hillside to say their goodbye is Onathea
with the small boy who holds the baby goat.

The teenage boy joins others in a wagon. He raises his hand in goodbye as
the caravan shudders as horses take their first step forward kicking up a cloud
of dust that obscures Onathea and the boy.

ONATHEA (V.O)
There is no treasure on earth that
man has not shed blood for. Or woman.

EXT. ROADSIDE -- LATER

Onathea sits on a grassy bank. Her head rests on her knees and she's fast
asleep.

The boy on his back nearby, his arms outstretched as far as they'll take him.
The sun on his bare chest. He squints at the sky.

A rope grasped in one small hand. The goat at the other end of the rope
munches on young grass.

EXT. ROADSIDE -- LATER

Onathea jerks awake.

She sees the boy at her side is now asleep. The rope to the goat tied
firmly around his thin wrist.

Onathea turns toward the road wiping dust from her eyes as she sees...

A WOMAN, white, beautiful, around her age. The woman wears a fine
dress that catches the breeze to flutter like a cloud of pale butterflies.

The woman's face is lost in thought as she stares down the road.

EXT. ROAD -- DAY

Onathea holds the boy's hand as the two walk down the dirt track. The
goat trails behind at the end of the rope.

Onathea looks back. The woman follows several yards behind.

Onathea picks up her pace to lose this apparition.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

A homestead, no more than a well-kept shack with some sufficient
but hard-scrape acreage.

A small LIZARD darts under the front door towards a weak apron of light.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

An oil lamp on a table. An INSECT beats against the lamp's glass in haunting
flicks.

The boy asleep on a small bed. A larger bed beside his lies empty.

Onathea sits at the table watching intently a slat in a shuttered window.
She extinguishes the lamp.

A shadow falls across the slat. Her eyes widen.

Onathea gets up from her chair and advances slowly toward the window.

She bends her head to the left side so she can look out between the slat.
Slowly, deliberately, she does this with much trepidation.

She focuses.

From her POV

A bare stretch of yard in the moonlight. A lone bare tree and an animal pen.

She steps back quickly from the window.

EXT. RIVER SIDE -- MORNING

Onathea on her knees at the water's edge.

She dips her hands in to the water and scrubs her face.

The water before her catches a pale reflection.

Onathea startled, jumps up and turns.

The woman stands before her. Onathea stares open mouthed, water dripping
from her face.
She grabs some clothes on the ground and scurries up a hill to get away.

WOMAN (O.S)
I'm hungry.

Onathea halts and turns. She fixes a stare on the woman; a mixture of
fright and curiosity.

ONATHEA (V.O)
There are two things you don't ask a
ghost. How did you die? You assume
they will eventually let on. And you don't
ask if they're hungry because ghosts
are quite simply never satisfied.


INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

Onathea ties a bandana around her head.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

Onathea prepares....

-she chases a CHICKEN back and forth across the yard until she grabs it.

-She milks an ADULT GOAT with practiced form.

-She collects berries from a stand of bushes in to a large bowl.
She turns to catch a glimpse through her door of the woman's white dress
as she sits motionless at the table.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

-she stirs a pot of food over a fire wiping the sweat from her face with a cloth.

-she retrieves from a box an item of canned food, handling it with care as though
it's a treasure few men will partake of.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME --LATER

The table overflowing with food from edge to edge. An almost grotesque banquet
of colors and textures.

The woman grabs at berries and dips her hand in to smooth concoctions with
a childish glee.

Onathea stands and watches. A smile slowly creeps across her face.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

The young boy enters. All is still.
He walks past the table, now completely bare.

He goes to a bed where Onathea sleeps soundly, a look of contentment
across her face, her hands across her chest.

Taking care not to wake her, the boy takes a banana from his pocket
and slips it in to her hand.

EXT. RIVER SIDE -- MORNING

Onathea washes clothes in the river.

ONATHEA (V.O)
She became my constant companion and
a welcome distraction.

The woman steps from smooth stone to smooth stone in the river.
She halts. Onathea points to a stone where the woman should step over to.
and the woman does so as though this is a game they've played all their lives.

ONATHEA (V.O)
It seemed to me that she had not drowned
or water would no doubt spook her to this day.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

Onathea comes out the door holding a blanket. She flaps it to get the dust off
scattering HENS at her feet.

ONATHEA (V. O)
Nor did it appear she had fallen from
some height.

Onathea starts back in to the house when she catches the woman sitting on
the roof, her face bathes in the warmth of the sun.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE -- AFTERNOON

Onathea walks along a grassy hillside. The high grass undulates from a breeze
around her.
She adjusts a bundle across her back and turns to look out on a level stretch of
ground below her.

ONATHEA (V.O)
If a beast did her in, she certainly
showed no sign of it.

The woman walks among a quiet herd of grazing WILDEBEEST.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

The young boy sits on the floor at the edge of his bed, his arms across the bed
holding two stick figures as he plays them against each other in mock battle.

The woman sits at the table and watches him.

Onathea finishes wiping a dish and removes her bandana.
She catches the woman staring at the boy.

ONATHEA (V.O)
If held to a choice, I would say
she'd lost a child in the white man's
battles. Maybe in the end it sorrowed
her so that her heart, like that piece
of the sun long ago, broke in to a
thousand pieces and her breath escaped
through that awful gap.

The woman turns and the two meet eyes.

Onathea turns and hides a look of deep concern.

ONATHEA (V.O)
As I have told you, a ghost is never
satisfied.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

Onathea trudges up to the home carrying a bucket.

She sees the baby goat scamper across the yard. The rope kicking up
dust as it slides behind it.

The end of the rope like a kick in her stomach.

Onathea drops the bucket and rushes in to the house.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

She drops to her knees and looks under the bed, crawls to the table and
looks under it. She stands to scream a name.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

She rushes out the door and runs over to the animal pen. No sign of anyone.

She brushes aside branches of bushes calling out a name as twigs scrape
against her face to draw blood.

She stands at a vantage point behind the house where a field lies empty below
her, her eyes scan the far horizon.

EXT. RIVERSIDE --DUSK

Onathea stands motionless on a smooth river stone as the water flows gently
past her.

The stones in the river lead out in both directions. They betray nothing and noone.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

Onathea sits alone at the table. The oil lamp dimming with each second, a
faltering companion.

Her face now a stone polished by the certainty.

ONATHEA (V.O)
All the kindness, all the hospitality,
all the effort to please.
No matter, there is no rest.
No hiding from it.
War makes cruel even the afterlife.


FADE OUT

FOR COMMENTS, SEE POST 26 IN THIS THREAD.

ihavebiglips
05-20-2007, 03:24 PM
Entry #7 by Dpat

WINGS OF EAGLES (Part 1 of 2)

FADE IN:

EXT. SKIES OVER FRANCE - DAY

Smoke trails write curling patterns across the blue sky as
biplanes fight to the death.

A German biplane spirals down in flames and EXPLODES on
the ground. The wreckage burns, a pillar of black smoke
marks the pilot's grave.

An American biplane zooms through the smoke, wings wiggling.


EXT. YODEL'S COCKPIT - FLYING - DAY

The pilot cranes his neck to check out the burning wreckage
below. CORPORAL PETE YODEL grins at his victory. 22,
handsome, cocky, a gifted pilot who thinks the Great War
is just... well, great.

Tracer rounds whip past Yodel's head, his grin vanishes,
another German is on his tail, guns blazing.


EXT. AERIAL COMBAT - YODEL VS. GERMAN - DAY

Yodel twists and turns and somehow gets behind the German
and shoots him full of holes! The German trails smoke and
breaks off, flying close to the ground.


EXT. YODEL'S COCKPIT - FLYING - DAY

Yodel watches the German fly away as he flies off in another
direction. He slaps his machine guns, not happy at all.


EXT. AMERICAN AIR BASE - DAY

Tin huts, a dirt runway, a limp American flag.

Just off the runway two MECHANICS service a biplane, they
stop and watch as Yodel brings his biplane in to land.

MECHANIC #1
Yodel's good but he's no Rogers,
that's for sure.


EXT. YODEL'S BIPLANE - AIRFIELD - DAY

Yodel climbs down and takes off his leather flying helmet.
BRIGGS, his mechanic, older and wiser, walks up and examines
the biplane, notices the bullet holes.

BRIGGS
I guess the ventilation gives you
extra lift, huh?

YODEL
You're a funny man, Briggs. Get
your paint brush, I need another
cross on my fuselage. Right there
beside the other two.

Two German crosses already decorate the fuselage.

BRIGGS
If it's all right with you, I'll
wait until it's confirmed.

YODEL
It will be.


INT. ADMINISTRATION HUT - DAY

STAFF SERGEANT SHAW looks up from papers as Yodel enters.
Shaw jerks his thumb over his shoulder, telling Yodel to
go see CAPTAIN KERAWAY, 30s. Yodel saunters over to
Keraway's desk.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Corporal Yodel. You're back.

YODEL
Guess I am, sir.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Where are Lieutenant Rogers and
Sergeant Mackenzie?

YODEL
Soon as we hit low cloud they pulled
a disappearing act. Guess they
must have got lost.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Stand to attention.

Yodel wearily stands to attention, he's been here before.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
At this morning's briefing you
were told to patrol Sector Nine.
According to reports from our
esteemed British colleagues, you
flew into Sector Seven.

YODEL
In pursuit of a Boche fighter.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Navigation isn't your strong point,
is it Yodel?

YODEL
There's nothing wrong with my map
reading, Captain. It's those pesky
Germans, they just won't respect
the grid lines. And by the way?
I shot that Boche down. Maybe the
Brits will be kind enough to confirm
my kill.

A droning biplane engine catches their attention.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Sergeant Shaw, see who that is--

YODEL
It's Rogers.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
That's a wild guess.

YODEL
(honestly surprised)
It's Rogers' engine.


EXT. ADMINISTRATION HUT - DAY

Yodel, Captain Keraway and Shaw exit the hut and watch as
a biplane glides in to land.


EXT. ROGERS' BIPLANE - AIRFIELD - DAY

LIEUTENANT BILL ROGERS wearily climbs down and takes off
his oil-spattered goggles and leather flying helmet. He
surveys the damage to his riddled kite, shakes his head.

Rogers looks over at the administration hut, sees the three
men. His eyes narrow.


INT. SHARED PILOT QUARTERS HUT - DAY

Yodel peels off his fleece jacket and hangs it up. He
pours water into a bowl and splashes his face.

SERGEANT OREN MARTIN lies on a lower bunk reading a book.

MARTIN
This English dame is driving me
nuts, she can't decide if she wants
the English guy or the French guy.

YODEL
I bet if one of 'em turned up
wearing a pilot's uniform, she'd
decide pretty damn quick.

MARTIN
Are you speaking from experience?

YODEL
It's a theory I'm working on.

Staff Sergeant Shaw enters.

SHAW
Thought you'd like to know.
Sergeant Mackenzie came down on
the British side of the line.

MARTIN
He okay?

SHAW
He's got two busted legs. Captain
thinks he might be shipped home.

Yodel towels his face dry.

YODEL
That's too bad.

SHAW
Rogers confirmed they lost you in
cloud. You're off the hook.

YODEL
I was never on the hook.

