Tuesday 17 June 2008

Challenge: Write a script derived from a snippet of news.

A silhouetted figure is dragging a large carved stone into the front garden of a house in the middle of the night. The stone shows a face and a symbol, which appears to spell the word 'Paradox '. The figure attaches a note whispering ''Twinkle, twinkle little star, does love blaze less from afar ..."

Figure. (continuing the rhyme) Up above the sky so bright, all in place for sacrificial rite.

Cut to: A village police station, mid afternoon. A woman sergeant bustles around, settling down at a desk covered with files and flips through sheaves of paperwork. A young PC tries to place a cup of tea on the desk but gives up trying to find space and puts it on the window sill behind the sergeant.

Sarge. How many's that now?

PC. (grinning) Only your 3rd today.

Sarge. (good naturedly) The stones, idiot.

PC. Number twelve. Gave old Ted palpitations when he saw it. Stubbed his toe an'all.

Sarge. Might cure his gout.

PC. Same rhyme?

Sarge. Every time.

PC/Sarge. Boom boom.

Sarge. You know who we're going to have to see, don't you.

PC. Aw, no, can't you take Jerry?

Sarge. I want someone with a bit less beer gut.

PC. You what? A bit less? A lot less, if you don't mind.

Sarge. Come on. Daresay she'll be picking foxglove or something.

They leave the station and drive a couple of miles up a hill outside the village.

P.C. Was she really head of a coven?

Sarge. Yep. Her and half our grannies. Always found up at the Knott come Halloween, dancing naked round the dead Oak.

PC. You are kidding!

Sarge. ‘Course I am . Kids never trick or treat up here though, just in case.

They arrive at a ramshackle cottage. Green smoke issues from the chimney. The PC baulks at entering the gate.

Sarge. You daft pansy.

She knocks on the door and walks straight in. An old woman is stooped over a cauldron in a large filthy fireplace. A broomstick is propped against the hearth. She turns and raises her chin in the universal greeting, then resumes stirring the pot.

Sarge. You all right. 'Tilda.

Matilda. What's it to you?

Sarge. Gotta look out for our ageing population now, haven't I?

Matilda. Don't need no help.

Sarge. Ah, well, see. I think I need yours.

Matilda. Why didn't you say so (she turns and straightens and becomes jovial) What d'you need? A potion for your bunions is it? Or (she casts an appraising eye over the Sarge 's hair) lot of grey creeping in there, Sally my dear. (Then, swinging around quickly and making the pc jump) Or is it for you?

He gulps. shakes his head and retreats a step.

Sarge. These stones. 'Tilda. You seen 'em?

Matilda. Bloody hard to miss ain't they. There's one over there.

Sarge and PC turn to where she 's pointing past them. Sure enough, the stone face is staring back at them.

Sarge. D’you make 'em then, Tild?

Matilda. I'm a witch, not a bloodv sculptress, woman.

Sarge. So no idea where they came from?

Matilda. Didn't say that, did I. (She turns again to the cauldron) Bloodv grandson. He 's the sculptor.

Sarge. But why's he dotting them round the villages?

Matilda. Would you pay good money for one of them?

(Cut to the the P.C who silently considers then shakes his head at the stone.)

Sarge. Er . . .

Matilda. There you go then.

Sarge. So he's giving them away?

Matilda. There'll be worth a fortune when he's famous. Or dead.

PC. (shaking his head slightly) I still don't get it.

Matilda (pretending to jump) Oh, still there, are you? I believe he called it 'publicity '. The Art Centre in town’s displayin’ his stuff soon.

Sarge. Worked a treat then, didn't it. Everyone's talking about’em. What you cooking there, 'Tilda?

Matilda. Nettle soup. Not that it's anythin’ to do with you. Will you take some over to Ted?

Cut to PC and Sarge back in the car.

Sarge. Lesson No. 1 - you want answers to anything, Matilda's the one.

PC. Alone?

Sarge. Preferably not. Just in case it's not all for show.

Cut back to Matilda, bending over the cauldron, throwing in more ingredients.

Matilda. Hubble bubble, toil and trouble. Police come up here at the double. Fob 'em off with easy answers. Conjure up the naked dancers!

The final ingredient produces a bang a puff of purple smoke and some yellow sparks.

2 comments:

Throg Niemand said...

I think I saw an earlier draft of this, and I think I'm going to say pretty much the same things again.

Nice, naturally flowing dialogue, and a gentle surprise ending that makes me want to know more.

Although this is only a snippet, it feels like the setting and characters are worth developing, possibly as a backdrop for multiple stories.

Jaye said...

Cheers Throg - it is a setting I want to develop with those three characters, perhaps merging with those from 'Agatha's Testimony' a while back.

Appreciate that, thanks.