Not Alone (Script) - Excerpt

This is an excerpt from the script I am writing for ScriptFrenzy. It is still a draft, like Shadow Charge which I did in November for NaNoWriMo.

Note: Apologies in advance for the formatting. This was copied straight from my script-writing software, which does all the tabbing, capitalising etc for me. It will be fixed.

int - redfern's kitchen - day

SUB: 2012

APRIL

Hurry up, Eileen, or you'll be late for school!

eileen

(off screen)

Okay, I'm coming! (enters) How do I look?

APRIL

Smashing, sweetheart. Take your lunch and get out that door. Mike!

mike

(entering)

April, you haven't checked the emails yet this morning, have you?

APRIL

No, why?

mike

I've just found one from ETHA.

EILEEN

Really? About what?

APRIL

Get to school, young lady.

EILEEN

Fine, I'm going. See you later. (exits)

mike

It's about taking on a new child.

APRIL

Really? Who?

mike

His name's Nevin, he's twelve.

APRIL

A boy, Jack will like that. He's sick of being the only one in a house of girls.

mike

He arrives tonight.

APRIL

(drops frying pan)

What?

mike

They're bringing him over this evening.

APRIL

This evening? You're joking! That's -

mike

Short notice.

APRIL

Try very sort notice! They usually give us six months! They must have known we would be having him before now, surely?

MIKE

I don't know. Maybe he was going to be placed somewhere else and there was a change of plan.

APRIL

Doesn't it say in the email?

MIKE

It just says that Nevin will be arriving tomorrow at six, and they'll be sending his file over shortly. No other information other than what I've already given you.

APRIL

I can't believe it.

mike

We've got the space.

APRIL

That's not the point.

MIKE

I know. But we've got to think what it must be like for him.

APRIL

I assume he's been through the Language Programme and everything already, right?

mike

I should think so. But if not, I'm sure they'll provide a translator.

int. - ETHA/PATEL's office - day

PATEL is at his computer, surfing net. Quickly switches to a spreadsheet when boss passes by. Takes a gulp of coffee, and then gets up to follow him.

boss

(turning)

Yes, Patel?

patel

I have a question about the Deacon case, sir.

BOSS

How did you hear about that?

PATEL

Some of the Research staff were discussing it in the canteen, sir. I couldn't help but overhear.

BOSS

You're not on the case.

PATEL

I know, that's what I'm asking about. He's from planet #5, isn't he?

BOSS

I am not at liberty to discuss -

PATEL

I was just wondering why I wasn't called to work on it.

BOSS

We don't need you.

PATEL

Why not?

BOSS

Patel, you're a translator. The boy speaks perfect English. Well - Liverpool. You're not needed. You will be summoned next time we have a refugee who speaks one of your languages and not English, all right?

PATEL

How come he speaks English already? I thought he'd only just arrived?

BOSS

You can't rely completely on staff gossip to guide you on this job, Patel. Tread carefully.

PATEL

Yes, sir.

BOSS

And no more questions about cases you're not assigned to. You know the confidentiality rules.

PATEL

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

For Amber

Happy birthday to you
Your eyes are so blue
Nine years today, wow
Hasn’t time just flew?

Happy birthday to you
You like glitter and glue
I hope you like this rhyme,
Not my best work it’s true!

Happy birthday to you
Who’s nine today, guess who?
Amber of course! Yes,
The little girl’s all grew!

Happy birthday dear cous
You’re the best one because
You’re the sweetest little lady
Ever will be or ever was!

Happy birthday Miss A
You’re a year older today
Do you feel all grown up yet?
Either way, three cheers and hooray!

Happy birthday Miss Pink
As you get taller, I shrink!
Hope you like this little rhyme,
It’s awesome, I think

Happy birthday, little one
Not-so-little, but fun
Always my baby cousin
The best under the sun

Happy birthday, sunshine
You’re the Queen of design
I love your creations
They put me on cloud nine

Happy birthday with cheers
Nine verses for nine years
Hope you like your present
See you soon, for now three cheers!

(Poem) Ice Clusters - Chance?

NB: “Ice Clusters” is part of the serial poem “Chance?”.

Innumerable, perpetual,

But each lasts only moments.

