.... but tomorrow before another dies he quickly pulls out his trusty tablet, logs onto GD and posts another paragraph from his latest story in “The first chapter of your book - write it now” thread......
The first chapter of your book - write it now
- Thread starter [FnG]magnolia
- Start date
.... but tomorrow before another dies he quickly pulls out his trusty tablet, logs onto GD and posts another paragraph from his latest story in “The first chapter of your book - write it now” thread......
Soldato
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- 8,920
there must be a solution for that
Soldato
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Plain text is your friend...
Man of Honour
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- Chelmsford
I started thinking about something then decided the subject is far to heavy for a Friday afternoon.. So one proceeds down the pub which purveys the fortune of the lost soles who didn't quite make the week on their "no more drinking" free week. The week ends and start over the weekend.. Depending on your Google calendar setting... Stories have been told repeatedly over the week and new ones are in the making.. I have my Friday night take-a-away order in my pocket and my anticipation in the other..
- Joined
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- Kapitalist Republik of Surrey
I wrote a story once.
Jonny's Fairy Tale.
Part 1
Once upon a time there was a big bad wolf and he lived in the jungle. A little girl called Little Red Riding hood went to visit her granny and she had big bad teeth and big bad eyes. The Wolf decided he was going to eat Little Red Riding Hood when she arrived at the three bears' house so he hid out in the trees in the rainforest. When little Red Riding Hood rode past on her bike the wolf stood up sharply and said "little girl little girl I'm going to eat you". So he huffed and he puffed but he couldn't eat Little Red Riding Hood. The wolf decided he would be more cunning so he went and hid in Grandma's house.
When the wolf arrived at Grandma's house he sat in the little seat and ate the small bowl of porridge and got into Grandma's pyjamas and slept in the small bed. When the little pigs arrived home they saw that one of their seats had been sat in and one of the bowls of porridge had been eaten and they were annoyed. Daddy pig rushed to the cupboard and pulled out his axe and shouted “Who's been sitting in my chair?”
When the pigs went upstairs they found the wolf asleep in the small bed. “Wake up, wake up” said daddy pig and the wolf woke up. The three bears then arrived home and they saw the axe was gone from the cupboard so they went upstairs.
“Little pigs little pigs let me come in” said daddy bear. “Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin” called back the wolf. The wolf had eaten up the pigs and was waiting in bed wearing grandma's pyjamas and glasses with the axe for little red riding hood.
What will happen to Grandma, the bears, the gingerbread man and
little red riding hood? Find out in exciting part 2.
Part 2.
Big daddy bear grew angry with the wolf and smashed down the door with his claws and big teeth. He chased poor Mr Wolf around the bedroom until he was out of puff. “I give up called Mr Wolf” and he went downstairs in grandmas pyjamas and made more porridge for the bears.
Little Red Riding Hood rode up the path of Granny's house and knocked on the door. The gingerbread man came to the door. “Hello” said the gingerbread man, “what are you doing at my house?” “My what big eyes you have Mr Gingerbread Man” said little red riding hood. “All the better to eat me with” said the gingerbread man and little red riding hood gobbled him up.
Little Red Riding Hood was tired after eating the gingerbread man and went inside for a sleep. She sat in the big chair and fell asleep in front of the fire. The chocolate in her basket soon began to melt and soon it was all melted.
Little Red Riding Hood woke up and it was dark outside. She got on her bike and rode around to granny's actual house and knocked on the door. Granny came to the door and she wasn't wearing any pyjamas. “My, Granny” exclaimed Little Red Riding Hood, “you're not wearing any pyjamas.” “I've been burgled” cried Granny, “you must help me.” Little Red Riding Hood quickly rode round to the woodsman's house and knocked on the door. “Who's been knocking on my door?” called the woodsman.
“Little Red Riding Hood” she called back, “and granny's been burgled.”
The woodsman came to the door with his gun and they rode to granny's house.
What will happen to granny, the bears and the woodsman? Find out in part three...
Part 3.
On the way they passed the old shoemaker and his wife who were out walking in the woods. The shoemaker worked hard but he was very poor. As time went on he grew poorer and poorer. “Who could have burgled poor old Granny?” thought the woodsman.
“The shoemaker is very poor” thought the woodsman, “Perhaps he burgled her. After all he only has one piece of leather left to make one pair of shoes.”
The woodsman chased after the shoemaker and shot him with his gun. “There he said. That will put an end to his burgling.”
