SWood The Fixer PG-13 22pgs screenplay

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SWood The Fixer PG-13 22pgs screenplay

Postby SWood » Fri Apr 02, 2010 5:12 pm

It's only about 22 pages long so far, but there's something in it that I just can't stand. Any critique is welcome! It is a film script, so that's why the formats so odd.

INT. JOHNATHAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT
JOHNATHAN (blonde, slim, eleven) lies in bed, wearing slightly oversized pajamas with stripes. His eyelids flutter as he sleeps.
[b]JOHNATHAN(V.O.)
You know what it's like when you close your eyes? When the darkness comes in but it's not scary? Just comfortable and warm? And then the dreams fill your mind and take you far far away? But there's always that warm feeling, even in nightmare?
INT. JOHNATHAN'S BRAIN
A jet fighter roars overhead shooting down at some rabbit children. They call out as they run, the bullets ricocheting off of the ground. One of them grabs a hold of Johnathan's hand and drags him along.
He trips though and the world turns. When he lands on his feet, the grass is blood red, the sky burnt orange. It's peaceful here and the rabbit children share tea and oranges with each other. Johnathan spins, arms out as snow falls lazily down.
JOHNATHAN(V.O.) What if those feelings, that warmth, was taken away forever?
A BELL RINGS
INT. SCHOOL - MORNING
The hallway empties as children race to their classrooms. A shadow watches them, it's hooked nose peering past some lockers.
Johnathan hurries to class, but as he does a piece of blue paper falls from his bag. It flutters lazily as he turns, to grab it. It lands in a leather gloved hand.
MR SNATCHETT (middle aged, silver hair, roman nose) holds the paper out to Johnathan.
MR. SNATCHETT You'd better be careful, boy, wouldn't want to lose your head.
Johnathan takes the paper and dashes off, looking over his shoulder as he goes.
JOHNATHAN Thanks, Mister!
Mr. Snatchett leans back against a wall, an evil grin on his face.
FIXER I won't let you have him, you know.
Mr. Snatchett turns his smile growing as he looks to the Fixer off screen.
MR. SNATCHETT Are you sure about that? Or do you have something better to offer?
EXT. JOHNATHAN'S HOUSE
Mr. Snatchett, a shadow, stands, amplified against the wall of the house.
INT. JOHNATHAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Johnathan twists in bed, sweating in nightmare.
Mr. Snatchett's shadow stretches as it enters the room. It turns, reaching for Johnathan.
INT. JONATHAN'S BRAIN
A giant spider chases Johnathan in a dark striped world. The spider has his face on it and it's feet end in spikes.
The dream crumples as if it's paper, slowly at first than mashed together.
INT. MATILDA'S CLOSET - NIGHT
His eyes open with a start.
The closet is small and cramped with two people and a bunch of clothes.
THE FIXER (30, dark featured, long faced) stands in the corner, back to Johnathan.
Johnathan reaches out to tap him on the shoulder, but hesitates.
JOHNATHAN Um. Excuse me?
Fixer turns, sharply, so quick it makes Johnathan jump, his finger to his mouth.
FIXER Shh!
Johnathan gulps and then bends, leaning against the door to see what Fixer has in his hands. It's an old red shoe, cracked and faded with age. The heel is still attached, but bent awkwardly.
Fixer rubs a dirty wash clothe over it, a bottle of varnish in one hand.
He looks at Johnathan as if he's only just noticed him, his eyes wide. He leans forward till his face is right next to Johnathan's.
FIXER (whispering) Don't wake her up!
JOHNATHAN (whispering) Who?
The Fixer tilts his head to one side, pointing with it to the door. Johnathan opens it slowly, but it still creaks. The sound makes MATILDA (80, white haired, was once beautiful) groan and shift in bed.
Johnathan, wide eyed, retreats back into the closet, closing the door behind him. He turns and stares at Fixer
JOHNATHAN (whispering sternly) What are we doing here?
Fixer ignores him, grabbing the heel of the shoe and bending it lightly a few times.
JOHNATHAN (whispering louder) We're going to get into trouble!
Fixer turns, surprised to see Johnathan there, as if he had forgotten him.
FIXER Oh, oh dear! I've been caught!
He holds the shoe to his chest and crouches as if protecting it.
FIXER Please! Be merciful!
Johnathan puts his hand on Fixer's head, softly. He trembles at the touch.
JOHNATHAN I'm not here to hurt you...
Fixer smiles up at him before standing.
FIXER Well, then! Would you like to help me?
JOHNATHAN What can I do?
Fixer, standing holds the shoe out to Johnathan, grinning. He backs away from it, regretfully.
JONATHAN I don't know how...
Fixer sits on the ground, cross legged, his long coat splayed around him.
FIXER It's easy! Come, (patting the ground) Join me!
Johnathan does as he's told and joins the Fixer on the floor, watching him work. He does it slowly so that Johnathan can see him straighten the heel. When it's good and straight he sets it on the ground next to another shoe from the pair.