Minaiture whites, each unique,

Fragile strands linked in a frozen kaleidoscope;

Doilies sewed by the eternal pattern-creator.

Webs tumbling softly from the sky

Before dissolving into the next stage of the cycle.

Elementary? Far from it (film review)

When looking at the success of previous adaptations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s well-known detective, it could hardly be said that Warner Brothers took a risk with this masterfully reconstructed world that has been imitated countless times in literature, television, and over two hundred films.  Sherlock Holmes remains Britain’s, if not the world’s, most famous detective of all time, with the original works having been reprinted so many times, the number of copies sold is unknown.

This gloriously dark thriller opens with Holmes (Robert Downey Jr) and Dr Watson (Jude Law)’s gatecrashing of an occult ritual, setting the scene for the intricate plot which is faithful to Conan Doyle’s interest in the supernatural, most notably in The Hound of the Baskervilles. While conventional detective stories focus on answering the question who, the 2009 Holmes film directly introduces a deliciously villainous antagonist, Lord Blackwood (played to spine-tingling perfection by Mark Strong) and the focus of Holmes’ investigation is on the how, which proves to be equally challenging.

Blackwood is arrested at the beginning of the film, turning the detective structure completely on its head, and subsequently hanged – only to have been apparently resurrected three days later: “What a busy afterlife you’re having”. This not exactly being the police’s area of expertise, the great consulting detective is called back in. The characters are not divided completely into black and white, though – Holmes’ past flame, Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams)’s motivations remain enigmatic through to the end.
Holmes’ observations are as perceptive and surprising as ever: “As to where I am, I was, admittedly, lost for a moment between Charing Cross and Holborn, but I was saved by the bread shop on Saffron Hill. The only bakery to use a certain French glaze on their loaves ... The only mystery is why you bothered to blindfold me at all.”

As expected for a contemporary audience, Holmes keeps up a fast pace that nonetheless retains a chilling tension, most suspenseful in the build-up to the murders. The film makes good use of classic, if not clichéd, symbolism, for example the ravens that omen Blackwood’s movements. The timeline is creatively flexible, featuring stylistic flashbacks, slow-motion and fast-motion shots, keeping the audience on their toes. Other special effects include the sound, which in several sequences is partially muted, giving the effect of ringing ears. Hans Zimmer’s score merges an eclectic orchestra and synthesisers with a powerful, dramatic theme and Irish vocals, bringing a new atmosphere to a eminent, well-loved world.

Holmes is not a film to watch only once. A downside of the film’s pace is the impossible task of absorbing everything in one sitting; the dialogue is delivered too quickly sometimes to catch, particularly Downey Jr’s, and while the flashbacks engage the audience with details they missed the first time, it can feel like making a mockery of minds not as perceptive as Holmes’. However, the silver lining is that the lavish set and the beautifully crafted script display something new to every audience member in the second, fifth, tenth viewing.

The portrayal of Sherlock Holmes focuses more on his character flaws, including his disorganised living and lack of exercising social skills that cause a rift between himself and Watson: “When do I ever complain about you practising the violin at three in the morning, or your mess, your general lack of hygiene, or the fact that you steal my clothes?”, and earns himself a drink in his face from Watson’s fiancée Mary (Kelly Reilly).

The convoluted plot unfolds in more twists and turns than a labyrinth, as Holmes and Watson get embroiled in escapade after escapade, from the giant Frenchman wielding a mallet to the tense slaughterhouse scene, sprinkled liberally with humour all the way through the film: “I wonder if they’d let Watson and me dissect your brain. After you hang, of course. I’d wager there would be some deformity that would be scientifically significant”. The grand finale takes place high above Victorian London, on the half-completed Tower Bridge, amid a stormy sky and falling scaffolding.

Like all good films, the ending leaves some loose ends; that of the faceless Professor Moriarty, and leaves the way open for the sequel, Sherlock Homes 2, due for release later this year.

If at First You Don’t Succeed …

1 - Eat chocolate and try again.

2 - Watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer and try again.

3 - Read a Charles Dickens novel and try again.

4 - Win Monopoly and try again.

5 - Beat the world high score on Runescape and try again.

6 - Order four-course Chinese and try again.

