Alan D. at 2013-11-23 17:21:22:

INT. McDONALD'S – DAY A MAN (late 20s) stands at a counter – waits for his food. A PIMPLE FACED MALE EMPLOYEE turns towards him – gives him a peculiar look – hands him a bright red Happy Meal Box. Not one of the cheap bags, a retro-styled box with the McDonald's arch for a handle. The Man grabs the Happy Meal without emotion. INT. SUV – DAY The Happy Meal sits in the passenger seat. The Man sits in the driver seat – SUV parked. He holds a monthly planner, flipped open to May. He flips through June and July. Every single Saturday has a SMALL BLACK X crossed out on it. He stops on August, only the first two weeks are marked. The Man exes out “Saturday, August 17, 2013”. One week below it is small handwriting that reads “One Year”. EXT. STREET – DAY A small town street. There's a diner, laundromat and not much else. The Man happily holds the Happy Meal in hand, walks down the sidewalk with little other foot traffic. He stops at a bench where an OLD MAN (90s) sits. The Old Man looks lonely, but dressed well enough to not be homeless. The Man hands him a cheeseburger and small fry. They politely nod, understand each other. The Man keeps the Happy Meal box for himself. EXT. CEMETARY – DAY The Man walks solemnly through rows of gravestones. His polite smile has faded into a face of burden. He still grips the Happy Meal tightly. He suddenly stops. He opens the Happy Meal box and reaches in. He pulls out a Superhero toy wrapped in the plastic. Using his teeth, the Man quickly tears the bag open. He pulls out the Superhero and examines it. A small push button flashes a red laser light on and off. The Man chuckles for a moment, but quickly quiets. He kneels down at a gravestone we cannot see. A few moments later, the man stands, tears stream down his puffy red cheeks. The Man walks away, tosses the Happy Meal box into a nearby trashcan. The GRAVESITE: Dozens of small Happy Meal toys sit on the front of the stone where the man was. There are race cars, the Superhero figure and a variety of whimsical characters. The date on the gravestone reads 2005-2012. FADE OUT.

donna at 2013-11-23 18:27:45:

INT. CAR - NIGHT Charlie 55, drives through the busy downtown traffic. A serene, subtle smile appears along with the faintest bit of mist in his eyes. INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT FLASHBACK Charlie sits to the left of the speaker who stands at a podium at the head table. The room is packed with ten-top tables, crisp linens, expensive china and crystal, ball gowns and tuxedos. Behind the head table is a picture of Charlie at the helm of a board room on a private jet. BACK IN THE CAR - Charlie waits at the red light. Drunk bar-hoppers cross in front of him. He watches the boisterous antics. Smirks. BACK IN THE BALLROOM - Another speaker. Charlie is gracious, laughs and stands to shake the hand when the roast is complete. The entire room stands, applauds. Charlie bows his head in appreciation. Is greeted by many with warm hugs. BACK IN THE CAR - Charlie pulls slowly into the gated drive. The garage door opens as the gate behind him closes. INT. CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT A nurse stands to greet Charlie when he enters the bedroom. His wife of 30 years is in a hospital bed with tubes and machines all around her. The nurse gives him a subtle indication that there’s no change. Charlie loosens his bow tie as he leaves the bedroom, walks down the hall to - HIS STUDY - Charlie pours himself a drink and collapses on the leather chair. BACK IN THE BALLROOM - Charlie opens elegantly-wrapped gifts which reveal crystal decanters, a diamond-encrusted watch, a rare, priceless antique putter, amongst other luxurious gifts. BACK IN HIS STUDY - Charlie admires the drink and particularly, the glass. He takes another sip and we see it is a hand-made “World’s Best Dad” mug. We pull out and the expansive study decorated with exotic leather and rare wood, holds the artifacts of a child’s love. Crude water colors. Misshapen pottery. Little league awards. Swim team ribbons. The only shrine Charlie ever cared for.

Moush Angre at 2013-11-23 19:10:24:

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT An LED digital clock displays the time - 23:59. Jeremy (75), a retired widower, sits in his boxers in bed. He holds his cellphone in hand, his eyes fixated on the display. The time - 00:00. Jeremy grips the phone in anticipation. Five minutes later. Nothing. He checks the volume on the ringer. Increases it to maximum. Twenty minutes later. Still nothing. He sighs. Turns off the bed lamp. Pulls the duvet over himself. Rests the cellphone on his pillow, and closes his eyes. INT. KITCHEN - DAY With closed eyes, Jeremy blows a candle perched atop a carrot cupcake. He glances at his phone in expectation. It stays silent. A few moments later, he plucks the extinguished candle out, and bites into the sweet pastry. The empty wrapper lands on the phone. The display lights up. Jeremy perks up with excitement, and scrambles to get hold of his phone. But just as quickly, the phone's screen goes dim. He sinks back into his chair, and continues staring at his phone. INT. CORRIDOR - DAY A stack of envelopes drops through the letter box in the door. INT. KITCHEN - DAY Hearing the sound, Jeremy quickly staggers out, leaving his phone behind. INT. CORRIDOR - DAY He leans on the door with one arm for support, as he bends down to pick up the mail. He shuffles through the various letters and pamphlets. Electricity bill. Water bill. Insurance. Advertisements. Disappointed, he drops the mail on the table. And climbs up the stairs. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Jeremy cradles a thick album in his arms. He rests himself on the bed, and flips the book open. A flimsy paper folded into half is pasted on the first page. On the front is a crudely drawn birthday cake, colored with crayons. Inside, a child's handwritten note reads - Happy Birthday Daddy, Love Tommy. Every page is covered with various greeting cards, letters and notes from Jeremy's son. He scrolls through each page slowly, until he reaches the last sheet. An illustrated birthday party with balloons, cake, and fireworks, printed on the front cover. He opens the card gently. A handwritten greeting is scribbled inside. Happy 74th Birthday, Dad! Sorry, can't make it this year either. Hope you like the cellphone. Easier to keep in touch. Love, Tom! A tear drop rolls down his cheek, as he runs his hand over the written words. He shuts the album. Closes his eyes and lies down in bed, holding the book close to his chest. INT. KITCHEN - EVENING A shrill phone ring starts through the room, all the way up to... INT. BEDROOM - EVENING Jeremy lies deathly still in bed, as the faint ring bellows in the background.

