Archive for the ‘Scripts’ Category

Threads of Fate

EXT. Universe
Panel One
The dizzying array of the cosmos.

DR.FATE (unknown narrator)
The universe is in constant motion, hurtling towards an indeterminable future.

Panel Two
Drawing back, the galaxies begin to form glowing fault lines as though part of the aurora.

DR.FATE (unknown narrator)
Indeterminable to those who cannot see the threads of Fate, weaving infinite futures into a single path, a single purpose.

Panel Three
Even further still, the galaxies look like they are part of a web of glowing white filament.

DR.FATE (unknown narrator)
And through this, the delicate balance of all universes is created. So fine, that even the slightest fray could unravel the very fabric of our world.

INT. Wayne Manor – Thomas Wayne’s Office – Night
Panel Four
Still pulling back, the thread is part of a necklace of pearls.

Panel Five
The necklace is on the neck of a beautiful woman in a portrait.

Panel Six
The portrait is of the Wayne family, the pearl necklace resting around Mrs. Wayne’s pale neck. Bruce is in his late teens.

WORKING TITLEĀ  Batman: Worlds Apart

Panel Seven
Wide shot. The portrait hangs on the wall behind Bruce Wayne’s desk, which once belonged to his father. The chair is vacant. Bruce (35) is standing at the window.

Panel Eight
Alfred enters, remaining at the door.

Master Wayne, nearly all the delegates have arrived.

Panel Nine
The two are standing at opposite ends of the room, Bruce with his back to Alfred.

It’s Bruce, Alfred.

Panel Ten
Alfred bows his head, reserved.

Of course Sir. Shall I introduce you?

Panel Eleven
Bruce’s fingers rest on the rim of a glass of scotch. Inside the glass, the reflection of the Wayne’s family portrait is almost indiscernible.

I’m sure they already know who I am.

Panel Twelve
Wide. The two stand in silence.

Panel Thirteen

…I’d rather not go out there.

You are the face of Wayne Enterprises, Sir. The title comes with certain responsibilities, as tiresome as you may find them.

Panel Fourteen
Beat. Bruce takes a swig of his glass.

Shall we then?



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I feel as though I should post something that shows I have a degree in Film, so here’s a scene taken from a feature script (working title Someplace Called Home) that I’m writing now. This scene is about halfway through the script. I have a soft spot for coming of age stories, and what I’m really working on in this scene is dialogue and character interaction. Ignore the bad formatting! Feedback, is always, is appreciated!

General premise of the film: Devon realizes that his low income lifestyle isn’t taking him anywhere, and doesn’t particularity have any faith in his own capabilities. As his Mother cracks under the financial strain of providing for her two sons, Devon becomes convinced that the only way he can get where he wants to go and solve his problems is by winning it big with the lottery.

INT. TREE HOUSE – Afternoon

SIDNEY (21) is sitting by the window smoking a cigarette. She’s wearing tight skinny jeans that are ripped at the knees and a cropped leather jacket. Her wavy brown hair covers half her face and there are a dozen cigarette butts at her feet. She blows smoke out the casement as DEVON (21) climbs in.


Sidney nods her head nonchalantly, taking another drag.

Chain-smoking isn’t good for you.

Shut up.

She holds out a cigarette for him and he takes it sitting next to her with his back against that wall. Sydney turns away from his as he does, hiding her face behind her long hair. He picks up a lighter that’s on the floor and lights his cigarette. He takes a long drag and leans back. They sit for a moment as the sun lowers on the horizon.

Want to talk about it?

I said shut up.

Fine. Whatever.

He takes another drag of his cigarette. Beat.

Do you ever think of leaving?

Devon shrugs.

… sometimes… I guess.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and try to imagine myself someplace else… someplace warm.

Ya? What do you see?

Nothing. Just myself… here.

Sidney throws the butt out the window and lies back at Devon’s feet.

I wonder what the world’s like.

Probably like everywhere else.

We should just leave. Flip off our parents, burn down the school. That way we couldn’t come back.

That’s stupid.

Why? We could hitchhike, or rent a car, or take the bus. And we could go where ever we wanted, and be who ever we wanted. We could just be.

Quit with the existential bullshit. We’d need money, everything costs money… you need money to fucking exist.

What’s up yours?

Nothing. Listen I just mean you can’t do whatever you want in life. People who think that are just kidding themselves.

Devon takes another drag of his cigarette.

Alright. I’m a realist. Let’s make some money.

Devon looks at her from the corner of his eye, intrigued.


We’ll save up what we can and in a year let’s leave. Together.

Devon snorts as he blows smoke into the air. Sidney props herself up on her elbow. She looks directly at Devon, her hair partially covering the bruise on her cheek.

You’re serious?


Devon looks down at her from in between his legs. She smiles up at him. He takes on last drag from his cigarette and crushes the butt in the floor boards.

Alright, you’re on.


Sidney gets to her knees and slides between Devon’s legs so that they are face to face.

You’re not going to punk out on me right?

Devon looks away quickly.

You’re the one who doesn’t have a job.

I’ll get one.

She lingers between his legs for a moment but Devon still avoids her eyes. Finally she gets up.

Well I guess I should get back. It’s almost dark.

She winks at him and heads towards the exit.

Right… see ya.

She lazily motions a goodbye and climbs down. Devon sighs and reaches into his pocket for another cigarette. He pulls out the pack and a new lottery ticket. He places the cigarette in between his lips and picks up the lighter holding it next to the ticket. Beat. He lights the cigarette and exhales slowly.

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