Shaw exits, glancing at Martin on the way out. His look
says "This boy is trouble." Martin shrugs.

MARTIN
They tell me my kite's ready to
fly again.

YODEL
That's bad news.

MARTIN
What's that supposed to mean?

YODEL
If you're shooting down Germans,
that means there's less for me.

Martin shakes his head and reads his book. Yodel puts on
a shirt and buttons it up.

CONTINED

ihavebiglips
05-20-2007, 03:25 PM
WINGS OF EAGLES (2 of 2)

EXT. SHARED PILOT QUARTERS HUT - DAY

Yodel exits the hut and runs into Rogers' fist. Yodel
hits the ground and lies stunned for a moment.

ROGERS
Sam Mackenzie sends his love.

YODEL
Go ahead, blame it on me. You're
the one who was with him.

ROGERS
Four Germans jumped us. You
should'a been there.

Rogers stamps into the hut. Yodel gets up, rubs his jaw.


INT. ADMINISTRATION HUT - DAY

Yodel, Rogers, Martin and NEFFER, a young pilot new to the
group, sit as Captain Keraway points to a detailed map.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
We'll be supporting the big push
in Sector Nine today, I repeat--
(looking at Yodel)
--Sector Nine. That means keeping
the Germans' heads down. Lieutenant
Rogers, you'll be flying with
Sergeant Martin as your wingman.
You two will lead the attack.

Yodel senses what's coming... doesn't want to hear it.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Corporal Yodel, you'll fly with
Private Neffer as your wingman.
You'll provide straffing support
for Lieutenant Rogers and Sergeant
Martin.

YODEL
I don't see why I should have to
nursemaid some damn rookie.

No one's happy with that, least of all nervous Neffer.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
If any Boche aircraft are sighted,
Lieutenant Rogers will decide
whether to withdraw or engage.
You'll watch for his signals and
follow his instructions. Is that
understood?

Keraway and Yodel lock stares. Yodel sighs, defeated.

YODEL
Yes, sir.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Briefing is concluded. See Staff
Sergeant Shaw for signals of the
day and weather reports.

Everyone gets up and heads for Shaw's desk.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
Yodel.

Yodel stops, turns back.

CAPTAIN KERAWAY
It's Neffer's first mission. Try
and make sure it's not his last.


EXT. FLYING ABOVE TRENCHES - VARIOUS - DAY

Four American biplanes, two leading, two following.

German soldiers with spike helmets see the four biplanes
flying overhead. SHOUTS of alarm, random SHOTS.

Rogers looks down -- sees something -- signals to Martin.

Martin gives a thumbs-up to Rogers.

Rogers chucks a hand-held bomb at the Germans below.

An EXPLOSION -- flying mud, SCREAMS.

Yodel dips his nose and fires his machine guns.

German soldiers are mowed down by Yodel's deadly fire.

Yodel looks up--

Six German biplanes are diving like hawks on their prey!

Oblivious, Rogers chucks another bomb, and another...

Yodel wiggles his wings, look at me, look at me!

Martin looks back over his shoulder -- sees Yodel -- looks
up, reacts with horror--

The leading German biplane spits tracer.

Martin is riddled with bullets, his biplane flips over and
crashes and blows up.

Rogers looks up, sees the danger, banks his plane, looks
around for Yodel and Neffer.

Neffer looks everywhere, scared witless. He sees Rogers,
Rogers circles his arm and points -- return to base!

Yodel slaps his guns and points up, let's take 'em on!

Rogers shakes his head, return to base, return to base!

The three American biplanes turn and run for it.

The six German biplanes pair off, two for each American.

Yodel flips his biplane into a barrel roll, he's behind an
astonished German, he blasts the German out of the sky.

But Rogers sees Yodel's maneuver leaves Neffer vulnerable.

ROGERS
Stay with Neffer, dammit! Stay
with your wingman!

Neffer tries to shake the Germans on his tail but they
stick to him like glue, bullet holes pepper his wings.

Yodel outmaneuvers and coldly kills his second German.

Rogers banks and flies across Neffer's tail -- drawing
fire from four German biplanes -- giving Neffer a chance.

Rogers dies in a hail of bullets, he slumps forward.

Yodel turns in time to see Rogers' biplane dive into the
ground. Yodel understands what Rogers did. Jesus!

The two Germans who killed Rogers turn and head for home.

Yodel angrily banks after them, gets one in his sights,
pulls the trigger -- his guns are empty! Yodel curses.

Yodel looks down, sees the two Germans on Neffer's tail.

Neffer still can't shake the Germans off, he's trailing
smoke and he's scared, bullets zip and hiss around him.

Yodel dives in determined pursuit.

Neffer skims low over the ground, the Germans are equally
low, closing the last inches for the inevitable kill.

Yodel's biplane smashes through the Germans' wings, sending
them all tumbling into the ground. Three fiery EXPLOSIONS.

Neffer looks back. Three columns of black smoke rise above
the trenches. Neffer continues on, a lone eagle, flying home.

FADE OUT

COMMENTS

-By-the-numbers boy's action schlock, sorry. -dp

-Award for one of the most action packed. A very smooth flowing read. Felt like the Top Gun of World War three. Good stuff.

ihavebiglips
05-22-2007, 06:14 AM
Entry #8 by thatcomedian

SPIN DOCTOR GOEBBELS

FADE IN:

EXT. BERLIN 1940 - NIGHT

Planes are dropping bombs all over the city. The city sounds like it is inside a giant bass drum. Search lights light up the night.

INT. REICH MINISTY OF INFORMATION - GOEBBELS OFFICE -
NIGHT

Teletype tattoos out the news. "First bombing of Berlin begins."

Goebbels, thin dark hair, looks like Iggy Pop's frail great grandfather.

Tears the page off the Teletype.

The flashes outside make it alternately easier and more difficult to read it.

GOEBBELS
Boy, this machine is paying for itself. It's letting us know that apparently they are bombing Berlin.

His assistant, perfect Aryan example, listens and takes notes.

The phone rings.

ASSISTANT (INTO PHONE)
Yes, just a second.

ASSISTANT (TO GOEBBELS)
It's the Chancellory. They say the Fuhrer wants to know what's going on.

GOEBBELS
I'm not here.

ASSISTANT
Sir, he knows you are.

GOEBBELS (POINTING)
Alright, fine. Lets go to the Reich Chancellory.

ASSISTANT
Us?

Goebbels nods his head yes.

ASSISTANT (INTO PHONE)
He--We will be right there.

GOEBBELS
Maybe next time you will say I'm not here, huh?

Goebbels throws the teletype page on the desk. The assistant picks it up and puts it in his attache.

GOEBBELS
What are you doing?

ASSISTANT
For the Fuhrer.

Goebbels grabs the page and throws it back down on the desk.

GOEBBELS
I gave the Fuhrer bad news once, once.

ASSISTANT
What did he do?

GOEBBELS
Let's just say that I didn't walk with a limp before that.

INT. REICH CHANCELLORY - NIGHT

Hitler, short and paunchy and wearing pajamas is walking around agitated.

FUHRER
What is happening?

GOEBBELS
Nothing.

FUHRER
Nothing! What are all those search lights doing on?

Goebbels assistant takes notes. Goebbels limp paces in front of the map.

GOEBBELS
Leni Riefenstahl is premiering a new movie tonight.

FUHRER
Oh. What about all the explosions?

GOEBBELS
That's just Deutschtran clearing trees to add another lane to the autobahn.

FUHRER
At night?

GOEBBELS
Better then during rush hour.

FUHRER
True. Well, since there is nothing to worry about, I guess I'll go back to bed.

Goebbels assistant looks bewildered.

GOEBBELS
Heil Hitler.

FUHRER
Yes, yes. Heil Me.

INT. REICH MINISTY OF INFORMATION OFFICE - GOEBBELS OFFICE -

Goebbels and Assistant walking back into Goebbels office. Assistant is rereading his notes.

ASSISTANT
Do you want me to put the same thing in the newspapers.

GOEBBELS
Certainly not. The people would never believe it.

Goebbels is pacing.

GOEBBELS
Print that the allies were drawn into our anti-aircraft trap and all enemy planes were destroyed.

ASSISTANT
But the Fuhrer will see the Papers.

GOEBBELS
No. He will make sure he doesn't see the papers.

ASSISTANT
But surely someone will tell him.

GOEBBELS
No, no one wants to be the bad guy.

ASSISTANT
But what will we put in the newspapers tomorrow when they bomb us again.

GOEBBELS
Ask me tomorrow.

FADE TO BLACK:

Super: Five Years Later

FADE IN:

INT. HITLER'S BUNKER - NIGHT

Hitler, wearing the same pajamas, is looking at a map of europe. Only the area around Berlin still has a swastika.

Goebbels limps in.

FUHRER
I'm surrounded by defeatist.

Fuhrer (TO GOEBBELS)

You always have good news for me. What's the latest?

GOEBBELS
Well, our supply lines are no longer overextended.

FUHRER
Good. Can't win if we are over extended. What else?

GOEBBELS
Our soldiers on the eastern front have acclimated themselves to the weather conditions there.

FUHRER
Excellent. Why can't any of these other naysayers see the bright side?

GOEBBELS
You flatter me mein fuhrer.

FUHRER
I guess it is late. I'll retire.

Hitler pats Goebbels on the shoulder.

FUHRER
You're the only one left who still believes.

INT. BUNKER - A FEW MINUTES LATER

Goebbels, Hitler's secretary and other staff are sitting around waiting.

A gunshot is heard.

INT. BUNKER - RADIO ROOM - NIGHT

Goebbels talks into the microphone.

GOEBBELS
Our beloved Fuhrer has escaped the clutches of the enemy. Let us all follow his lead and we will be victorious over the enemy.

Goebbels limps to his families room in the bunker.

INT. BUNKER - GOEBBELS CHILDRENS ROOM - NIGHT

Joseph Goebbels and his wife Magda prepare their children Helga aged 12, Hildegard aged 11, Helmut aged 9, Hedwig aged 8, Holdine aged 7,Heidrun aged 4 for bed.

The children are all dressed in white night clothes and each are in their bunk beds.

Magda is pouring a golden liquid, from a dark brown bottle, onto a spoon.

MAGDA
Here, this will help you sleep through all the fireworks above.

HELMUT
But I like fireworks. Can we go watch them?

GOEBBELS
No. It's too late.

HELMUT
Awww.

GOEBBELS
Now, now. Time to sleep.

Pulls Helmut's covers up.

Helga, the oldest daughter, looks at Joseph.

HELGA
Is it really sleep medicine Papa?

Goebbels smiles and strokes her hair.

GOEBBELS
Would I lie?



FADE OUT:

COMMENTS

-Nicely done, liked it lots, clever title and a very subtle humor throughout, underscored by the creepiness of the situation that suddenly solidifies when the doomed children are named. 1st place. -dp

-I had trouble with the tone of this piece. It's again comedy which I'm not sure is the way to go, but there are sinister elements which almost make it a dark comedy. Yet if it's a dark comedy why is some of the dialogue bordering on farcical? The tone felt conflicted. Also I had trouble forging any emotional connection with a character such as Gobbels and that lack of emotional connection left me rather indifferent to what is an otherwise quite well written and flowing piece.

ihavebiglips
05-23-2007, 06:07 AM
Entry #9 by Mark Twain Wreck

NO MORE HEROES(1 0f 3)

FADE IN:

BLACK & WHITE

EXT. BATTLEFIELD – DAY

The CRACKS OF RIFLEFIRE, the RATTLE OF MACHINEGUNS and BURSTS OF EXPLOSIONS are continuous.

