Showing posts with label Fragment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fragment. Show all posts

13 June 2024

The Superman Trilogy: Part I – The Last Son of Krypton (Fragment + Treatment)

A decade ago, I began working on a script for The Last Son of Krypton, the first part of a trilogy focusing on Clark Kent's upbringing in Smallville, his activities during the Great Depression, and his first year as Superman in the early-to-mid 20th century.


It's been almost three years since I last updated this script. When my previous laptop died in November 2022, I lost a chunk of the screenplay I was still working on, throwing me into a tizzy. And ADHD and depression have long been demotivators in my life, with the latter getting worse since my mother died. I fully intended to get back to work on it, but life's been hurtling barrage after barrage of hardships on me ever since and I've never been able to get back into a constructive headspace. So I've decided to make it official: progress on this screenplay's on indefinite hiatus.

For my long-suffering readers who've had to bear with constant revisions and a dearth of updates, it's not fair that they don't get to know where I intended to go with this and the rest of my Superman trilogy. Below's an outline covering where I intended to go with this screenplay. I'll do my best to summarize my ideas for the rest of the trilogy in a follow-up post.

* * *

Luthor makes the trip to the fertilizer plant. As he touches base with Vale then visits Subject One in her cell, we learn more about Subject One. The same time Clark's stasis matrix arrived in Smallville, hers touched down in the East Coast, crashing and causing a devastating fire in a munitions factory owned by Luthor Incorporated. The matrix was found undamaged and Subject One retrieved soon after, whereupon she was taken into captivity and subjected to scientific observation/experimentation. While not a constant presence in her life, Luthor's the only person she knows who's shown her any affection, having given her gifts on the occasions he's visited her in the past. It's obvious,  however, that Luthor's tenderness is purely performative, the ruse of a charismatic manipulator, that the gifts he's given her — mostly in the form of books authored by figures such as Hobbes and Poe — were curated to make her subservient to him and fearful of the outside world.

Through guilt-tripping and bribery, Luthor wheedles out of Subject One knowledge of her super-hearing. He then tells her of the stasis matrix, the disc found within it, and his desire to learn their secrets, persuading her to interact with them and pass on anything they reveal to him. Under controlled conditions, Subject One's taken to the laboratory housing her matrix and given the disc. Upon finding a niche the exact shape/size of the disc in the matrix's side, she inserts it. Upon doing so, she's thrown back, suffering a violent seizure which leaves her catatonic. Vale performs a cerebral angiography on Subject One, but the underlying cause of her condition eludes them. Luthor orders Subject One fitted with a feeding tube and placed under observation until further tests can be arranged. Unbeknownst to her keepers, Subject One's feigning her affliction. No longer periodically exposed to red kryptonite, her powers gradually return in 72 hours. Then using her x-ray vision to map the layout of the plant, she speedily neutralizes her guards, retrieves the disc, and escapes.

Using her disc as a homing device, Subject One makes the trek from Metropolis to Smallville. Along the way, she crosses paths with a gas trucker who attempts to sexually assault her. Brutally disabling him, she tears his truck apart in a fit of rage, causing a tremendous explosion. The conflagration incinerates her clothing but leaves her unscathed.

Clark pursues his relationship with Helen in secret. Though neither his schoolwork nor chores suffer, he neglects his friendship with Lana and Pete, who've started dating. The amount of time he spends with Helen also draws Jonathan's ire, who's suspicious of Helen's intentions.

Subject One arrives in Smallville. She follows the disc to the Kent farm and begins discretely spying on the Kents. It isn't long before she learns Clark's the one she's looking for.

Early one morning, just before sunrise, Kenny pays Clark a visit. Frantic, he tells Clark that he shot and killed his father and needs Clark's help disposing of the body and gun. Clark reluctantly accompanies Kenny into the woods with the corpse. As Kenny begins digging the grave, Clark changes his mind about helping him, urging Kenny to turn himself in to the police. As the two boys argue, Subject One, who's been tailing them, reveals herself. Taken by surprise, Kenny reflexively fires at the naked girl. Uninjured but angered, she grabs Kenny's gun hand, crushing both, but Clark's able to talk her down before she can do him any worse harm. Clark takes Subject One back to the farm, leaving her in the care of his parents while he goes back for Kenny. He finds Kenny back at his home where he prevents him from committing suicide, revealing his powers in the process. The sheriff arrives and takes a bewildered Kenny into custody.

With the Kents, Subject One's clothed and fed. Though claiming to have amnesia, she recalls that her name's Mala. Initially reserved around Martha and Jonathan, Mala warms up to them the more time she spends with them — helping Jonathan with firewood, receiving a haircut from Martha, etc. — though only truly relaxes when alone with Clark.

After Lana catches Helen and Clark in bed together, Clark confides in her that his relationship with her aunt's purely physical and emotionally unfulfilling. He stops seeing Helen shortly thereafter.

As Thanksgiving approaches, Helen invites the Kents to join her and her sister's family at her house for Thanksgiving dinner. Mala, passed off as a distant relative, accompanies them. Upon meeting Helen, Mala takes an immediate disliking to her. After Helen pressures Clark to assist her in the kitchen, the dinner commences. Helen immediately acts passive-aggressively toward her guests, with especial attention given to Clark and Jonathan, the gibes and innuendoes growing less passive and more aggressive as time presses on. Tensions mount until finally Helen shoves a pecan pie — which Martha's allergic to — in Martha's face. Pandemonium ensues. Screaming at Clark that he's just like his father, Helen slaps him across the face, breaking her hand in the process. Mala grabs Helen by the throat, holding her aloft, choking her until the others persuade her to drop her. Falling to her knees, Helen breaks down crying.

Later that night, back at the farm, Clark and Jonathan have a private conversation in the barn. Jonathan reveals to Clark that he had an affair with Helen years ago. Sad and angry at Martha's inability to have children, he went to bed with Helen out of spite. But when Clark entered their lives, Jonathan and Martha were able to reconnect and his love for her was restored. He immediately ended things with Helen, but never told Martha of his infidelity. Clark advises his father that the time's come to tell her. Jonathan agrees and goes inside. From the barn, Clark spies Jonathan telling Martha everything. She's heartbroken.

Mala joins Clark in the barn and they have a brief conversation on human nature; her appraisal's decidedly cynical while his is cautiously optimistic. She then confides in him, revealing that she was never amnesiac. She tells him of her life imprisoned, of the years subjected to cold, clinical experiments devised by amoral scientists, that the little love she received was false, that she was never given a name, only a number. Then she tells him she does have a name: Mala-Sonn, genetic offspring of Sela-Sonn and Dax-Ur. She tells him of Krypton, doomed to explode, and the Kryptonians, genetically bound to their planet, doomed to perish with it. She tells him that she and he were of 144,000 Kryptonian supermen genetically engineered to live free of Krypton and thrive as gods on Earth. Taking Clark's hands in hers, she levitates them off the ground, revealing that she's capable of flight. She tells Clark it's time he learned who he is and accept his destiny.

