Scene 2 Sam, you know I loved you, buddy, but this ain't going to work. I know I promised, but Jesus, its the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. What were you thinking? You know, Sam, when I stood at your bedside and you grabbed me by the collar, I thought you were going to strangle me, but no, you didn't. What did you do? You told me your dying wishes.You should have strangled me. I thought, hell, he's gone plain crazy. Even the priest was lost for words. I asked him, right after he finished taking your confession, do you think it'll do any good? You know what he said, Sam. Who knows God's mysterious ways. You can try, but in Sam's case. I doubt it will help. That's what he said, Sam. I wanted to tell you there and then it was a waste of time, but you'd almost slipped away and the priest, well, he got in the way giving you the last rites. Guess you wouldn't have heard me anyway. It was round about then you flat-lined. Too late and now I'm stuck with the job you gave me. Why me, Sam? Why me? Did you really have to get it written into your will? I've really got to do this every day for two weeks before I get my pay-off? That sucks, Sam. Hell, Sam, you're going to hell. Nothing is going to change that. You're a gangster. Gangsters kill people. You were good at your job. What more to you want? That not enough for you, Sam. No, that's not enough for Sam. Sam wants to go to heaven. Sam, I'm going to tell it to you straight. Murdering gangsters don't go to heaven. That's the rules. F. O. R. G.E.T. I.T. You got that. Forget it. And you know what, this dumb idea of yours isn't going to make one bit of difference. Not one, you hear me. But a promise is a promise so I'm going to do it anyway. --The mourner reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a can. He opens it. The drink fizzes onto his head. He licks it off.-- Sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to do that. I know you're going need every drop to get you where you want to go. --The mourner tips the can up and pours the drink onto the grave-- Well, buddy, I hope it does you some good. I guess I'll see you tomorrow. --The mourner turns away and walks down a path. He passes a rubbish bin. He throws the can in the bin. – --Camera focuses on a can of Red Bull in the bin.

Feedback 2 I liked this and the way it had an arc from starting with I love you to ending with a bit of anger. I would have liked to see more of that, maybe even some hatred towards Sam being revealed at the end. I couldn't get a good sense of the speaker. He associates with a murderer, but he himself isn't dangerous? Or he's dangerous but has a nice guy way of talking? I was hearing Jimmy Stewart's voice as I read it and I'm not sure that's what you were going for.

Scene 2 Andy sits down at the edge of a grave, drinking a tall boy from a brown bag. His phone rings and the ringtone is Bubba Sparxxx "Ms. New Booty." He SILENCES it. ANDY -- I don't want you to worry about me, mom. I'm gonna be just fine. I'd be slightly better if you'd invested in Playstation before the PS4 hit the market like I told you. And I'm still a little grossed out that you made a sex tape with Chuck and then left it for me to find when I cleaned out your stuff. But we all make mistakes and I won't judge you for having sex with Chuck if you won't judge me for having sex with Theresa before she lost two hundred pounds on Weightwatchers. Which I assume you know about now that you're up in heaven. If you didn't already know, just pretend you didn't hear that. He sips the beer. ANDY -- I didn't think I'd miss you this much but I do. Andy stands and dusts himself off. Starts to walk away but turns back. ANDY -- If you see Brittany Murphy ask her the name of that music video she was in. I was trying to think of it earlier but I can't remember the name. Nevermind. I'll just Google it. Google's probably faster.

FEEDBACK 2 Little nuggets of foreshadowing like “what were you thinking?” or “I know I promised,” are a great device to string the audience along, but I think it can be stronger. Those questions don’t demand attention or invoke more questions for me. Perhaps if the audience had something to chew on up front they would have a framework in order ask meaningful questions. For example, when I hear, “what were you thinking” the first thing that comes to mind is, well I don’t know what he was thinking, he must have done something stupid, but I’ll have to wait for some more information. It’s too broad a place to start asking questions. It’s not a terrible place to start, but the information that came afterward was still hazy for me. On the other hand, if the mourner throws a huge stack of money on the grave and says,"Here’s your cut," my brain immediately starts asking questions. Okay, this person just died. They were successful in whatever they did, but died in the process? This guy must be really loyal to give him his cut after death, especially when it's useless for the dead guy, why is he here? Usually, huge stacks of money mean trouble, I'm thinking this was a hit or illegal deal? My example isn't great, but I hope it gets the point across and is helpful. Perhaps I’m just crazy and everyone else got their fill from this scene, but personally I wanted to know what made these two characters tick. I craved more information to grab onto. Why is pouring Red Bull weird? What’s the story? So he died just being a gangster? Did he die a gruesome death? Why is this guy fulfilling the promise in the first place? I WANT MORE ANSWERS! That said, I still enjoyed the scene.

