The Place E-Book

Wayne Kyle Spitzer

• Herausgeber: Wayne Kyle Spitzer
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

ABE: (looks around nervously) Swede…? He looks for SWEDEN again, and again sees only the tops of the bushes, roaring in the wind. A beat later there is another crack! Another splash! ABE whips around. He sees, a few feet out, what at first appears to be a human arm reaching up from a gurgling eddy—deaden spidery fingers groping. He focuses his eyes upon it: the pressure stops cold as we see it is merely a gnarled branch. ABE exhales. Then, as driftwood is proving scarce on the island, he breaks off some willow stems and tries to fish the branch closer. The current dislodges it as he looks on and it floats down stream, bobbing and turning on the waves. ABE watches it go; it looks rather like a hand again; gesturing to him, summon-ing. A real hand suddenly lands on his shoulder. He spins around. It is SWEDEN; he is shining a Coleman lantern directly into his eyes. SWEDEN: It’s gone now. There was a sound. Like…. ABE squints in the glare, which obscures SWEDEN’S face. ABE: (breathes hard, listens) It’s this awful wind. It roars such that I didn’t even hear you approach!  SWEDEN hands ABE a flashlight. SWEDEN: Here. ABE: Where were they? SWEDEN: In the stern. Under the ballast. ABE: (exhales) I wish this wind would go down…. SWEDEN doesn’t say anything. There’s clearly something very wrong. ABE: What? SWEDEN: We’re not alone here. ACT 2, SCENE 12 EXT. THE FAR BANK. TWILIGHT. SWEDEN is standing with his back to us, facing the river. ABE approaches—he has taken the long way around the willows. SWEDEN turns slowly; the men look at each other. It is nearly dark. ABE: Sweden…? SWEDEN steps aside as the camera dollies past him and in on A CORPSE, a real one. It is caught up in the roots of the willows, several feet from the crumbling bank, chest-deep in the water, vertically positioned, bobbing up and down in a violent whirlpool. The corpse is wearing an Army-green or dark blue nylon parka, slick from the river, with a sopping fur-lined hood. The hood droops, obscuring the face from the top of the mouth up, the mouth which is stretched, contorted, whose chin is far too long. The whole body is stiff like a statue, its flesh an ashen gray-blue. Its hands are twisted and groping, like tree branches—willow branches. One is frozen with Rigor Mortis in such a way that it appears to be reaching out, its fingers gnarled, misshapen; they are too-long, really, to seem entirely human. The bony, branch-like index finger seems almost to be pointing, indicting the sky.      ABE: My God, Sweden…. (turns to his friend) What happened here?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

T  H  E  P  L  A  C  E

T  H  E  P  L  A  C  E

Scriptment

by

Wayne Kyle Spitzer

––––––––

Based Upon “The Willows”

and Other Works by

Algernon Blackwood

––––––––

First Draft

(un-formatted)

Jan 12, 2008

WGA Registration no#

1247825

Copyright © 2008, 2019 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. All Rights Reserved. Published by Hobb’s End Books, a division of ACME Sprockets & Visions. Cover design Copyright © 2019 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. Please direct all inquiries to: [email protected]

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ACT 1, SCENE 1

EXT. A MIGHTY RIVER. DAY.

Opening Image / Titles sequence. Aerial view rushing headlong over a winding Canadian river. Camera flies at dizzying speed over rapids, through sunlit mist. We hear an ecstatic, almost painful shriek which seems to tear through Nature itself. We hear the hum of some region beyond, which becomes a roar! Camera dips and climbs, swooping around river boulders, spiraling between crags, diving into the current and out again, like a dolphin. A base hum builds, inexorably, as we see a triangle-shaped spit of land appear—the point of which divides the river—draw near. The small island is crowded with willow bushes. We rush to a halt on a FIGURE IN A HOODED PARKA, standing immobile before the bushes with its back turned toward us. The figure begins to turn around....

SLAM-CUT TO:

ACT 1, SCENE 2

INT. NEW YORK SUBWAY. DAY.

The L-train rushes past. Cut briefly to conductor’s POV as the train roars down the track. ABRAHAM O’MALLY, 39, thin, pale, and clean-shaven, awakens as if from dream, still gripping the pole. He is wedged between other commuters. A subway beggar is pleading...

SUBWAY BEGGAR:

Ladies and gentlemen, please, anything would help.

I am a victim of identity theft and starving. Also I

have difficulty breathing due to emphysema...