He leans forward smiling like a wolf.
FIXER Let's go!
INT. MATILDA'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
Fixer jumps out of the closet, looking around, hurriedly.
FIXER Ah! So, a closet! That explains it!
He bows to Matilda as she sleeps before darting out of the room. Johnathan looks out, after him and quietly moves out of the room.
The stairs, leading down from the hallway are blanketed in shadows. Johnathan walks towards them, seeing Fixer in front of them. Fixer's head is down as he mutter and doesn't move.
Johnathan steps towards him carefully.
Fixer turns sharply, terror in his eyes. He looks around a bit until he notices Johnathan. That's when his smile returns.
FIXER Do you see a light switch anywhere? It's gravelly important that we have a light switch!
Behind him the shadow moves, lightly, curving into a new shape.
Johnathan shakes his head.
Fixer drops his smile and stars to panic.
FIXER (high pitched) Oh God! But we need a light switch! It's incredibly important! Without light we're gone! vi trenger lys eller alle vil gå tapt! Han vil få oss! Han vil få oss! Han vil ta våre drømmer, våre liv!
JOHNATHAN (unheard over Fixer) Don't worry, we'll find one!
FIXER Vi er borte! Vi er ferdig! Han kommer til å spise oss opp!
JOHNATHAN We'll find one!
FIXER (muttering, frantically) Jeg vil ikke dø! Jeg vil ikke dø! Jeg vil ikke dø! Jeg vil ikke dø!
JOHNATHAN (loudly) We'll look for a light switch!
Fixer calms down and the hallway seems to lighten up a bit. He smiles, relieved.
FIXER Yes! Good idea! If we have light, we can leave! And no harm can be done!
He runs along the hallway, looking at the ceiling for a light switch.
Johnathan walks along the wall, looking at eye level. In a corner, where a small shadow lies is the light switch. Johnathan looks at it, then back at Fixer, who now crawls along the ground, searching.
JOHNATHAN I found it!
Fixer looks up.
FIXER (confused) Found what?
Jonathan reaches for the switch just as the shadow shifts, covering the plastic lever.
Fixer breaks out into a run, worried.
FIXER No!
Johnathan looks over at him, his hand almost in the shadow.
JOHNATHAN What?
Fixer tries to stop, but his momentum carries him into the shadow. He stumbles and falls.
Johnathan steps back from it as it contorts, moves, swirls, and falls upon itself. The shadow sounds like static and high frequencies and gnashing teeth.
JOHNATHAN Mister?
The shadow starts to grow but luckily had moved away from the switch. Johnathan glances at it only for a moment before flipping it.
The lights come on and the shadow disappears. In the middle of where the shadow was lies Fixer, curled up into a ball. His clothes have been torn and his hair messed up. He bleeds from small gashes and cuts.
Johnathan runs to his side, putting a hand on Fixer's battered shoulder. He winces and recoils at the touch. His eyes are foggy and he doesn't look around. He's pale and looks more tired than before. He breaths short, shallow gasps.
Johnathan moves some of the hair from Fixer's face, gently. He clenches his teeth together at the contact.
JOHNATHAN Are you going to be alright?
Fixer's eyes suddenly clear as he looks over at Johnathan. His breathing returns to normal.
FIXER Byddaf yn.
JOHNATHAN I don't know what that means.
FIXER Rwy'n ymddiheuro. Wedi anghofio sut i siarad Saesneg. Rhowch i mi hyn o bryd.
He breathes for a moment, then pulls himself up into a sitting positions. He reaches in his pockets, pulling out buttons and thread. Johnathan retreats, giving him space.
Fixer pulls something out that we can't see and puts it to his lips. He starts muttering to it, still weak and afraid. As he speaks he calms down though.
He finally stands up, brushing himself off. He then bends over and picks his things up, returning them to his pockets. He turns to Johnathan, smiling.
FIXER You found the light switch! Good for you!
Johnathan looks at him as if he's insane.
JOHNATHAN Uh...thanks...
Fixer hurries down the stairs.
FIXER Come on! Let's get out of here before the world wakes up!
Johnathan follows Fixer down the stairs and out of the house.
EXT. THE CITY - DAWN
The sun is starting to rise and the streets are empty. It looks like a common street in London.
Johnathan looks around himself, bewildered.
JOHNATHAN I'm dreaming, aren't I?
Fixer doesn't look at him, just keeps moving, his face is contorted as if he's hurt but doesn't want to show it.
FIXER Now, why would you think that?
JOHNATHAN Well, I went to bed as usual, fell asleep, started dreaming, then was here. That makes this a dream, right?
FIXER No, it's equivalent exchange. Someone took your dream, while you were having it. But there's power in dreams and that power sent you out to somewhere else.
JOHNATHAN That doesn't make any sense!
FIXER Maybe not. Maybe nothing will make sense again...