Scene 3 EXT. GRAVEYARD – DAY CONNOR, seen in left profile, stands at the foot of the only new grave among hundreds dating back to the 1800's. A tallish, new-style headstone says ZANE PELTIER DUBOIS, GONE TO HIS REWARD. A cigarette butt at Connor's feet reveals he's been there for a while. He's carrying a large paper bag and addressing the grave marker as if it were a live person. CONNOR: Well, Zane, here we are at last, you and me, from the old neighborhood. I came to say a few words. What words? I don't know. I didn't prepare a speech. You might say I came to pay my last respects. No, you're right, Zane, I'm lying. I'm here to pay my disrespects, to finally say what a disgusting, stinking, useless piece of shit you were. He looks around. There's nobody in sight, no place to sit. CONNOR: I should have brought a chair. You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking about the horrible things you did all your life, things you never paid for. You got off lucky, you know. Ancient Romans only lived to be about thirty, on average, and you beat that. It's a shame. He lights a cigarette, then holds it out toward the headstone. CONNOR: This cigarette just reminded me you were smoking the day you moved into our neighborhood. You were, what, ten? By rights, you should have died from cancer. But you won't, now. You're safely in that box, safe from cigarettes. He flicks the cigarette towards the headstone. It bounces back onto the grass. CONNOR: I remember the day a friend of mine at school told me how he'd found his cat that morning, dead, with a wire coat hanger around its neck. There were more cats, weren't there? He pulls a champagne bottle out of the bag, rolls up the bag and stuffs it into his coat pocket. CONNOR: Then Wendy. Yes, I know about Wendy. Your own sister. You did something to her bike, didn't you? Something to the brakes that made her shoot into the intersection at the bottom of the hill near your house. You were away at Boy Scout camp that weekend. Everybody felt sorry for you, then, losing your little sister. He picks up the champagne bottle and shows the label to the gravestone. CONNOR: I brought something for you, Zane. No, it's not champagne. Guess what it really is. No, it's not 20 year old Scotch, either. It's not even cheap beer. I promised this to myself a long time ago. He twists the cork and pulls it out. It makes a faint poonk. CONNOR: Yes, it's piss. I'm pissing on your final resting place, Zane. This is more decorous than whipping it out right here in public, but every bit as effective. Let me assure you, I won't miss any spots. They'll have to resod here, pardon my pun, you damned sod. He advances to the marker, tilts the bottle, then backs carefully away, distributing the yellowish liquid, avoiding getting any on his sturdy policeman's shoes. CONNOR: How many more cats did you kill? How long before you switched to people again? I was on the city Police Department here for five years and never saw a pattern. It was there. But nobody saw. First cats would go missing, a few would turn up killed. A bit later, a woman or a child would die. Then nothing. You'd wait a year, maybe two, then you'd start all over again, somewhere far away. He wipes his prints off the bottle with a rag. CONNOR: Then bad luck, Zane: I went to work for the state police, and I read all the unsolved cases for the entire state. I sifted through the police reports for the months before and after each murder. Every time, I found a few cat-killing reports a while beforehand. And one cat, in one city, had a coat hanger around its neck. That was enough. I finally remembered that day I saw you behind the school, playing with a coat hanger. He tosses the empty bottle aside. ARC SHOT 180° TO RIGHT PROFILE. Connor wears a wireless Bluetooth headphone over his right ear. CONNOR: It didn't take long to trace your path from city to city, then tie you to the murders with your DNA. I found some relatives of the victims who wanted to meet you. They were the ones who chloroformed you and stuffed you into that coffin, who dug this grave last night, buried you, and left before dawn. It's just you and me, now. You probably hope I'm going to dig you up, don't you? Say it. Say, “I hope you'll dig me up.” (beat) Good. Thank you. No, no, we're not going to dig you up, you slimy little sociopath. Goodbye, Zane. Connor bends down and jams a twig into the open end of a half-inch copper tube sticking up out of the ground beside the headstone. Then he turns and strides away.

Good twist, Jeff. Like the payback. I know this scene was one person talking to a grave, but this would have been cool with a whole group of "mourners" that turnout to be the relatives of the victims celebrating their kill.

EXT. CEMETERY - EVENING PETER BLAKE (50's) stands near the soft soil of a recent burial. He rests his hand on the granite tombstone like he would on his son's shoulder when it was time for a talk. He has trouble getting the words together. He contemplates the words carved into the stone. PETER: "Beloved." What a great word. You were beloved. He shifts. PETER: Your mother... She used to talk about how you were a lady-killer, you know. All the women would melt when they saw you. Pinch your cheeks an stop and wanna hold you. You were just a baby. But, she saw something... They all saw something in you. Not just the ladies. Everyone. I knew. I knew you had it, too. That quality only some people have that just makes everyone else at ease, and also enlivened in your presence. You sure had that. He loses his thoughts for a moment. PETER: You remember that time when I took you to the track and - ha, you liked to pick the ponies by their names and colors, right? - and I kept trying to get you to learn my system. Read the charts. Watch their workouts. The grades. Did they drop? Are they stepping up? What class were they racing? Were they in the right class? You're six, I've got you playing hooky from kindergarten and I'm trying to teach you about class. You still went with the colors. Any horse and its jockey wearing blue was your ticket. Your mom never let me here the end of that, you know. I see her at your graduation and she still talked about that. When you and Sara had Jimmy, in the delivery room, she brought it up. He catches himself, his emotions sneaking in. PETER: "Beloved." Some of us will have to settle for "R.I.P." But that one, "Beloved," that one suits you. Suits you well.