ABE looks past the man at a beautiful young woman in a long, black coat, seated at the front of the car. She swipes the hair out of her eyes as she reads her magazine. A small flower is tucked above her ear. Another train swoops close outside the window, mesmerizing ABE with its blur of fluorescent faces. He looks at his watch as the conductor calls the next stop. As he gathers his briefcase and disembarks, we hear the beggar continue...

SUBWAY BEGGAR:

Ladies and gentlemen, please. I am both starving

and suffocating...

Out on the platform ABE pauses before a street musician, who is sitting cross-legged on a small rug, playing Pan Pipes. ABE looks down at him almost adoringly, pale-blue eyes sparkling. He lays a bill in the basket and hustles off. As the L-train leaves yet another train blasts past on the opposite side of the platform.

ACT 1, SCENE 3

EXT. NEW YORK CITY. DAY.

ABE moves down the packed sidewalk, turning his shoulders to part the crowd. He glimpses the woman in black, ahead of him, about to cross the street, and is so compelled by her that he steps right in front of a NYC bus—is drawn back by a stranger.

STRANGER:

Jesus, man! Pay attention!

He glimpses her once more after the bus passes, then she is swallowed by the crowd.

ABE emerges from the rotating glass door into the lobby of Macmillan’s New York Register and hustles for the elevator, but misses it. He glances at his watch. He notices a large figure standing in front of the gas fireplace by the waterfall; the figure is wearing a parka with the hood down and has his back to him. There is a briefcase by his feet. The figure also looks at his watch.

The elevator chimes and its doors roll open. ABE steps in, not realizing how crowded it is. He bumbles into a co-worker who spills piping hot coffee on him. Nursing the burn, he sees the figure by the fire turn—as the elevator doors close.

Squeezed amongst his co-workers, ABE watches the glowing numbers. A woman talks into her cell phone.

WOMAN WITH CELL-PHONE:

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well it was the wrong color

and the wrong brand. We had to drive all the

way back—huh? Yeah, we got lost. Isn’t that

awful? All that effort in precisely the wrong

direction!

ABE nearly leaps from the elevator as its doors open, and quickly shuffles to the men’s room. He rolls up his sleeves and pours cold water on the burn. He lingers a moment over the sink, grateful for the solitude. The face in the mirror is gaunt, white, almost sickly.

He hurries to his cubicle. His editor, a stern African-American named T.S. JOSHI, rolls back in his chair as he passes.

JOSHI:

That you, O’Malley?

ABE settles into his cubicle, which is crowded with potted plants as well as stacks of paperwork. The plants don’t seem to be doing very well. The cubicle’s walls are covered in journalism awards, as well as photos from various canoeing trips. Abraham is much younger in the pictures, 17 in some, 22 in others. There is another man in the pictures as well, scarcely older. He has scarcely had a chance to sit down when a co-worker brings in another stack of paperwork.

CO-WORKER:

I’ll just...put these on the floor.

ABE logs onto his computer and gets the “You’ve got mail” alert. There is a picture of himself, about 18, at the Senior Prom; standing next to him is a stunning woman of Asian heritage. His editor is at the door before he can check his email.

JOSHI:

Sorry about the title change. And the quote

cut. Had to fit a sidebar.

ABE:

It’s okay. Your paper.

JOSHI:

It’s Time-Warner’s paper. I just work here,

like you.

(looks at his watch)

15 minutes. Shall we say...my place?

JOSHI turns to go, pauses, holds up some copy.

JOSHI:

‘Spirals We Cannot Make?’

(throws up his hands)

ABE opens his email, finds a message waiting from a canoe2@yahoodotcom. He freezes. When at last he clicks on it, it reads: “Go with the flow. Silence is golden.”

ACT 1, SCENE 4

INT. JOSHI’S OFFICE. DAY.

ABE enters JOSHI’s office, and immediately freezes. There is someone in the room besides them: a biggish man, wearing boots, blue-jeans, and a flannel shirt. He is seated half on the window sill, looking out, so that we cannot see his face. ABE notices that the chair in front of JOSHI’s desk has a nylon parka with fur-lined hood thrown over it. He also notices that JOSHI has a file out, a thick one, and is thumbing through it. There are forms and brochures lying out on his desk.

JOSHI:

Come in and have a seat, Abe.

ABE looks at the free chair, alone against the wall. He sits down, tentatively. He is white as a wraith. JOSHI begins reading from ABE’s employee file: his tardies, the no-shows, the missed deadlines, the length over-runs, etc. His overall assessment is grim.

JOSHI:

Abe, you’re a brilliant writer, and a prolific reporter.

But, and it beats me how else to say this...

Outside the window, sky-scrapers loom.

JOSHI:

Look...Abe. See those skyscrapers out there?