Fixer tries to smile, but instead grimaces at Johnathan
FIXER Now, then. Where would you like to go?
JOHNATHAN I'd like to go home.
Fixer stops smiling and keeps going.
FIXER So would I. So would I.
Johnathan stops.
JOHNATHAN Who are you?
Fixer smiles, this time it works.
FIXER No, no, no, not so many questions to me! Who are you?
JOHNATHAN I asked first.
FIXER But I asked second.
JOHNATHAN So my question should be answered first.
FIXER No. 2 is higher than 1. Logically, my question is of higher priority and therefore precedes yours.
JOHNATHAN What?
Fixer sticks his hand out to shake Johnathan's.
FIXER Why hello What, how are you?
JOHNATHAN No, my name is Johnathan.
Fixer removes his hand, seeing as how it will not be shook.
FIXER Oh good! I was so worried that your parents actually gave you a question as a name.
JOHNATHAN You're turn.
FIXER Oh yes! Um...where do you want to go?
JOHNATHAN Who are you?
FIXER Who am I? Never heard of the place.
Fixer stops, blinking a lot as he thinks. He puts a hand to his side and clenches his teeth. Johnathan looks up at him.
JOHNATHAN You okay?
Fixer falls to the ground, clutching his side. Johnathan bends down, grabbing him by the shoulders.
JOHNATHAN What's wrong?
Fixer reaches in and unbuttons the leather jacket under his velvet coat. While there is no hole in the fabric of his shirt or the leather, his gut had been sliced and blood clouds his flesh in the area.
Fixer shoves a hand onto the wound, trying to apply pleasure on it. The other hand goes onto Johnathan's shoulder, pulling him down to his level.
FIXER Trebam li nešto učiniti za mene. Kad sam pao bez svijesti, morate me gledati.Pobrinite se ne sjene me naći, provjerite da li ja ostati s vama.
JOHNATHAN I don't know what that means!
Fixer falls unconscious, slumping onto Johnathan's shoulder.
JOHNATHAN Oh no! Don't you dare! (shouting) Hello? Help! Somebody?
He looks around but no one answers.
Holding Fixer's shoulders, he gets out from under him, laying him down on the pavement.
He stands, not knowing what to do. He looks over at one of the houses.
He walks up to it and rings the doorbell, Fixer not moving behind him.
Some tendrils of shadow head towards Fixer as he lies there.
JOHNATHAN (whispering) Please. Please, please please!
The door opens and AIDA (26, ginger, pale, beautiful) Looks out in her bathrobe, unhappily.
AIDA It's 4:30 in the morning, what do you want?
JOHNATHAN Please! I need your help! It's my friend, he's hurt!
Aida looks at him, unamused.
AIDA It's too early for these sorts of pranks.
Johnathan points at Fixer in the road.
JOHNATHAN I'm not joking! Please! I think he's dying!
Aida perks up, no longer half asleep.
AIDA Oh God.
She runs out, barefoot to Fixer's side. The shadows have almost reached him.
She kneels beside him and checks his pulse. Johnathan joins her.
AIDA This isn't good. I don't think we have time to get him to a hospital. Heh, luckily my boyfriends a nurse.
She shoves one arm under Fixer's back, the other under his legs so she can lift him. She carries him into the house, Johnathan close behind.
INT. AIDA'S HOUSE - MORNING
Aida sets Fixer down on the sofa before wiping the hair from her eyes and turning to Johnathan.
AIDA You stay here, alright? I'll be right back.
Johnathan nods and Aida turns to go up the stairs, her hair spinning.
She opens the door to the bedroom where EDRIC (28, dark hair, chubby) sleeps. She walks to his side.
AIDA Ed? Baby? Wake up honey.
She kneels down and grabs his arm, shaking him gently.
AIDA Eddie. You awake?
Edric's eyes open and he looks at her.
EDRIC Whatissit?
AIDA There's a man downstairs. He's really badly hurt, he needs your help.
EDRIC Call an ambulance
AIDA I don't think he has enough time for that, darling. Please?
Edric lifts himself up.
EDRIC Alright, alright, just keep pressure on it till I get there. Alright?
Johnathan sits on the edge of the sofa, looking at his hands and not at Fixer. Shadows from a nearby plant move on the back of the sofa. They reach for Fixer.
One of them land on his cheek and he gasps. Johnathan turns, looking at him but not noticing the shadow. Instead, he grabs Fixer's hand, squeezing it comfortingly.
Fixer starts to fade, losing opacity. Johnathan leaps up, watching fixer go. He gasps as he finally sees the shadow and turns on a lamp on the table next to the sofa. The shadow disappears and Fixer becomes opaque.
Aida hurries down the stairs.
AIDA How is he?
JOHNATHAN I don't know. Not too good, I'd think.
Aida shoves her already bloody hands back onto the wound in his side.
AIDA He must have some internal bleeding or something, there's no way a wound like this would cause his pulse to drop so much. (looking up at Jonathan) How did this happen?
Johnathan shrugs.
AIDA You said he was a friend. How would you not know what happened?
JOHNATHAN He fell into a shadow. I couldn't see him. When I turned on the light there was no one there. He seemed mostly okay until he passed out outside.
