Tags:
Sci Fi Fantasy
Script:
James only stared. He could feel the exhaustion, the poison in his veins, waiting to rush back to claim him. He was desperate to get to Cordelia before he collapsed. Get out of my way, he snarled, his voice rasping out of his dry throat. Belial chuckled. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. It's a nice thought, isn't it? From the book of James, too. He leaned toward James, and James could smell the burnt chalk scent of him. I see that you begin to understand a fraction of the power you could have if you embraced your true heritage, he whispered. The blood you share with me is far more powerful than the blood you share with Raziel. What power do you think you will have if you remain what you are now? Let me be, James said hoarsely. I won't let you. Enough, Belial roared. You think I would allow you to let this body die? You have no choice, you. Belial's left arm jerked backward. James' eyes widened as Cortana flew from Belial's hand, ripping free of his clawed fingers. Belial cried out, twisting around to see what James himself had only just seen. Cordelia, standing behind them, her gear shredded from the knees down. Cortana flew to her like a bird. She reached out for her blade, and it thumped home against her bloody palm. It's very rude to take someone else's sword without asking, she said. Belial's eyes narrowed. He raised his hand, and the ground under Cordelia's feet began to crack open. She sprang toward Belial, driving Cortana into the demon's chest in a single, smooth motion. Belial roared in agony. Blood spilled from the wound, the color of dark rubies, a shimmering red-black. Fools, Belial hissed. You have no idea what you've done.
Tags:
3rd Person
Thriller
Script:
Twyla was raw. The waitress arrived and chirped, are you folk ready to order? Twyla jumped in. I'll have a fill up on this and some wheat toast, dry, no jelly. Roy put his menu down, side, and ready to give his order. Before you tell me, what color eyes do you have? The waitress, confused, said, hazel? Roy continued, did you get them from your mama or your papa? Daddy, I believe. Roy, real quiet, says, would you thank him for the rest of the world? The waitress clucked, he's dead, April. Twyla thought about this. What will a man do to get buckwheat pancakes and a pineapple milkshake for breakfast? I'm on the planet Zoom.
Tags:
1st Person Mystery Thriller
Script:
We found a table for two in the lobby near the piano. The pianist, dressed in a dark suit, was playing Broadway show tunes. And I said to Sarah, I'm not having an authentic Cuban experience yet. You will when we're trying to outrun the police. You'd think she'd served in combat, where we made jokes about death every day. A disinterested waitress came to our table and we ordered brandies. Sarah asked, did you enjoy the evening? I enjoyed being with you. She smiled, you're an easy pickup, I'm following your script. I changed the subject and said, Antonio is an asshole. You're giving him some competition, definitely a bit sassy. Maybe I bring that out in women. I advised her, be careful of him. I know that. And I assume Carlos briefed you about the Chavatos, the police informants? He did. Cuba looks deceptively like any Caribbean tropical paradise. And the police state is not always apparent. So some people let their guard down. I hear you. We checked our cell phones, but we had no service. Though we exchanged phone numbers in case Verizon put a cell tower on the roof this week. I'll send you the photos of us in front of the Buick. She smiled. I said, good question about the beach. Thank you. What was that about Desnudo and Playa? She smiled again. So you recognize important words in Spanish? She translated. He said there was a nude beach in Mayabec for foreigners only. But he would be allowed to go as my private guide. She added, he has a car, pig. I hope you're not the jealous type. I didn't think I was, but I had my moment. More to the point, when Sarah and I went missing, Antonio would report the beach conversation to the police, which would hopefully lead them on a wild goose chase.
Tags:
Romance Rom Com
Script:
Have you found a date to the wedding yet?" his mother said, interrupting his reverie. Um, no, he replied, to stall for time, but I'm working on it. I hung out with Riley Stone the other night, you remember him? Your old quarterback, she nodded, heard about him? Been divorced all this time and acts like dating is his job. Anybody can pin him down, at least that's what the church ladies say. You'd think that he was a blue-ribboned cow the way they carry on. He snerked a laugh, finishing his decaf coffee. Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, he said he might help me find someone. Okay, he'd more caution than offered help, but at least it showed effort. Does he even know any nice women? His mother asked, her eyebrow arched with skepticism, because, oh, hi, Janine. Aiden looked up to see Deb there, smiling broadly at his mother. His mother gave her a small smile. Hi, Deb, his mother said as warmly as he'd ever heard her. He remembered Deb from the after-church get-together at the diner, and remembered Riley's comments about her. She wants to get remarried, she's into you. We talked about coming here for dinner on Thursdays, his mother said, and Aiden had a sneaking suspicion that there was a reason she'd lingered so long. I didn't realize you ate so late. I like to treat myself from time to time, Deb said, sending Aiden a coy smile. I didn't know the two of you were going to be here. How nice. Did you want to join us? His mother asked, and he panicked. He quickly cleared his throat. I actually just asked for the check, he said, and his mother scowled at him. Sorry, Deb, I have a thing I have to do tonight, and I need to run mom home first, so... Her face fell for a second, and then her bright smile came out in full force. No problem. Maybe we can have dinner some other time? She winked. Was the wink to let him know she was joking? Oh God, he hoped that was the case. Oh, but that reminds me, Riley said that you wanted to come to my football party. His mother's gaze shot to him, and she raised an eyebrow. If that's all right, he asked. I didn't mean to invite myself. I just thought... No, I'd love to have you, Deb said. You've been in town all this time, and you haven't really gotten out much. I mean, that was understandable with your father and all. I was so sorry for your loss. His mother flinched slightly. Another year, the loss was still a tender spot, but she was also looking at him expectantly, her gaze flitting from him to Deb, and then back, her intent clear. Oh God, this was uncomfortable.