He took the shoemaker's wife's clothes and then carried on back to Granny's house. They arrived at Granny's house and the door was open. The woodsman told Red Riding Hood to stay outside in case the wolf had gone in. The woodsman sneaked in with his gun loaded.
There was a rustle in the corner and the woodsman saw a flash of big teeth. My what big teeth you have Mr Wolf. “All the better to eat you with” replied the wolf. But it wasn't the wolf at all. It was granny putting on a gruff voice. She also had big eyes and big teeth and she also liked eating people and then she gobbled up the woodsman in one go.
Granny then put on the clothes the woodsman had brought and went outside to look for Little Red Riding hood. She was outside hiding in the hedge. “Come out come out wherever you are” called Granny in her gruff voice. “I'm in the hedge” called back Little Red Riding Hood. Granny opened up the hedge. “My what big teeth you have” said granny. All the better to eat you with said Little Red Riding Hood and gobbled up granny in one bite.
It wasn't little red riding hood at all! The wolf had gone for a poo in the hedge and found Little Red Riding Hood hiding there. He liked eating people and ate Little Red Riding Hood and put on her little red bonnet so he could fool Granny. The wolf had now eaten too much and walked slowly up the road until he got to a house made of straw. The little bed inside was very soft and he soon fell asleep.
The story continues in part four.
Part 4.
The wolf's dream was in a magical land with pixies and gnomes and little leprechauns who were all making shoes out of one piece of magical leather that never ran out. He soon realised they were making the shoes for the poor shoemaker. “Soon the shoemaker will grow rich from these shoes and get greedy and fat” thought the wolf and he woke up and ran quickly to the shoemakers house.
The shoemaker was already getting rich and there was more money than the wolf had ever seen before. He gobbled up the shoemaker and his wife and stumbled clumsily to Goldilocks’ house and gobbled her up too. He gathered up a pillow case and ran back to the shoemakers house. He started filling the pillow case up with money but there was a tap on his shoulder. It was the woodsman’s son who was not happy having his father eaten. With one fell swoop of his sharp axe the woodsman’s son cut the wolf clean down the middle.
All the people the wolf had eaten, the three pigs, Granny, Little Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks all jumped out and they were all happy to see the woodsman’s son and they all lived happily ever after. Except for Little Red Riding Hood who had to be cut in half because she had eaten the ginger bread man. And granny, because she ate the woodsman I think.
The End.
Jonny's Fairy Tale.
Part 1
Once upon a time there was a big bad wolf and he lived in the jungle. A little girl called Little Red Riding hood went to visit her granny and she had big bad teeth and big bad eyes. The Wolf decided he was going to eat Little Red Riding Hood when she arrived at the three bears' house so he hid out in the trees in the rainforest. When little Red Riding Hood rode past on her bike the wolf stood up sharply and said "little girl little girl I'm going to eat you". So he huffed and he puffed but he couldn't eat Little Red Riding Hood. The wolf decided he would be more cunning so he went and hid in Grandma's house.
When the wolf arrived at Grandma's house he sat in the little seat and ate the small bowl of porridge and got into Grandma's pyjamas and slept in the small bed. When the little pigs arrived home they saw that one of their seats had been sat in and one of the bowls of porridge had been eaten and they were annoyed. Daddy pig rushed to the cupboard and pulled out his axe and shouted “Who's been sitting in my chair?”
When the pigs went upstairs they found the wolf asleep in the small bed. “Wake up, wake up” said daddy pig and the wolf woke up. The three bears then arrived home and they saw the axe was gone from the cupboard so they went upstairs.
“Little pigs little pigs let me come in” said daddy bear. “Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin” called back the wolf. The wolf had eaten up the pigs and was waiting in bed wearing grandma's pyjamas and glasses with the axe for little red riding hood.
What will happen to Grandma, the bears, the gingerbread man and
little red riding hood? Find out in exciting part 2.
Part 2.
Big daddy bear grew angry with the wolf and smashed down the door with his claws and big teeth. He chased poor Mr Wolf around the bedroom until he was out of puff. “I give up called Mr Wolf” and he went downstairs in grandmas pyjamas and made more porridge for the bears.
Little Red Riding Hood rode up the path of Granny's house and knocked on the door. The gingerbread man came to the door. “Hello” said the gingerbread man, “what are you doing at my house?” “My what big eyes you have Mr Gingerbread Man” said little red riding hood. “All the better to eat me with” said the gingerbread man and little red riding hood gobbled him up.