AIDA I'm Aida, by the way. What are your names?
JOHNATHAN Well, I'm Johnathan, but I don't know his name.
AIDA How do you not know?
JOHNATHAN (shrugging) He kept changing the subject when I asked.
Edric hurries down the steps.
EDRIC okay, what's the damage?
AIDA I'm not sure. He's got one long cut along the side, but I think there may be some internal bleeding as well.
Edric steps beside them, looking at Fixer.
EDRIC You know that with all of his clothes still on? Nice talent.
Aida blushes a little and the goes to work unbuttoning his shirt. It sticks to him in places from the blood. The holes in his shirt dont match the holes in his skin or jacket. A black bruise sits right above his right nipple.
EDRIC Oh, that's not good.
AIDA (worried) What?
EDRIC You were right, he is internally bleeding. Get me a small, sharp knife, a straw, some thread, needle, scissors, rubbing alcohol...
AIDA Come with me, Johnathan.
They hurry off to the kitchen while Edric keeps examining.
EDRIC (shouting) And a bowl! (muttering) What happened to you?
Fixer breaths irregularly but a hint of a smile can be seen on his face.
INT. FIXER'S BRAIN - MOMENTS LATER
Fixer stands on the edge of a cliff, wearing a suit of armor made from giant thimbles. He holds a golden sword in hand, or is it a sewing needle?
Opposing him is Mr. Snatchett, shadows clinging to him.
MR. SNATCHETT What do you want, you small fool?
FIXER I want to dream! And I want you to leave the boy alone! For good!
Mr. Snatchett smiles tilting his head to one side.
MR. SNATCHETT But you are dreaming. Don't you see?
Fixer raises his needle.
FIXER You're going to try to take it. I know you!
He charges at Mr. Snatchett, sword drawn. His opponent takes shadows and builds himself a sword as well.
INT. AIDA'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER.
Fixer coughs and blood starts trickling from his mouth.
EDRIC Shit. (shouting) Hurry up!
Aida rushes into the room, arms filled with what he had asked for.
AIDA What is it? What's wrong?
Edric grabs the knife and douses it in the rubbing alcohol.
EDRIC His lung is filling up with fluid. He's drowning!
He stabs Fixer in the center of the dark spot, causing his body to convulse with the added pressure.
EDRIC Straw!
INT. FIXER'S BRAIN - MOMENTS LATER
Mr. Snatchett smiles, his mouth too big. Fixer breaths heavily before looking down at his chest. The shadow sword sticks out in the same place he was recently stabbed.
His thimble armor cracks and then shatters, leaving him dressed as he was. He looks up at Mr. Snatchett as he pulls the shadow out of him.
Fixer falls to the ground, clutching the wound as a faucet pushes it's way out through the hole in his chest. The valve turns itself and his blood starts to flow from it.
MR. SNATCHETT You lose, again. Don't you ever get tired of it? But now you've lost him.
Mr. Snatchett points over to a single ray of sunlight, in which Johnathan stands in the center of.
Fixer stands behind the boy, reaching out to him.
FIXER Boy?
He grabs him by the shoulder and turns him, but as he does, the boys head seems to turn around too fast so he just gets to see the back of his head. He tries to turn him again and again. Each time just seeing the back of his head.
A black tree grows behind him. He looks at it without turning as Mr. Snatchett hangs down from it like the serpent.
MR. SNATCHETT He will be mine, you know. Unless you can find me something better.
INT. AIDA'S HOUSE - LATER.
Fixer shakes, asleep, his chest bandaged up. His breathing is shallow and ragged. Edric and Johnathan sit together, eating sandwiches.
JOHNATHAN Will he be all right?
EDRIC I'm not sure. We should take him to the hospital, just to get him checked out.
Aida steps into the room. She's changed into a flowing white dress.
AIDA He'll be fine. You did a great job, honey. (kisses Edric on the forehead) We'll see how he is when he wakes up.
Edric seems impatient and slightly anger, but doesn't act on it, just finishing off his sandwich in one bite.
Fixer's head turns sharply and he starts to sweat.
FIXER (under his breath) Han kommer för mig. Han kommer ... Får inte låta honom få pojken ...
Aida hurries to his side, checking his forehead with the back of her hand.
AIDA He's cold, what is he saying?
Johnathan looks at his sandwich with worry.
JOHNATHAN He does that sometimes. It's like he's speaking another language.
EDRIC He is. I've heard it in the hospital a few times. It's Swedish.
Aida looks at him, not moving her hand.
AIDA Do you know what he said?
Edric rolls his eyes.
EDRIC I said I've heard it, not that I can speak it.
Fixer calms down, relaxing into the cushions of the sofa, his breath slowing. Aida runs her fingers through his hair before leaving his side.
She stands by Edric, biting her knuckle.
AIDA I wish we knew what happened to him.
EDRIC Mugging, I'd think.
AIDA (ignoring him) Jonathan said he fell into a shadow.