Clark and Mala visit his stasis matrix, disc in hand. He asks Mala what the "S" stands for. She tells him it's had many meanings across the millennia — it's been a Raoist religious icon, a family crest for the great houses, a symbol for hope. Over and above all, it represents Krypton itself. Inserting the disc into its niche, Clark's greeted by an AI gatekeeper, the Voice of Rao. The Voice touches Clark's brow, and in an instant Clark's bequeathed with understanding of Kryptonian languages, technology, history, and his own identity; he's Kal-El, genetic offspring of Jor-El and Lara-Van. The stasis matrix then transmogrifies into a pedestal which transport Clark and Mala across the world to the Fortress of Solitude in Antarctica. Accessing the Fortress' computer, Mala brings up a display of Earth marking the whereabouts of all the stasis matrices across the globe. Mala tells Clark that they must seek out their brethren, then together reshape humanity according to proper Kryptonian ways. Clark tells her that for all he's discovered of his heritage, none of it defines him. Krypton may've bred and bore him, but Earth made him who he is. He'll always cherish the memories of Krypton given to him, but he won't be party to colonialism. He urges Mala to come back with him to Smallville to think things through. Mala hesitantly agrees.

Spring 1935. A drought's come to Smallville and the Kent farm's not fairing well. During a conversation with Clark, Mala remarks that with the Fortress' resources, they could put this drought to an end.

One weekend, Clark goes into town to hang out with Lana and Pete at the general store. It's a blustery day, but it gets worse as a twister forms. Tearing through the Kent farm, it doesn't hit the house, though it obliterates the crops and sweeps Mala up into it. The twister then moves toward town. Clark wants to stay and help, but Lana and Pete pull him with them for cover. Meanwhile, Mala emerges unscathed from the whirlwind and gets to work swooping folks out of danger. In the aftermath, Clark laments on how he could've done more if only he had her power of flight. Mala responds by saying he possesses all the same powers she has; its only his insecurities holding him back.

The story of the "guardian angel" who saved people from the twister appears in the Smallville town newspaper, accompanied by an unclear photo of Mala in flight. Luthor catches wind of the story and comes to the conclusion that Mala's hiding somewhere in Smallville. Luthor then gets the idea to reach out to all the linguists he consulted eighteen years ago to decipher the Kryptonian script on Mala's key to learn if any of them have connections to Smallville. His search leads him to Frederick Walden, a grammatologist who refused to work with Luthor. Walden passed away years ago, but his landlady held onto all his correspondence, which she allows Luthor to keep. Reading through the letters, Luthor learns Walden briefly corresponded with Jonathan in regards to the same Kryptonian script.

Luthor sends his men to the Kent farm. Equipped with red kryptonite, they nullify Clark and Mala's powers and take them and Jonathan and Martha into custody. Back at the fertilizer plant, the prisoners are brought before Luthor. Luthor gives Mala an ultimatum: she'll give up all her secrets or he'll have the Kents shot and Clark dissected. Reunited with her stasis matrix, Mala inserts her key, transporting her, Vale, and several technicians and armed guards to the Fortress of Solitude. At gunpoint, Mala leads her captors to the nucleus of the Fortress. Activating the computer, she neutralizes the red kryptonite radiation in her system. Her abilities restored, she massacres Vale and the others. Outfitting herself in a suit of body armour, Mala transports back to the fertilizer plant. Shielded from the red kryptonite of Luthor's guards' weapons, she tears through them, rescuing the Kents. She then corners Luthor, taunting him as she powers up her suit's wrist-mounted blaster. Telling Luthor to burn, she fires a particle beam into him, right through his spine, setting him ablaze.

Mala and the Kents return to Smallville. Having ditched the body armour, Mala talks with Clark in the barn. She informs him matter-of-factly that she has every intention of using the Fortress' resources to track down the other Kryptonians and subjugate humanity, that he'd better help her or stay out of her way. They get into a brutal fight. Bringing the barn down on top of them, their battle takes them clear across the ravaged Kent property, all the way outside town limits. There, Clark barely manages to defeat Mala, punching her unconscious.

When Mala regains consciousness, she finds herself back in the Fortress, contained within a force field. Clark's there to tell her that he's used the time to familiarize himself with the Fortress computer; he's created a computer virus which'll shut the Fortress down for good. Mala pleads for him not to do this, but despite her cries and his own reluctance, Clark follows through. As the systems running the Fortress crash, the force field imprisoning Mala winks out. Clark's resigned to resume their fight if that's what Mala wants. Though fuming, she remarks there's no point to that now. Using the last of the Fortress' power, Clark and Mala transport back to Smallville. She informs him that the time's come for them to go their separate ways. She has the general locations of the other stasis matrices memorized, and she'll seek out the other Kryptonians in due time. She'll convince as many as she can to join her, and even without the Fortress to aid them they'll conquer Earth; in that time to come, Clark'll be made to pay in full for what he's done.

Weeks pass. Their farm heading toward failure, Jonathan and Martha consider their options: taking out a loan they're uncertain they'll be able to pay back or cutting their losses and selling their property. Clark and his schoolmates graduate. Clark writes to Kenny, who's in prison. Back in Metropolis, Luthor's revealed to still be alive but in a coma, kept breathing in an iron lung.

This chapter draws to a close with Clark and Lana walking together through the countryside on a moonlit summer night. Clark finally opens up to Lana, confessing his love for her and his desire to begin a romantic relationship. Lana reveals her own feelings for him and her desire to reciprocate. Clark then admits that he's been keeping secrets from her, that they can't be together until he's told her everything. Scooping Lana up in his arms, Clark leaps into the sky, taking them one-eighth of a mile across the countryside. Lana's flabbergasted.

20 December 2021

Stargate Reimagined: Part II (A Fragment)

Over a year ago, I posted the rough draft of my Stargate II script. At this time, I'm close to finishing Act I of the first draft. Almost nothing from the rough draft carried over to this version, which'll be a loose adaptation of Bill McCay's Stargate: Rebellion, including a few elements from his other novels Retaliation and Retribution, once it's complete.

* * *

FADE IN

On catacomb walls.

Upon the walls, bathed in torchlight, are painted murals. Though similar in style to those created by the ancient Egyptians, these are cruder and less colourful. The scenes they depict are of Atum's underlords expanding the Imperium beyond Earth and Abdju, establishing colonies on multiple worlds, each with their own stargates.

TITLE: STARGATE II

FADE TO

A funeral.

EXT. CEMETERY — DAY

It is a rainy day. A wooden casket rests upon the ground above where it's to be buried, surrounded by bouquets of flowers. Thirty-odd mourners are present, shielding themselves beneath black umbrellas. Among them is MASTER SERGEANT ADAM KAWALSKY. In his blue dress uniform, he stands out from the rest.

Standing at the head of the casket, across from the mourners, a Lutheran pastor delivers a eulogy.

PASTOR

(cont'd) Karin Langford was more than just kind and generous. She had a gift … of an endless, open minded, childlike curiosity. She saw the world not for what it was, but for what it could be. And she saw potential in people that others failed to recognize. Like her father before her, her contributions to Egyptology have changed the world more than most people know….

Time passes.

The mourners are dispersing, leaving Kawalsky standing near the casket. A 25-YEAR-OLD WOMAN with long, wavy red hair and blue eyes approaches the sergeant from behind.

SABRINA

Uh, Sergeant Kawalsky?

Kawalsky turns to face her.

SABRINA

Hi. I'm Sabrina Gosling. Karin's grandniece?

KAWALSKY

Oh, hi.

Kawalsky shakes Sabrina's hand, returning her smile.

SABRINA

Thank you for coming.