ABE:

(altering his voice)

Why, yessuh, I do. Faith holds those buildings

up, don’t it? And straight lines and rules and

structural steel.

(reverts to normal)

Look, if I’m canned then can me, just spare me

the Richard Wright grandiloquence....

JOSHI flashes him a stern look. The stranger at the window tries to suppress a chuckle. ABE looks at him angrily.

ABE:

This is funny to you?

The big man turns around. ABE does a double-take before recognizing him.

BIG MAN:

A little, I confess. If I were you...I’d go with the

flow. Silence is golden, you know. Even in labor

relations.

ABE can only look on, stunned.

JOSHI seems at once alarmed and charmed by the big man’s gravitas.

JOSHI:

Abraham, meet SWEDEN MURDOCH. He runs

Centaur Excursions, out of Canada.

ABE and SWEDEN shake hands; the hand of the latter easily dwarfs the former. The men’s eyes say much that isn’t verbalized. Once everyone is seated JOSHI explains that SWEDEN conducts corporate challenge excursions out of his headquarters in Alberta, and that the Register has contracted with him to offer teamwork and motivational training for its employees, “...all of whom need it. Some more than others.” He then asks SWEDEN to go into more detail, which the man does, with gusto, explaining how the excursions operate.

SWEDEN:

(wrapping up)

...designed to build confidence and encourage

hyper-focus. To inspire teamwork, basically.

ABE:

Sounds swell! When do we go? And who are

my team-mates?

JOSHI:

No team-mates, not on this first one. It’ll be

just you...and SWEDEN.

ABE:

Because I’m in that bad of shape?

JOSHI:

Because you’re not a team-player—no bloody river-

run’s going to change that. Because my thankless job

is to still sell newspapers to people who can get every-

thing off the Internet for free. Because the corporate

guys want better productivity and the health insurance

discount. Because I want a story—a big one—that will

have to be published in installments because you write

in big, looping spirals (spins his arms wildly), which

people seem to like, especially those people who hand

out the little gold bowling trophy things. This ultimately

means I get to spend more time on the golf course, and

fuck the circulation. And because you’re in that bad of

shape. I mean, look at you.

ABE:

And...if I turn it down?

JOSHI takes the thick file and tosses it into an entire box labeled ‘AB.’

JOSHI:

Then I will give it to your replacement. One who

knows how to write...horizontally? Between the

little blue lines?

––––––––

ABE looks at JOSHI, then at SWEDEN, who merely shrugs.

ACT 1, SCENE 5

EXT. NEW YORK CITY. DAY.

A double-decker tourist bus passes as ABE, SWEDEN and JOSHI emerge from the front doors of the Macmillan’s New York Register, talking. JOSHI is putting on his overcoat. It’s lunch hour.

JOSHI:

Samantha’s?

ABE:

Not in the mood for sushi, really. Think I’ll just

hit the—the Hudson place.

JOSHI:

(puts on hat, claps ABE on the shoulder)

Hell. Take the rest of the day. Buy Mr. Murdoch

a beer—put it on the account. Get to know each other.

ABE says something typical.

JOSH:

(to SWEDEN)

Straighten him out...

He tips his hat to them, heads off into the crowd. ABE and SWEDEN look at each other amidst the bustle; a breeze blows. Their cheeks flush in the frigid air.

ABE:

(clasps SWEDEN’S shoulder)

It’s good to see you.

SWEDEN:

(returns the gesture)

Aye.

ABE:

You look well.

SWEDEN looks at ABE as though in deep thought. He doesn’t say anything.

ABE:

How is she?

SWEDEN:

(shakes head)

I’ll tell you all about it. Including how I pulled

off getting you out of New York!

ACT 1, SCENE 6

INT. A PUB. DAY.

A new frosted pitcher of beer is sat down by an equally frosty New York waitress. ABE and SWEDEN are drinking beer at a little bar on the Hudson, a few blocks from Ground Zero. The men are laughing and seem to be “well on their way.” They talk about their youthful adventures: camping in the Canadian wilds, canoeing down the Danube, graduating from Princeton University. They talk about their Canadian canoe, “The Centaur,” and “Jumbo,” the enormous supply bag....

ABE:

(wistfully)

Adventures before thirty....

SWEDEN:

Thirty! Before 20!

ABE:

Whatever became of her, anyway—my Canadian

canoe? I don’t....

There is an awkward silence.

ABE:

(beat)

What happened?