EDRIC (impatiently) With a mugger in it. Done.
AIDA But no one was there when the light came on.
EDRIC (angrily) You can ask him when he wakes up.
Aida kneels beside him.
AIDA Is something wrong?
Edric looks away from her.
EDRIC No. Nothing. I'm fine.
Aida get up and grabs Fixer's shirts from an armchair. She carries them in a bundle out of the room.
AIDA I'm going to be fixing these up, if you need me. (pausing, looking to Edric) Unless you have something he could wear?
Edric shakes his head.
EDRIC I've got nothing. The guys probably a bum anyway. It would be a waste.
Aida looks away from him, sadly, before leaving the room.
Johnathan and Edric look at each other in silence.
Edric stands up, wiping down his plaid pajama bottoms as he goes.
EDRIC Screw it.
He walks out of the room, after Aida, leaving Johnathan alone with Fixer again.
He steps over to the sleeping stranger and kneels down beside the sofa, his arms crossed on the cushion. He looks up at him, his chin in his arms.
Edric stands in the doorway, watching Aida hand sew Fixer's shirt. He sighs and walks over to her.
EDRIC You sure seemed comfortable with that guy.
Aida looks up at him, confused.
AIDA What?
EDRIC (angrily) Look, you can cut the bullshit, I know you know him!
Aida's confusion grows but she remains sitting, her hands in her lap, unmoving.
AIDA What are you talking about?
Edric leans forward, pointing into the other room.
EDRIC (furious) That man out there, you know him. You probably fucked him, didn't you?
AIDA (confused and shocked) What? No! What would make you even think that!
Edric stars pacing, running his hands through his hair and pulling it frantically.
EDRIC It's the way you look at him! The way you touch him. You look at him like you've screwed him!
Aida stands up. She's taller than Edric.
AIDA Right, the way I looked at your brother last month and they way I looked at your best friend the month before?
EDRIC I knew you slept with them!
AIDA (loudly) I never did! It's in your head!
Edric shoves his finger in her face.
EDRIC You're doing him. I know you are. You reek of it! That's why we never do it anymore, your too busy with him!
Aida crosses her arms, glaring at him.
AIDA Okay, a supposed bum that I don't even know the name of! And now, I'm bringing him here,to meet you. Is that it?
EDRIC I know you just like to spread them on satin, that's it!
AIDA (shouting) Get out! Get out, right now!
Edric glares at her and then storms out of the room. Johnathan looks up as Edric leaves the house, slamming the door behind him.
Aida stands, crying, but trying to hide it. Johnathan stands in the doorway, watching her.
JOHNATHAN Are you alright?
She looks up but doesn't turn to see him. She bites her lower lips and tries to stop crying.
AIDA Yeah, I'm fine.
Johnathan glances behind him at the door.
JOHNATHAN Will he be back?
AIDA Edric? Yeah. He's got all of his stuff here. And he'll remember he's being an idiot and try to come back.
JOHNATHAN This has happened before?
AIDA (laughing) Oh yeah.
Aida's eyes widen as she realizes something and a smile stretches across her face. She spins and kneels, grabbing Johnathan by the shoulders.
AIDA You go back to your friend, Johnathan. I'm going to pack Edric's things. I'm not going to let him come back.
Johnathan smiles and hurries back to Fixer's side.
Aida races up the stairs, excitedly.
Johnathan looks up from his place by the Fixer. On the nearby mantel are a bunch of photos of Aida and Edric happily together.
Johnathan stands and walks over to them, having to stand on tiptoe to see.
There's a groan from behind him.
He turns and the Fixer his half awake, shaking his head, awkwardly.
FIXER (quietly) Il arrive! Il arrive!
Johnathan rushes to his side, grabbing the Fixer's weak hand in his.
JOHNATHAN (shouting) Aida!
Aida hurries down the stairs, worried.
AIDA What is it? What's happening?
JOHNATHAN He's waking up!
Aida smiles and hurries over.
When she gets to him, she bends over, brushing some hair from her face.
Fixer clenches his eyes closed and mutters inaudibly.
Johnathan looks at her, wide eyed.
JOHNATHAN What should we do?
Aida bites her lip and taps Fixer on the shoulder.
Fixer's eyes flutter open and he stares at Aida with confusion and fear.
FIXER (fast and afraid) Qui êtes-vous? Où suis-je? Qu'est-ce qui se passe? Où suis-je? Est Monsieur Snatchett ici? Est-il à venir?
Aida grabs his arms trying to calm him down and keep him from getting up.
AIDA Calm down! I'm not going to hurt you!
JOHNATHAN That didn't sound like Swedish.
Aida looks at him.
AIDA No...That was French. (to Fixer) Uh...Parlez-vous anglais?
Fixer grabs his head and thinks.
FIXER (more calm) Oh ... Oui. Je suis désolé. Il me semble avoir oublié. Donnez-moi juste une minute ou deux.
Last edited by SWood on Sat Apr 03, 2010 2:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: SWood The Fixer PG-13 22pgs screenplay