KAWALSKY

I'm sorry Daniel couldn't be here. He really wishes he could've made it. He had nothing but the utmost respect for Ms. Langford.

SABRINA

He's tied up in a government project. I understand. Thank you for coming on his behalf. I know she would've really appreciated it.

Sabrina opens her purse. Reaching in, she brings out a familiar trinket: Karin's Eye of Atum pendant.

SABRINA

She wanted Dr. Jackson to have this.

Sabrina hands the pendant to Kawalsky. He accepts it.

EXT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN — SUNSET

Guards patrol the entrance to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex.

INT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN/LEVEL 15/DANIEL'S QUARTERS

Inside the medium-sized quarters we find DANIEL JACKSON. Clad in a tank top and boxers, he performs a set of push-ups while opera music plays from the stereo atop his table. Through the one-month growth of hair on his head, a number of small, fresh biopsy scars mark his cranium.

Hearing the lock on his door disengage, Daniel sits up. The door opens, admitting Kawalsky. The sergeant is garbed in a hazmat suit.

DANIEL

Adam. How went the funeral?

KAWALSKY

About as well as those things can go.

Approaching Daniel, the sergeant brings out the pendant.

KAWALSKY

She had this for you.

Daniel takes the pendant, staring at it.

DANIEL

She was her family. She should've kept this.

KAWALSKY

Karin thought of you like a son.

Daniel sets the pendant aside.

DANIEL

How's Sha'ure?

KAWALSKY

Good. Her English's coming along nicely.

DANIEL

(tapping head) If she had my little pals, she'd have a better grasp of the language than either of us, instantly. (beat) Of course, if she did, she'd be locked in this cell here with me.

Daniel begins a set of sit-ups.

INT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN/LEVEL 28/EMBARKATION ROOM

The embarkation room's been heavily fortified since the survivors of the Abdju Mission returned. Three  Browning .50 calibre machine guns have been set up facing the stargate. Along the ramp have been planted claymore mines. A metal plug's been inserted through the stargate itself, obstructing the crystal torus. Canisters of nerve gas have even been installed in case the other deterrents fail.

Near the left exit, THREE AIRMEN are seated around a card table playing poker.

AIRMAN #1
 
Oh, man, this hand's as lousy as this detail. (beat) Alright, everybody, ante up. (dealing cards) Seven to the deuce, nothin' there. Boss and the eight, nothin' happenin'. And the jack gets a box.

FEMALE AIRMAN

(antsy) Aren't you guys afraid of somethin' coming through?

AIRMAN #2

It's been idle since the plug was put in. Trust me, nobody's coming through.

AIRMAN #1

(scoffing) All this fortification, and all it did was cost money. They've been shippin' personnel outta here for months.

EXT. PENTAGON — NIGHT

An aerial view of the Pentagon.

INT. PENTAGON/GEN. WEST'S OFFICE

GENERAL W. O. WEST is at his desk going over paperwork. A knock is heard at the door.

GEN. WEST

Come.

CAPTAIN SAMANTHA CARTER enters. Closing the door, she approaches the general's desk, bringing her hand up in salute. Though blonde, blue-eyed, and very beautiful, Carter is no stereotypical Hollywood ditz. Everything about the captain's manner — her disciplined stance, her keen, attentive gaze — indicates she is quite the intelligent, resourceful woman.

GEN. WEST

(saluting) Capt. Carter.

CARTER

(saluting) Sir.

GEN. WEST

Not much for small talk, are you, Captain? (beat) I'm rejecting your request to release Daniel Jackson from quarantine.

CARTER

Sir, Project Giza can't continue without his assistance.

GEN. WEST

He can assist you quite well from where he is.

CARTER

I may need him in the field.

GEN. WEST

Lest you forget, Jackson's carrying technology from a hostile and very formidable enemy inside his body.

CARTER

Lingual nanites, sir.

GEN. WEST

Are you 100% positive that's all they are?

CARTER

Research on the nanites is preliminary. However —

GEN. WEST

Dr. Jackson will remain in quarantine until our people are assured he poses no risk to the general population.

CARTER

With all due respect, General —

GEN. WEST

Dismissed, Captain.

Carter stiffens. Nodding her obeisance, she leaves.

INT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN/LEVEL 15/DANIEL'S QUARTERS

Daniel and SHA'URE cling to one another in his bed, their breath coming in tight gasps as their bodies writh in passion. Sha'ure's pale skin seems to glow in the darkness, her flesh soft but sturdy … and very, very active. There's a frantic quality to their coupling, as if they fear interruption at any moment. No time for encouragement, endearments, or words at all.

Blood pounds as they race towards climax. Then the moment comes. Sha'ure gives a great, wounded cry —

Daniel awakes with a convulsive shudder, sitting bolt upright on his cot. He glances down at the crotch of his underwear; he's disgraced himself.

DANIEL

Fuck….

There's another couple knocks at the door. Daniel repositions himself, taking care to hide the wet spot on his boxers.

CARTER

(O.S.) Dr. Jackson?

DANIEL

(irate) I'm up.

Carter enters, clad in a hazmat suit like the one Kawalsky wore earlier.

DANIEL

We met before?

She steps forward, offering her hand.

CARTER

(grinning) We haven't, no. I'm Capt. Samantha Carter, director of Project Giza.

DANIEL

(shaking her hand) Karin Langford was director.

CARTER

I succeeded her after the project was fully militarized.

DANIEL

I can't imagine the last four months have given you much to show for it.

CARTER

That's why I've come to you.

DANIEL

Please sit down, Capt. Carter.

The captain takes Daniel's chair, turning it to face him before taking a seat. She sits there, eyes twinkling like those of a star-struck teen. Daniel shifts uncomfortably under her gaze.

CARTER

I'm sorry. It's just … you're the rarest of all seekers after truth — the crackpot who's proven correct. I predict your name will feature heavily in scientific literature of the future. You'll be another Galileo or Semmelweis, reviled by the so-called experts of their day, but shown to be right.

DANIEL

I hope I'm still alive and sane to enjoy the fame. (beat) Thanks for your good wishes, Captain. But if we could move along…?

CARTER

After the Abdju Mission, my team was asked to research alternative applications for the gate. We didn't get anywhere before word came from the Pentagon to shutter the gate competely. But it came to me: If the ancient astronauts theory is, at least in some points, correct, if they were here for two thousand years, they must've left behind more than just the stargate. I made my proposal to West; I've been granted approval to begin the search.

DANIEL

That's where I come in.

CARTER

You're a brilliant archaeologist. You're fluent in twenty-three languages — twelve of which no one else alive on Earth understands. You're an invaluable asset.

DANIEL

I also probably killed a planet.

CARTER

Dr. Jackson — Daniel — what if I get you out of quarantine? Reunite you with Sha'ure?

DANIEL

(skeptical) West'll never let me out.

CARTER

(grinning) West isn't highest on the totem pole; I have my connections. Just give the word, and you'll be out of this room yesterday.

INT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN/LEVEL 18/CORRIDOR

Capt. Carter leads Daniel along the corridor. He's exchanged his tank top/boxers combo for an olive green jumpsuit.

CARTER

You can go pretty much wherever you want. The gym, locker room, and mess halls are all open to you. But Level 28 is completely off-limits, and you can't leave the base without written permission and a military escort. I'm sorry; I couldn't bypass the general on that one.