Shaula Evans at 2013-11-23 20:09:28:

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT A nearby streetlamp shines through the flimsy curtains of the window over the sink. The house is hushed. A MAN (30's, rough-hewn) stumbles into the kitchen half asleep and fumbles for the light switch. He wears coveralls. He hasn't shaved. A bare bulb clicks to life, casting feeble illumination over the chipped counter. The Man opens the fridge door revealing empty shelves. He takes a jar of no-brand mayonnaise from the door. He opens the meat drawer and removes the single packet of bologna. He puts them on the counter next to a bag of no-name white bread. He lines up four slices of bread on the counter and wipes a thin layer of mayonnaise on each one. He licks the knife then wipes it with a dishcloth. He opens the bologna container: just one slice. He puts the slice of bologna on a piece of bread, puts the other on top, cuts off the crusts. He cuts the sandwich diagonally twice into four triangles. He wraps them in saran wrap. He takes the crusts and edge cuttings and puts them into the second sandwich as filling. Without slicing it, he wraps it up, too. He puts the unsliced sandwich into an industrial lunch kit. He puts the sliced sandwich into a paper lunch bag. He draws a big smiley face on the bag, and stands it up on the counter. He hears someone STIRRING (O.S.) down the hall. He checks the clock above the stove and frowns. 5:29 a.m. He picks up the industrial lunch kit, clicks off the light, and silently slides out the door into the night.

Adam Scott Thompson at 2013-11-23 20:35:02:

INT. SMALL KITCHEN – MORNING A MAN (early 30s), in boxers and an open robe, scuffs the floor with heavy feet as he approaches the coffee maker. He primes the machine. Looks out the window at a world between night and day. LATER The refrigerator door hangs open as the Man transfers lunch meat onto the counter. And mustard. Mayo. Cheese. Shredded lettuce. MOMENTS LATER He mashes these constituents between two pieces of white bread. Carefully peels off the edges. Cuts it diagonally with a long knife, like he’s using a paper trimmer. MOMENTS LATER He takes a sip from a “World’s Greatest Dad” mug. Resumes filling a sandwich bag with ruffled potato chips. MOMENTS LATER The Man places the sandwich, now safe in a plastic case, into a soft-sided purple lunch container. Next the bag of chips, then a juice box. The Man holds up two pudding cups: one vanilla, the other chocolate. His hands bob up and down like pans on a scale… LATER The sun puts a glow on the man as he sits at a small table. He writes on a piece of paper after a long sip of coffee: “Two pudding cups just in case. Have a great day. Love, Dad.” He folds the note and drops it in the lunchbox before sealing it. He hears the sounds of SOMEONE STIRRING elsewhere in the house. The Man empties his mug and rises. Limbers up, a few stretches. He claps his hands like a coach as he walks out. FIN

Shaula Evans at 2013-11-23 21:22:17:

INT. BIG BOX TOY STORE - NIGHT The store blinks and flashes with garish Christmas decorations. The odd dented box dots the shelves but the store is mostly picked clean. Exhausted EMPLOYEES lean against the check out counter. A MAN (20's) sprints into the store, looks around, runs toward a huge sign advertising red toy trucks. He rounds the corner and-- --the shelf is completely bare. An Employee shrugs at him. EXT. DOWNTOWN - NIGHT Outdoor Christmas lights blow about in the howling wind. Holiday window displays are obscured by the downpour of sleet. A miserable night. The Man jumps out of his big red truck and runs up a door of a mom-and-pop toy store. He rattles the door: locked. He bangs on the glass. Inside, the OWNER looks up from cashing out the till, points up at a clock, and shrugs. EXT. INDUSTRIAL PARK - NIGHT A low rent district in the wrong side of town. The big red truck pulls up outside a charity-run thrift shop. The lights are still on. INT THRIFT SHOP Total chaos: the displays of cast-off, worn-out, unwanted "merchandise" are in total disarray. Other LAST MINUTE SHOPPERS paw through the piles of stuff. A helpful VOLUNTEER roots into a bin of toys and pulls one out: A car. Small. Lime green. The Man shrugs sadly. EXT. INDUSTRIAL PARK - NIGHT The Man wanders back to his truck, stooped, defeated. He steps into a pile of garbage from an overturned trash can. He stops to set the can upright again-- --and sees a red toy truck. So scratched and dented that even the charity thrift store would take it. INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT The Man carefully and quietly taps out the dents on the body of the toy car. He snaps it back on the base. He colors in one last scratch with a red felt pen. He puts a navy blue bow on top and sets the toy under the table centerpiece of a miniature Christmas tree. He picks up the glass of milk from beside the little tree, gulps it, makes a face at the warmth of it. He picks up two cookies from the plate beside the tree, makes sure to leave a few crumbs on the plate, and puts the note they were sitting on in his pocket. He sits back to eat the cookies and survey his handiwork. Perfect.

