Sunday, May 8, 2011

ordinary world


In Fair Verona

Cast of Characters:
Syl


Plot:
Her name is Syl and she rode the school bus until she was sixteen. A self-destructive pair of lips. Ivory fingers cold with poor circulation, the knuckles sticking out. Nervous feet. She doesn't know what to do with her hands when she walks down the halls. You can look at her from the corners of your eyes.

Her name is Syl and you forget her cellphone number. She can sing the ABC's. People always ask for her name a second time. Once she ran away from school, once she ran away from home. She told a lie when she was small and hasn't stopped since.

Her name is Syl, but she doesn't always remember her manners. She's quiet when she plans to be, and she can even fold her hands up like a little church in her lap. She could be the perfect outsider, if not for the words that beat around in her empty mouth, leave little bruises there.

She is the hero of the story and she is indecisive.

And then this one Thursday she gets hit by a bus.  And she only dies for a little bit and she goes to heaven for a couple minutes and comes back because the EMTs are using one of those machines that zap your heart and ruin even the most tragic deaths.  So now she has this big long life that she can't remember really what she's supposed to do with, because her heart is different now, electric now.

Questions:
*Will she speak up? 
*Will she be featured on one of those "I Was Dead but Now I'm Not Dead" specials on Discovery Channel?
*Will she perform miracles?
*Will she fall in love?
*And what will they write on her leg cast with a black Sharpie?





Cheers,
Syl
  



2 comments:

  1. I know you're drawn more to poetry than prose or scriptwriting, but you have good storytelling skills. You took a story that anyone could tell (a girl gets hit by a bus) but you tell it in such a unique way. This character is so real, so specific, so interesting.

    And I'd love to read a screenplay written like this. Your poetic voice could be used in the scene directions (ivory fingers cold with poor circulation, she can even fold her hands up like a little church in her lap).

    I'm not saying don't write poetry. I'm just saying you can do anything you want.

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  2. "...her heart is different now, electric now..." AMAZING!

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