Postby Lord_Versi » Fri Apr 02, 2010 10:27 pm

Sry I couldnt get into the story with its layout. It would help to space out put a break in the Char name and there lines.
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Re: SWood The Fixer PG-13 22pgs screenplay

Postby SWood » Fri Apr 02, 2010 11:27 pm

I tried to do that with 5 spaces but when I submitted it they all disappeared. I don't really know what else I can do except novelize it, which I may just do.
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Re: SWood The Fixer PG-13 22pgs screenplay

Postby SWood » Sat Apr 03, 2010 2:36 pm

I got this far in novelizing it when I realized that it would not work out as a book. Not in the way I was writing it anyway.
You know what it’s like when you close your eyes? When the darkness comes in but it’s not scary? Just comfortable and warm? And then the dreams fill your mind and take you far far away? But there’s always that warm feeling, even in nightmare?
Jonathan Pike knew the feeling well. It had been with him his entire life. He’d dream of wars and picnics and monsters, but no matter what there was always that feeling of safety.
His last full dream took place when he was eleven. It was the last time he had a full night with that feeling. He was running along a dusty dirt trail, the wind stinging his scalp through his short blond hair. He was accompanied by other children his age, but they were not children. They had red eyes and white fur, their velvety ears sticking out behind them. They wore camouflage uniforms with a sunburst bandana around their foreheads.
One of them grabbed him by the hand as a jet fighter flew above them raining bullets down on the small rabbit army. The ground was uneven and the pace too quick. Jonathan tripped and fell and fell and fell. And the world fell too or changed or became inverted as he landed on his feet. The grass was blood red under the burnt orange sky. In the distance, the rodent soldiers sat and shared tea and oranges.
He felt like he couldn’t join them.
He felt comfortable and warm.
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Re: SWood The Fixer PG-13 22pgs screenplay

Postby Lord_Versi » Wed Apr 07, 2010 1:42 am

I can read that and follow very well.
Crazy dream sequence the rodent masses need to build more pylons. No crumpets pshha.
if you can keep up this style and go with it.
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Re: SWood The Fixer PG-13 22pgs screenplay

Postby SWood » Sat May 08, 2010 6:13 pm

The Fixer is so bad that I am taking a break from it. Started this instead. If anyone has an idea for a title, please let me know!