TITLE: GALLIPOLI – APRIL 1915

MEN are YELLING, BARKING ORDERS, SCREAMING in pain.

MEN are falling, crying, dying.

These men are ANZACS. The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.

One of these men, Private DAVID SMITH, early 20’s, lands with a THUD on the ground.

He keeps his head down as a SHOWER OF DIRT falls over him.

Beside him is Corporal TED CARTER, a little older. They carry bayoneted .303 rifles and are weighed down with equipment and ammunition.

TED
You okay Smithy?

DAVID
Yeah Ted. Never better.

TED
Right. Let’s go.

DAVID
Home?

TED
After we take care of these Turks. C’mon Cobber.

They get to their feet and run on a few more paces then dive to the ground again as...

A SHELL EXPLODES ahead of them.

Another ANZAC falls backwards and lands face up in front of them. His mouth agape and eyes open. DEAD.

BLOOD OOZES from a LARGE WOUND in his neck.

DAVID
Jesus!

Ted feels for a pulse, finds none then closes the dead man’s eyes and mouth.

TED
Rest in peace, Tommy.

DAVID
You knew him?

TED
And his mum. Geez, I’d hate to be the one to tell her.
(takes a deep breath)
C’mon. Let’s go. We’ve got a job to do.

They get up and run on some more as MACHINEGUN FIRE kicks up the dirt around their feet.

They dive behind a mound of dirt and take cover. Ted checks his rifle and takes aim up the hill.

CRACK! He reloads and fires again. CRACK!

TED
Join in any time, Dave.

David FIRES his rifle in the same direction. They reload and FIRE several more rounds. CRACK! Reload. CRACK! Reload.

DAVID
If my wife could see me now.

TED
Married huh? Kids?

DAVID
Little boy. He’ll be one soon. – You?

TED
Two girls. Three and six.

Around them, men continue to drop like flies.

DAVID
I’d love a daughter.

David fires again at the Turks. CRACK! Reload.

TED
Hope ya get one. Lot’s of ‘em.

DAVID
Daughters or Turks?

TED
Both.

David stands to fire and gets HIT in the chest. He spins around and falls to the ground, GASPING for air.

TED
Oh Jesus, Mate!

Ted puts his rifle down tries to cover David’s wound. BLOOD SEEPS through his fingers.

TED
Oh s**t Dave! Hang in there, Mate.

David INHALES deeply. A raspy, croaky breath.

DAVID’S POV:

Ted looks down with anguish.

TED
David! David!

Like the volume being turned DOWN, the SOUNDS OF BATTLE and TED’S VOICE grow fainter.

The light DIMS and Ted slowly FADES away.

INTRODUCE COLOUR:

The sky turns to the DARK BLUE of EARLY DAWN.

A WOMAN’S VOICE (O.S.)
David! David!
(beat)
David Smith!

A YOUNG MAN (O.S.)
(annoyed)
What?

WOMAN (O.S.)
Hurry up!

David (BLACK & WHITE) sits up. All around him is COLOUR.

Gone is the smoke of battle. Gone are the Anzacs. Gone are the dead and dying.

Gone also is his rifle, his equipment and...

He checks himself...

Gone is his wound. His uniform is clean and crisp.


CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-23-2007, 07:03 AM
NO MORE HEROES(2 of 3)

He sees...

The YOUNG MAN, 16, who looks very much like himself and is also named DAVID SMITH, but is a civilian in MODERN casual clothes.

The younger David walks past the older David, oblivious to his presence.

Older David’s gaze follows younger David and he sees...

The woman, DIANNE SMITH, 40’s. She pushes a wheelchair.

In the wheelchair is BOB SMITH, 50’s. Both of his legs amputated at the knees. He is a withdrawn shell of a man.

Older David also sees...

Many PEOPLE gathered at THE ANZAC COMMEMORATIVE SITE.

Older David gets to his feet and looks puzzled by what is around him. He follows the younger David to...

THE COMMEMORATIVE SITE, which is lit by FLOODLIGHTS.

DIGNITARIES and MILITARY BRASS, both Australian and Turkish are seated there. Other people stand.

The Australian PRIME MINISTER is making a speech.

Older David SPEAKS to younger David but there is NO SOUND.

He puts his hand on younger David’s shoulder but it just goes straight through him. He looks troubled by this.

He tries to get peoples’ attention but nobody notices him.

YOUNG DAVID
I don’t even know why we had to come here anyway. It’s a stupid place.

DIANNE
You should show some respect. Your great grandfather fought and died here. He was a hero.

YOUNG DAVID
(loud)
Some hero. He was on Turkish soil shooting at Turks. How does that make him a hero?

DIANNE
Show some respect I say. We named you after him, you know.

YOUNG DAVID
We’d probably be better off if the f**kin’ Germans had won that war.

Older David takes in this information.

DIANNE
Mind your mouth.

YOUNG DAVID
Think about it. We wouldn’t’ve had Hitler... and World War Two.

With furrowed brow, older David MOUTHS “World War Two?”.

DIANNE
You don’t know what you’re talking about.

YOUNG DAVID
And we wouldn’t’ve had the holocaust and all them dead Jews... and the bloody Japs wouldn’t’ve bombed Pearl Harbour... or Darwin.

DIANNE
You’re talking nonsense. Just shut up and listen.

Older David MOUTHS, “Darwin?”.

YOUNG DAVID
And Granddad wouldn’t’ve lost his eye in New Guinea.

DIANNE
He was fighting for our freedom!

YOUNG DAVID
(quavering)
Freedom? Freedom to do what? Get drafted to go to Vietnam?

Bob shows a bit of spirit.

BOB
I was proud to serve my country, Boy.

TEARS form in young David’s eyes.

YOUNG DAVID
Were you? Were you proud you could never kick a footy around with me too? Huh? Were you?

Bob has no answer for this. He grimaces and bows his head.

DIANNE
That’s not fair.

YOUNG DAVID
(shouting)
Nothin’s fair Mum! Nothin’! And what about Ben?

BOB
Leave your brother out of this.

Dianne rests her hand on Bob’s shoulder.

YOUNG DAVID
(crying/shouting)
He’s already in it, Dad. Do you really think he’ll come home from Afghanistan? Do you?

TEARS well in Dianne’s eyes. Her fingers CLAW into Bob’s shoulder.

CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-23-2007, 07:04 AM
NO MORE HEROES(3 OF 3)

YOUNG DAVID (CONT.)
(screaming)
How many f**kin’ heroes does this family have to give? How many?

Bob tries to speak but can’t find the words.

The Prime Minister pauses in his speech to locate the commotion.

YOUNG DAVID (CONT.)
(overlayed with Tina Turner)
WE DON’T NEED ANOTHER HERO!

Young David turns to the dignitaries and SCREAMS at them.

YOUNG DAVID (CONT.)
No more! Please! No more!

He turns and runs bawling back from where he came. EVERYONE watches.

Dianne starts to follow but Bob holds her back.

MOMENTS LATER...

Young David sits on the grass crying.

YOUNG DAVID
Come home Benny. Come ho-o-o-ome.

Older David sits beside him and stares out over the ocean.

YOUNG DAVID (CONT.)
No more heroes. Please! No more.

OLDER DAVID’S POV:

The COLOUR of the ocean and sky becomes BLACK & WHITE.

His world TILTS back and he sees...

Ted looking down at him; speaking without sound.

Like the volume being turned UP, the SOUNDS OF BATTLE become LOUDER. Ted can now be heard.

TED
Stay with us Dave. Just stay with us.

David slowly EXHALES his last raspy breath.

Ted feels for a pulse on David’s neck.

Finding none, he crosses himself and says a quick silent prayer.

He reaches down to close David’s eyes.

DAVID’S POV:

SOUND FADES to SILENCE as Ted’s finger and thumb pull David’s eyelids down...

TO BLACK:

TITLE: NO MORE HEROES

SLOW DISSOLVE TO:

TITLE: PLEASE

SLOW FADE OUT:


COMMENTS

-Perhaps the most profound of all the entries, delivers a clear message without feeling too propaganda-ish. Pushed down to 3rd place by my oddball personal tastes, could easily have got a higher vote. -dp

-This piece had me, then lost me. It's well written again, but something about it felt preachy (almost exploitative) and the inclusion of Tina Turner left a bitter taste in my mouth. It's a shame because I liked it up to that moment, then suddenly a message is rammed home and it's at the expense of a powerful ending. Also Young David's final line of dialogue feels false and out of place and really only there to set up the final title on black. That said, again well written and intriguing concept and despite the negativity in this critique, this has enough to it (a Grandson sick of seeing his family fight and die for their country) to earn... THIRD PLACE 1 POINT

ihavebiglips
05-29-2007, 05:59 AM
Entry #10 by Arroway (Disclaimer: got this in a Word file, not sure about the formatting)

THE LAST KINGS OF ANY MOUNTAIN (1 of 2)

FADE IN:

EXT. PANAMINT VALLEY, CALIFORNIA - DAY

A still sandscape seemingly infinite in its reach.

Clouds churn and flow overhead bathing the land in a wash of diffused blues and grays.
Beautiful, peaceful, snapshot-still.

A haunting, primordial WAIL shatters the reverie –

Like a million loons in chorus, it rises and INTENSIFIES into something physical, immensely powerful –

The CRESCENDO bounces back from the distant Argus Mountains, overlapping itself, REVERBERATING in the bedrock, making the loose sand dance atop the valley floor.

ECHOING. Echoing. echoing.

GENERAL GERALD S. NOTTAP

A gray-haired, heavy-browed, hawk-nosed brute of a man covers his ears against the sound.

He wears a suit of scaled ceramic-kevlar armor that projects a FOUR STAR HOLOGRAM over his head as a show of rank.

He lowers his hands as the noise finally subsides.

GENERAL NOTTAP
God in heaven, I’ll never get used to that…

He bends over to retrieve a bottle of bourbon.

GENERAL NOTTAP
Here comes the sh*t storm.

He stares out across the desert at –

A STAMPEDE OF MONSTERS

Two hundred thousand of them.

Once men, once women, once children –

No longer.

Bodies -- nude, bone white and anorexic. A webwork of black veins pulse with black blood under their skin.

Their nails are as long as they are sharp.

Just like their teeth.

Their eyes bore straight ahead, unblinking and deep-space black.

They surge across the desert like wolves on a blood scent, stomping flat a field of red mariposa lilies.

They are REVENANTS.

GENERAL NOTTAP

Watches them approach, kicking up a great plume of dust in their wake. His vantage is high because he stands at the peak of a –

BLACK MOUNTAIN

Comprised entirely of tires. Millions. Of. Tires. A five hundred foot tall monument to human waste.

After a moment, he raises the bottle of bourbon to his lips.

GENERAL NOTTAP
Cheers you soon to be dead sons of bitches. I salute you!

And he does. Drunkenly.