Little Red Riding Hood was tired after eating the gingerbread man and went inside for a sleep. She sat in the big chair and fell asleep in front of the fire. The chocolate in her basket soon began to melt and soon it was all melted.
Little Red Riding Hood woke up and it was dark outside. She got on her bike and rode around to granny's actual house and knocked on the door. Granny came to the door and she wasn't wearing any pyjamas. “My, Granny” exclaimed Little Red Riding Hood, “you're not wearing any pyjamas.” “I've been burgled” cried Granny, “you must help me.” Little Red Riding Hood quickly rode round to the woodsman's house and knocked on the door. “Who's been knocking on my door?” called the woodsman.
“Little Red Riding Hood” she called back, “and granny's been burgled.”
The woodsman came to the door with his gun and they rode to granny's house.
What will happen to granny, the bears and the woodsman? Find out in part three...
Part 3.
On the way they passed the old shoemaker and his wife who were out walking in the woods. The shoemaker worked hard but he was very poor. As time went on he grew poorer and poorer. “Who could have burgled poor old Granny?” thought the woodsman.
“The shoemaker is very poor” thought the woodsman, “Perhaps he burgled her. After all he only has one piece of leather left to make one pair of shoes.”
The woodsman chased after the shoemaker and shot him with his gun. “There he said. That will put an end to his burgling.”
He took the shoemaker's wife's clothes and then carried on back to Granny's house. They arrived at Granny's house and the door was open. The woodsman told Red Riding Hood to stay outside in case the wolf had gone in. The woodsman sneaked in with his gun loaded.
There was a rustle in the corner and the woodsman saw a flash of big teeth. My what big teeth you have Mr Wolf. “All the better to eat you with” replied the wolf. But it wasn't the wolf at all. It was granny putting on a gruff voice. She also had big eyes and big teeth and she also liked eating people and then she gobbled up the woodsman in one go.
Granny then put on the clothes the woodsman had brought and went outside to look for Little Red Riding hood. She was outside hiding in the hedge. “Come out come out wherever you are” called Granny in her gruff voice. “I'm in the hedge” called back Little Red Riding Hood. Granny opened up the hedge. “My what big teeth you have” said granny. All the better to eat you with said Little Red Riding Hood and gobbled up granny in one bite.
It wasn't little red riding hood at all! The wolf had gone for a poo in the hedge and found Little Red Riding Hood hiding there. He liked eating people and ate Little Red Riding Hood and put on her little red bonnet so he could fool Granny. The wolf had now eaten too much and walked slowly up the road until he got to a house made of straw. The little bed inside was very soft and he soon fell asleep.
The story continues in part four.
Part 4.
The wolf's dream was in a magical land with pixies and gnomes and little leprechauns who were all making shoes out of one piece of magical leather that never ran out. He soon realised they were making the shoes for the poor shoemaker. “Soon the shoemaker will grow rich from these shoes and get greedy and fat” thought the wolf and he woke up and ran quickly to the shoemakers house.
The shoemaker was already getting rich and there was more money than the wolf had ever seen before. He gobbled up the shoemaker and his wife and stumbled clumsily to Goldilocks’ house and gobbled her up too. He gathered up a pillow case and ran back to the shoemakers house. He started filling the pillow case up with money but there was a tap on his shoulder. It was the woodsman’s son who was not happy having his father eaten. With one fell swoop of his sharp axe the woodsman’s son cut the wolf clean down the middle.
All the people the wolf had eaten, the three pigs, Granny, Little Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks all jumped out and they were all happy to see the woodsman’s son and they all lived happily ever after. Except for Little Red Riding Hood who had to be cut in half because she had eaten the ginger bread man. And granny, because she ate the woodsman I think.
The End.
PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE PANCAKE
![[FnG]magnolia](/styles/overclockers/avatars/9.png){kind=avatar}
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- Auckland
I'd like to think I'm man enough to say I got something wrong and last night I did. Maccy, I apologise. I could blame it on the booze (so much booze, dear God) or any number of other things but I won't. I carried over a disagreement from an earlier post of mine in another thread when I shouldn't have - not because the rules say I shouldn't but because I don't think anyone should do that.
I still think you were wrong to delete my post but I should never have been so petty earlier in this thread. So, genuine apologies from me, I was stupid.