Illimani at 2013-11-23 21:23:33:

INT. INDOOR SKYDIVING FACILITY - DAY JEFF (35) is standing at a platform, looking at a FATHER and SON floating inside the vertical wind tunnel of a indoor skydiving facility. He nods with a smile and turns on his heel, walking toward an office room with a sign that reads “NOW BOOKING FOR BIRTHDAYS”. INT. OFFICE - DAY A CLERK is shaking hands with a AMY, a pregnant woman, and her SON (5) is jumping with joy. AMY and her Son walk away as JEFF steps into the office, showing four fingers of his hand. The Clerk shakes his head and shows a board displaying a calendar, on which the day 4 has the name AMY on it. The Clerk points at AMY that is walking away outside of the office. INT. INDOOR SKYDIVING FACILITY - DAY JEFF rushes and catches AMY at the platform next to the wind tunnel, which is now empty. He argues with her but she shakes her head and shrugs, while her Son shows his tongue to Jeff. Amy suddenly grimaces in pain and puts her hands on her belly. She walks dizzily backward and falls over the edge of the platform inside the tunnel. Jeff and Amy’s Son lean over the edge. JEFF’S POV: Amy is delivering her baby as she floats and squirms inside the wind tunnel. Without a second thought Jeff jumps into the tunnel. He tries to float toward Amy when-- Blood SPLASHES against his face. As Jeff cleans his own face he widens his eyes. Amy is now floating as well as her BABY, the two of them connected by the umbilical cord. Jeff uses his legs to propel himself from the wall toward Amy and the Baby but-- He reaches the umbilical cord, which gets tangled around his neck. Jeff squirms, his lips becoming bluish. He closes his eyes. SEQUENCE OF SHOTS: A small birthday cake with a candle. A cradle. A medium birthday cake, with two candle. A plush tiger. A large birthday cake, with three candles. A tricycle. A huge birthday cake, no candles. Back to the Wind Tunnel. Jeff grabs the umbilical cord around his neck. He pushes it away of his neck with all his strength and-- BITES it. The cord breaks, oozing goo. The Clerk rushes to the control panel and turns off the Wind Tunnel. Jeff, holding the baby with one arm and supporting Amy with the other, walk to the exit, where some Paramedics are waiting for them. Amy sits in a wheelchair and Jeff hands her baby. She cradles the Baby in he arms with a smile. Her Son looks at them with curiosity. Jeff shows the number 4 with his hand. Amy nods. INT. OFFICE - DAY The Clerk erases Amy’s name from the board and writes the name Jeff over the number 4. Jeff smiles, satisfied.

wordsmith303 at 2013-11-23 21:54:51:

SETTING: A father (MICHAEL) who loves his son (ANDREW) FADE IN: EXT. NELSON'S AVENUE - DAY We FOLLOW ANDREW, in his thirties, running along a walkway in desperation. We CLOSE ON his expression, illustrating his distress. As he hurries forth to the HOSPITAL, a small CARD falls out from his jacket pocket, which goes unnoticed... As the CARD falls to the ground, we MOVE TO GROUND LEVEL, with ANDREW hurrying into the DISTANCE. ANDREW disappears and we CLOSE ON the item. The back of the CARD is facing upward, revealing nothing of its meaning. INT. KING'S COLLEGE HOSPITAL. PRIVATE PATIENT ROOM A team of DOCTORS and NURSES are currently trying to revive ANDREW'S father, MICHAEL. ANDREW'S two SISTERS, LYDIA and EVELYN, also in their thirties, look on in desperation and despair, as the medics desperately try to save their father. EXT. BENORS ROAD ANDREW continues in his plight, rushing past every obstacle in his path. EXT. KING'S COLLEGE HOSPITAL ANDREW approaches and makes haste through the doors of the building. INT. PRIVATE PATIENT ROOM CORRIDOR ANDREW hurriedly enters to find LYDIA crouched down on the floor, inconsolable, as a NURSE gently places her arms around her... ANDREW stops in his tracks, realising he is too late... He shakes his head, in great disappointment at himself, recalling...knowing he had not seen his father in eight years...knowing his father had always tried to speak with him, but he did not respond. ANDREW does not know where to turn, as he takes several deep breaths, fighting the great pain inside of him. A beat. He puts his hands inside his jacket, wanting to look at the words he wished to say to his father. He searches in every pocket, but to no avail. A beat. He continues to beathe heavily, his soul tormented inside. A long beat. EXT. NELSON'S AVENUE We look to the path to see the CARD which had dropped out from ANDREW'S pocket - the back continuing to face upward. Many people walk past the CARD, ignoring it as just another piece of litter... Suddenly a mild breeze blows down the path and turns the CARD over to reveal an angel on its front. A beat. As we look upon the picture, in the BACKGROUND, a boy of four, CAYDEN, approaches with his father, SIMON - who holds his son's hand with a great sense of happiness... The child CAYDEN draws near and notices the image of the angel on the CARD, and picks it up as he passes alongside it... The two stop. As CAYDEN stares upon the picture with curiosity, SIMON gently takes the card from his son to have a closer look... He turns the cover to reveal heartfelt words of a son longing for forgiveness from his father. A beat. As he continues to read, each sentence sinks with complete understanding... He takes a deep breath...and looks upon CAYDEN for a moment, appreciating every word inside the CARD and its meaning... SIMON closes his eyes for a brief moment, not knowing what the future may bring. He ponders what he should do with the CARD. EXT. ST. MARTIN'S CHURCH Inside the grounds, we CLOSE ON a STATUE OF SAINT JOSEPH. We turn to see SIMON approach with CAYDEN. Again, a breeze blows toward the building for a brief moment. SIMON takes his son to the STATUE and they look upon the flowers surrounding the monument... SIMON gives the card to CAYDEN to lay down beside the STATUE. A beat, as SIMON reflects upon life. He picks up his son. As he walks away into the DISTANCE, holding onto his son with all the strength in his heart, we FADE OUT.