FURTHER DOWN THE MOUNTAIN

Two squads of light-armored RAIL GUNNERS lay prone watching the Revenant swarm close in through the scopes of their nine-foot-long Rail Rifles.

They flip their targeting visors down.

EVEN FURTHER DOWN THE MOUNTAIN

Stand two companies of LINE SOLDIERS, riot masks. Neck guards. Chest plates. Shoulder pads -- Walking tanks. They carry huge, four-barreled shotguns which feed off their ammo backpacks.

AT THE BASE OF THE MOUNTAIN

Sit the FLAK TURRETS, attended to by a team of SERVICE-ANDROIDS.

The turrets pivot back and forth with the closing Revenant horde reflected in their cyclops targeting eyes.

THE REVENANTS

Rush the mountain. Feet thundering against Earth, frail arms pumping with unstoppable momentum.

And before we know what's happening –

Everything is happening:

THE FLAK TURRETS

Spit flame and fire –

Shredding the Revenants, liquefying them into a mess of blood, brain and bone.

Gallons of black blood fill the air.

THE LINE SOLDIERS

Hold their fire. Watch the turrets go to work. Above them the –

THE RAIL GUNNER'S

Scan the swarm waiting for their targeting visors to find the best grouping -- then BLIP!
Fingers squeeze triggers. The Rail Gunner's open up.

A single shot cuts through the group, dropping a fifty foot line like wheat to a scythe. Hundreds killed at a time.

THE FLAK TURRETS

Click dry.

The Revenants rush past, destroying the helpless Service Androids on the way toward –

THE LINE SOLDIERS

Whose shotguns finally join the song.

And this time, the black blood filling the air is accompanied by –

Red.

AT THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN

General Nottap sits in his Field COMMAND POST, surrounded by ever-changing tactical hologram displays and communication equipment.

He holds a red phone up to his ear, drunk.

GENERAL NOTTAP
(A la Marilyn Monroe)Oh Mr. President…(burps) Just calling to let you know your countrymen are dying. Can you hear their screams from your air-conditioned, underground bunker? We've retreated to a tire dump on the border of Nevada. I'd give you the coordinates again but why bother? We have no water, no shelter, no place to fall back to. We are low on bullets and hope. Another beta-swarm is currently engaging. If we’re not overrun this time, we will be the next. Requests for ammo and reinforcements haven't been denied, they've been ignored. Can't raise anybody. I don't know if you can hear this, if anyone can, but for what it's worth I want you to know -- I think you're a f*cking reptile. And I hope when these things finally dig their way down to you that they'll take their time inflicting a pain so pure, so ungodly exquisite, you won't even realize you're in Hell until the Devil himself swoops down with his three-pronged erection. (beat) Hoo-rah.

LIEUTENANT BASKINS (35) appears over the rise, PANTING from his ascent. He salutes.

GENERAL NOTTAP (CONT'D)
Lieutenant Baskins. How is our battle fairing?

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Better, I guess. It's over.

GENERAL NOTTAP
Preliminary casualty report?

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Forty-nine.

GENERAL NOTTAP
Not bad.

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Including myself.

General Nottap stares. Suddenly sobered.

GENERAL NOTTAP
You're bit? Where?

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Doesn't matter.

General Nottap stands up, walks to the Lieutenant's side.



CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-29-2007, 06:01 AM
THE LAST KINGS OF ANY MOUNTAIN (2 of 2)

GENERAL NOTTAP
No. I suppose not.

The two men look out across the desert. General Nottap steals a glance. Lieutenant Baskin's skin is already paling, his veins becoming pronounced, his eyes dilating –

GENERAL NOTTAP (CONT'D)
What does it feel like?

Lieutenant Baskins sits down. A black tear escapes his darkening eyes.

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Cold. Not Uncom. Fortable though.

General Nottap winces at the new inflection in the Lieutenant’s voice. Knows what it means. He sits next to him.

LIEUTENANT BASKINS (CONT'D)
I can feel. Them. The hive mind is. Reach. Ing.

General Nottap draws his ancient, ivory Colt Peacemaker. Rests it idly on his thigh.

GENERAL NOTTAP
How many more are inbound?

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Ov.Er A mill.I.on A day away. They are hap.py. They think we. Are. The last.

GENERAL NOTTAP
Last what?

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Hu.Mans.

General Nottap exhales suddenly, his suspicions confirmed. His face knots up, the wrinkles deepening, his eyes sparkling, tears threatening to flood and then – a ****-eating smirk pushes all the emotion away. Burying it.

GENERAL NOTTAP
Son of a rabid, mangy, bitch…here we are at last.

Lieutenant Baskins eyes are completely black now. General Nottap raises the pistol to the man’s temple.

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Prom.Ise me –

General Nottap cocks back the hammer –

GENERAL NOTTAP
Anything.

LIEUTENANT BASKINS
Fight. To. The la. St. Breath.

Lieutenant Baskins attacks! General Nottap FIRES. The Revenant slumps over. Dead.

GENERAL NOTTAP
I promise.

THE BLACK MOUNTAIN

Noticeably smaller now because –

The surviving soldiers have spent the entire day moving tires to form two massive OUTER RINGS surrounding the mountain, spaced a thousand yards apart.

The dying sun sinks down to its Western grave.

A huge AMERICAN FLAG HOLOGRAM appears projected over the mountain.
All the men stop what they're doing to look up.

A small figure stands at the peak, dwarfed by the giant stars and stripes behind him.

General Nottap.

He looks out for a moment, regarding his men. Another ****-eating smirk –

GENERAL NOTTAP
Someone once said that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. That might have been true then. Today, it doesn't apply. There are no countries, no states, no more borders or flags to defend. The only thing left to fight for is our species, our world. We are a team. We have lived, ate, slept, sh*t, and fought as a team. Tonight we die as one. That inevitability should not scare you but if it does, I want you to remember, that you came into this world scared to live, crying and fussing, red-faced and pissed off. Life…she’s as much a poet, as she is a c*nt. Men, do not let fear be your master, master your fear. For the first time in human history, there will be no one to carry on our stories. Only the rocks and the wind will remember. In time, even they will forget. Just as well. Because a few billion years after we’re dead, after this unstoppable enemy of ours has been reduced to nameless fossils never to be found, the stars will blink out, one by one, and the universe will grow cold and dark –

The sun sinks below the horizon. Night returns.

GENERAL NOTTAP (CONT'D)
And all matter will fall back into itself. But when everything that ever was, is gone, everything that ever will be, will come again, reborn with a bang. Perhaps a trillion years from now, we'll be standing here, at this exact spot, in this exact moment. I'd like to think so because I don't know about you but I'm excited. You know, by God, I actually pity these poor bastards were up against. They think they'll get us, and get us they will but they have no idea what's about to happen. We're not just going to shoot the bastards, were going to rip their steaming guts out with our bare f*cking hands. When they bite, we're going to bite back. Goddamn it's going to be beautiful. We are the last kings of any mountain and this is our moment of triumph! (beat) Alright you sons of bitches, you know how I feel. I can’t say what happens next, but I would be proud to lead you guys into battle anytime, anywhere. That's it.

The Flag hologram flickers. Disappears.

The soldiers turn to face a blitzkrieg of Revenants, a million strong, closing in from all sides.

General Nottap watches them approach. Picks up a small square detonator –

The Revenant mass surges across the first ring –

General Nottap pushes a button. Incendiary bombs ignite the outer ring into a towering wall of flames.

He pushes the other button. The second ring ignites, trapping the entire Revenant horde between the two infernos.

A moment of calm before –

The Revenants pour through the flames on fire. Unstoppable pyres, SCREAMING their
ethereal WARCRY.

The soldiers engage.

The fallen Revenants soon ignite the black mountain.

The flames spread quickly, following the retreating soldiers up to the summit.

General Nottap and a dozen others, fire down at the Revenants, LAUGHING even as the flames rise above them.

FADE OUT

COMMENTS

-I liked this, even the big speeches didn't put me off, serious contender, pipped at the post. -dp

-I can't in all fairness give a placing to a futuristic war piece for several reasons. I'm not sure MEMORIAL lends itself to something that has yet to happen. It's as simple as that. I'd rather have the futility of war conveyed on a contemporary or historical battlefield than some manifactured future invasion. That said it was very well written and though the General's monologues seemed to go on forever, there were excellent moments in his speech.

-It was a fun read, and a nice apocalyptic epic homage to the big speech in PATTON. Solid work, although it seemed a little derivative of a specific chapter in Max Brooks’ WORLD WAR Z filtered through the revenants of Brian Keane’s THE RISING… although the scribe might not be familiar with those, so I didn’t factor that in. I’m a zombiephile, so this one had an edge. But overall, it’d also be a lot of fun to watch (in a chilling way).

ihavebiglips
05-29-2007, 06:05 AM
Entry #11 by Geevie

FOR HONOR

EXT. TRAIN DEPOT - DAY

A train roars past in a blur, while yet another sits idle
by the curb.

A beleagered Mom with a child on her hip and a sullen
teenager all in black at her side rush into view.

MOM
I don't see the train. Do you think
we're late?

The teenaged boy, whose stark black hair hangs over his
face, just shrugs.

The child on her hip begins to cry.

MOM
Not now.

She jostles the toddler a bit to soothe her, but it
doesn't work.

MOM
Xavier, I need you to take Ashley to
change her.

He gives her a "get serious" glance before he plops down
onto a bench, his back to the tracks.

Just as she opens her mouth, he takes out an iPod and
turns it full blast. Hidden behind his hair, he launches
into angry, metal air guitar.

She sighs.

MOM
Never mind.

She coos to the child as she hurries back toward the
building.

While Xavier rocks out, a wheelchair rolls toward the
tracks.

The uniformed man in the wheelchair is weathered and old,
but he wears his medals with pride.

His gnarled hand shakes as he reaches for his pack of
cigarettes. Almost instantly he loses his grip and it
falls to the ground.

Xavier pretends not to notice as he continues his
imaginary concert, but after a minute or two of the old
man's attempt to retrieve his smokes, he finally sighs,
takes out his earphone and lends a helping hand.

VETERAN
Thanks, son.

Xavier gives a reluctant nod before he puts his earplug
back in. This doesn't stop the veteran from launching
into a conversation, as if he didn't care if anyone was
listening.

VETERAN
Nasty habit, smoking. I don't
recommend it.

With effort, he lights the cigarette, inhales deeply and
glances off in the distance.

Xavier can't resist.

XAVIER
So why do you smoke?

The old vet laughs.

VETERAN
Son. If Dubya Dubya two didn't kill
me, I doubt a carton of Camels can do
the trick.

Xavier nods and then goes back to his music. He watches
the man enjoy his cigarette. He finally takes notice of
how the uniform hangs from the seat of the chair.

After a bit...

XAVIER
Is that where you lost your legs?

The old vet barely spares him a glance.

VETERAN
Lost a damn sight more than that, I
reckon.

He eyes the boy.

VETERAN
How old are you?

XAVIER
Fifteen.

VETERAN
Hell, I was barely older than that when
I first put on an Army uniform. Made
me feel like a man. Back then it was
about honor. Duty. It was a
privilege. None of us realized how
idealistic we were until we heard those
first bullets buzz past our ears. By
then it was too late. Before we knew
it we were up to our ears in mud and
snow and death.
Sometimes, when I wake up in the middle
of the night, I can still smell decay.