Carter brings Daniel to a door. Taking out her keycard, she swipes it through the lock, disengaging it.

INT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN/LEVEL 18/DANIEL'S LAB

Opening the door, Carter holds it open for Daniel. He steps inside his new laboratory. It's equipped with a desk, several packed bookshelves, and a state-of-the-art computer setup complete with 3D printer. Daniel's mouth falls agape.

CARTER

It's alright?

DANIEL

Just feeling a bit agoraphobic.

Daniel steps deeper into the lab, thumbing through the books on the shelves, examining the 3D printer.

SHA'URE

(O.S.) Daniel.

Daniel spins 'round. Kawalsky's arrived with Sha'ure. Like a deer caught in headlights, Daniel freezes, just staring at his lover. Four months have elapsed since she arrived on Earth; aside from the blue jumpsuit she now wears, she hasn't changed in the interim.

DANIEL

Sha'ure….

Embracing, they hold each other close, tears forming in their eyes. After several moments, they finally work up the courage to let go. Eyes of richest brown meeting eyes of intense blue, they come together again, kissing deeply, passionately.

Kawalsky smiles warmly.

INT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN/LEVEL 15/SHA'URE'S QUARTERS

The lights've been turned low. Daniel and Sha'ure lie together naked atop her sheets, spooning. Sha'ure kisses his hand. He, in turn, kisses her shoulder.

SHA'URE

In the days before, my people had only rumours — vague traditions of other worlds beyond the stargate. When you arrived, you made those traditions real.

DANIEL

Are you afraid Imperium troops will come through the stargate? That's what Carter and the soldiers are guarding against.

SHA'URE

We have brothers out there, Daniel. They're still slaves to the vultures who served Atum. But I hope to change that.

DANIEL

Change? How?

SHA'URE

You're the one who knows the stargate best. I know you could find the keys to other worlds. Then we could take the struggle to those living enslaved, and bring them freedom!

DANIEL

(sighing) Sha'ure, you were there when we found the cartouche holding the glyphs for Earth. From our troubles then you must know how hard it is to find the routes between stargates.

SHA'URE

But, Daniel, your wisdom —

DANIEL

(interrupting) I'm merely a scholar; I'm not Atum. And I'll tell you honestly, even if West unsealed the ring, I could spend all the rest of my life trying to find stargate addresses for somewhere — anywhere — and not find the key to another world. (beat) Besides, it may be in everyone's best interest if we keep to our corner of the universe. We don't need another Abdju.

Bitter disappointment shows on Sha'ure's face.

INT. CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN/LEVEL 27/CARTER'S OFFICE

Carter is at her desk.

SUPERIMPOSE: "TWO WEEKS LATER"

There comes a knock at the door.

CARTER

Come in.

Daniel enters, a file folder in his hand.

CARTER

You've found something.

DANIEL

The Imperium uses a cursive script unrelated to Egyptian hieroglyphs. I didn't recognize any similiarites to scripts I was familiar with, but my speciality's the Afro-Asiatic languages. I sent samples of the script to universities and institutes around the world to learn whether or not it matched any non-Erythraean writing systems.

Daniel places the folder on the desk. Opening it, Carter begins looking through the print-outs. There're photos of a shattered stele, descriptions, and a sketched map.

DANIEL

(cont'd) There was one find, a stele, which carried some of the script. According to this, the find was made by a German expedition that went to the eastern delta of the Nile back in the '60s. The location seemed to be the ruins of a temple, but they were unable to place the dynasty. And, after discovering the dubious signs in the inscription, there was some suspicion of fraud.

CARTER

What does it say?

DANIEL

The hieroglyphic portion contains an invocation to Sutekh.

Carter raises an eyebrow.

DANIEL

Otherwise known as Setesh, Set, Seteh, Seth. As Egyptian culture went through the millennia, Sutekh went from a brave warrior deity defending the sun god Ra to the personification of evil, fighting Ra.

Carter looks at a photo of the stele afforing a clear shot of a representation of Sutekh. The god has erect, flat-topped ears and a long, curved muzzle.

CARTER

What kind of head is that?

DANIEL

Nobody's been able to identify it from the pictures. Some scholars have identified it a gazelle's head. Others think it's the pig — unclean flesh, and all that.

CARTER

That's a pretty wide range there.

DANIEL

Still others think Sutekh was represented by an animal that's either mythical or now extinct. Most likely the former rather than the latter, since paleontologists haven't discovered any fossils to point to a species like this ever existing. That's why a lot of people in the field just call it the Typhonic beast. (beat) Anyway, the rest of the hieroglyphs make a reference to the god's centre of power to the east, where his strength was measured. The portion in Imperial script seems to be about "godpowers".

CARTER

Godpowers?

DANIEL

Power ratings and constants.

CARTER

You mean derived units? For technology? Weapon yields?

DANIEL

(shrugging) I wish those Germans had recovered the whole stele. (beat) The delta was one of the strongest areas of Sutekh-worship. And, because it's low-lying, often flooded, and still the seat of Egypt's agricultural production, proportionally less has been found there in terms of archaeological sites.

The captain's interest's definitely been aroused.

CARTER

We'll have to re-excavate where they dug.

10 October 2021

The First Jedi: A Star Wars Story (A Fragment)

TFJ was another attempt at writing a nonlinear 9-in-1 retelling of the Skywalker Saga that ended up going nowhere.

* * *

EXT. SPACE

TITLE CARD: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….

THE FIRST JEDI

A STAR WARS STORY

PAN DOWN

To Ahch-To, a predominately aquatic world.

A saucer-shaped vessel emerges from hyperspace. This is the Millennium Falcon, a modified YT-1300 light freighter which has seen 88 years of active service and wears her age as a badge of honour.

EXT. AHCH-TO — OCEAN — DAY

Breaking through the clouds, the Millennium Falcon emerges over a pristine and mighty ocean. Dotting the endless blue are islands of black rock.

INT. MILLENNIUM FALCON/COCKPIT — DAY

Inside we meet KIRA and her co-pilot, CHEWBACCA THE WOOKIEE. At nineteen years old, Kira is a beautiful young brunette, her eyes large and brown, radiant with youthful innocence. Chewbacca, 228 years old, 2.3 metres tall, covered head-to-foot in brown fur, glances at his Human companion, thoughtful.

EXT. OCEAN — ISLAND — DAY

The Falcon banks toward one of the more mountainous islands.

EXT. ISLAND — MILLENNIUM FALCON — DAY

Slinging a pack across her back, Kira turns to her companion, 23-year-old FINN. The two couldn't be more different. Skin as dusky as her's is fair, physique as stocky as her's is lean, an aura of world-weariness about him, there remains a kindness in his dark eyes. Hanging from his belt is a chrome bar, 606 mm in length, with ivory inlay and a round guard at one end. It greatly resembles a katana hilt.

As they begin their hike up the considerable hill, they glance back at the Falcon. Watching them from the bottom of the ramp are Chewie and ARTOO-DETOO. A Cyborg, Artoo's brain is encased within a spherical blue-&-white body, his "head" a separate hemisphere containing computer lights and a radar eye. Kira takes a deep breath, then she and Finn continue their journey.

EXT. ISLAND — STONE STAIRS — DAY

Set within the rock and foliage of this idyllic landscape are seemingly endless ancient stone steps. Finn and Kira continue climbing them, determined despite their fatigue.