Dango Forth at 2013-11-23 22:32:38:

INT. HOME OFFICE – EARLY MORNING Lights are switched on. Numerous bookcases line the walls, broken up only by a small section containing photos and plaques/certificates lauding the writing of Robert A. Jackson. One particular book shelf holds a fairly extensive selection of hardbacks whose titles all harp on various aspects of U.S. military fiascos: Korea, Vietnam, Somalia, etc. Each volume there bears the name of the author, Robert A. Jackson. BOB JACKSON (50s, African-American, receding hairline, expanding belly) groggily shuffles in – clothed, but disheveled. He plops down in a leather chair in front of the desk. From a drawer, he removes a cedar box – top closed – about the size of a laptop computer shipping box. EXT. JACKSON HOUSE Bob exits and walks to a flag pole. Opens the box. He removes the flag inside there with great care. Runs it up the pole. After he ties it off, he just stands there. Then, he pulls out the wrinkles in his shirt and stands straight – Saluting the flag. INT. HOME OFFICE Bob reenters, sits. He places the box back in its drawer, but before he closes it, something there catches his attention. He removes a small cardboard box covered with a child’s scribbling: FOR DADDY TO PLAY WITH Inside are some miniature plastic ponies and a multitude of crayon drawings. He takes one of the horses out and holds it in a hand, caressing it with his thumb. He looks over to his desk. A couple pieces of metal are housed in a small, clear plastic cube which sits on a yellow triangular fabric military patch sporting a black diagonal stripe and a black horse’s head in the upper right corner – US Army 1st Cavalry. A post-it note is attached to the cube: SHRAPNEL – BAGRAM (hold it for me til I get back) Bob reaches over to another note lying open on his desk: DADDY, HOME BY CHRISTMAS. WILL BE WALKING. KISS MOM FOR ME. Bob gently places the horse on top of the cube. Smiles.

Shaula Evans at 2013-11-24 00:07:14:

I wanted to give this one more shot with a completely different tone. (All this seriousness is unnatural for me!) INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT Sparsely furnished with mismatched furniture. A table lamp casts a puddle of light in the dark room. A MAN (20s, intense) sits cross-legged on a threadbare rug, surrounded by pieces of wood cut into different lengths and shapes. He scowls at a crumpled piece of paper that displays an incomprehensible diagram labeled in Chinese. He picks up a hammer and a nail and glares at the pieces of wood. LATER Several pieces of wood are nailed together in no obvious configuration. The Man lies on his belly and reaches his arm deep under a tatty love seat with a grunt. Another grunt. Another grunt. His hand emerges victorious grasping a crumpled ball of paper. He unfolds it: the incomprehensible diagram. He marches forward with it upheld triumpantly-- --and steps on a pile of wooden pieces. They snap. He bites back a curse. LATER The snapped pieces of wood are now glued together and bound with rags and twine. Other pieces are nailed hap-hazardly. No obvious end goal in sight. An overturned gluepot spills glue all over the threadbare carpet. Next to an empty beer bottle. The Man looks at the mess in disgust. He storms out of the room. LATER More empties. The Man sit cross legged, his mouth full of nails. The diagram is glued to the side of his head. He looks a little manic. With a hammer in one hand and a nail in the other, he attacks the nearest pieces of wood. The taps of his hammer grow louder and louder. He’s venting his frustration. He pulls the hammer back for a mighty blow-- --and smashes his thumb. As he bites back a yelp, he rears back from the shock and bumps the side table. It topples over and lands on his head. The hand-made lamp crashes and the bulb breaks with a POOF! It sets the diagram on fire-- --that’s glued to the side of his head. He rolls across the carpet, madly patting his head with both hands-- --only one hand still holds the hammer. BLACKOUT LATER The light of a full moon shines in through the window. One side of the love seat is burned away. The Man leans against it, half his hair and one eyebrow singed off. A small army of empties litter the floor. He glares at the pile of bandaged, nailed and broken wood. He will not be bested. He gets up and circles the pile of wood warily and unsteadily, sizing it up. He picks up an odd shaped piece. He rotates it right, then left. He turns it upside-down. Eureka! LATER The empties are all gone, the glue cleaned up, what’s left of the home-made lamp stands on the upright side table In the far corner of the room, under a Christmas tree illuminated by blinking lights, sits a hand-made wooden rocking horse, held together with rags and twine. Possibly the ugliest in the history of the world. The Man sleeps on the floor beside it, curled up under a baby blanket.

Jonathan at 2013-11-24 01:55:01:

INT. PICKUP TRUCK Fingers drum nervously on the wheel. The cab is littered with tools. In the window is a suit-hanging bag with a sticky note that reads "5:30 sharp. See you there!" DAVID pushes the gas. His kind face is worn beyond his years, skin hard and tanned from a life of manual labor. You can smell the sweat and filth ground into his clothes and hair. The truck sputters. Shakes. Dies. David rolls to a stop at an offramp, devastated. He pulls out his phone, GPS dot blinking 2.1 miles away. Clock shows 5:14. He grabs the suit, jumps out and runs. EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET - DAY On the sidewalk a grimy, sweaty shirt is left behind. Yards later an undershirt. Then a muddy boot. A shirtless David clutches the bagged suit under his arm, hopping as he peels off the other boot. Then drops into a sprint. EXT. DOWNTOWN INTERSECTION - DAY Lines of cars at the intersection, a TRAFFIC COP waves people through. His face turns to surprise as David streaks past, bare-ass-naked, jumping through the chaos. The cop's whistle BLASTS and he takes off in pursuit. Two cars SMASH together behind them. EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET - CONTINUOUS A tower clock chimes in the distance, then begins its toll. BONG. David struggles for breath, puffing white clouds in the freezing air, his muscles strain to outrun the cop. A woman HOOTS as he passes by naked, she sees the cop and steps in his path to help out. BONNNGGGGG. The cop WHISTLES furiously, losing ground. EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY BONNNNNGGGGGGGGG. David turns a corner past a large fence and dives behind nearby bushes. Seconds behind, the cop rounds the corner and doesn't see him, looks around. BONNNNNNGGGGGG. Two car doors close and three well dressed people walk toward the building, the cop runs off searching. EXT. BALLET PERFORMANCE HALL - ENTRANCE - DAY BONGGGG. David tucks in his shirt as he separates from the other two. Rachel waits outside shivering, disappointed until she sees David. She smiles brightly, cleans his face and hair up a little, then takes his arm. They head inside. The marquee reads "OAK TREE ELEMENTARY PRESENTS PETER PAN"

plinytheelder_t at 2013-11-24 01:59:11:

EXT. WALTON FAMILY HOME, UPSTATE NY - DAY An old colonial house, surrounded by a white picket fence. Elegantly manicured lawn, covered by a dusting of snow. Christmas lights adorn the house and trees in the front yard. Out front, a realtor's sign proclaims this home has just been sold. INT. ATTIC, WALTON HOME Teenager's cool attic bedroom, slanted ceilings covered in faded posters of baseball and football players, cute girls, wild animals, jet planes and space craft. GEORGE WALTON (55) stands, takes old sports trophies from the dresser: a little league batting trophy, high school football statue... wraps then in tissue paper and old newspaper, carefully places them in the packing box resting on the bed. George picks up the last one: small pedestal, figure of a quarterback in mid-throw... He stops to stare at the engraving on its base: CHARLIE WALTON, MVP 2005 NEW YORK STATE CHAMPIONSHIP. George takes in a couple of calming deep breathes, wipes away the tear welling in his eye, quickly wraps the award and places it on top of the other, as if the sight of it is more than he can bear. He rolls up balls of newspaper, fills up the box to its brim, closes the flaps and double tapes over the seam. Grabs a sharpie, writes "CHARLIE"S THINGS #5" on the side. George picks up the box, carries it two flights of stairs through this elegant home, down to the wooden floored hallway overrun with piles of moving boxes. George places his on top of its siblings. From the kitchen, CANDACE WALTON (52) scurries into the hallway, a cherry wood display case in her hand. CANDACE: Are you done with Charlie's bedroom? She hands over the case, and we see that it holds a flag wrapped in a triangle, medals and service ribbons, pilot's wings, uniform rank insignia and a USAF patch. Inside the case, a small plaque calmly states: MAJOR CHARLES DAVIS WALTON, USAF. FEB 29, 1988 - DEC 15, 2011. ...the last day of the Iraq War. George tries to answer, but is overcome. Candace takes the case from his hand, puts it on top of her son's boxes, George grabs the bannister, sits himself at the bottom of the stairs, buries his face in his hands, and sobs uncontrollably, unable any longer to hold in his years of grief. Candace gazes kindly, sympathetically... this moment was a long time coming. She sits down next to her husband, wraps her arms around him, hugs him.

Femme_Mal at 2013-11-24 03:08:28:

[Oops, too late, but I woke up thinking about this. Bloody insomnia.] _____ INT. LIBRARY - MIDDAY Close on MAN, 35 years old, waiting patiently in silence, his face bland and expressionless. We hear indistinct whispering off screen. Close on MAN, watching as activity accompanying whispering occurs off screen. His eyes flick left, right, center. Pull back slowly as volume of whispering increases, revealing pile of coarse fabric at MAN's feet. Whispering continues to increase in volume off screen. Someone shushes the whispering off screen, halting the whispering momentarily before it picks up again. Continue pulling back slowly, as MAN's eyes flick toward one side. MAN stands as if in response to a cue off screen, revealing his former uncomfortably scrunched perch on a child-sized chair in front of open area surrounded by low bookshelves. MAN picks up coarse bundle at feet, which consists of a fireman's coat and helmet. MAN dons coat and helmet. Whispering halts as he turns to face source of whispering. Pull back slowly, revealing back of children's heads sitting around him. MAN searches children, his face still expressionless until his eyes lock on an unseen child in audience. Whispering escalates again, reaching a maximum pitch before it is no longer whispering. MAN smiles broadly, then waves sheepishly in small movements at unseen child. Giggling replaces whispering off screen. Pull back slowly, revealing cardboard sign on easel behind him, which reads, BRING YOUR FATHER TO SHOW-AND-TELL DAY. FADE OUT.

bigjonslade at 2013-11-24 06:57:28:

INT. HOUSE - NIGHT Dark. The front door opens. A hand flicks on the living room light. A jubilant dog happily wags his tail by the door, preventing THE MAN, (40's) tired from a long week of work, from an easy entrance into his house. He rubs the dogs's head and shuffles past as it jumps up and down on his business suit. The Man nearly trips over a toy police car. He picks it up. KID'S BEDROOM - LATER Race car bed, small basketball hoop and table covered with model cars. The Man sets the police car in line with the other vehicles. He adjusts a couple, fixing the uniformity of the display. KITCHEN - LATER The Man, now in boxers and a t-shirt, reads a note on the Fridge. LATER He stares at the microwave as his dinner heats. He sips a beer watching the tray spin under the yellow light. The dog, face buried in his bowl, slides it across the floor past the Man's feet trying to get every morsel. BING! DEN - LATER Empty dinner tray and a few beer bottles flicker in the dark from the television. The Man is past out on the couch. The dog WHINES to the Man. He doesn't move. The dog licks his face. EXT. BACKYARD - LATER The dog runs past a swing set, onto the grass to do his business. The Man stands in the cold air, wrapped with a child's Super-Hero blanket. He whistles and the dog comes running back. INT. BEDROOM - LATER The dog is already sleeping on the floral covers of the Man's king-sized bed. The Man smiles at the dog and flicks off the light. INT. HALL - LATER The silhouette of the Man shuffles toward a dim light that shines at the end of the hall. INT. KID'S BEDROOM - LATER The Man, awkwardly curled, partially covered under a checkered-flag blanket is fast asleep. The dog walks into the room, looks at the Man and curls up on the floor next to him. END

simon at 2013-11-24 08:09:12:

INT - CAR - NIGHT A man drives fast along an unlit, deserted back road. On the passenger seat is a big present wrapped in pink paper with a big pink bow. A big helium filled number in the shape of the number 7 floats above it. Suddenly the car slows and the empty fuel warning light shines. Pulling over, the man bangs his head against the steering wheel. He gets out and looks either way up and down the road. No sign of life anywhere. LATER In the distance, headlights appear, travelling in the opposite direction to the mans destination. He quickly goes to the trunk, opens it and pulls out a cloth covered object. Unwraps a gun, slips it into the back of his pants. He then picks up a pocket knife from a bunch of tools littered in the trunk, cuts his forehead in a few places and smears the blood on his face. He staggers into the road, appearing dazed and waves down the approaching vehicle. As it slows to a stop he falls to his knees, then lies down in the road. The vehicle is an old farm truck and out steps a small, grey haired lady. As she stoops to check on the man, he jumps up, pulling out the gun on her. LATER INT - FARM TRUCK - NIGHT The man pulls up in the farm truck outside a house with balloons and a big Happy Birthday sign on the porch. He grabs the present from the passenger seat and gets out. As he walks, smiling, towards the house, a body sized shape is visible in the back of the truck, wrapped in pink wrapping paper. FADE OUT

Barbara Thomas at 2013-11-24 12:12:09:

I asked on the Black Board if multiple entries per person were okay - they said go for it. So I hope this is kosher. If not, there's always the day 7 challenge. FADE IN INT. CAR - DRIVING - NIGHT An empty toddler's BOOSTER SEAT hunches in the backseat. Beside it, an empty sippy cup, scattered Cheerios, a gnawed-upon board book. In the FRONT SEAT, our hero, DAD (30s) presses the button for the radio. "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!" blares from the radio. DAD jabs the button again. Silence. Through the windshield, Dad looks out at the near deserted street, winces as the headlights of an approaching car shine in his eyes. He hits the turn signal. Tick, tick tick. Waits his turn, yawns as he spins the steering wheel. He pulls into a parking lot dotted with cars, shuts off the engine. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT Dad passes a few SHOPPERS as they straggle across the lot. He approaches the door of a big box STORE that is totally not Target, unless Target pays for placement. He cups his hands, peers into the dark store. Raps on the door. A CLERK appears on the other side of the glass. She points to the hours posted on the door, then gets a closer look at Dad, nods in recognition. Holds up a finger - she'll be right back - and darts off. Dad rocks back and forth on his heels. He exhales - his breath visible in the night air. The clerk reappears, holds up a raggedy white blob of fabric, bordered with fringe and bearing faded satin letters that spell out BABY. Dad smiles, nods. That's the one. FADE OUT

joshbarkey at 2013-11-24 12:59:32:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY A MAN sits on a rumpled bedspread, wearing only his pajama-bottoms. He is middle-age, middle-class, middle-weight… middle everything. He looks like death. He IS dead, almost. He watches the floor as a WOMAN throws clothes into a suitcase lying open on the bed behind him. She, too, looks dead. The sort of desiccated emptiness that comes when all the tears that CAN fall already have. The Woman gently closes the suitcase. She watches the Man with a weary tenderness. She SNAPS the suitcase-clasps shut. At the sound, the man JOLTS a little, then settles back into himself. The Woman picks up the suitcase and walks out of the room. A door SLAMS. The Man JOLTS again. This time, he gets up. Walks across to a dresser. Pulls it open, and removes a small, snub-nosed pistol. He flips open the pistol and removes all but one of the bullets. The Man takes the pistol and steps into the HALLWAY Halfway down the hallway he stops, turns, and steps in through an open door. A moment later, he emerges clutching a bedraggled teddy bear. His pistol-hand drags a small, pale-blue blanket. He tucks the pistol into the back of his pajamas. He walks down the hall, out the front door of a suburban home and into a crisp, winter day. Snow covers the ground. His breath is visible. He walks, barefoot and shirtless, toward a sensible silver SUV. The Woman sits inside it. Forehead against the steering wheel. The Man TAPS on the window. The Woman looks up, her eyes streaming tears. The Man lifts the teddy bear, offering it to her. The Woman CHOKES, hard, on a sob. She keys the ignition, JAMS the car into gear, and PEELS out of there, in reverse. The man stands, watching the bare patch of concrete where the SUV had been. The Man walks to the middle of his lawn. Behind him, by the front door of the house, we can just make out a few wilted bouquets, with cards. The Man pulls the pistol from the back of his pajamas. He lies down on the snow in the middle of the lawn, and drapes the small blanket over himself. He clutches the teddy bear close. He puts the barrel of the pistol into his mouth. He closes his eyes. CUT TO BLACK A GUNSHOT. FADE OUT - - - [To see more of my screenwriting samples, check out: http://joshbarkeythree.blogspot.com/ ]