SWEDEN tells the tale; how they left for the Northwest after the confrontation with ABE, and how he came into money when his grandfather passed and bought a home and some acreage in the mountains of Alberta. How Lillith and he founded Centaur Excursions and had a daughter, Manya. That he fell desperately in love with that daughter as well as “his own private Eden.” That the two were similar spirits who spent their days traipsing the wilderness while Lillith and he grew apart. How she left, eventually.

SWEDEN:

Faded away rather.

ABE:

You—haven’t seen her? Nor heard from her?

SWEDEN:

(beat)

No.

There’s a bittersweet lull in the conversation.

ABE:

You might have known. That was the way with

her, always.  Silent as a river, and as brutal.

SWEDEN:

(appears distant)

Aye.

ABE:

(takes his hand)

But we remain, old friend.

ABE goes on to say how happy he is that SWEDEN has made contact, and how bitterly alone he is in New York City. He expresses his delight at canoeing together once again, and how perhaps it heralds a whole new era for them.

ABE:

A toast! To canoeing comrades, reunited. And

to more incredible adventures!

SWEDEN clinks his mug, but appears suddenly distant.

SWEDEN:

Aye.

He glances at his watch, which gives ABE pause. ABE sees him take a pill from a bottle—swallow it back with a shot of beer.

ABE:

Heartburn?

SWEDEN:

(holds a fist to his chest, stares into the fireplace)

Yuh.

ACT 1, SCENE 7

INT. NEW YORK SUBWAY. NIGHT.

ABE and SWEDEN ride the subway to Brooklyn. The train clamors and rocks. ABE appears about as happy as when we last saw him on the train.

ABE:

We’re flying, yes? Were the tickets costly?

SWEDEN looks sidelong at him, grins mischievously.

CUT TO:

SWEDEN spreads a map over ABE’S kitchen table, taps it decisively. They are standing. ABE’S cat winds between their legs.

SWEDEN:

Here...

SWEDEN tells him where the homestead is, which will be their jumping-off point. It is near Edson, Alberta—remote but not entirely cut-off from rail and other services. He announces his plan to shoot Tiroga Falls, which consists of Class IV rapids—a very dangerous endeavor without pre-scouting.

SWEDEN:

This isn’t the usual tour, as you might have guessed.

It’s the run I moved up here for; a run I’d only attempt

with you in the boat. Not even Manya’s up to it, much

as she’s willing...

(laughs)

ABE is probably beginning to hesitate at this point. They sit down. Much of the trip will take place in the valleys and marshlands of the Athabascan and Whirlpool Rivers, in the approximate geographical range from Great Slave Lake in the north to Lesser Slave Lake in the south—David Thompson’s country, brutal, godforsaken, and rich in the history of the fur trade and the Iroquois; a stark, haunted land. After seven days, SWEDEN’S DAUGHTER, MANYA, will drive to the town of Athabasca, and pick them up.

ABE immediately voices concern about the extremity of the undertaking. It’s far more ambitious than their youthful adventures and they’re not exactly young men, anymore (SWEDEN, older than ABE, has just turned 40). SWEDEN counters with a passionate argument for living in the moment, “because that’s all we have, you know.” When ABE enquires about supplies and so forth, he is told:

SWEDEN:

It’s all planned out. I’ve taken care of everything...

(details)

ABE:

You could have said something. I’d have been glad to

help—

SWEDEN:

Not on your life, old man. I owed you this.

ABE:

(beat)

I don’t know what to say.

SWEDEN:

You don’t have to say anything. We’ve been friends

for 20 years. The pleasure’s mine.

ABE:

(stares at the map in

awe, shakes his head)

Little early for a mid-life crisis, isn’t it?

SWEDEN:

(looks at him, eyes glinting)

Hmmph.

(beat)

No such thing, ‘too early.’

(gets up with a grunt)

Only ‘too late.’

He pauses in the entrance to the hallway.

SWEDEN:

Where’s the head around here?

ABE tells him end of the hall, to the left. He watches SWEDEN as the big man moves down the hall and vanishes around the corner. ABE sits straight, arms at his sides. The clock ticks. ABE watches for him to return over the table and the spread out map; over the back of his empty chair...onto which ABE’S cat hops.

ACT 1, SCENE 8

EXT. ANTRAK TRAIN. DAY.

Viewed from the air, an Amtrak train arcs across West Virginia’s acres of Maple forests, whistle blowing. Inside, ABE and SWEDEN sit squeezed amongst each other, ABE by the window. He seems to be enjoying the experience compared the New York subway!

ABE:

(marveling out the window)

What a landscape!

SWEDEN:

(looks out across him)

Yuh. Not like from the air, is it?

(smiles mischievously)

Down here you can roll about with her a bit!