EXT. OCEAN — ISLAND — DAY

Another vessel closes in on the island. Smaller than the Falcon, it consists of a semi-rectangular cockit, with angular wings sporting heat radiator panels and weapons batteries. A TIE silencer of the First Order.

EXT. ISLAND — STONE STRUCTURES — DAY

Kira and Finn arrive at a clearing. Surrounding them are severals small, modest, primitive stone structures, but there are no signs of present habitation. The pair continue past the dwellings, watchful, but spy no one.

A deep thrum sounds out behind them. They spin around. Standing there is DARTH CAEDUS. The most recent inductee into the Knights of Sith, Caedus wears the black bodyglove and red-trimmed black tabard of their Seventh Knight. With his longish black hair, big nose, and small chin, he's a rather unremarkable-looking fellow — or would be, were it not for the long scar running down the right side of his face. In his right gauntlet is a black steel hilt reminiscent of a longsword's; from it pulsates a red-white energy blade a metre long and 0.1 mm thick.

Kira moves forward with her blaster pistol, opening fire. With preternatural agility, the Sith Knight dodges and deflects the plasma bolts with his sword. One bolt is sent back to sender, sprawling Kira upon the ground.

FINN

Kira! Oh no. Kira! Kira….

Finn drops down beside her, afraid, concerned. Caedus cuts a figure eight through the air with his fiery blade.

DARTH CAEDUS

Traitor!

Finn turns back to Caedus. He unclips the chrome hilt from his belt, raising it. With a sharp snap-hiss, a particle beam shoots out, forming a crimson blade identical to Caedus'. Releasing a battle cry, Finn charges, lunging at Caedus. Caedus deflects his opponent's blade, counter-attacking with his own sweeping cut.

Kira recovers. Getting her bearings, her eyes focus on the two men fighting. Both combatants attack with a primal savagery. Finn blocks, turning defensive moves into offensive ones, and gets a hit in, slashing through Darth Caedus' upper arm. Caedus moves back — wounded, blood freely flowing from the deep slash, but more enraged than weakened — then strikes again.

Weapons clash, blades lock, the two men lit by the red lightsabers, and Darth Caedus pushes Finn back. Attacking with pure ferocity, the Sith unleashes a merciless series of blows, pushing Finn further and further back. Interlocking their blades, Caedus sends Finn's flying from his grasp, unbalancing him. Caedus punches Finn across the face, then lands a blow to Finn's back, opening a nasty gash through cloth and flesh, felling him.

His rival defeated, Caedus turns upon the defenseless Kira. He extinguishes his lightsaber.

DARTH CAEDUS

It's just us now. Yun can't save you.

Caedus strides forward. Kira scuttles back, but there's no escape for her.

An invisible force hits the Seventh Knight with the impact of a battering ram. Lifted clear off his feet, he is sent flying into one of the stone huts, hitting with a sickening crunch.

Kira turns. Standing fifteen metres behind her is a man in a tattered gray jumpsuit and synthleather overcoat. Bearded, dark blond hair shaggy, he meets Kira's gaze. There is suspicion in his blue eyes.

19 June 2021

Friday the 13th 1990 (A Fragment)

 
I've started writing Friday the 13th 1990, the fourth and final chapter in my Friday the 13th Reimagined Tetralogy.

The three previous entries in my reimagining were mashups/remakes of the original five F13 movies, but F1390 will be a more ambitious undertaking. I'll still be lifting elements from Parts VI-IX and the '09 reboot, but the plot itself will be much more original.

Here're the scenes I've written:

* * *

FADE IN

On the waters of Crystal Lake on a foggy winter day.

SUPERIMPOSE: "CRYSTAL LAKE — DECEMBER 13, 1650"

EXT. LENAPE VILLAGE — DAY

A band of DUTCH SETTLERS are in the process of razing the village. On horseback, they put the wigwams and central longhouse to the torch, driving the LENAPE out of their homes. Villagers out in the open, the Dutchmen bear down on them with swords and firearms, mowing them down. A number of young Lenape men fight back, but their defense is easily quashed.

EXT. LAKE — SHORE — DAY

The setters march the surviving Lenape across the snow at gunpoint. Hands bound, the captives are mostly the very young and very old, with a select few women of childbearing age.

Reaching a set of boulders overlooking the lake, the Dutchmen separate the children and elderly from their comely trophies and herd them up the rocks. The most feeble are tossed directly in the water, but the ones most capable of swimming back to shore are stabbed or have their throats slit first. Red blood stains white snow.

Before long, every one of the undesirables is slain. All except the VILLAGE MATRIARCH. A woman of late middle age, she has long salt-&-pepper hair worn in a thick braid down her back. She has three white chevrons painted on her forehead and cheeks.

The burly, bearded leader of the Dutchmen, SJAAK BEENHOUWER, unsheathes a sabre, resting the blade on the matriarch's neck.

MATRIARCH

(in Unami, subtitled) Kill me, for I cannot die. Do not waver; it is what I command you to do.

BEENHOUWER

(in Dutch, subtitled) Damn you.

Raising the sword, Beenhouwer hacks off the matriarch's head. Almost as if still possessing life and will, the headless matriarch, neck stump jetting bright red blood, casts herself into the lake. Head and body sink beneath the bloodstained water, joining her people in darkness.

FADE OUT

TITLE: FRIDAY THE 13TH 1990

FADE IN

On ominous black clouds rolling across the heavens over deep shadowed forest.

SUPERIMPOSE: "FOREST GREEN — JULY 7, 1990"

EXT. RURAL ROAD — NIGHT

A mangy wild dog feeds on what once a rabbit in the middle of the road. As a white VW Beetle swerves around the bend, the terrified canine runs for its life into the woods.

INT. CAR — NIGHT — TRAVELLING

We are introduced to ELIZABETH MOTT and DARREN ROBINSON, a likeable couple in their mid-twenties. Lizabeth is a cute lady with long auburn hair; Darren a handsome fella with wavy, sandy hair. She steers while he hums and bops his head to the music playing on the radio.

Through the windshield, they spot three hitchhikers standing by a road sign. JANE MCDOWELL is a beautiful young woman with expressive brown eyes and long, curly brown hair. NICK ROGERS is a tall, strapping, extremely handsome man with dark hair and a square jaw. MICHAEL ROGERS isn't quite as hunky as his surnamesake, but he's no slouch in the looks department, either.

Lizabeth pulls over. Cheering, the trio put their belongings in the trunk then cram themselves in the tight back seat.

JANE

Thank you so much. We've been there for an hour.

LIZABETH

Sure.

Lizabeth gets back on the road.

LIZABETH

So, where're we headed?

NICK

We're going to the Voorhees house.

Darren and Lizabeth exchange glances.

DARREN

Oh, yeah? Plannin' on smoking a little dope, having a little premarital sex, and getting slaughtered?

The passengers are taken aback. An uneasy silence settles inside the vehicle.

DARREN

A joke. It's just a joke. (chuckles) It's called Forest Green levity, y'know.

LIZABETH

So, uh, why are you going to the house?

MICHAEL

We're thinking about smoking some dope, (puts arm around Nick) having a little premarital sex, and, uh, not worry about getting slaughtered.

DARREN

(deadpan) Ah, to be young again.