XAVIER
I wouldn't go through that. No way.

VETERAN
Sure you would. It's amazing what you
can do when you have no choice.

XAVIER
But we have a choice. This isn't the
40s anymore. It's not even the 60s.
War isn't about honor. It's about
money. Power. Control.

VETERAN
Don't fool yourself, son. War hasn't
changed a lick. Just the people who
fight it.

XAVIER
Well I wouldn't fight it. Risk my
life? And for what? To be treated
like crap by the country who sent me?
Thanks, but no thanks.

VETERAN
Son, every man has something he'd fight
for. It's just a matter of finding out
what that is.

XAVIER
Would you still fight? If you could?

VETERAN
I'd be over there right now. If it
meant my grandson could come home.

XAVIER
Even after all you've lost?

VETERAN
Because of all that I've lost.

Xavier remains quiet as the old man snufs out the
cigarette.

A line forms beside the idle train.

VETERAN
Well. That's my ride. It was good
talkin to ya.

He takes a medal from his chest and tosses it with
effort. Xavier catches it.

VETERAN
For honor.

He salutes Xavier, who nods a little less reluctantly.
He brushes the hair a bit out of his face to watch him
roll away.

Mom returns with the baby still on her hip.

MOM
Has your brother arrived yet?

XAVIER
Not yet.

Her eyes raise at his rather unsardonic reply. She
notices the hair out of his face before glances toward
the man wheeling away.

Just then another train slows to a stop. As people begin
to depart the train, Xavier follows his mother as she
approaches the crowd.

MOM
There he is. Remember. Brother.
Nice.

Xavier rolls his eyes at her before they turn to the man
who approaches.

In an Iraqi uniform.

SOLDIER
Mom!

She gives him a hug, gratitude all over her face.

MOM
I've missed you.

SOLDIER
Not as much as I've missed you.

He kisses the top of the baby's head.

SOLDIER
And you.

He turns toward Xavier.

SOLDIER
X. You haven't changed a bit. What's
new in the underworld?

Xavier hesitates for a brief moment. Then he reaches out
a hand to shake.

Both Mom and the soldier glance down in surprise.

The solider glasps his hand briefly, then pulls away
something in his fist.

It's the medal.

He sends a puzzled glance to Xavier, who brushes the hair
further out of his face and finally musters a smile.

The soldier reaches over to grab Xavier in a neckhold and
muss his hair. They both laugh as the family walks away
from the train.

COMMENTS

-Easy read, but I didn't get the Iraqi uniform (truth to tell I'm not sure if I'd recognize an Iraqi uniform if one came running toward me). For a moment I wondered whether this was some kind of a tomato surprise, that they're all revealed as Iraqis waiting at an Iraqi train station. Confusing. -dp

-One of the best written pieces. A great dynamic between veteran and Xavier. The genration gap. Old and young. And a great pay off at the end. The best thing about this is the characterisation which is both believeable and endearing. A brother who could never bring himself to tell his older brother he was proud of him, but instead shows it in one gesture. Great writing. FIRST PLACE - 3 POINTS

ihavebiglips
05-31-2007, 05:23 AM
Entry #12 by IndieMe

HELL NO

FADE IN:

EXT. HEAVEN - DAY

JUAN GONZALES (80’s) tall, skinny with white hair and icy
blue eyes slowly climbs the golden stairs to the gates of
heaven. A few steps from the top he stops, out of breath, he
wheezes and coughs.

There are signs that stick out of the clouds which read:
HEAVEN with arrows that point to heaven’s gates.

There are signs that point down through the clouds which
read: HELL and arrows that point down.

Juan clutches the diamond studded railing, straightens his
loose, baggy suit, continues and climbs the last steps. He
shuffles up to the large magnificent pearly gates then stops.

He looks around, admires the Heavenly resplendence.

JUAN
So, this is it? I made it after
all. Who would’ve thought?

He reaches for the huge gilded knocker shaped like a bagel,
bangs it against the door.

The sound echoes with a big BOOM with each knock.

After a moment a pair of beady eyes peeks through a small
sliding view hole in the door

GATEKEEPER
Can I help you?

JUAN
Er... can I come in?

The beady eyes looks him up and down.

GATEKEEPER
You sure you’re at the right place?

Juan steps back from the pearly gates, looks all around.

JUAN
Is this heaven?

GATEKEEPER
Yes it is.

JUAN
(relieved)
Oh good. I’m at the right place
then.

GATEKEEPER
Name please.

JUAN
Juan Gonzales. From Paraguay.

The beady eyes disappears. Sounds of fingers flipping through
some papers. The beady eye return to the view hole in the
door.

GATEKEEPER
I don’t see you on my list.

JUAN
I don’t know what to say... I’m
here... I was a good person.

The beady eye disappears, sounds of fingers as they flip
through more papers.

CLANK! The large pearly gates unlocks, swings open, a bright
light emanates from behind.

The old GATEKEEPER wears a black hat and coat, he sports a
long beard and long curled locks of hair from his temples. He
checks Juan up and down.

GATEKEEPER
I have to check with God before I
can let you in.

Juan has a worried look on his face then he nods “yes”. The
pearly gates close with a loud bang. Impatiently, Juan
fingers the lapels on his jacket as he waits.

The gates opens, the Gatekeeper waves him inside.

GATEKEEPER
Follow me please.

A smile beams across Juan’s face as he steps inside.

INT. HEAVEN - DAY

An amazingly beautiful place. A deep blue sky, white puffy
clouds, angels and cherubs sing all around. Juan glances
around, takes in the wonderment of it all. The gatekeeper and
Juan trek along a gold brick road.

They pass a huge room full of Hasidic Jews who chant aloud
reading the Tora to themselves.

Juan’s eyes roll around their sockets, he appears confused.

An old man that looks similar to Charlton Heston walks by, he
carries two stone tablets. It is MOSES.

Juan and Moses exchange glances for moment, then Moses breaks
his concentration and wanders off.

The gatekeeper opens a huge golden door, steps aside, he
waves Juan inside.

INT. GOD’S GREAT HALL - DAY

GOD sits on a large throne at the end of the great hall. The
Gatekeeper gestures to Juan to come closer. With a worried
look on his face Juan slowly steps closer to God.

Juan straightens his suit and bows slightly.

God peers at Juan with suspicion, turns to the Gatekeeper.

GOD
Tell Moses to bring me one of the
tablets... the new one, not the
stone one.

The Gatekeeper nods, then quickly leaves.

GOD
So, your name is Juan Gonzales.

Juan nods nervously.

JUAN
Yes... yes it is.

GOD
And you’re from Paraguay?

Juan avoids looking God directly in the eye.

JUAN
Yes.

Moses walks in carrying a tablet PC, hands this to God. God
takes it, places it on his knee then taps a few times on the
screen with the stylus.

GOD
Let’s see... mhmm... Paraguay
citizen status claim.

God glances at Juan then back at the screen.

Juan appears worried, he fidgets.


GOD
White men over seventy...
(looking at Juan)
You’re sure you’re from Paraguay?

Juan nods “yes”.

GOD
Not from Germany?

Juan shakes his head “no” Moses watches intently from the
sidelines. God holds out the tablet PC.

GOD
Put your finger on the screen.

On shaky legs Juan steps up to God, presses his finger on the
PC screen. After a few seconds the sound of an alarm goes
off, the computer screen flashes red.

God and Moses eyes bulge out.

MOSES
Aha! I knew it as soon as I saw
you. You’re a goddamned Nazi!

Juan steps back in shock.

GOD
You’re Erik Wolff! The SS officer
and special assistant to Heinrich
Himmler!

All sorts of different well known Jewish people from the past
stream onto the room with hate in their eyes.

JUAN
Jeezuz! What are you talking about?

GOD
I’m God not Jesus you dimwit!

A skinny man with long hair, a crown of thorns and a sad face
waves at Juan and God from behind the crowd.

JESUS
I’m Jesus...

An ELDERLY WOMAN looks at Jesus, sadness in her eyes.

OLD WOMAN
You could have been a doctor.

God bellows at the top of his lungs.

GOD
Quiet everyone!
Silence.

GOD
It says here you were responsible
for the death of hundreds of
thousands of Jews.

JUAN/ERIK
Please... I... I was just a
soldier. I only did what I was
told.

God ponders the situation.

GOD
Most of them you starved to death
or practiced surgery on. You really
think I should forgive you for
this?

JUAN/ERIK
That list...it’s not as bad as it
looks. The numbers got mixed up
after the war...please, God have
mercy. I don’t want to go to hell.

MOSES

(disgusted)
Oh God! If he’s allowed to stay,
I’m leaving.

GOD
Do you like smoked salmon?

JUAN/ERIK
(confused)
No, I hate fish.

GOD
Pickled herring?

JUAN
No way!

GOD
So if all you had to eat was fish
you’d starve...
(giggles)
Are you circumcised?

JUAN
Hell no!

A vicious grin spreads across God’s face.


GOD
Juan...Eric...welcome to heaven.
Hell for you, but not for me.

A look of panic grows on Juan/Eric’s face. When he realizes
what’s happening he turns, starts to run. He runs out of
God’s Great hall, down the gold brick path to heaven’s gate.

He reaches the gate, bangs on the massive doors.

JUAN/ERIK
(screaming)
Let me out! Let me out! Please let
me go to hell.


FADE OUT:


COMMENTS

-Easy read but I just didn't get it or understand what's going to happen, sorry. -dp

-Again a slight element of comedy that just doesn't sit right. It's too strange an entry to deserve a placing. That said, again it's well written and very unique.

ihavebiglips
05-31-2007, 05:51 AM
Entry #13 by Dpat

ENEMY MINE (1 OF 2)

FADE IN:

EXT. FLAT DESERT - DAY

Sizzling emptiness, as far as the eye can see.


EXT. MILITARY LAND ROVER - DAY

Painted in desert camouflage, a British Union Jack on the
side, machine guns mounted front and rear.

THREE SOLDIERS stand watching a FOURTH SOLDIER who leans
over to peer at the exposed engine.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Well what about it?

PRIVATE HODGE
Radiator's blown.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Come on Hodgy stop messing about,
how long to fix it? Even the sweat
on my bollocks is sweating.

CORPORAL LANE
Can you fix it, Hodgy?

PRIVATE HODGE
Someone better call the A.A.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
You are kidding me.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Haven't you got spares?

PRIVATE HODGE
Not for this. The hoses have gone.
It's a right bleeding mess.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Christ Almighty.

Richards shakes his head in disgust and walks away.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Better get on the blower then.

CORPORAL LANE
Hodgy, you're sure?

PRIVATE HODGE
Not a chance, Corp. Sorry.

Private Richards scans their surroundings, they're in the
middle of nowhere.

Corporal Lane takes a radio handset from the Land Rover,
extends the aerial.

CORPORAL LANE (INTO RADIO)
Mike Seven Piper, receiving, over.
(pause)
Mike Seven Piper, receiving, over.

The SSSSSHHHHHH of radio mush.

CORPORAL LANE (INTO RADIO)
Mike Seven Piper, receiving, over.