14Shari at 2013-11-24 16:45:09:

EXT. OUTSIDE OLD BUILDING - EVENING Adam puts his face against the window to observe the group of people. They seem to be put together randomly. Adam gazes at a young woman. Her beauty takes his breath away. Suddenly, a man walks up to the window and pulls the curtain so that no one can peek in. Adam sighs. He stands straight, looks at his watch, takes a moment to decide and walks away from the old building. At the bus stop he waits for the bus in the cold. A drunk beggar stumbles upon him, holds his hands up. Adam searches his pocket. His fingers gets hold of a fumbled note. He shakes his head to the beggar and starts to read the letter. ‘ Dear dad, I know you can do this. Whenever you have doubt, think of me. I’ll be there with you anytime you need me. Please, keep your promise and visit the AA meeting. I know you have the courage to be there. Always yours, Tina.’ When the bus stops, Adam gets up. He walks to the old building to visit his first AA meeting. His hand clamps tightly onto the note as he walks into the building and introduces himself to the group leader.

simon at 2013-11-24 17:23:49:

INT - APARTMENT - DAY JOHN MUTTER (43, grief ridden face, body a natural Santa Claus stand in) turns his apartment over, in the hunt for something lost. Hall closet - his and daughters coats and shoes come out, hunts on shelves at back. Nothing. Kitchen - dirty crockery litters the place. Searches empty cupboards. Nothing. Bathroom - dirty mens and young girls clothes piled high. Checks cabinet, then cupboard under sink. Nothing. Bedroom - more clothes strewn everywhere, empty beer cans and take-out cartons. He goes to wardrobe, hesitates, opens doors and reveal a neat closet full of clean, pressed womens clothes. He takes out a dress, lovingly embraces it for a moment, smells it. Then suddenly he takes all clothes out, dumps them on floor - spots a small box at the back. LOUNGE Sits on sofa, opens box and takes out sowing kit. He pulls out needle and struggles to thread it with cotton. Pricks finger, face winces with pain. Picks up some material from coffee table and - pair of FAIRY WINGS. LATER He holds up a finished fairy costume, wings are wonky, workmanship quite shoddy. CUT TO His reflection in mirror - wearing the fairy costume. It's a perfect fit, though it doesn't cover the beer belly and his leg hair looks nasty through the sheer leggings. But he is beaming. As his reflection goes into the bathroom and he picks up a razor, zoom in on a leaflet tucked into the mirror: "Beaverbrook Elementary - Mother and Daughter Fairy Fancy Dress Competition"

writerhaha at 2013-11-24 19:59:48:

INT – Harrison house- kitchen – 5:00 a.m. ALAN HARRISON, 56 closes his canvas lunch bag, he reaches into his pocket and checks to make sure he has everything. We hear the tingle of keys, he pulls out his wallet and pulls out an iphone. He unlocks he phone and looks at the home screen. There are only the necessary apps and they’re organized around the outside, making a picture visible. A young girl in an Easter dress. ALAN opens his messages 4, unanswered (messages appear on the screen). FROM Baby: Need Milk for the casserole. FROM Baby: Don’t text while you drive. FROM Mike: League match, lowest score carries the balls and buys beer. From Emily: Stringz plz Alan notices the time on the last message. Sent at 2:30 am. Alan sighs. INT: Harrison house, upstairs. Alan opens the door. INT: Master Bedroom A sliver of light from the hallway reveals some of the room. It’s clean, oak bedroom furniture. We see a figure in bed, Helen (Baby) 54. Alan blows her a kiss and closes the door. Alan turns to the door to the left of his bedroom. And opens the door. INT Emily’s Room. Instead of the light from the hallway, a blue light from a lava lamp comes through the door to Alan. He opens it a bit wider. On the floor are clothes, food wrappers, and assorted rubbish. There’s a beautiful acoustic guitar in the corner. The bed is unmade and empty. Alan takes a step into the room (rubbish crunching under his feet) On a desk is an envelope with an opened letter. Alan reads it. We focus in on phrases: ACADEMIC SUSPENSION. DISMISSIAL Alan puts it down and retraces his steps back out of the room. INT: Alan’s truck. Alan is driving to work. Instead of a Bluetooth, he has his phone on a cradle. He looks over at it and opens a voicemail. Emily: Hey dad, things are going good here at school. I just wanted you to hear this. Emily plays “Redemption Song” on a guitar and sings along. The message ends. Alan looks down from the road and clicks another. Emily: Dad, I can’t wait to see you guys over the break. Here’s another song. I remember this one growing up. Emily plays Night Moves. The technique is spot on, a great improvement. Alan looks to the passenger seat then drives on in silence. He pulls the car into work. EXT: Furion Plastics. An industrial building. Alan gets his phone and gear from the truck. Then he leaves and joins with the line of workers heading into the main building. INT: Shop. Inside the shop Alan’s team is already at work stacking and pouring molds. He sees MIKE, 46, bulky. Alan: you do a double? Mike: Yeah, I need the money, Robin wants to redo the kitchen. You get my message? Alan: Yeah, we’re playing the guys from the pit? Mike: Yep, they’re supposed to be pretty good. Alan: Are you kidding? We beat them by 30 pins easily. Mike: You think? Alan: Yeah. Mike: Alright boss, I’ve got to go get home, about to crash. Mike turns to go. Alan: Hey Mikey. Mike turns around. Alan: Take two of these, and save your money, we’re going to be thirsty. Alan flips Mike a bottle of Advil. Mike smiles and turns away. Alan get to his station and starts working. The thoughts in his head appear on the screen. Starting with Milk and Stringz. Words like SAFETY, BOWLING, MIKE, PITT, 30 PINS, TEXT AND DRIVE, fill the screen. Alan takes a deep breath and starts to work. Fade out INT: Alan’s Truck Alan is driving, the same thoughts from work are on his mind. He’s driving home and he sees TED BROWN’S Music and pulls into the parking lot. INT – Ted Brown’s Music Instruments line the walls and racks of sheet music books. A cashier comes up to him. She’s heavily tattooed and pierced. Cashier: Can I help you? Alan: Yes, looking for strings. Cashier: Nylon or Bronze, electric or .. Alan: “Stringz?” The cashier looks at him puzzled. Alan pulls out his phone and scrolls to the message, then hands it to the cashier. She nods her head and points to a rotating display. Alan walks over to the display. They’re rotating and there’s about a dozen on all. The packages are bright and multicolored. Not just guitar strings, the packages indicate strings for violins, violas, cello etc. EXT Ted Brown’s Music Alan is carrying a brown bag. He sets it down in the passenger seat and circles around to get into his car. INT Alan’s Truck Alan is driving along until he sees Gelman’s market. He pulls in the same way as he pulled into Ted Brown’s. INT: Harrison house – kitchen Helen is in the kitchen preparing a meal. Running between a stovetop and pull out cutting board. Alan enters. Carrying two born bags. They give eachother a peck on the cheek. Helen: how was your day dear? Alan: Same old. You know, it sure beats working for a living. And old joke between them. Helen (yelling): Emily, your dad is home. Alan: It’s ok I was going to surprise her. I got her message. Alan lifts the brown bag and pours out a host of strings. It’s like he pulled one from every spot on the rack. She smiles. Helen lets out a quick gasp. Helen: What about my message? Alan reaches into the second bag and pulls out a carton of milk, maybe half a liter, not enough for a casserole. Helen is first angry, but then sees the smile on his face. Helen: Well, I guess we’re ordering in.