EXT. DRIVEWAY — NIGHT

The Beetle pulls into the mouth of a long driveway. Long disused, vegetation has sprung up along the path. It leads up to a clearing in the forest, wherein is nestled the Voorhees house, unseen in the darkness.

INT. CAR — NIGHT

LIZABETH

Here's where the house is. They're gonna tear it down soon, but for now it's still standing.

MICHAEL

Excellent.

The three climb out.

NICK

Hey, thanks a lot.

EXT. DRIVEWAY — NIGHT

Jane, Nick, and Michael retrieve their bags from the trunk. Lizabeth and Jane exchange waves, then the VW pulls out, leaving the trio behind.

NICK

Let's do it.

They start up the driveway towards the Voorhees house.

EXT. VOORHEES HOUSE/FRONT YARD — NIGHT

In the overgrown yard, the trio's erected their tent and built a small fire. The decrepit house looms over them, a dark, judgemental sentinel observing them silently.

Nick strips naked while Jane goes topless. Slipping inside the tent, he beckons his lover to join him.

NICK

Come here.

Holding up a finger for Nick to wait, Michael joins Jane by the fire.

MICHAEL

Um ... do you mind if we use the tent for half an hour?

They share a chuckle.

JANE

No, no, no. Actually, take it for the whole night. I'm gonna sleep out here.

MICHAEL

Yeah?

JANE

Yeah, y'know, it's a beautiful night.

MICHAEL

Are you sure?

JANE

Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. Go. Go. Go. Go, go, go!

Playfully kicking Michael, Jane drives him into the tent with Nick. She unfurls her sleeping bag as the men get frisky.

Stripping down to her panties, Jane climbs inside her sleeping bag. She finds a comfortable position and gets ready for sleep, but the noise of the men get to her.

PROWLER'S P.O.V. — CAMP SITE

Someone watches the campers through a broken downstairs window.

EXT. VOORHEES HOUSE/FRONT YARD — NIGHT

Aroused, Jane slips a hand down her panties. Under the sleeping bag, she starts pleasuring herself to the symphony of gay foreplay.

INT. TENT — NIGHT

In the glow of lanternlight, Michael on top of Nick, the men make-out.

MICHAEL

C'mon, let's do it.

NICK

You think you're ready for Tony the Wonder Llama?

They exchange positions.

EXT. VOORHEES HOUSE/FRONT YARD — NIGHT

As Nick and Michael really get going, so does Jane. Moving her legs under the bag, she closes her eyes, biting her lower lip.

With the sound of footsteps through grass, Jane opens her eyes. Standing over her is a man. He wears a gray M-1965 field jacket over a navy blue sweatshirt; dark brown cargo pants and a 1940s Marines utility belt, complete with machete, Explorer Ram-II survival knife, and three throwing knives; black leather gloves; black platform boots; and finally, the goalie mask he inherited from Matt Letter. Jason Voorhees' successor, TOMMY JARVIS.

Jane starts to scream, but Tommy is quick to close her up in her bag, muffling the sound. As Jane squirms inside the bag, Tommy drags her over to a tree. With enormous strength, he whacks Jane against the trunk — one, two, three, four, five, six times.

Dragging the limp, broken body back to the fire, Tommy deposits it on the flames. As it starts burning, he turns his attention to the tent.

INT. TENT — NIGHT

Face-to-face, Nick thrusts into Michael. The two men are on the brink of climax.

Tommy's machete pierces the tent wall, penetrating Nick.

NICK

AAAHHH!!!

Tearing upward, Tommy cuts Nick in half. Blood spurts like a geyser onto Michael.

MICHAEL

(screaming) Jane! Help!

EXT. VOORHEES HOUSE/FRONT YARD — NIGHT

With the wet sound of sharp steel chopping into flesh, Michael dies off-screen.

Picking an article of clothing up from the ground, Tommy cleans the blood off his machete before resheathing it.

EXT. ROADSIDE — NIGHT

Beside the VW, Lizabeth stands over Darren, shining a flashlight down as he replaces the flat rear right tire with the spare.

As Darren tightens the bolts with the tire iron, a hunter green '65 Ford F-100 pulls up to them. Headlights burning, the driver steps out.

DARREN

(raises hand) Thanks. Almost through.

LIZABETH

(concerned) Darren, we better go.

DARREN

Why?

LIZABETH

Because I've seen enough horror movies to know any weirdo wearing a mask is never friendly.

Darren looks closer at the Ford owner. It's Tommy, goalie mask and all. Reaching inside the Beetle, Darren opens the glove compartment; he pulls out a .22 revolver.

LIZABETH

(shocked) Where'd you get that‽

DARREN

Don't worry about it. Just stay cool.

Darren aims the gun at Tommy.

DARREN

Alright, scumbag. Get back in your truck and out of here. Now.

Tommy starts towards them. Darren opens fire. Shrugging off the bullet, Tommy grabs the tire iron. Swinging it, he shatters Darren's jaw.

LIZABETH

AAAHHH!!!

As Darren collapses, blood running from his ruined face, Lizabeth turns and starts running as fast as her feet can carry her up the road. Tommy throws the tire iron like a shuriken. Spinning through the air, it strikes the back of Lizabeth's head with enough force to kill her instantly.

Tommy looks down at Darren, who's on his stomach crying. Raising his foot, Tommy brings it down on Darren's head, crushing it like a ripe melon.

22 May 2021

Friday the 13th 1984 (A Fragment)


I've started writing the first draft of Friday the 13th 1984, the second chapter in my Friday the 13th Reimagined Tetralogy.

Just as F1380 was essentially a mashup of Parts I & II, the plan is for F1384 to be a mashup of Parts III & IV. Exactly how I'm going to go about mashing them up is a question yet unanswered. But I have completed the opening prologue, which is set immediately after F1380. Here it is, provided for your reading enjoyment.

* * *

FADE IN

On Camp Crystal Lake.

SUPERIMPOSE: "CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE — JUNE 15, 1980"

EXT. CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE — CAMPGROUNDS — DAY

Three ambulances and four police cars are parked around the main cabin area. All concerned are busy retrieving the victims of Jason and Pamela Voorhees.

EXT. CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE — MAIN CABIN AREA — DAY

A fourth ambulance travels down the road into the camp. It's stopped by one of the cops. Inside are two paramedics, VINCENT, and the driver, LAINIE. Vincent rolls down his window to talk to the officer.

VINCENT

What do you need? Where do you need it?

OFFICER

We got five of them. (points) Yours is at the boys' cabin.

VINCENT

What's wrong with them?

OFFICER

He's dead. (beat) Yeah, they're all dead. You can pull it up over there.

VINCENT

(to Lainie) All dead. Some emergency. (beat) Put her over there.

The ambulance makes it way toward the boys' cabin.

EXT. CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE — BOYS' CABIN — DAY

Vincent and Lainie load the body of SHELLY GREENBLATT, throat slit ear-to-ear, onto a stretcher. Vincent makes conversation with SERGEANT TIERNEY.

VINCENT

You catch the guy who left the wet stuff?

Tierney shakes his head.

Draping a sheet over Shelly's body and belting it in, the paramedics load it inside the ambulance. 

EXT. CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE — CAMPGROUNDS — DAY

The cadavers retrieved, all the vehicles pack it in. They make their way down the driveway out to the main road. 

Camp Crystal Lake is now quiet, peaceful, and serene.

