Memorial Day Entries

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  • Memorial Day Entries

    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!

  • #2
    Re: Memorial Day Entries

    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)
    Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:38 PM.

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: Memorial Day Entries

      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.
      Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-08-2007, 06:17 AM.

      Comment


      • #4
        Re: Memorial Day Entries

        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.
        Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:38 PM.

        Comment


        • #5
          Re: Memorial Day Entries

          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
          Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:40 PM.

          Comment


          • #6
            Re: Memorial Day Entries

            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.
            Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 11:45 AM.

            Comment


            • #7
              Re: Memorial Day Entries

              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)

              Code:
              [LEFT]FADE IN:[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EXT. THE RUE EMILE DES OURTEAUX - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]The car picks up speed, slicing through puddles. Water sprays
              an elderly woman shuffling along the side of the road.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Isabelle solemnly closes her eyes as the Mercedes roars into
              the distance. She collects herself and continues on her way.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]INT. THE CHURCH - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]The ruined remains of the old church of Oradour. Isabelle
              shuffles along the aisle towards--[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]--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[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]INT. THE CRYPT - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]A GUIDE to the crypt looms over her shoulder.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]GUIDE
              (in French)
              They're all the same. Stopped dead
              at four o'clock. That's when the
              burning began.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Isabelle covers her mouth. She bolts from the church, as fast
              as old frail legs will carry her.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EXT. CHURCHYARD - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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--[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]--Two letter 'S's side by side. Shaped like lightning bolts.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EXT. GIRL'S SCHOOL - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Dotted all around Isabelle are her classmates. Escorted along
              the street by other German SS troops in uniform.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Isabelle's TEACHER, a portly woman, calls after her. Voice
              shaky, desperately trying to hide the fear.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]TEACHER
              Hurry along now, Isabelle. Lets not
              dawdle.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Isabelle and Edwin's gaze meet. She stares into his eyes.
              Stern, unflinching -- then, a flicker. Of something more.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Sylvie, one of Isabelle's classmates, catches up alongside
              Isabelle. She puts an arm around her shoulder.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]ISABELLE
              I'm not afraid.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]She shrugs Sylvie's arm away. Edwin's unflinching eyes watch
              Isabelle skip nonchalantly ahead to the front of the group.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EXT. THE CHAMP DE FOIRE - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]A young SCHOOLBOY saunters up beside Isabelle. He secretly
              palms her a scrap of paper with a sideways wink.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin's sharp eyes observe everything. He steps amongst the
              marching children. Snatches the paper from Isabelle's grasp.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin pockets the scrap of paper and separates the two of
              them. He personally marches Isabelle into the market place.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EXT. THE CHAMP DE FOIRE - ORADOUR - CONTINUOUS[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]The market place becomes a hive of activity as the children
              pour into the square, reunited with anxious family members.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Isabelle ducks away from Edwin and joins her MOTHER, stood
              with open arms beside the well of the market place.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EXT. THE CHAMP DE FOIRE - ORADOUR - LATER[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin stands on guard at the edge of the square. He observes
              the murmur of quiet confusion from the gathered villagers.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]A BAKER, still in his apron, remonstrates with a soldier as
              thick plumes of black smoke emanate from his bakery chimney.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Beyond the baker, Edwin sees Isabelle. She struggles as her
              mother tries to restrain her. Prevent her running away.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin walks over. Crouches beside Isabelle. His eyes focus on
              a broach pinned to her coat -- A dove with olive branch.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EDWIN
              You like birds?[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Isabelle doesn't reply. Her mother steps behind Isabelle and
              protectively rests her hands on her shoulders.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EDWIN
              They say the mute swan never makes
              a sound through it's entire life…[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin folds the final wing into place. He places a small
              paper swan reverently in the palm of his hand.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EDWIN
              Until the moment it dies when, for
              the first and last time, it sings
              the most beautiful heartbreaking
              song.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin passes the paper swan to Isabelle.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]MOTHER
              What do you say, Belle?[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]ISABELLE
              You know an awful lot about swans.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]MOTHER
              Isabelle!
              (looks up at Edwin)
              Th... Thank you.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin forces a slight smile. It quickly fades as he spots
              another OFFICER marching towards him.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]The Officer whispers something in his ear. Edwin's face
              drops. His eyes glaze over. He glances around him.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Across the square a villager offers one of the soldiers a
              cigarette. Beyond that, soldier and villager share a joke.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]On the far side of the market, two SS troops set up machine
              guns on tripod mounts, pointed at the assembled crowd.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]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.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]The women and children are herded into one large group and
              surrounded by SS troops. They're marched out of the square.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin is ordered to follow. He hesitates. A glance to the
              church spire, visible over the roof of the market barn.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]HANZ, a no-necked meathead of a soldier, walks up behind
              Edwin. Shoves the butt of gun into his back.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]HANZ
              We have our orders.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EDWIN
              The orders are wrong.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]HANZ
              They're never wrong. We do this for
              the glory of the Reich.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EDWIN
              This is the Reich. They
              surrendered. These are our allies.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Hanz strokes his chin. He looks up as a party of men are
              escorted to Laudy barn, a turning just off the market place.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]HANZ
              Not today.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]EXT. CHURCHYARD - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]Edwin watches the women and children marched into the church.
              He takes his position, alone, at one of the side windows.[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]INT. THE CHURCH - ORADOUR - DAY[/LEFT]
               
              [LEFT]The women and children crowd into the church. Isabelle is
              hustled and bustled as she pushes her way along the aisle.[/LEFT]
              CONTINUED
              Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:40 PM.

              Comment


              • #8
                Re: Memorial Day Entries

                THE DYING SONG (2 OF 2)
                Code:
                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.
                Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 11:44 AM.

                Comment


                • #9
                  Re: Memorial Day Entries

                  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
                  Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:41 PM.

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Re: Memorial Day Entries

                    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.
                    Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 11:50 AM.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Re: Memorial Day Entries

                      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.
                      Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:33 PM.

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Re: Memorial Day Entries

                        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
                        Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:33 PM.

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Re: Memorial Day Entries

                          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.
                          Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:01 PM.

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            Re: Memorial Day Entries

                            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.
                            Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:36 PM.

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              Re: Memorial Day Entries

                              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
                              Last edited by ihavebiglips; 06-09-2007, 12:36 PM.

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