Back on track - anyone else have any writing they want to share?
e : content from me, it happens after the bit I put in the OP.
“No, I’m fine. Absolutely great! Really,” I say, “Definitely very, very good! Perhaps world beating!” I laugh, a bellow. “Well, City beating, anyway, and that’s the important thing – am I right, Samantha!” I exclaim and even with the crackly line I can envisage her mouth becoming a smile, the eyes becoming alive and the hemline touched, perhaps raised, legs uncrossing.
“Sure, David, sure,” she laughs and my face is blank, void. “So your numbers are looking ... positive?” she asks even as I pound both fists onto the desk (I’ve muted her, a tip I think the editor gave me when we last spoke) so she doesn’t hear it but I want her to feel it and then I say,” Very.”
“Very, David?” I can hear planes in the background and wonder if she’s at an airport.
“Yes, very,” I say, teeth clenched, before having to add, “Very, very, very, very, very good.” Pause. “Dramatic, even.”
“Well, David that’s gre – wait, dramatic?“ she begins. I cut her off. “These things almost make me smile,” I say before adding apologetically, “Yes, dramatic.”
I stand up from the desk and check the charge on the wireless handset I’m holding. “It’s all so very ... dramatic. Don’t you think?” I gulp. “Global,” I say with a sense of finality. “Maybe even ... pan ... global?” I suggest. “Perpendicular yet ... vertical,” I say flatly.
I’m blind, floundering. I envisage sandcastles that are so tall I can’t even see their summits; huge, spiralling structures and foundations so deep that they touch the core. I see a space so vast that I can’t really comprehend it.
And then I feel very nervous so I suggest, “Samantha, look. I think it’s important that, even with a divide, there should always be a sense of space, width, and – perhaps – light,” I say before smiling, grimacing even, and finishing with “And of course, it’s words that mean something, defining themselves or a situation. Brilliant –“ I wave an arm vacantly around the room, showing both composure and elegance, perhaps greatness, then –“waves of light. A crescendo, if you like. Of,” I stop, eyes cast down, confused, “light?” I finish.
“David? Is everything ... is everything okay? You sound ... uptight, maybe a little highly strung,” she says. Muttering, she adds, “I don’t even know what dramatic is supposed to –“
The editor – who I was pretty sure wasn’t even around – looks on with disdain, both hands at his face, clawing dramatically at his eyeballs, pretend tears rolling down his face on to his full, fat, red lips.
“Samantha, I need some air,” I almost shout and rush outside where it is somehow still daylight, still summer, still current. The sun looks like a sun so I suppose it is and when I go back inside Samantha is not on the phone that I threw at the wall any longer and I’m not sure if this even happened anymore.
From the corner of my eye I see the editor score through something with a red marker and this worries me. He looks up and winks.
He does not exist. You have to believe me on this one. He does not exist.
The editor, I mean.
He just cannot exist.
I still think you were wrong to delete my post but I should never have been so petty earlier in this thread. So, genuine apologies from me, I was stupid.
Back on track - anyone else have any writing they want to share?
e : content from me, it happens after the bit I put in the OP.
“No, I’m fine. Absolutely great! Really,” I say, “Definitely very, very good! Perhaps world beating!” I laugh, a bellow. “Well, City beating, anyway, and that’s the important thing – am I right, Samantha!” I exclaim and even with the crackly line I can envisage her mouth becoming a smile, the eyes becoming alive and the hemline touched, perhaps raised, legs uncrossing.
“Sure, David, sure,” she laughs and my face is blank, void. “So your numbers are looking ... positive?” she asks even as I pound both fists onto the desk (I’ve muted her, a tip I think the editor gave me when we last spoke) so she doesn’t hear it but I want her to feel it and then I say,” Very.”
“Very, David?” I can hear planes in the background and wonder if she’s at an airport.
“Yes, very,” I say, teeth clenched, before having to add, “Very, very, very, very, very good.” Pause. “Dramatic, even.”
“Well, David that’s gre – wait, dramatic?“ she begins. I cut her off. “These things almost make me smile,” I say before adding apologetically, “Yes, dramatic.”
I stand up from the desk and check the charge on the wireless handset I’m holding. “It’s all so very ... dramatic. Don’t you think?” I gulp. “Global,” I say with a sense of finality. “Maybe even ... pan ... global?” I suggest. “Perpendicular yet ... vertical,” I say flatly.