EXT. RURAL ROAD — DAY

Tierney lags behind the other vehicles, keeping a respectful distance between himself and them.

INT. POLICE CAR — DAY — TRAVELLING

Tierney sees a man in green-&-tan dash across the road, slipping into the brush on the other side.

EXT. RURAL ROAD — DAY

Breaking, Tierney gets out of the car.

SGT. TIERNEY

Hey! Hey, you!

The sergeant takes off after him.

EXT. FOREST — DAY

Tierney pursues the man through the woods. Out of shape, the cop stumbles and stops, struggling to keep up with his vigorous quarry.

EXT. VOORHEES HOUSE — DAY

Tierney eventually emerges from the trees. He finds himself on the property of Pamela Voorhees. There is no sign of the man he was chasing.

Walking around to the front door of the house, the officer finds it ajar.

INT. VOORHEES HOUSE/ENTRANCE HALL — DAY

Tierney steps through the door. Carefully, he creeps his way inside.

INT. VOORHEES HOUSE/DINING ROOM — DAY

Tierney finds the tell-tale signs of recent violence. Lengths of sliced rope about a chair; a rifle discarded on the floor; pools and trails of blood which've attracted flies. Only the birthday cake atop the dining table, untouched, remains pristine.

He unholsters his revolver.

INT. VOORHEES HOUSE/STAIRWELL — DAY

Tierney climbs the stairs.

INT. VOORHEES HOUSE/2ND STOREY HALLWAY — DAY

Tierney makes his way across the hall, checking each of the rooms, wary of his prey.

INT. VOORHEES HOUSE/PAMELA VOORHEES' BEDROOM — DAY

Entering the bedroom, the sergeant is greeted by a most horrendous sight. A dresser, serving as an impromptu altar, bears the severed head of PAMELA VOORHEES, dried blood caking her mouth and nose. At the foot of the dresser has been deposited the drowned body of ALICE HARDY, tongue protruding from her slack mouth. While decay hasn't quite set in yet, head and body are already starting to attract flies.

Unbeknownst to Tierney, the man he chased here has crept up behind him.

SGT. TIERNEY

Oh my God….

Raising a claw hammer, JASON VOORHEES drives it into the back of Tierney's skull.

FADE OUT

TITLE: FRIDAY THE 13TH 1984

30 July 2020

Lazarus Tower

One of eleven surviving short stories/novellas I wrote in a roughly five-year period (2004-2008).

In comparison to the last three stories, "Lazarus Tower" is a downright competent story. It's still bogged down in purple prose, but at least it isn't overwhelmed by sexism/antisexuality. It's essentially Poe-Lite (or Poe-Lite-Lite), making it ... digestable.

"Lazarus Tower" was written at the tail-end of my prose writing period, making it one of my final prose works. Paradoxically, it's the only one existing in fragmentary form; the ending is missing.

Original spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, omissions, and alterations have been preserved for your reading pleasure. Where the original text is missing, a descriptive summary has been substituted.

* * *

"I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE; HE WHO BELIEVES IN ME, THOUGH HE DIE, YET SHALL HE LIVE, AND WHOEVER LIVES AND BELIEVES IN ME SHALL NEVER DIE."

It was those words, from the eleventh chapter of the Gospel of John, that I had had engraved into the surface of the silver plaque, which I had placed above the door frame which led to the staircase that climbed stretched the length of the tower to the sole chamber above; I had thought that whenever we climbed those steps to the apex of the tower, we departed the living death that was existance on Earth, brought to true life when we reached the top, and could step out onto the balcony, brought closer to heaven. Despite the rich colour and the resistance to the actions of time's progressions, I had declined to fashion the plaque from gold; Gold had always seemed to me a boastful metal and colour, full of pride for self, lacking in soul what it did not lack in its power to allure the eye. Silver, however, was far more a mute substance, a humble metal; while its colour attracted, it held not the gaudy intense awfulness terror of its rival, and its sheen clouded in time, obscured by tarnish, while the pride of gold keep it from accepting the slightest morsel of humility and submitting itself to the forces of change. I made the plaque in honour of her, to commemorate the complesion of the building's construction; she was like silver to me, beautiful, yet humble, willinging to trade her outer beauty for the lines and wrinkles of age when the time eventually came without a fuss, avoiding the lusts of vanity and pride, refusing to consider any attempts to obscure her changing features as she came steadily closer to old age. Those words inscribed upon the plaque were in honour of my Lord, who had blessed me with the love and company of my darling Suzanne.

For the first eight years following the complesion of our home and the wedding that followed I kept that plaque shined, keeping the sheen like that of newly molded metal, in remembrance of my gift. After the event in the tower, however, I contined the upkeep no longer; as the years passed, the silver lost its brillance, and grew the dismal flat grey of ashes.

I shun the tower and its uppermost solitary chamber, as do I the entrance that comes before. At the best of my ability, I avoid areas that take me to close proximity to the door and that accursed plaque. I sleep no longer in our original marriage bed, which now remains many decades cold from emtiness, and have taken residence within a former guest room at the far end of the mansion, opposite the door that stays locked, that leads up a sole flight of stairs to a sole room which in turn only opens out onto a balcony, from which the tops of the buildings nearest to us can be seen. I spend many a night awake; when I do rest, it is in unease, with many an unpleasant dream attached.

As of this moment, after a period of several lengthy years, the door to the tower stands unlocked, and open to me. I sit now within the comfort of a large leather-upholstered chair, trembling in fear, my eyes fixed upon the doorway which opens out into the cooridor [?]t which's end stands the open door. Before it is too late for me, I will tell you the whole story, from the beginning. Everything is clear to me, every memory vivid in my mind's eye. I will recall all with complete accuracy. This is not the insane ram-blings of a man driven to madness by guilt and shame; this is the truth.

I was born Steven Edward Queene to Edward Sameul Queene and Melissa Johanna Queene, a rich English couple which owned a series of textile factories, in the city of London, April fourth, 1861. Cursed with ill health at a young age due to the fiflthy air of the city, I was sent away to live with my uncle Richard Milton Queene, in the United States of America, Maine. Unlike my parents, who forever remained frigid toward me, Uncle Richard was a kind, loving soul, who lavished me with gifts and affection through-out my younger years, spoiling me rotten in the process. I remained in America for the remaining majority of my life; I communicated scantily with either my mother or father through letters, and I made only two return visits to London, both in the wake of their deaths.

I met the young poor Suzanne MacAdams in the summer of 1884, at the age of twenty-three. Around my home had been a large section of forest, a thick nigh-on impenetrable growth of trees, the only traverable ground a featureless path worn into the earth. As a pastime, I fregquently enjoyed walks in the woods, making my way steadily on the path, observing the unspoiled nature about me. It was on one such walk that I came upon a still form, lying tangled in the foliage. At first, I had not a clue as to what I was seeing; I krept close to it, making soft steps as I neared, until I was close enough to know what I was looking gazin upon.

It was a young woman, at an age in no way significantly different from my own, beaten and bloodied, her clothes torn and much of her body exposed to me; she had been abused violently, visciously raped, then [?]left for dead by the animals which had committed the horrid crime. She was still alive, a fact I knew from looking upon the rising and falling motion of her chest.

