SETTING: A Victoria style house. Enters window where a girl stands away,
near the door)
(Girl voices over. She picks up a box. And walks to the windowsill.
You see her eyes. Her smile. The shine of her hair.
The gentle upturning of her nose. The ginger freckles along her cheeks.
But not her face as a whole. You see the blue/gold/green plaid shirt and torn blue jeans. The dark cascading hair curling around her face. Her frame is slender. She sighs softly: )
DAILG: (Her voice is gentle as wind and carefully passive)
There are always things I am going to wish I never did, or did do.
The first mistake in that, is not writing the letter.
The letter that told of too many things and not enough.
The letter that folded me in its creases and left me gasping for breath
and my inhaler. I laid in the bed staring towards the ceiling.
The police knocked on the door shortly afterwards --
HAVE YOU TAKEN ANYTHING?
I wonder desperately if there is something wrong with me.
(Her hands are slender and smooth. Small.
Childlike although the burn on the inside of her thumb suggest she smokes.
She opens a box and pulls out a book absently. She stares at the sky.
Behind her is a small ghostly figure, whom remains unknown: )
DAILG continues:
Today is a bright day with birds singing although the sky is this solid milky color.
It is no longer May. I cannot forgive the sky today for its lack of understanding;
April only carries the milky skies, and May should have the sea. May should have me. And the wind that sings through here like a whistle through the grass and a sigh in the trees, it feels lovely. It is a wet wind. One that says rain.
I am not sure if you’ve ever felt that kind of wind,
or the cool rains that are somehow warm in your bones.
When I say this voiceless letter, I feel as though there are different parts of me; recycled parts of the same mouth carrying a different voice. So be patient with me
if I ramble on about mundane things, or if my state of mind is not quite sane,
for it’s not. It has not been the same for quite some time.
(She looks into the box. In her carefully cupped hand is an object.
One unable to be seen. Straight white teeth bite her soft pink lips.
She looks out the window, staring at a bird slowly flying down towards the ground before she focuses on her image in the window.
Now, we see her fearful heart-shaped face.
Quickly she looks away as if the action pains her.)
ELIJAH: When did you first lose it?
DAILG pauses and sighs: The night I went to war.
(A bullet sounds and impacts in the seat where the ghost figure sits.
Blood pours
from the empty whole of his heart. He frowns at it.)
ELIJAH: I lost God when you were born.
DAILG: It was 1493 and I had not known your ghost would die a virgin.
Did you cry? Were you newborn in this space of perfume, and did you shift
until you found him gently Sheppard-ing you home? I do not want to know.
God forgot your name. (unspoken she says: and mine)
(She turns and stares at the chair as if she could see the figure.
He disappears. And she moves over to it, feeling the back of the chair –
she frowns softly and her hands trails away)
DAILG: I can still smell you.
(A scene cuts to their trembling lips barely touching, his hands fists in her silky hair.
Suddenly they are separated. She turns away, and you see his back. The fitted uniform.
The shiny belt and shoes, dust lightly covering them.
She briefly recalls his letter:
Death is often here. I will never escape it. Even if I come home.
He continues to retreat and all fades to black. His gun hangs loosely in his hands. DAILG, in voice over says:
You were never a man for war. )
A contest entry
- X Factor 3: Round Seven [Top 7] by sideways hourglass.
800 points, ended November 6, 6 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
i am at a himalaya
Comments
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The most bitter thing
Requirements met: 10/10
Content/Creativity: 9/10
Spelling/Diction: 10/10
Punctuation/Syntax: 9/10
Quality of main theme: 9/10
Quality of storyline: 8/10
Quality of characters: 8/10
Transition, flow, development: 8/10
Emotion/Reaction: 9/10
Overall quality of script: 8/10
"X Factor" Extra Credit: 0/5
Total: 89/100
This seemed a little unfocused. I think there was too much stage direction in proportion to the dialogue.
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Requirements met: 10/10
Content/Creativity: 9/10
Spelling/Diction: 10/10
Punctuation/Syntax: 9/10
Quality of main theme: 9/10
Quality of storyline: 8/10
Quality of characters: 8/10
Transition, flow, development: 8/10
Emotion/Reaction: 9/10
Overall quality of script: 9/10
"X Factor" Extra Credit: 0/5
Total: 90/100
~Genie~ -
88
I'm honestly confused about some things here.
-the cops knocking on the door, asking "have you taken anything?"
-why Dailg says "The night I went to war." - Why did she go to war - and with who, with what? I thought Elijah went to war?
-the mysterious object. what was it? why is it important?
So I am guessing that...Elijah & Dailg had a thing for each other, but Elijah went to war. They communicated via letter. Dailg never wrote her letter, perhaps confessing her love? And so now she is dreaming/hallucinating (did she take drugs?) that she is seeing his ghost...and as she sees his ghost, she is confessing her love...as what she would have said in that letter.
This problem in society is war. A good choice. Not only did convey the significance of war about Elijah, a soldier, but of Dailg as well, and how it effected her...a good topic.
The only problem I had with this was the lack of clarity in spots.
I'm wondering if my interpretation is off, but I thought that would make for a better comment...rather than "I'm not sure if I totally understand this."
Requirements met: 10/10
Content/Creativity: 9/10
Spelling/Diction: 10/10
Punctuation/Syntax: 8/10
Quality of main theme: 9/10
Quality of storyline: 8/10
Quality of characters: 9/10
Transition, flow, development: 8/10
Emotion/Reaction: 9/10
Overall quality of script: 8/10
"X Factor" Extra Credit: 0/5
Total: 88/100
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I think this is nicely done! It has a wonderful dreamlike quality. I enjoyed the mature writing and progression. The end is well done.
I enjoyed reading this! What was the object cupped in her hands? Did I miss that?
Nicely done, although Im not exactly sure what happened, but I can grasp the feel of it.
Best wishes,
Kris
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