7 - Go to see the Lion King on stage and try again.

8 - Change your mobile phone and spend all your credit on it and try again.

9 - Visit Disneyland Florida and try again.

10 - Write a novel and try again.

11 - Win a chess championship and try again.

12 - Spring-clean the whole of London and try again.

13 - Ask Santa for the twelve days of Christmas’ gifts, one at a time, for twelve years in a row and try again.

14 - Travel the world and try again.

15 - Mope about it till you’re 99 and 364 days old and try again.

UNLESS what you’re trying to do was to save the world in a 60-second deadline, in which case you’d better skip all the above and get a move on!

Ivy's Diary (Fiction Piece)

Slightly late for Christmas, I apologise, but hopefully still an enjoyable read.

-

December 24^th, Number Fifteen.

Dear diary,

Christmas Eve feels different this year. NJ  has suddenly decided he’s too old to believe in Father Christmas. He announced it this morning as Holly and Joe argued over the red stocking.

It rather stunned the rest of us. My dear hubby certainly found it amusing. Well, he has that sense of humour. I personally found Nick’s face funnier. NJ didn’t seem to understand why we were both laughing so hard.

I told him to choose a stocking anyway, and later I asked Nick what he thought. He just smiled that infuriating smile at me, the one which makes me simultaneously want to kiss him and slap him.

“Ivy, he’s twelve. Every other child in the world stops believing in Santa long before his age.”

“When did you stop?” I asked.

“My dear, I never stopped, as you well know.”

“Well, NJ has. Are you going to talk to him? The last thing we want is him ruining Christmas for the little ones.”

Nick assured me he would, but of course, he won’t. I know him too well. He will be up to eyes in work, as usual, and then the kids will go to bed and that will leave me to fill the stockings with the presents I chose and I wrapped.

The fact that I am the one carrying out this tradition every year never fails to strike me as ironic. My dearest mother-in-law of course makes it her business to point out that when she was married to Nick’s father, he always took care of all the Christmas preparations. But then, considering the family business almost went bankrupt when he was in charge, I suppose he can’t have put in all the time and effort that my husband does.

Of course, I would never say this to her face. There are a lot of things I would love to say to her face but could never dare, not even after three glasses of mulled wine. One of them is currently sidling into the bedroom, giving me a mournful look. I suppose Nick must have chased him out of his study.

It’s harder to write now Rudolph has settled down on my lap. He was a present to the children last year from aforementioned mother-in-law. While they continue to adore him, Nick and I quickly grew tired of the holes being chewed in everything – slippers, sofa, curtains … I swear the damn dog even had a go at the Christmas tree yesterday, it looked lop-sided near the bottom and he had pine needles stuck in his fur.

I know I am far from being the only person in the world who cannot stand the run-up to Christmas. That does not mean that I am cold-hearted, just married to a man who is unavailable for most of December. And November and October and September as well, come to that.

Still, tomorrow is Christmas Day. I look forward to it in the ever-optimistic hope that NJ will forget his age and enjoy himself, Nick won’t be too exhausted to help with the turkey, and his mother will have lost her voice.

Well, a woman can dream, can’t she?

- I. Clause

NaNoWriMo Winner! Novel Excerpt

Samuel’s words echoed in Casey’s head that night as she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The phrase “believing in something beyond what we can see and hear” rang alongside the images of her parent’s deaths, rapidly swapping still pictures as if a slideshow was playing in her mind. Casey kept sitting up and checking on Erri to make sure he was still breathing.

This is nuts, she told herself after the clock had chimed three. Why am I allowing that stuck-up historian to bring all this stuff back?

She slid out of bed, pulled on her dressing-gown and opened up her laptop, intending to do some homework to distract her, but almost dropped it as something moved in the corner of the room.

Casey slapped the light on, and for the split second before it reached full brightness she thought she saw a figure vanish into the wall. But there was nobody there.

Her heart racing, Casey turned the main light back off so as not to disturb her brother, and instead turned on the lamp. She was just over-reacting, she would just get on with her work till daylight and then do the day as normal. But searching the web for information on Salvador Dali was not as distracting as she had hoped. In every image she saw a shadow, in every sentence she read the past.