Chapter 1
The waves crashed against the hardwood bow, causing the massive ship to lurch painfully from one side to the other. The crew rushed about, lifting the sails and storing the provisions they had brought on board with them, ignoring their captain.
He was glad of this, did not want his crew to be involved with this humbling moment. His elbows on the railing, he leaned on them and breathed in the cold salty air, hoping it would cool the heat in his belly. His hat had disappeared long ago, as his tight double breasted coat had been thrown aside. His long hair spilled across the wind, distorting his breaths and his face. His legs were slack, all of his weight on his thin arms.
His body stiffened suddenly as his ship lunged forward, his head shooting out past the railing as a hot sticky mess spewed from his lips. It came in torrents and fell into the harsh blue water, dispersing on contact.
When he was done, he leaned back, pushing the hair away from his young face. He wiped his thin lips from any of the burning residue with the navy back of one sleeve. He sighed, his stomach calming for the moment.
He ignored the voices from the crew that he heard behind him, or tried to anyway.
“This the lieutenant’s first time at sea?” A volcano of a man laughed towards a mate, a smaller version of himself.
“Naw, haven’t you heard?” The shorter one chuckled, “Lieutenant Yearlings’ is a catfish! A pussy of the sea!”
The heat in his stomach was replaced by a heat in his head. He had heard that before, his entire career at sea. A new crew always came with the rumors, always left with it as fact. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to push the white heat from his head. His hands turned to fists, the sharp nails digging into the soft pink flesh.
“Oh, do you think he’s heard us?” The volcano boomed in as much of a whisper as he could manage.
“Naw.” The shorter explained, “Just gonna go puke again.”
Yearlings shuddered, shaking his head to somehow wash the rage out of his face. His fists relaxed, becoming hands once more. They were sweaty and cold exposed to the sea wind. He wiped them off on his hair as he pulled it back behind his ears, trying to contain it from spilling out over his face once more.
He sighed, letting his hot breath cool, his nerves returning to him. He did not want this crew to turn out like the last. Like all of the past crews he’d had. He wanted them to respect him as their leader, not pass on rumors of his unworthiness.
He turned to the two crewmen, realizing that even the smaller of the two towered was his height, but twice as large nevertheless. He sighed again, this time to get some courage, not to release the anger within him. He took a trembling step forward, hoping the leg would support him once it landed. It did, and he took another, trying not to hesitate.
He felt the sweat accumulate on his brow, but he did not move to wipe it away, knowing that the movement would be much more telling of his fear than if he just left it there.
“Men.” He barked, his voice stronger than he expected, “If you have a problem with me, I do believe you can speak with me about it, not to each other.”
He paused, observing the looks on the men’s faces. They did not blink, did not move, only smiled in mild amusement.
“Now, I know what you’ve heard about me and how I run my crew. I will let you know, I run a very…” His mouth went dry, “A very tight ship. You are being paid for your work here and if, if you don’t like the work, or the way I deliver it, you can leave at any port you wish to.”
His mind was blank now, the words working on their own. He realized he was pausing and stumbling upon his words but he could not hear them, his pale blue eyes trapped in the moronic grins of these two monstrous men.
“I believe, um, that we’ve grown to understand one another…” He concluded, knowing that any more of his ramblings would cause a cacophony of laughter to follow his wake. His eyes went down as he turned from the men, his posture as straight as can be, his shoulders strong and his face pale. He marched away from them, but not fast enough to avoid hearing the two break down in deep rumbling laughter. He kept looking through his thick eyelashes until he entered his chambers in the stern of the ship.
He spun and collapsed on the small cot, the dark military blanket wrinkling slightly from the implied pressure. He rested his face in his hands, elbows stabbing into his thighs. He breathed heavily as his stomach hardened, not sure if it were nerves or the returning sea sickness.
He wished he had never been given this ship, The Crestmonte, or this job. He hated the icy waters, the cold wind, the roaring storms, the smoked and salted provisions that come from a life on the sea. It gave him a sickness that wouldn’t be cured no matter how long he remained on the waters, no matter how still. His crews had never liked him, coming with these prejudgments, this rowdiness, this lack of respect. He did his best for them, to make himself a more respectable figure in their minds eye. But he always failed, came out as a coward and a laughing stock.
A knock at the cabin door stirred him from his forlorn isolation as his posture straightened and his composure returned instinctually. He stood, crossed the space towards the heavy wooden door in two steps, and feared the worst He inhaled and pulled the door open.
No crewman stood before him and he released the breath in relief. Then he looked down. The boy looking up at him couldn’t have been older than twelve. His hair was the messy white sprawl of a fidgety child and it pooled down over his huge brown eyes. His skin was pale with either nobility or sickness, it was hard to tell.
Yearlings bent forward, hands on knees, so that he was eyelevel with the raggedy boy. “You’re Tristan Wolf, yes?” He smiled invitingly.
“Yes.” The boy whispered, turning his face away from the Lieutenant as if his name were a grave secret.
“Well, how might I help you, lad?”
“I don’t feel well.”
And at that the hard rock of nausea found it’s way back into Yearlings stomach. If he didn’t change the subject that rock would force him back out there amongst the crew, shoving his contents into the sea.