He listens. Nothing. He takes out a Global Positioning
System device (GPS) and fiddles with it.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Does anyone know where the France
we are?

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Shut up, Richards. Hodgy, close
her up. Let's get organized.

PRIVATE HODGE
Organized for what?

SERGEANT HIGGINS
We can't be more than ten klicks
from Jazz Al.

CORPORAL LANE
G.P.S. puts us seventeen klicks
south-east of Ja'zal and ten klicks
north of Baker Echo.

PRIVATE HODGE
What's Baker Echo?

CORPORAL LANE
Bacon and eggs. Yank supply base.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Can you trust that thing?

CORPORAL LANE
Seven hundred quid's worth of the
latest Japanese technology. Wife
bought it for my birthday.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Thank God for that, if it was Army
issue we'd be toast.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Shut up, Richards.

PRIVATE HODGE
Ten klicks. That's a fierce tab
in this heat.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
What's wrong with the blower?

CORPORAL LANE
Can't get a signal.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Christ what I'd give for a sand
dune. Elevation, that's what we
need.

Private Richards calls back over his shoulder--

PRIVATE RICHARDS
We've got company.

"Company" is an Arab on a camel, a flapping white mirage
in the shimmering heat. Hard to tell how far away he is.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Lawrence of bloody Arabia.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Where the hell is he going?

PRIVATE HODGE
He's coming right at us.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
It's a suicide attack. He's got a
stick of dynamite up his arse.

CORPORAL LANE
Maybe he's wondering who we are.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Hodgy, you're on Big Bertha.

PRIVATE HODGE
Maybe he just wants a brew. Fancy
one myself.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Those camels are dirty bastards,
they spit phlegm all over you.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Knock it off, the pair of you.
Hodgy?

Private Hodge mans the Land Rover's 12.7mm heavy machine
gun with its auto-feed ammo box.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Aim for his bollocks, Hodgy.

CORPORAL LANE
I don't think he's armed.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
He could he hiding a pair of harem
slave girls under all that mufti.
Hodgy, you got his range?

PRIVATE HODGE
Not sure, Sarge. Maybe two hundred.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
I reckon one-fifty, just about.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Just keep an eye on him, Hodgy.
If he does anything stupid, teach
the bugger a lesson.
(to Corporal Lane)
Get on the blower again, see if
you can raise someone.

CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-31-2007, 05:52 AM
ENEMY MINE (2 OF 2)

CORPORAL LANE
Okay but for Christ's sake hold
your fire, he's probably a friendly.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Don't be stupid. We're just being
careful.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Everyone in this bloody country
hates us. I say we slot the
bastard.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
One more word out of you, Richards--

CORPORAL LANE (INTO RADIO)
Mike Seven Piper, receiving, over.
(pause)
Mike Seven Piper, receiving, over.
(pause)
Any Coalition unit receiving my
signal, I am a British Army ground
callsign requesting net to Juliet
Alpha Zero. Over.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Bet you wish the wife bought you a
Jap radio for your birthday.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Maybe if you climb onto the roof?

CORPORAL LANE
Yeah, and maybe if Hodgy stood on
my shoulders and waved his knickers
around we might pick up Radio
Baghdad.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
The bugger's getting close.

The Arab and his camel are solid now, riding steadily.

PRIVATE HODGE
Range seventy metres! Give me
some bloody room!

Everyone shifts well out of Hodge's field of fire.

CORPORAL LANE
Just hold your fire, Hodgy.

Private Richards peers through his SA-80 rifle's sight.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Jesus, I can't tell which one's
uglier, the camel or the rider.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Right. I want no mistakes here,
Hodgy. Give him a warning burst.
Make sure you fire over his head.

CORPORAL LANE
Hodgy, don't shoot.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
This isn't a flaming democracy!

CORPORAL LANE
He's not doing anything. Rules of
engagement. We cannot open fire
unless directly threatened.

PRIVATE HODGE
Aw give me a break. Sarge?

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Corporal bleeding Lane says we
have to follow rules of engagement,
Hodgy.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
I bet I could put three rounds
through his chest in a six-inch
grouping.

CORPORAL LANE
Put that rifle down, Richards.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
I'm just saying...

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Private Richards, lower your rifle.

PRIVATE HODGE
Christ I could do with a brew, my
mouth's dry as an old whore's ****.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
He's stopped.

The Arab has stopped. He moves his arm in a wide sweeping
gesture. He speaks, but his words are muffled by distance.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
What the bleeding hell is he saying?

CORPORAL LANE
I'm going to talk to him.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Hold your position.

The Arab points to the ground between them. His finger
stabs at specific spots... there, there, and there.

CORPORAL LANE
He's trying to tell us something.

The Arab mimes something unmistakable -- an explosion. He
points again, there, there, there. Mimes another explosion.

Private Richards slowly lowers his rifle.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
Oh my sainted aunt. Is he saying--

SERGEANT HIGGINS
He'd bloody better not be.

Corporal Lane pushes Hodge aside and climbs up onto the
Land Rover. He balances on the roof, and looks around.

Sure enough, all around them are little "dents" in the
sand. Not visible from ground level, but visible from up
here.

CORPORAL LANE
We're in a ****ing minefield.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Bollocks. There's no minefield on
the map.

CORPORAL LANE
I can see them! God knows who
planted them or how long they've
been here.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Nobody move a muscle. Right.
Who's got a bayonet?

Private Richards sees the Arab point out what appears to
be a path among the land mines.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
You know what? I think our new
pal wants us to follow him.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Can we trust him?

CORPORAL LANE
He's got elevation. He can see
where they are. We can't, if we
walk out of here.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Maybe it's a trick.

Corporal Lane, Private Richards and Private Hodge stare at
him. Sergeant Higgins realizes what a plonker he is.

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Yeah all right. Grab your gear
and let's follow the nice gentleman.
But if his camel so much as farts,
slot the bastard.


EXT. DESERT - DAY

The four British soldiers follow the Arab.

The Arab stops, points ahead. Corporal Lane checks his GPS.

CORPORAL LANE
Bacon and eggs, bearing one seven
eight, distance two klicks.

The Arab waves to them, and trots off into the desert.

PRIVATE RICHARDS
You want me to shoot him, Sarge?

SERGEANT HIGGINS
Shut up, Richards.

PRIVATE HODGE
You think those Yanks know how to
make a brew? I can't stand coffee.

FADE OUT.

COMMENTS

-Incomprehensible Limeys saying crazy stuff. Why didn't they shoot the damn Arab? Isn't he the enemy? -dp

-Great title. Great story. Great tension. Great pacing. Wonderful dialogue. I won't go any further - SECOND PLACE - 2 POINTS

ihavebiglips
05-31-2007, 07:36 AM
Entry #14 by Fortean

A CAESAREAN SOLUTION (1 OF 2)

FADE IN:

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

A distant knock breaks the silence of the night and awakens the sleeping PROFESSOR.

EXT. EDWARDIAN ROWHOUSE - NIGHT

A gloved hand pounds upon the wooden door.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

The Professor switches on the electric lamp on the night stand, sees 11:05 on the clock, and slips into a robe and slippers.

Pounding on the door comes from downstairs.

PROFESSOR
Coming!

EXT. EDWARDIAN ROWHOUSE - NIGHT

In an eerie darkness, a British Army LIEUTENANT, in his twenties, and a teenage SUBALTERN watch the light from the upstairs window.

The front door opens a crack. The Professor peers out and recognizes the LIEUTENANT.

LIEUTENANT
Professor--

PROFESSOR
Come in, come in.

The door opens fully to admit the soldiers. The Subaltern hesitates on the doorstep. The Professor takes him by the arm and ushers him inside.

INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT

Not standing upon ceremony, the Professor shuts the door.

PROFESSOR
(to the Subaltern)
No need to wake the neighbours.
(to the Lieutenant)
What's so pressing, this time?

INT. STUDY - NIGHT

A dagger, used as a letter-opener by the Professor, slits the end of the envelope marked "Secret." A second, smaller envelope, (also marked "Secret"), slides out onto the blotter of a cluttered desk. The Professor grumbles at the task of opening another envelope.

LIEUTENANT
K thought that you might like to take a stab at it first.

The Professor slits open the smaller envelope, shakes it, and watches an index card slide onto the blotter.

PROFESSOR
Where's the original?

LIEUTENANT
That's it, sir. A cipher copy has been sent to Naval Intelligence at the Admiralty.

The Professor takes up the card for a closer examination.

PROFESSOR
Don't "sir" me, son. Save that for the ranks.

Upon the card is the following grouping of letters:

RQVKM EFAUD XUGRQ AINAQ LIPBC ROKJJ L.

LIEUTENANT
A patrol spotted someone flashing Morse out to sea, repeating this a few times, until a red light, at sea, flashed four times.

PROFESSOR
The U-boat got the message.
(opens a desk drawer)
Let's see what it says.

The Professor retrieves several sheets of graphic paper and hands them to the Subaltern

PROFESSOR (CONT'D)
You know the alphabet, boy?

SUBALTERN
Yes, sir.

PROFESSOR
Write the letters from A to Z, and a second time A to Z, down the first column on the left.

The Professor hands the Subaltern the graph paper and a sharp pencil.

LIEUTENANT
Is it that easy?

PROFESSOR
Most of the German spies were rounded up in the first days of the war, so most of them, now, are amateurs with little training in ciphers and codes.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
The kettle begins to whistle. The Professor pours the hot water into a tea pot, sets it upon a tray, and brings the tray into

THE STUDY

The Lieutenant assists the Subaltern in copying the alphabets onto the last few sheets.

The Professor lays the completed sheets atop each other, exposing only the alphabetical columns, and aligns the columns with the first occurrence of the letters in the secret message, with a straight-edge across the atop them, thus:

RQVKM EFAUD XUGRQ AINAG LIPBC ROKJJ L
SRWLN FGBVE YVHSR BJOBH MJQCD SPLKK M
TSXMO GHCWF ZWITS CKPCI NKRDE TQMLL N
UTYNP HIDXG AXJUT DLQDJ OLSEF URNMM O
VUZOQ IJEYH BYKVU EMREK PMTFG VSONN P
WVAPR JKFZI CZLWV FNSFL QNUGH WTPOO Q
XWBQS KLGAJ DAMXW GOTGM ROVHI XUQPP R
YXCRT LMHBK EBNYX HPUHN SPWIJ YVRQQ S
ZYDSU MNICL FCOZY IQVIO TQXJK ZWSRR T
AZETV NOJDM GDPAZ JRWJP URYKL AXTSS U
BAFUW OPKEN HEQBA KSXKQ VSZLM BYUTT V
CBGVX PQLFO IFRCB LTYLR WTAMN CZVUU W
DCHWY QRMGP JGSDC MUZMS XUBNO DAWVV X
EDIXZ RSNHQ KHTED NVANT YVCOP EBXWW Y .

The Professor and the Lieutenant scan the rows and find nothing but disappointment.

PROFESSOR
Well, it's not a simple substitution, so let's check for a transposition.

The Professor slides a second straight-edge, at an angle, across the grid of letters. His eyes scan with great care.

PROFESSOR (CONT'D)
Midnight.

The Lieutenant and Subaltern look at the desk clock, which indicates 11:45.