I’m blind, floundering. I envisage sandcastles that are so tall I can’t even see their summits; huge, spiralling structures and foundations so deep that they touch the core. I see a space so vast that I can’t really comprehend it.
And then I feel very nervous so I suggest, “Samantha, look. I think it’s important that, even with a divide, there should always be a sense of space, width, and – perhaps – light,” I say before smiling, grimacing even, and finishing with “And of course, it’s words that mean something, defining themselves or a situation. Brilliant –“ I wave an arm vacantly around the room, showing both composure and elegance, perhaps greatness, then –“waves of light. A crescendo, if you like. Of,” I stop, eyes cast down, confused, “light?” I finish.
“David? Is everything ... is everything okay? You sound ... uptight, maybe a little highly strung,” she says. Muttering, she adds, “I don’t even know what dramatic is supposed to –“
The editor – who I was pretty sure wasn’t even around – looks on with disdain, both hands at his face, clawing dramatically at his eyeballs, pretend tears rolling down his face on to his full, fat, red lips.
“Samantha, I need some air,” I almost shout and rush outside where it is somehow still daylight, still summer, still current. The sun looks like a sun so I suppose it is and when I go back inside Samantha is not on the phone that I threw at the wall any longer and I’m not sure if this even happened anymore.
From the corner of my eye I see the editor score through something with a red marker and this worries me. He looks up and winks.
He does not exist. You have to believe me on this one. He does not exist.
The editor, I mean.
He just cannot exist.
Last edited:
Associate
- Joined
- 7 Oct 2011
- Posts
- 24
- Location
- Peterborough
bravo maccy thats good thumbs up
Soldato
- Joined
- 22 Feb 2008
- Posts
- 11,114
"Open," he commanded - calmly, repeatedly, as he gripped the shoulders of his newest conquest.
"Open. Let me see!"
Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, slightly swayed in their gravitational journey by the echoing of his pleas against the solemn stone walls of 421 Cardonia Avenue.
He'd spent enough time already on this particular step for every ******* within 30 miles to notice; still, fate had been rather fortuituous so far.
The cold was catching up with him. His attention swayed to the rhythmic shuddering of his arms, particularly noticable by the vibrational transfer to Kate's -- he was sure her name was Kate, wasn't it? -- now otherwise motionless form.
Immediately he could feel the freeze in his clothes, on his facial hair, in his blood; cracking though the steel shutters behind him, revealing his morbid quest to the world. In that same instance he was aware of the sanguine crystals framing the portal to his goal.
It was too late. This wouldn't do.
Yet again he found himself begging to nothing more than a gaping wound in the throat of some completely useless bitch. A statue of flesh whose eyes gazed dully upwards toward a ceiling of gray concrete marred with spreading damp.
Yet again he'd failed.
"Open. Let me see!"
Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, slightly swayed in their gravitational journey by the echoing of his pleas against the solemn stone walls of 421 Cardonia Avenue.
He'd spent enough time already on this particular step for every ******* within 30 miles to notice; still, fate had been rather fortuituous so far.
The cold was catching up with him. His attention swayed to the rhythmic shuddering of his arms, particularly noticable by the vibrational transfer to Kate's -- he was sure her name was Kate, wasn't it? -- now otherwise motionless form.
Immediately he could feel the freeze in his clothes, on his facial hair, in his blood; cracking though the steel shutters behind him, revealing his morbid quest to the world. In that same instance he was aware of the sanguine crystals framing the portal to his goal.
It was too late. This wouldn't do.
Yet again he found himself begging to nothing more than a gaping wound in the throat of some completely useless bitch. A statue of flesh whose eyes gazed dully upwards toward a ceiling of gray concrete marred with spreading damp.
Yet again he'd failed.
Last edited:
- Joined
- 29 Aug 2007
- Posts
- 28,763
- Location
- Auckland
^ You write for a horror website if my memory serves me correctly? I liked that and especially this :
I really like that.
I really like that.
Soldato
- Joined
- 22 Feb 2008
- Posts
- 11,114
Just pulled out this, too. Beginning to a short screenplay that I started but never finished. Really ought to get to polishing up and completing it, as it's a very cool little ghost story:
INT. BELLEVUE ASYLUM RECEPTION - EVENING
Darkness outside creeps through a pair of large glass doors. A DESK CLERK sits, filling in a FORM and taking glances at a group of MONITORS on the desk.
Orderlies walk in and out of doorways.