Tags:
Irish Fantasy
Script:
He was an exquisite little man, adorned in sartorial splendor. He was sitting on the hedgerow bank with his legs crossed. His features were perfect. He wore a royal blue suit and matching hat. Gleaming gold buttons lined his jacket and equally resplendent gold buckles were embalmed on his belt and shoes. Eddie O'Brien and his young son, Leo, were on a mission for kindling firewood. A fire in their home was needed for not only heat, but to cook the evening dinner. They were walking along the hedgerow banks where wild strawberries presented a tasty temptation for the young Leo. As his father continued to gather the kindling, Leo became distracted by the delectably appetizing strawberries and began to sample a few. In an era during which common dinner fare could be boiled nettles and potatoes, strawberries offered a tasty treat for a young boy. As young Leo began to gorge on the ripe strawberries, he failed to notice a small man sitting on the grassy bank with his legs crossed. He observed Leo placing the strawberries into his eager maw, and at some point Leo noticed a small man on the bank. The wee man greeted Leo with a pleasant, Hello. To which Leo replied, How are you? In return. What might you be doing, young lad? The man queried. Leo answered sheepishly, Eating strawberries? His cheeks grew red to match the color of the strawberries, and after devouring another his gaze returned to the bank, but in that instant the little man was gone.
Tags:
Male Female Dialogue
Script:
Nadir stumbled down the stairs, waking his mom, who was slack-mouthed on the couch. His mother said, how did, how long have you been here? Nadir said, I spent the night. She froze, and then started rubbing her knuckles. Dear, well, when you didn't come for dinner, I was worried. I made a couple of calls. Mom, who did you call? Your boss? No, not Garvey. I was worried. Don't look at me like that. He was worried, too.
Tags:
Irish
Thriller
Script:
Cormac once again turned to Sergeant Neely, the only member of the Dingle Gardee he'd allowed to remain with him on the small, curved beach. Although she was no doubt used to being the one in charge, she was giving Cormac room, letting him do his thing. Not that she had much choice, but Cormac was grateful she wasn't sending out any territorial vibes, or Cormac would be forced to pull rank. The guards back in Killarney sometimes called Cormac Napoleon behind his back. And he didn't need that business starting up here. The rest of the guards were gathered in the car park, along the road, and perched atop the cliff. I want to go over it again. This time, DS Neely heard him, and her head popped up. She was somewhere in her 60s, if he had to guess. But she was well preserved, with a lean, strong body. Right so, if she was sick and tired of repeating herself, she had the decency not to show it. Repetition helped Cormac think. Johnny O'Reilly, 69 years of age, wealthy racehorse owner. The O'Reillys have a massive estate and horse barns just outside of town. Ever hear of Ruby? DS Neely was looking at Cormac as if the answer should be a resounding yes. Ruby slippers, he quipped. Neely frowned. What's that now? Click my heels three times? He attempted a smile. No place like home? Neely shook her head, a look of exasperation stamped on her face. She was a beauty of a racehorse, so she was. Ruby was the O'Reilly's pride and joy, their first million pound purse winner. Cormac tried to feign interest. It was obvious the sergeant expected him to be impressed. Her sire was named Last Dance. Now she had his attention. Is that so? He glanced at the message written in stone and waited for her to offer more. She did not. Let me guess, another million euro purse winner? She shook her head. You really don't know? The tone of her voice was clear. He was an eejit.
Tags:
British
Mystery
Script:
Sherlock Holmes struck his hand against his knee with an impatient gesture. "'If only I had been there!' he cried. "'It is evidently a case of extraordinary interest, and one which presented immense opportunities to the scientific expert. That gravel page upon which I might have read, so much has been long ere this smudged by the rain and defaced by the clogs of curious peasants. "'Oh, Dr. Mortimer, Dr. Mortimer, to think that you should not have called me in! You have indeed much to answer for.' "'I would not call you in, Mr. Holmes, without disclosing these facts to the world, and I have already given my reasons for not wishing to do so. Besides—besides—' "'Why do you hesitate? There is a realm in which the most acute and most experienced of detectives is helpless. You mean that the thing is supernatural?' "'I did not positively say so.' "'No, but you evidently think it. Since the tragedy, Mr. Holmes, there have come to my ear several incidents which are hard to reconcile with the settled order of nature. For example, I find that before the terrible event occurred, several people had seen a creature upon the moor which corresponds with this Baskerville demon, and which could not possibly be any animal known to science. They all agreed that it was a huge creature, luminous, ghastly, and spectral. I have cross-examined these men, one of them a hard-headed countryman, one a farrier, and one a moorland farmer, who all tell the same story of this dreadful apparition, exactly corresponding to the hellhound of the legend. I assure you that there is a reign of terror in the district, and that it is a hardy man who will cross the moor at night.'
Tags:
1st Person
Script:
It wasn't until I was 11 or 12 that I found out that I colored the world each day. I guessed my parents or grandparents did it in the morning before I got up. One day, I woke up early and out my window everything was sort of black and white. No, not black and white, sort of gray. I stood there and made colors come to stuff, the houses and the trees. Now, when I get up and go to the bathroom, if I go back to bed and my wife goes to the bathroom and comes back and we kiss, there is trouble. When we come down to the kitchen and feed our boys, they're suspicious. They have even asked questions like, why are you guys so pink? I tell them to eat their cereal. They'll get it soon enough.