The Professor underlines the letters on the grid, thus:

RQVKM EFAUD XUGRQ AINAG LIPBC ROKJJ L
SRWLN FGBVE YVHSR BJOBH MJQCD SPLKK M
TSXMO GHCWF ZWITS CKPCI NKRDE TQMLL N
UTYNP HIDXG AXJUT DLQDJ OLSEF URNMM O
VUZOQ IJEYH BYKVUE MREK PMTFG VSONN P
WVAPR JKFZI CZLWV FNSFL QNUGH WTPOO Q
XWBQS KLGAJ DAMXW GOTGM ROVHI XUQPP R
YXCRT LMHBK EBNYX HPUHN SPWIJ YVRQQ S
ZYDSU MNICL FCOZY IQVIO TQXJK ZWSRR T
AZETV NOJDM GDPAZ JRWJP URYKL AXTSS U
BAFUW OPKEN HEQBA KSXKQ VSZLM BYUTT V
CBGVX PQLFO IFRCB LTYLR WTAMN CZVUU W
DCHWY QRMGP JGSDC MUZMS XUBNO DAWVV X .

The Professor copies the underlined letters and uses slashes to indicate word breaks, thus:

SSYORK/MIDNIGHT/TEN/THOUSAND/TROOPS.

The Subaltern whistles in amazement.

CONTINUED

ihavebiglips
05-31-2007, 07:38 AM
A CAESAREAN SOLUTION (2 OF 2)

SUBALTERN
The York is one of the troop ships stationed at Portsmouth.

PROFESSOR
And, there'll be a U-boat waiting for it in the Channel...

The Lieutenant grabs up the candlestick telephone from the desk and clicks the receiver arm to signal the operator.

LIEUTENANT
Operator, this is a military priority call. Connect me to Fleet Headquarters in Portsmouth.

PROFESSOR
(to the Subaltern)
...however, I don't think there'll be any more excitement, tonight. If you'll excuse me, I'll be going back to bed. I need my sleep.

FADE OUT.

COMMENTS

-I guessed the title was a riff off Caesar's Code. The scenario was interesting for a moment but then the mystery is quickly solved, leaving the scene exposed for what it is: static talking heads. Could have been something, but isn't, sorry. -dp

-Very clever. There's a wealth of research that appears to have gone into this one. It's a little too clever. There's very little story here and certainly no message. That said I couldn't help being impressed at the code system and I purposely didn't read sections so as to try and crack the code myself. Well done for a very unique entry.

ihavebiglips
06-09-2007, 01:58 PM
Entry #6

ONATHEA'S GHOST



EXT. SOUTH AFRICA -- 1800's -- NIGHT

A campfire. Flames of bright orange outlast a shifting wind.

ONATHEA (V.O)
The wise among us tell us long before
our people first felt the sun across
our faces, a piece of it fell from
the sky to land in a thousand pieces,
all scattered which way.

Around the campfire on wooden crates, three black Africans;
an ELDER, whose sun-wrinkled face glows from the fire as he
speaks to a SMALL BOY at his side who cradles a BABY GOAT,
and ONATHEA, a woman in her early 30's. Her face, beyond a gentle
beauty, is ripe with intelligence and a curiosity for all things.

The three each wear a combination of western and native
clothing of the period.

ONATHEA (V.O)
The pieces of the sun took shelter
within the stones to hide from man.
But man, hungry for whatever he deems
treasure, will find even the most
secret of hiding places...

Labored breath, dust kicked up from a TEENAGE native AFRICAN running
with all haste.
His worn leather shoes beating against the earth along with the sound
of a metal hinge clacking against metal.

ONATHEA (V.O)
...even the deepest part of one's heart
will he discover.

The teenage boy runs up to the group breathless. He is dressed
completely in western wear and cradles a long, heavy rifle with an obvious
pride. He flashes a smile at Onathea.

Up above the campfire on this group.

The teenager raises the rifle to the air.

Onathea covers her ears from the ungodly blast.

EXT. ROADSIDE -- DAY

A small caravan of HORSE-drawn wagons. White Boer SOLDIERS escort
a small group of BLACK SOLDIERS. The teenage boy is among this group.

Watching at a distance on a nearby hillside to say their goodbye is Onathea
with the small boy who holds the baby goat.

The teenage boy joins others in a wagon. He raises his hand in goodbye as
the caravan shudders as horses take their first step forward kicking up a cloud
of dust that obscures Onathea and the boy.

ONATHEA (V.O)
There is no treasure on earth that
man has not shed blood for. Or woman.

EXT. ROADSIDE -- LATER

Onathea sits on a grassy bank. Her head rests on her knees and she's fast
asleep.

The boy on his back nearby, his arms outstretched as far as they'll take him.
The sun on his bare chest. He squints at the sky.

A rope grasped in one small hand. The goat at the other end of the rope
munches on young grass.

EXT. ROADSIDE -- LATER

Onathea jerks awake.

She sees the boy at her side is now asleep. The rope to the goat tied
firmly around his thin wrist.

Onathea turns toward the road wiping dust from her eyes as she sees...

A WOMAN, white, beautiful, around her age. The woman wears a fine
dress that catches the breeze to flutter like a cloud of pale butterflies.

The woman's face is lost in thought as she stares down the road.

EXT. ROAD -- DAY

Onathea holds the boy's hand as the two walk down the dirt track. The
goat trails behind at the end of the rope.

Onathea looks back. The woman follows several yards behind.

Onathea picks up her pace to lose this apparition.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

A homestead, no more than a well-kept shack with some sufficient
but hard-scrape acreage.

A small LIZARD darts under the front door towards a weak apron of light.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

An oil lamp on a table. An INSECT beats against the lamp's glass in haunting
flicks.

The boy asleep on a small bed. A larger bed beside his lies empty.

Onathea sits at the table watching intently a slat in a shuttered window.
She extinguishes the lamp.

A shadow falls across the slat. Her eyes widen.

Onathea gets up from her chair and advances slowly toward the window.

She bends her head to the left side so she can look out between the slat.
Slowly, deliberately, she does this with much trepidation.

She focuses.

From her POV

A bare stretch of yard in the moonlight. A lone bare tree and an animal pen.

She steps back quickly from the window.

EXT. RIVER SIDE -- MORNING

Onathea on her knees at the water's edge.

She dips her hands in to the water and scrubs her face.

The water before her catches a pale reflection.

Onathea startled, jumps up and turns.

The woman stands before her. Onathea stares open mouthed, water dripping
from her face.
She grabs some clothes on the ground and scurries up a hill to get away.

WOMAN (O.S)
I'm hungry.

Onathea halts and turns. She fixes a stare on the woman; a mixture of
fright and curiosity.

ONATHEA (V.O)
There are two things you don't ask a
ghost. How did you die? You assume
they will eventually let on. And you don't
ask if they're hungry because ghosts
are quite simply never satisfied.


INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

Onathea ties a bandana around her head.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

Onathea prepares....

-she chases a CHICKEN back and forth across the yard until she grabs it.

-She milks an ADULT GOAT with practiced form.

-She collects berries from a stand of bushes in to a large bowl.
She turns to catch a glimpse through her door of the woman's white dress
as she sits motionless at the table.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

-she stirs a pot of food over a fire wiping the sweat from her face with a cloth.

-she retrieves from a box an item of canned food, handling it with care as though
it's a treasure few men will partake of.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME --LATER

The table overflowing with food from edge to edge. An almost grotesque banquet
of colors and textures.

The woman grabs at berries and dips her hand in to smooth concoctions with
a childish glee.

Onathea stands and watches. A smile slowly creeps across her face.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

The young boy enters. All is still.
He walks past the table, now completely bare.

He goes to a bed where Onathea sleeps soundly, a look of contentment
across her face, her hands across her chest.

Taking care not to wake her, the boy takes a banana from his pocket
and slips it in to her hand.

EXT. RIVER SIDE -- MORNING

Onathea washes clothes in the river.

ONATHEA (V.O)
She became my constant companion and
a welcome distraction.

The woman steps from smooth stone to smooth stone in the river.
She halts. Onathea points to a stone where the woman should step over to.
and the woman does so as though this is a game they've played all their lives.

ONATHEA (V.O)
It seemed to me that she had not drowned
or water would no doubt spook her to this day.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- MORNING

Onathea comes out the door holding a blanket. She flaps it to get the dust off
scattering HENS at her feet.

ONATHEA (V. O)
Nor did it appear she had fallen from
some height.

Onathea starts back in to the house when she catches the woman sitting on
the roof, her face bathes in the warmth of the sun.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE -- AFTERNOON

Onathea walks along a grassy hillside. The high grass undulates from a breeze
around her.
She adjusts a bundle across her back and turns to look out on a level stretch of
ground below her.

ONATHEA (V.O)
If a beast did her in, she certainly
showed no sign of it.

The woman walks among a quiet herd of grazing WILDEBEEST.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

The young boy sits on the floor at the edge of his bed, his arms across the bed
holding two stick figures as he plays them against each other in mock battle.

The woman sits at the table and watches him.

Onathea finishes wiping a dish and removes her bandana.
She catches the woman staring at the boy.

ONATHEA (V.O)
If held to a choice, I would say
she'd lost a child in the white man's
battles. Maybe in the end it sorrowed
her so that her heart, like that piece
of the sun long ago, broke in to a
thousand pieces and her breath escaped
through that awful gap.

The woman turns and the two meet eyes.

Onathea turns and hides a look of deep concern.

ONATHEA (V.O)
As I have told you, a ghost is never
satisfied.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

Onathea trudges up to the home carrying a bucket.

She sees the baby goat scamper across the yard. The rope kicking up
dust as it slides behind it.

The end of the rope like a kick in her stomach.

Onathea drops the bucket and rushes in to the house.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

She drops to her knees and looks under the bed, crawls to the table and
looks under it. She stands to scream a name.

EXT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- AFTERNOON

She rushes out the door and runs over to the animal pen. No sign of anyone.

She brushes aside branches of bushes calling out a name as twigs scrape
against her face to draw blood.

She stands at a vantage point behind the house where a field lies empty below
her, her eyes scan the far horizon.

EXT. RIVERSIDE --DUSK

Onathea stands motionless on a smooth river stone as the water flows gently
past her.

The stones in the river lead out in both directions. They betray nothing and noone.

INT. ONATHEA'S HOME -- NIGHT

Onathea sits alone at the table. The oil lamp dimming with each second, a
faltering companion.

Her face now a stone polished by the certainty.

ONATHEA (V.O)
All the kindness, all the hospitality,
all the effort to please.
No matter, there is no rest.
No hiding from it.
War makes cruel even the afterlife.


FADE OUT

COMMENTS WOULDN'T FIT IN THE SAME POST AS THE SHORT.

COMMENTS

-This felt like a long and complicated read whose meaning was so hidden in layers that I just didn't get it, sorry for being so stupid and unappreciative. -dp

-Beautifully written. I enjoyed reading it and the V.O.was beautifully written. I could hear the words being spoken and the character of Onathea in her voice. The two problems are that it was ALL V.O. and that the war connection is too loose to allow the entry a placing. That said, a beautifully written story.

ihavebiglips
06-09-2007, 02:30 PM
Okay, troops! Sorry about the delay.

