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14 January 2011 @ 07:33 am
NaScreeWriMo - Day Seventy-Five  
Sigh.  My scripts always run too long.  It'll be interesting, in revision, trying to cut this son of a bitch down.  It really doesn't need to be any longer than 100 pages total, considering the genre, but I'm going to be lucky to wrap up this first draft in 130.  Ugh.

INT. MIRA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Samuel enters, Mira following. She never takes her eyes off him, but it’s a wary study this time.

SAMUEL
(looking around)
A nice room, and it will do for now, but we’ll
certainly find something better. Maybe a suite
next to the library?
 
He turns down the bedcovers, pats the mattress.

SAMUEL (CONT’D)
Come on, then.

MIRA
He’s fine.

SAMUEL
What?

MIRA
Your son. As far as I know, he’s fine. I’d like
to check and make sure before I start
picking out new curtains, but apparently
our child isn’t important to you anymore.
 
Samuel looks at her, something wily and hard in his eyes.

SAMUEL
Of course Dominik is important to me.

MIRA
So you remember his name.

SAMUEL
Everything’s changed, Mira! Don’t you see that?
You can’t just pretend everything will go back to
the way it was. Why would you even want that? Don’t
you want more? More than a one-room cottage
with a leaky roof, squawking chickens, and a half-starved cow?

MIRA
Once, I did.
(beat)
There’s something I haven’t been able to work out yet. Does
Janos think he will trick me? Does he hope to break me?
Or does he think he will make me kill you, so that I will be driven mad?

SAMUEL
What are you talking about?
 
Mira just watches him. Samuel approaches her. As he does, he passes in front of the vanity mirror. No reflection - it FROSTS over.

SAMUEL (CONT’D)
Answer me!

MIRA
You are not my husband, and I am glad.
 
Samuel STRIKES - his hands go around Mira’s throat and begin to strangle. She does not struggle or fight.

MIRA (CONT’D)
(chokes out)
I doubt...this is what you master wants from you.
 
One beat where Samuel continues to strangle her, his face contorted with rage. Then he releases her, steps back. He looks down at his hands, seeming anguish on his face.

SAMUEL
What is happening to me? Mira?

MIRA
(tears)
Don’t.

SAMUEL
I’ve never felt such anger before. As though it
came from outside me.

MIRA
Don’t pretend like you feel anything. You’re not him!
 
Samuel looks to the mirror. Stares at the empty room reflected there.

SAMUEL
No. I’m not.
 
That contortion of rage again, and Samuel picks up the brush on the vanity and SMASHES it into the mirror, breaking it. Beat, then he looks up sharply.

SAMUEL (CONT’D)
He’s calling for me.
 
Samuel moves toward the door, listening. Mira sidles over, grabs a shard of mirror, and tucks it into her sleeve.

MIRA
What does he want?

SAMUEL
You. And he’ll have you before this is finished.
 
Samuel grabs her arm, HAULS her out of the room.
 
 
 
nhpwnhpw on January 14th, 2011 02:17 pm (UTC)
I always think it's better to have TOO MUCH and have to trim the fat, rather than having too little and not knowing how to fill in the empty space - but maybe that's just me.

Anyway. Poor Samuel :( Question about him, though. When he's speaking here:

SAMUEL
What is happening to me? Mira?


and here:

Samuel looks to the mirror. Stares at the empty room reflected there.

SAMUEL
No. I’m not.


Is his reaction truly that he does not understand what happened to him, or is he trying to win Mira's favor by playing innocent? I couldn't quite tell if his emotions (the confusion and the anger) were real or if they were a ploy to keep Mira "on his side", so to speak.





Shannonkungfuwaynewho on January 14th, 2011 04:31 pm (UTC)
Oh, I agree as far as editing goes; I just ALWAYS run too long. IDK.

I am trying to portray Samuel as someone who has become pretty screwed up entirely, with everything that's happened, so the brief instances where he's confused should be the real him poking back through. I'll try to make that clearer when I revise. Although...I'm wondering if I want to do Samuel-redux at all, since Mira's already lost him once and grieved and everything. I'm worried about it being redundant.