kungfuwaynewho (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kungfuwaynewho) wrote2010-11-01 09:47 pm
kungfuwaynewho) wrote2010-11-01 09:47 pm
Entry tags:
NaScreeWriMo - Day One
Again, mostly just posting for my own benefit - it's a good way to create additional accountability, if nothing else, so feel under no obligation to read. I only finished outlining the first half, but wanted to go ahead and start drafting, since I had a pretty clear idea of the opening. The formatting didn't copy over correctly; ah, well.
FADE IN:
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
Bleak. Expanses of white snow broken only by tombstones, black, gnarled trees, and the dark cloaks of the MOURNERS gathered around an OPEN GRAVE. Mounds of black dirt next to a gaping hole.
A CASKET is lowered by four stooped figures, ropes burning their palms. The casket is too small - it belongs to a child.
FATHER JANOS (20) opens his prayer book. His pink cheeks and warm eyes stand out against the dull, gray faces around him. His voice is strong, almost hypnotic.
JANOS
As the Lord gives, so the Lord takes away.
INT. BATHORY CASTLE - CHAPEL - DAY
White stone walls, white marble floors, white statues of Mary and the saints. No colorful stained glass here - just narrow casement windows.
ILKA (25), pale and wraithlike, kneels at the altar. She wears the rough wool robe of a penitent. A SCOURGE in one hand - BLOOD seeps through the cloth on her back in criss-crossing lines.
ILKA
Lord, please, I beg You. Give me a son.
INT. BATHORY CASTLE - CORRIDOR - DAY
A plump SCULLERY MAID runs down the corridor, giggling. She hides behind a TAPESTRY - a black shield, emblazoned with a WHITE CROSS.
The sharp click-clack of shoes on the stone floor. COUNT BATHORY (55) hunts his prey. Iron-gray hair, trim figure, aristocratic good looks - but cruel. He wears a perpetual sneer.
He spies her toes peeking out from under the bottom of the tapestry. A feral grin. He retrieves her, sweeping her up into his arms - she squeals with delight.
EXT. MIRA’S COTTAGE - DAY
A small, homey affair. Two rooms, thatched roof. Chickens pecking at seed scattered over the surface of the snow.
MIRA (25) draws water from a well - after dropping rocks to break the ice first. A dusky beauty, full of vitality, a bit of an imperious tilt to her jaw that betrays her wealthy upbringing.
A cherubic toddler, DOMINIK (3) tries to peer over the well’s edge.
MIRA
Get back from there, Dominik! You don’t
want to fall in and drown.
One last pull on the rope - strong, muscled arms - and Mira drags the bucket of water up.
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
The grieving PARENTS - dry, red eyes, ashen faces - toss handfuls of EARTH onto the casket.
INT. BATHORY CASTLE - CHAPEL - DAY
The sleeve of the penitent’s robe pushed up, revealing scars, scabs, and finally fresh knife slices through the skin.
Ilka draws a SILVER DAGGER across her forearm, a new wound blameless for a beat - then CRIMSON BEADS of BLOOD well up. Drips spatter on the white stones.
ILKA
Lord, accept my sacrifice. Fill my womb.
Give me a son.
INT. BATHORY CASTLE - COUNT’S QUARTERS - DAY
A sumptuous four-poster bed. Rich velvets. But the hearth is cold - no fire.
The maid scrabbles across the floor, eyes huge with terror. She slips in her own BLOOD.
The count rests against his pillows, sated. No worries.
BATHORY
Do you think you’re the first wretch
to scream for help in these rooms?
INT. MIRA’S COTTAGE - DAY
Mira and Dominik knead bread dough. The wood stove filled with cheery flames - cracks and pops.
MIRA
Really pound it. The harder you pound,
the higher it rises.
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
Janos closes his prayer book, gazes out over the mourners. A smug, complacent smile.
JANOS
Return to your homes, and think of your sins.
FADE IN:
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
Bleak. Expanses of white snow broken only by tombstones, black, gnarled trees, and the dark cloaks of the MOURNERS gathered around an OPEN GRAVE. Mounds of black dirt next to a gaping hole.
A CASKET is lowered by four stooped figures, ropes burning their palms. The casket is too small - it belongs to a child.
FATHER JANOS (20) opens his prayer book. His pink cheeks and warm eyes stand out against the dull, gray faces around him. His voice is strong, almost hypnotic.
JANOS
As the Lord gives, so the Lord takes away.
White stone walls, white marble floors, white statues of Mary and the saints. No colorful stained glass here - just narrow casement windows.
ILKA (25), pale and wraithlike, kneels at the altar. She wears the rough wool robe of a penitent. A SCOURGE in one hand - BLOOD seeps through the cloth on her back in criss-crossing lines.
ILKA
Lord, please, I beg You. Give me a son.
A plump SCULLERY MAID runs down the corridor, giggling. She hides behind a TAPESTRY - a black shield, emblazoned with a WHITE CROSS.
The sharp click-clack of shoes on the stone floor. COUNT BATHORY (55) hunts his prey. Iron-gray hair, trim figure, aristocratic good looks - but cruel. He wears a perpetual sneer.
BATHORY
You can’t hide from me, my beauty.
You can’t hide from me, my beauty.
He spies her toes peeking out from under the bottom of the tapestry. A feral grin. He retrieves her, sweeping her up into his arms - she squeals with delight.
EXT. MIRA’S COTTAGE - DAY
A small, homey affair. Two rooms, thatched roof. Chickens pecking at seed scattered over the surface of the snow.
MIRA (25) draws water from a well - after dropping rocks to break the ice first. A dusky beauty, full of vitality, a bit of an imperious tilt to her jaw that betrays her wealthy upbringing.
A cherubic toddler, DOMINIK (3) tries to peer over the well’s edge.
MIRA
Get back from there, Dominik! You don’t
want to fall in and drown.
One last pull on the rope - strong, muscled arms - and Mira drags the bucket of water up.
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
The grieving PARENTS - dry, red eyes, ashen faces - toss handfuls of EARTH onto the casket.
JANOS
From the earth we came, and to the
earth we shall return.
From the earth we came, and to the
earth we shall return.
INT. BATHORY CASTLE - CHAPEL - DAY
The sleeve of the penitent’s robe pushed up, revealing scars, scabs, and finally fresh knife slices through the skin.
Ilka draws a SILVER DAGGER across her forearm, a new wound blameless for a beat - then CRIMSON BEADS of BLOOD well up. Drips spatter on the white stones.
ILKA
Lord, accept my sacrifice. Fill my womb.
Give me a son.
INT. BATHORY CASTLE - COUNT’S QUARTERS - DAY
A sumptuous four-poster bed. Rich velvets. But the hearth is cold - no fire.
The maid scrabbles across the floor, eyes huge with terror. She slips in her own BLOOD.
MAID
Help me! Someone help me, please!
Help me! Someone help me, please!
The count rests against his pillows, sated. No worries.
BATHORY
Do you think you’re the first wretch
to scream for help in these rooms?
Mira and Dominik knead bread dough. The wood stove filled with cheery flames - cracks and pops.
MIRA
Really pound it. The harder you pound,
the higher it rises.
Janos closes his prayer book, gazes out over the mourners. A smug, complacent smile.
JANOS
Return to your homes, and think of your sins.
no subject
Really great opening! I'm intrigued. :D
no subject