One of the glass doors opens and a WOMAN walks in. 30 years old, dressed in a smart suit... bespectacled and attractive. The CLERK looks up from his papers as she walks towards him.
DESK CLERK
Hi there, can I help you?
WOMAN
Yes, Clara Stewart... I have an appointment to see Ian Pickman?
DESK CLERK
Ah, the detective! If I can just see your ID, and I’ll need you to sign this form.
He hands her a CLIPBOARD, and she exchanges her ID. He looks at it, then back up at her.
She hands him back the clipboard, form signed. He looks at it.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
Excellent.
He hands her back her ID, and presses a button on the counter. A loud buzzing rings out.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
Graham’ll be here in a sec. He’ll take you to Mr. Pickman’s room.
A beat.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
So what’s the deal with this guy, anyway? I mean, I don’t really get to interact with the patients but the guys tell me he’s a real weirdo... spoutin’ all kinds of crazy ****.
CLARA
Well, that’s what we’re going to find out, isn’t it.
DESK CLERK
Guess so. Here comes Graham.
GRAHAM, 29, walks out of a doorway into the reception area, his white orderly clothing barely concealing his large stomach. Clara turns to greet him.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
Graham, this is Detective Stewart. She’s here to see that new guy... Pickman.
Graham shakes Clara’s hand and smiles.
GRAHAM
Okay, follow me Detective.
He turns and leads her to the door he just came through. He swipes a small card through a reader beside the door, then opens it and walks through. Clara follows behind.
Graham continues to lead the way through bleached-white corridors.
They stop outside a large set of gray metal double-doors.
GRAHAM (CONT’D)
Okay Detective, this is it. I need to take your earrings, pens, anything else loose or sharp you have on you.
Clara removes her earrings and hands then to Graham. Then she removes two pens from her pocket and does the same.
Graham stores them in a baggy and puts them into one of eight drawers embedded in the wall behind him.
CLARA
Is he really that dangerous?
GRAHAM
We don’t take any chances here. Is there anything in the suitcase that could be used as a weapon?
CLARA
No, just papers.
GRAHAM
Okay. Are your glasses absolutely necessary? Can you see without them?
CLARA
Not really, no...
GRAHAM
That’s okay. But if he makes one move towards you, you call. Do you understand?
CLARA
Yes, I understand.
GRAHAM
Okay, he’s in room 12. Slight walk down the corridor. Once we go in, stick to the middle. Don’t go anywhere near the shutters on the doors, even if they’re closed. Some of these freaks can be real sweet-talkers, so don’t even listen to what they’re saying. Pay no attention, don’t even look at ‘em... and if any of them reach towards you, don’t move. There’s enough space between you and them even if they reach out. The last thing you want to do is take too many steps in the wrong direction. These sons of bitches will...
CLARA
I get it, take no chances.
GRAHAM
Take no chances. Okay, let’s go.
He swipes his card through another reader and the doors unlock with a thud.
Graham enters, with Clara again following.
INT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
This corridor is darker... much darker. Doors to the patients’ rooms line the sides, about 8 feet apart. Indecipherable chatter seems to emanate from the very walls, echoing in a cacophony of madness.
Clara holds her arms tightly around herself as Graham slowly leads the way.
She looks to her right. A RATTLING NOISE is coming from one of the doors.
Clara pauses, but Graham continues to walk ahead.
“ROOM 8” Clara stares as the small metal shutter covering the door’s window rattles. Confused, she leans forward intently.
The rattling turns to a violent shake.
A large BOLT falls off the shutter and drops to the floor with a clang. Clara jumps, startled, but can’t pull herself away from what’s unfolding.
The shutter slowly opens outward, a shaft of moonlight gradually illuminating the detective’s face.
INT. BELLEVUE ASYLUM RECEPTION - EVENING
Darkness outside creeps through a pair of large glass doors. A DESK CLERK sits, filling in a FORM and taking glances at a group of MONITORS on the desk.
Orderlies walk in and out of doorways.
One of the glass doors opens and a WOMAN walks in. 30 years old, dressed in a smart suit... bespectacled and attractive. The CLERK looks up from his papers as she walks towards him.
DESK CLERK
Hi there, can I help you?
WOMAN
Yes, Clara Stewart... I have an appointment to see Ian Pickman?
DESK CLERK
Ah, the detective! If I can just see your ID, and I’ll need you to sign this form.