“Alright,” Yearlings said, opening the door as wide as possible, “Come on in, then.”
The boy bowed his head and obliged.
“Please, take a seat.” Yearlings waved around the minuscule room. Tristan looked around it wide eyed, noticing the lack of chairs.
“Where?”
“Oh, on the bed, I suppose.” Yearlings regrettably offered, realizing that it truly was the only place to sit.
With a few steps he crossed the room to a small dark fireplace, the embers in it slightly glowing. Tristan rustled behind him as he hopped onto the small cot, the sheets hardly wrinkling under his frail frame.
Yearlings placed a battered and black kettle over the embers, stoking it with his free hand on a cold poker.
“Would you like some tea?” He asked, not looking up from the fire as it began to crackle with renewed vigor.
“I don’t think I could stomach it.” Tristan explained, sadly.
“Is this your first time on a ship?”
“I’ve been on fishing boats, but nothing this big.”
“I see.” Yearlings uttered as he delicately placed himself on the bed next to the boy, careful not to cause any more movement than the waves caused. Looking down at the boy so closely he could see the dark circles around his large drooped eyes. Tristan had the beautiful elegance of youth hidden under the dark cloak of illness. His lips were thin and pale, tightly held closed. He had long elegant fingers like a pianist and they alternatively tried to comfort one another in his lap.
The boat lurched to one side as a massive wave hit it. Yearlings mouth went dry, his fists clenched, and his throat tightened, trying to keep his past meals inside of himself. Tristan bent forward, his eyes closed tight, mouth open. For a moment, Yearlings thought he would relieve his stomach there in the cabin, but the boy started taking in deep breaths instead, as if to breath the nausea out of himself.
Yearlings swallowed and put on a braver front. He put his hand on Tristan’s back, feeling his lumpy spinal chord through the thick fabric encasing him. He rubbed the boys back as he had seen mothers do to their infants, trying to calm him. The dark blue material was smooth and cool to the touch; a sort of silk.
“Why are you on this ship?” Yearlings asked quietly, trying to get the boys mind off of his stomach.
“We’re going to go study the organisms on an island off of Africa.” Tristan explained, his voice almost sarcastic as Yearlings should have known the reason.
“Yes, I know that.” Yearlings corrected, “But that is why you’re father is here. Why are you here?”
Tristan shrugged, his thin shoulders passing his small ears, “I dunno. I draw better than him, I guess.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“My father?” Tristan asked without need of an answer, “No. I just wanted to get away from everyone.”
“But you came to me?”
“You’re relatively quiet.” Tristan explained, looking at him with his doe-like eyes, “I can at least think in here. The crew is too loud.”
Yearlings went quiet then, dropping his hand from the boys back. The crew disturbed him, they always did. He had learned from experience what happened when you put a large group of men together for a long enough time without any women. Men needed to relieve themselves of their bottled up sexual desires and they usually went for the most feminine amongst them. Yearlings had a few narrow escapes from crews in the past, but for once he was not the most feminine one on the ship.
“About the crew,” He started, placing his hand on the boys soft head as he spoke, “You need to be careful around them. They’re all good men, but you never know what can happen out at sea. Something could always happen.”
Tristan looked up at him, perplexed.
“If anything happens, or you feel like it’s going to, you find your father, alright? He’ll keep you safe.”
“What about you?”
Yearlings stopped, thinking. He had no one to keep him safe, but that couldn’t have been what Tristan meant.
“What do you mean?” He asked, the collar of his shirt suddenly too tight.
“You’re the captain, wouldn’t you keep me safe?”
The collar resumed it’s comfortable looseness and Yearlings resumed breathing. “Actually, I’m a lieutenant, not a captain. Lieutenant’s are ranked above captains.”
“Oh, sorry.” Tristan quietly replied, his head down, “But wouldn’t you?”
Yearlings hesitated. He would like to protect Tristan, but he knew how useless he would be in that regard. “Yes.” He finally offered, “Yes, I would definitely try.”
A smile then spread across the young man’s face, showing his relief and his almost straight teeth. It was broad and perfectly upturned in the corners, making it impossible for Yearlings to do anything but return a grin.
The ship rocked again and the almost forgotten rock in Yearlings stomach jumped painfully into his throat. He stood, knowing he could not contain this internal battle and headed towards the door. But the heavy wood was already open, Tristan stumbling through it hurriedly.
Yearlings followed the boy as quickly as he could while holding the hot, sticky bile inside, therefore moving at the speed of a one legged dog, one hand over his mouth, the other on his stomach. The boy on the other hand was running to the nearby rail, clutching it in his long fingers and hurtling the golden liquid over the edge.
Yearlings joined him at the railing, but nothing came when he opened his mouth, having already emptied himself completely. It felt as if there was still more in him, but the rock had turned cold and stuck to his throat, not coming any further.
There was quiet laughter behind them and Tristan turned, glaring at those supplying it, wiping his mouth with a white handkerchief. Yearlings followed his gaze. The two volcanic crewmen had been joined by a group of five or six other crewmen, all brimming with muscles and mustaches. There was no uniform amongst them, so they just wore their undershirts and trousers, some with their socks up to the knee, some not.
Yearlings tried to stare the men down, show his prowess amongst them, but his gaze quickly faltered and he was soon looking at the hardwood.
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