I was working on this at work, then went home and got drunk.

All the comments I received are now in blue at the bottom of the entries. I have an excel spreadsheet on my computer at work that will not open on my laptop at home, so I will post the actual votes on Monday... or, if you folks prefer to only know the top three, I'll defer.

That said, I will now name the top three entries (votes to follow, for the slow people).















Drum roll...


#3.... Wings of Eagles... by our very own Derek.




#2... Enemy Mine... also by Derek.



And, last but not least.... the winner of the 2007 Memorial day challenge...

#1... The Dying Song... by Harbinger.


Congratulations to Harbinger on winning the coveted Derek award, and consolations to Derek, whose TWO entries nearly got him his namesake.

The floor is now open for discussion, congratulations, and ****-talking.

Thanks everyone. Hopefully the next contest gets a bigger turnout, but kudos to all that participated.

dpaterso
06-09-2007, 04:42 PM
Double congrats to Harbinger!

Thanks everyone for reading, voting and commenting on the entries (he said optimistically).

Special thanks to ihavebiglips for handling the admin while getting drunk, that couldn't have been easy. :) I admire a man who has his priorities right.

Apologies to anyone I might have pissed off with my comments, they're just my opinion, not gospel.

...How'd this much-coveted virtual prize get called such a dumb name anyway?

-Derek

J off course
06-09-2007, 04:55 PM
I'm not surprised DP placed so well in this. He IS a veteran of
the great war.



Congrats to Harbinger! How many wins is this?

Thanks to Big Lips. Love these contests to keep me writing
although I never place, (sotto expletives) I have fun.

Yeah, DP you pissed me off with your comments on my entry.
Forget bombing Iran, bomb Glasgow!

peace out.

Signal30
06-09-2007, 05:42 PM
Ditto the congrats to Harbinger (although I saw it coming) and dp (whose comments on mine I got a kick out of... frowning that an end-of-world story had too bleak of an ending). Thanks also to the other person who gave notes on mine... good points, and appreciated compliments.

And I'll add another thanks to IHBL for taking the bullet for the squad and being point.

A side note about the competition: it seemed that four weeks is kind of a long time for something like this... especially since at least one or two of those weeks seemed set aside for procrastination.

Jcorona
06-10-2007, 12:06 AM
...How'd this much-coveted virtual prize get called such a dumb name anyway?

You serious, Dp? It's frickin' perfect.

I just got my wife pregnant so I can name the baby Derek . . . . boy or girl.

Congrats, Dp!

And big congrats, Harbinger!

Corona :)

OzFade
06-10-2007, 12:18 AM
Congrats Harbinger, Dp, lips for setting it all up and for everyone who entered (now you have an extra short lying around...win win situation).

4 weeks is a little long I agree.

Harbinger
06-10-2007, 01:49 AM
Thankin' y'all. Returned from a drunken night out to find out I won. Good stuff!

To answer your question J Off course, that's two wins and a second place....but whose counting? :) ...........oh and I neglected to include the second from last place in the Christmas contest. Not exactly my shining glory moment.

Thanks to BigLips who was not only a great, if a liittle drunken, host, but who happened to suggest a contest topic that allowed me to write a story I'd wanted to write for a while. Well done to Derek who I can only imagine was snapping at my heels all the way and to have two entries in the top three is impressive.

Oh just in case you're wondering where some of the other comments came from, mine were the second comment beneath each entry, accept Snake where it was the third. Like Derek (and one other anonymous fellow) I felt It only fair to comment since such a lot of work was put in.

Look forward to the next contest.


How exactly should I display my Derek?...............uhhh don't answer that!

Fortean
06-10-2007, 11:23 AM
What? I agreed with the other voters on the top two?

Apart from any hint as to what prompted the massacre at Oradour-sur-Glane, (but, limited by the seven pages, no doubt), I'd have offered another half point to the three in my vote, if the characters weren't all speaking Hollywood English, (except the Guide). In, (then), German Alsatia, French between French, German between Germans, and, probably French between a German and French girl might have worked better without subtitles and a bit of English VO narration, (leaving it a realistic foreign-language mystery).

Gnyxv aturn qfUbj zhpun pgvba jnfgu
rerva Rarzl ZvarF gvyyt bgzlf rpbaq
ibgrj vguab oevor Jvatf bsRnt yrfqv
qabge vatge hrsbe enaxf ohgjv gugjb
ragev rfznl orabg rabht ugvzr sbeer
frnep u

The seven-page limit kept me from exploring a bit of historical grafitti found on a wall, after the burning of Washington, in 1814; and, my snippet was a hastily written first-draft, on the last morning for entries. I didn't want to miss out on the fun, (and, three points as a voting contestant), nor spoil Derek's breakfast, (with too few entries).

Derek, did you find a decoder ring in a cereal box? Cracker Jack?

Kudos to everyone who participated. It's too bad only a few at DD do a bit of exercise.

dpaterso
06-10-2007, 12:27 PM
Yeah, my Superspy Private Eye decoder ring, free with every box of Captain Haggis's Porridge Oats. Talking heads equals ab ivfvoyr punenpgre pbasyvpg. You could have squeezed a lot more out of this, but as you say you were in a hurry so too bad. Next contest, feel free to squish me like a bug.

-Derek

Harbinger
06-10-2007, 12:30 PM
What? I agreed with the other voters on the top two?

Apart from any hint as to what prompted the massacre at Oradour-sur-Glane, (but, limited by the seven pages, no doubt), I'd have offered another half point to the three in my vote, if the characters weren't all speaking Hollywood English, (except the Guide). In, (then), German Alsatia, French between French, German between Germans, and, probably French between a German and French girl might have worked better without subtitles and a bit of English VO narration, (leaving it a realistic foreign-language mystery).



Thanks for your comment. I tried to make the language sound like it could have been spoken in German or French without putting (In German)(in French). Obviously it's necessary to use the parenthesis for every new character. That would have had to have been for TEACHER, ISABELLE, EDWIN, MOTHER, HANZ, OLDER ISABELLE. That's six more lines eating into the page count. Mostly it would have been fluent French anway since SS troops were used to interacting with their allies.

The lack of information regarding what prompted the massacre was kind of a style call. Since it's still surrounded by mystery (the main theory being it involved a soldier captured by French Resistance), I wanted to continue that feeling of confusion and senselessness in the reader. So the reader doesn't understand the reason for all this bloodshed anymore than the people of Oradour did.

Anyway I urge people to read up on the events that day. Whilst it makes for gruesome reading there are the odd snippets of compassion. In fact the two people who commented on my short got it spot on. The theme is that not everything is black and white and that in times of absolute inhumanity we see glimpses of humanity. In fact Derek got it spot on. I even had the phrase 'Humanity shines through inhumanity' written at the top of the page as I wrote.

Anyway I'm rambling. Thanks for reading.

Fortean
06-11-2007, 08:21 AM
Fortean, you just made up that whole thing, didn' ya.
How'd ya know? Of course, I should have dreamt up a better name than K (http://www.mi5.gov.uk/output/Page236.html).

J off course
06-11-2007, 09:15 AM
Clueless, how do you know who wrote what? I haven't seen
a post from Biglips identifying the contestants.

You think I wrote the goat one? Has my affections for goats
leaked? :)

Actually, I cap any human and animal so the production staff can
peruse the script and know what and whom to cast.
It would be silly for Onathea to be milking a baby goat, no?

Anyway, now I know who wrote the one with "Deutschtran"
That really made me spit up with laughter.

OzFade
06-11-2007, 09:20 AM
Lips edited the posts to show who wrote what and comments after each submission J ;)

ihavebiglips
06-11-2007, 09:20 AM
Clueless, how do you know who wrote what? I haven't seen
a post from Biglips identifying the contestants.

You think I wrote the goat one? Has my affections for goats
leaked? :)

Actually, I cap any human and animal so the production staff can
peruse the script and know what and whom to cast.
It would be silly for Onathea to be milking a baby goat, no?

Anyway, now I know who wrote the one with "Deutschtran"
That really made me spit up with laughter.

I went back through the entry posts and added the writer's name next to the "Entry #_."

Geevie
06-11-2007, 04:30 PM
Geevie. Well written. The Iraqi uniform through me though.

Yeah it's interesting how the omission of one little word can steal the thunder out of the moment. I caught it too late and knew it would cause problems. LOL

It was meant to juxtaposition current war vs. old war, and how our attitudes have changed as a country in the decades in between.

But thanks, I was proud of how it turned out overall. :)

Harbinger
06-11-2007, 05:35 PM
I'll even match Adam's gift of booze from the last one.

*cough* *innocent whistle* *cough*

ihavebiglips
06-11-2007, 05:37 PM
*cough* *innocent whistle* *cough*

Snort.

I was getting to that. PM me your order, foo'. :heyfool:

Harbinger
06-11-2007, 05:41 PM
I was only kidding really.

But as you're offering :).

I was once a student. Never able to turn down a drink since then.

And besides I obviously did this for the enjoyment of the contest and of course the Derek. The booze is merely a added bonus I grudingly accept ;)

dpaterso
06-12-2007, 03:54 PM
Thank you clueless, and to everyone else out there falling over themselves to deliver comments on the contest entries!

-Derek

J off course
06-12-2007, 04:11 PM
Derek, I included comments with my first, second and third place
choices but they were not posted here. Yeah, they were not pithy,
provided no real valuable feedback, but they came from my heart.

I think I said I liked any movie with airplanes in commenting
on your "wings".

satisfied?

dpaterso
06-12-2007, 04:56 PM
I think I said I liked any movie with airplanes in commenting on your "wings".
satisfied?
Aw heck, you could have provided a list of the things you like up front, that would have saved me from having to guess! Next time I'll ask you first. ;)

-Derek

ihavebiglips
06-12-2007, 09:31 PM
Derek, I included comments with my first, second and third place
choices but they were not posted here. Yeah, they were not pithy,
provided no real valuable feedback, but they came from my heart.

I think I said I liked any movie with airplanes in commenting
on your "wings".

satisfied?

D'oh! I missed them, sorry. Here:


Enemy Mine- the writer put me there
immediately and I was hooked.

Last King of Any Mountain - this
was like "Patton" on steroids. Loved it.

Wings of Eagles- I love any airplane
movie.

dpaterso
06-13-2007, 05:31 AM
Derek I like sock puppets and unicorns and fairies please please keep this in mind for your next script thank you thank you love you lots xxx
<sigh>

EXT. ENCHANTED FOREST - DAY

A cute PURPLE UNICORN prances along a winding path through
the forest.

But waiting up ahead, hidden behind bushes, are two SOCK
PUPPETS with candy stripe bodies and evil button eyes.

SOCKY #1
I hate unicorns! Let's kill it!

SOCKY #2
Yeah! Then we'll use it for sex.

Socky #1 turns its head to look at Socky #2.

SOCKY #1
You are one sick son of a bitch.
I like the way you think.

A beautiful winged FAIRY with buzzing gossamer wings and a
magic wand with a big star appears above their heads.

FAIRY
Listen up, bitches! Either one of
you mutha****as as much as touches
one hair on that cute little mutha's
mane, I will pluck your button eyes
off your woolly heads and shove 'em
up your asses.

SOCKY #1
Technically speaking...