He hands her a CLIPBOARD, and she exchanges her ID. He looks at it, then back up at her.
She hands him back the clipboard, form signed. He looks at it.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
Excellent.
He hands her back her ID, and presses a button on the counter. A loud buzzing rings out.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
Graham’ll be here in a sec. He’ll take you to Mr. Pickman’s room.
A beat.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
So what’s the deal with this guy, anyway? I mean, I don’t really get to interact with the patients but the guys tell me he’s a real weirdo... spoutin’ all kinds of crazy ****.
CLARA
Well, that’s what we’re going to find out, isn’t it.
DESK CLERK
Guess so. Here comes Graham.
GRAHAM, 29, walks out of a doorway into the reception area, his white orderly clothing barely concealing his large stomach. Clara turns to greet him.
DESK CLERK (CONT’D)
Graham, this is Detective Stewart. She’s here to see that new guy... Pickman.
Graham shakes Clara’s hand and smiles.
GRAHAM
Okay, follow me Detective.
He turns and leads her to the door he just came through. He swipes a small card through a reader beside the door, then opens it and walks through. Clara follows behind.
Graham continues to lead the way through bleached-white corridors.
They stop outside a large set of gray metal double-doors.
GRAHAM (CONT’D)
Okay Detective, this is it. I need to take your earrings, pens, anything else loose or sharp you have on you.
Clara removes her earrings and hands then to Graham. Then she removes two pens from her pocket and does the same.
Graham stores them in a baggy and puts them into one of eight drawers embedded in the wall behind him.
CLARA
Is he really that dangerous?
GRAHAM
We don’t take any chances here. Is there anything in the suitcase that could be used as a weapon?
CLARA
No, just papers.
GRAHAM
Okay. Are your glasses absolutely necessary? Can you see without them?
CLARA
Not really, no...
GRAHAM
That’s okay. But if he makes one move towards you, you call. Do you understand?
CLARA
Yes, I understand.
GRAHAM
Okay, he’s in room 12. Slight walk down the corridor. Once we go in, stick to the middle. Don’t go anywhere near the shutters on the doors, even if they’re closed. Some of these freaks can be real sweet-talkers, so don’t even listen to what they’re saying. Pay no attention, don’t even look at ‘em... and if any of them reach towards you, don’t move. There’s enough space between you and them even if they reach out. The last thing you want to do is take too many steps in the wrong direction. These sons of bitches will...
CLARA
I get it, take no chances.
GRAHAM
Take no chances. Okay, let’s go.
He swipes his card through another reader and the doors unlock with a thud.
Graham enters, with Clara again following.
INT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
This corridor is darker... much darker. Doors to the patients’ rooms line the sides, about 8 feet apart. Indecipherable chatter seems to emanate from the very walls, echoing in a cacophony of madness.
Clara holds her arms tightly around herself as Graham slowly leads the way.
She looks to her right. A RATTLING NOISE is coming from one of the doors.
Clara pauses, but Graham continues to walk ahead.
“ROOM 8” Clara stares as the small metal shutter covering the door’s window rattles. Confused, she leans forward intently.
The rattling turns to a violent shake.
A large BOLT falls off the shutter and drops to the floor with a clang. Clara jumps, startled, but can’t pull herself away from what’s unfolding.
The shutter slowly opens outward, a shaft of moonlight gradually illuminating the detective’s face.
Caporegime
- Joined
- 1 Dec 2010
- Posts
- 53,766
- Location
- Welling, London
I have always wanted to write a novel, but always lacked the motivation and self confidence. I am a bit lost structure wise as well.
Any decent sites which give good tips to budding novelists?
Any decent sites which give good tips to budding novelists?
Soldato
- Joined
- 22 Feb 2008
- Posts
- 11,114
Absolute Write is a must-read for some really great insight, though structure is really what you make it. That's what separates some of the really great authors with others: Their use of structure. Be innovative, split things up that you otherwise would have thought should form part of a sentence. Or, perhaps, let that form a massive run-on. It's all about how it reads and thus the feeling it conveys.
For example, a split sentence could convey calculation, order. The same sentence as a run-on could convey haste, panic, mania -- a split decision. It's all how YOU use your words.
- Joined
- 29 Aug 2007
- Posts
- 28,763
- Location
- Auckland
I really enjoy writing run-ons and whilst I know their effectiveness diminishes the more I use them, I can't help myself. Short sentences also work.