NB at 2013-11-24 23:10:21:

INT. Teenage girl’s bedroom. A room left in disarray, in the wake of the girl’s early morning, pre-school rush. We see clothes thrown on the floor, the closet door open, a perfume bottle over-turned on the bureau, the bed unmade. A man comes is in the door of the room, slowly taking it all in. He is a dad—from his slightly graying hair, to his rumpled button down. He is hesitant to enter, as if the girl is still there. Finally he moves away from the door and walks in, then stops in the center of the room, unsure of himself. He looks around, we see him looking for something from his place in the middle of the room. The camera pans with him, looking around, looking for something. CUT TO: a close up of the dad’s face. He is ineffably sad. He sees something and there is hope in his face. CUT TO: the dad kneels down next to the bed, pulls something out slowly. He rocks back on his heels and holds it up. We finally see it—it is a worn teddy bear. He smiles and holds and holds it to his chest. Then he sits down hard on the floor and begins to sob. There is a gentle tap at the door. But the dad doesn’t hear it. He buries his face in the bear and cries, leans against the bed. His heart is broken. CUT TO: A man standing in the door to the room, a man in a dark suit. He is watching, giving the dad time. Finally he checks his watch, unobtrusively, then clears his throat. The dad finally hears him and tries to stop crying, keeping his back to the man in the door. Man in the door: Mr. Graham, the car is ready to take you to the funeral home. The dad nods, slowly stands up and walks across the room. He gets to the door. CUT TO: He turns and surveys his daughter’s room once again and his tears start again,quietly. He closes the door.

Alejandro at 2013-11-25 00:33:58:

EXT. CEMETERY - DAY FLINT (85), hard-faced, grumpy looking, in black suit puts a bouquet of flowers over a grave that reads “JEANNE. BELOVED MOTHER AND WIFE. FEB 14 1930 - NOV 19 2013” Looks to see if there’s no one around and quietly sobs. INT. KITCHEN - DAY An old but well cared kitchen. Flint opens some doors and drawers looking for something. He finds an old notebook, takes out his reading glasses from his pocket and puts them on. THE NOTEBOOK Stained and yellowish pages with handwritten recipes. Flint flips the pages until he finds one titled “BIRTHDAY CAKE” INT. KITCHEN - LATER Flint with a deadpan expression wears a very feminine pink apron that’s way too small for him. He stands in front of a table with neatly ordered packs and boxes of sugar, butter, milk, flour and baking powder. Just like in TV cooking shows. MONTAGE - BAKING THE CAKE -- He rip opens the bag of flour over a bowl, he ends up covered in flour. Coughs. -- Tries to open an egg, but crushes it. -- Adds sugar, butter, cream and milk to the bowl. -- Takes out a handheld electric mixer. -- A splash of ingredients fly away from the bowl when Flint uses the mixer. -- Pours the lumpy cake mix over a pan. -- Puts it inside the oven. Waits. -- Takes out the pan, the bread is burned. -- Puts flour, sugar, butter and other ingredients on the bowl. -- Takes out of the oven an acceptable looking bread. -- Clumsily applies ready-to-use icing. -- Fills a decorating bag with pink icing. -- Writes over the cake. INT. KITCHEN - LATER The kitchen and Flint are a mess. He proudly looks at a terrible looking cake whose icing reads “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HONEY - DAD” He doubts, takes a spatula and removes part of the icing. Writes over the cake with the decorating bag. Looks at the cake. Smiles. Exits. THE CAKE Now reads “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HONEY - MOM AND DAD” A CALENDAR on the wall. November 24, 2013 is circled, with a note that reads "LIL' J'S BIRTHDAY" FADE OUT