With great care, I took her up in my arms, and make the journey back to my home. As I forced my way inside, the weight of the girl in my arms, I called out to the servants for assistance. They came, and ushered her to a warm bed, retrieving at my request towers and water to clean her wounds; I sent away immediatly for a doctor. In time the medical man arrived, and examined her; he found fractured ribs; internal bleeding, and a concussion amongst her injuries, and informed my that though the damage done was severe, it needed not the attention services of a hospital; after that all she truly needed the most was considerible rest; after setting her broken damaged bones, he departed.

Needless to say, I was present at her bedside when she first regained consciousness. We explained to each other the circumstances which led her to this bed, before she returned to the land of the unconscious She grew stronger as the days, weeks, and months passed by. We became fast friends; holding conversations together between us. When the time came arrived when she had recovered fully from her ordeal, she proceeded to leave, to return to homeless-ness, to prostitution. I refused her exit; I had fallen in deep love with her.

As she had with me.

She stayed there. She kept her room. I bought her clothes, suitable for her and her generous nature; as well as aquisitions which suited her fancy. Uncle Richard oppossed her prolonged stay, however, as she had been a prostitute and my uncle had been slow to forgiveness. He came to accept her prescence in time, however, and learned to love her as an additional member to the family.

We stayed together, Under Uncle Richard's roof, for four years; we had not come to know each other intimately yet, as I was saving myself for marriage, and she had come to reproach the caresses of others.

In May of 1888, I made a proposal of marriage to her. She accepted. the May of the following year, we got married. Our daughter, Lauren Emily Queene, was born to us nine months later. The years On her first birth-day, construction began on our new dream home; the foundation was layed in the city.

I personally designed the house. Using knowledge I had obtained about engineerin construction, I drew the sche-matics for the building. The tower was meant for my wife, for Suzanne. Her own small paradise, a place where she could look out, and gaze upon the whole wide world stretching beyond. It was for her. Only for her.

It all went wrong few short years later, when she began having an affair with Chester Arnold Keaton.

I do not understand how, why, it occurred. I cannot explain it. She became withdrawn, no longer confiding with in me. She began to send time away from home for hours at a time. She claimed to only be going on walks, to escape the atmosphere of the mansion. A resonable explanation, if not for the unrealistic amount of time yet I could sense something amiss.

I began to suspect the existence of the affair when in contact with the Keatons, as I witnessed the looks of un-easiness that they exchanged. The existence of this affair was confirmed when I spied them together, on the bed within a guest room, her atop her under the sheets, grasping and squeezing her body. They failed to spot me. I stole away to another area of the mansion, well away from their act of adultery. I wept then, shfting cries of anguish and morose melancholy, able only to thank God that Lauren was away at school, unable to ever witness the abom-ination that was proceeding under the roof of his very own home.

I never revealed my knowledge to her, though I began to suspect that, within her, she had come to know that I knew of the affair. I grew morose, and no longer spoke to her. I was angered, yes, but more than anything truly saddened. Our marriage was over, figuratively if not literally. Yet I continued to love her. To the last second together, I continued to love her.

It came to a climax on October seventeenth, 18[?]3 1900.

Ever since the complesion of the house, I had never took a step into the tower without her permission, as the tower had been for her, only her. Yet with my happiness gone, I disregarded wthis unofficial rule, seeking comfort in nostalgia. I came to that door, and, taking one, sorrowful [?]glance up at the tarnishing silver plaque above, I turned the knob counter-clockwise, and pulled the door open. I stepped past the threshold, clos-ing the door behind me, proceeding up the staircase at a leisurely pace, my left hand upon the varnished ebony banister. I soon came to the door which would lead into the tower's single chamber. I twisted the knob, swung open the door, taking a step within.

There, standing in the centre of the opulent room, were they! Keaton and Suzanne!

I had passively detested their horrid affair, and had avoided violent confrontation up to that point. Yet here they were together in this room, in the tower, the physical manifestation of all the love I had ever and would ever have for Suzanne. It was a travesty. It was a blasphemy! It was a desecration, a violation, of this shrine I had designed in the name of my love for her, to have them, him, together here to fornicate! This freakshow would end, now!

I dived forward, taking a heavy oak chair into my hands, bringing it up over my shoulders. As Keaton started, turning to me, I brought the solid wood down upon his cranium.

Suzanne had begun to regain her consciousness as I completed tying the bonding of Keaton's bloodied corpse to the same chair I had slain him with. Her eyes fluttered open, and muffled cries attempted to escape her gagged mouth as she became aware of her own bonds keeping her secured to her own solid oak chair.

I turned my gaze to her, sorrow clearly etched upon my features. "I've known, Suzanne. I've known for some time now. You shouldn't have come up here. Not with him."

A series of muffled outcries were uttered as she began to rock forward in the seat of her chair. I stepped away from the limp form of my dead rival, a crossed the room to the twin glass doors that opened up on the exterior balcony beyond. I twisted the knobs and pulled the doors toward me, opening them, causing a brisk gust of wind to be drawn inward; I quickly pulled both occupied chairs to the open doors, positioning them at the [?] threshold, affording my Suzanne a sight of the beautiful, brillant sunset.

"I love you Suzanne," I uttered, placing a final kiss upon her forehead. "And I always will."

Her groans and writhings ceased. Within her eyes I saw a grim understanding. As well as an form of pleading in her eyes, not for her life expression I could not read.

I departed, taking not one look back, and closed the door behind me. I locked it, shambled down the echoing steps, then stepped out once again. I closed the door, pushed the key into the keyhole, and turned it, a resonating click hit my ears. I would never see that door open again until a number of decades later. decades passed.

I had told Lauren that her mother had left, and that I did not know where to.

For reasons I cannot define, the buzzards never gathered at the top of the tower to devour the rotting flesh which they surely should have had easy access to inside.

Six Decades have passed, and I am now an old many of ninety-five. Lauren is sixty-six years old, married to a Joseph Andrew Arquette, and has had two children: Edward Solomon Arquette — twenty-six, David Emil Arquette — twenty-four. Edward in turn has a daughter: Maria Lauren Arquette, who is twelve, and possesses an unfortunate taste for that ungainly "Rock & Roll" pseudo-music. I have one daughter, two grandsons, and one great-grandaughter.

I continue to live in this decaying mansion, despite Lauren's misgivings, cared for by servants as if I were but an infant. I am a feeble ancient creature, mere dry parchment on a brittle frame, slowly decaying. Only my mind is still alert, still alive. I am aware that the lock unlatched itself, without a human hand's touch.

She comes forward now. She is not how I imagined her. As a putrid, bloated corpse with green skin, blisters, and writhing maggots spilling from empty sockets. As an animate skeleton, clad only in decayed rags. She looks much as I do. An emaciated frame, brittle bone covered over with mummified flesh, relatively intact dress discoloured and fragile from age and rot, her hair dry as straw and devoid of its former sheen.

Her eyes, round glassy orbs, which I expected to be filled with loathing and rage, possess instead sadness, regret ... and love.

A grasp the left armchair with my arthritic talons, uttering a large gulp of panic. "I-is your lover with you, Suzanne?"

[Suzanne informs Steven that she has come back alone. She then explains to him that on the day he confronted her and Keaton in the tower, she hadn't brought Keaton there for a tryst, rather to break off their affair and rekindle her romance with Steven. She then tells him she harbours no resentment towards him for killing her. Steven then dies. Later, Steven & Suzanne's bodies are discovered later by family members, curled up together on the floor. The end.]