SCENE 3 A woman in black reads the epitaph on a tombstone. “John Bren, beloved husband, father, son, brother” She inhales deeply and produces a hammer and chisel out of her bag, and starts working on the tombstone frantically. WOMEN: I guess you never really loved me. I have to leave the apartment. Your lawyer doesn't know anything about a trust fund for the children, our children. Did you even love them for one whole second? A spoiled brat like you think you can buy women with your millions. Because your mother couldn't love you, you couldn't love someone else. Oh yeah (looking at her work) you loved you and your money. We had a deal and you didn't keep your side of the bargain. As you could have known, I will, oh yeah. I'm going to do exactly what you didn't want me to do. You watch it from up there, old man. Hell will break loose on your precious rich family and business. I deserve to be taken care of. Your wife didn't satisfy you, I did. Some time has passed by when a guard approaches the woman who's nearly finished. GUARD: Madam, put those things down. You're damaging private property. I have to arrest you. Put it down now. The woman looks triumphantly and puts down her gear. The guard steps forward and stares agape at the epitaph that now reads. “John Bren, beloved husband, father, son, brother. Dad of Maxine and John Jr. Lover of Sophia Allen" WOMAN: One moment, sir. She makes a selfie of herself in front of the epitaph and sends it off to Boulevard Magazine. The woman holds her hand out, victorious. WOMAN: Go ahead. Arrest me.

SCENE 1 EXT. CEMETERY – DAY LUISE (72), an old lady – type „fragile body, strong will – plows through the knee-high snow of the small path of the cemetery. She comes by only one other visitor, a man in his 40s who hastily leaves, pulling his jacket up to his chin. Luise arrives at one gravestone, stops. We look up from the ground with her and – sitting on top of the gravestone – we see JACK (66). His body is covered in snow, but he doesn't seem to mind. Luise (laughs): You look like the goddamn fool you are. Jack doesn't move, but smiles as he realizes her. Jack: Yeah, yeah. As long as I don't look as old as you do. Luise: Being alive does that to you. Jack: Tell me about it. Luise takes an old brush from her tightly held purse and starts to dust the snow off of Jack's shoulder. Jack: Come on. Tell me. How are you doing? Luise: Fine. Jack: Fine? Really? That's it? It's been... how long? Time's pretty relative these days, so... Luise: Two weeks. Jack: Two weeks?! What's going on? I thought you loved me like crazy and... Luise: What? Jack: Nothing. Luise: What? Still huffy I didn't drop dead right after you? Right after you... Jack: Here we go again. Luise: You're godamn right. Jack tries to get up and leave, but somehow he can't. Luise smiles. Luise: I like this. You not being able to just up and leave. Jack crouches back into his former position. Luise stares at him. Luise: We had a deal. Jack: I know. Luise: You said you wouldn't die before I did. Jack: I know. Luise: You think I wanted a man six years younger for the fun of it?! You were supposed to be there and not leave me behind, like all these other sad widows roaming the cemeteries. This is not fair. Jack: … I know. Luise stares at Jack, then she starts brushing more snow to the side of the grave, breathing hard. Jack: Lu, let it be. What's this supposed to..? I'm not here. Luise freezes. Slowly, she gets up, brushing the dirt from her knees. She looks up at the gravestone and the white emptiness around it. The top of the gravestone is slowly being covered with snow again. Luise straightens up. Then she leaves. Alone.

FEEDBACK 1 Hi Jonathan, I really liked your scene. It feels like Peter justs starts to ramble off the first thing that comes to his mind, which I find to be quite realistic. His feeling that he might only get a "R.I.P." gives it an even sadder touch in the end. If anything I found the scene to be a bit on the short side, but that might only be testament to its quality.

Scene 2 EXT. CEMETERY - LATE AFTERNOON CHARLES, (32) stumbles painfully across the graves in the cemetery, searching desperately until he finds the one he is looking for. He falls to his knees in front of the tombstone, his hand tightly pressed against his shoulder trying to contain the blood from seeping out. CHARLES: Sarah. My sweetest Sarah. It’s me. I’m back. I know, it’s been a while, but this time is for good. You see, the things I’ve done have finally caught up with me, but I could not leave without saying good-bye. I owe it to you, because, after all, you were my first. It’s been five years since that faithful night… you remember, don’t you? You wore that beautiful dress that stuck to your body under the rain. I held my heart out to you. I told you that I loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. And then you laughed and you mocked me. You don’t do that to people, not like that, not when they are pouring out their souls. I mean, if you laugh at a man who is holding out a knife in front of you, you are asking to be killed. Was it laughter? It was raining… you could have been crying. In any case, my sweetest Sarah, I have already forgiven you… let bygones be bygones, I always say. But I never forgot you, and I tried to make it up to you, I really tried. After that night I traveled the country looking for someone like you… to make amends, to try again. I looked for your hair… your smile… your tiny feet. I wanted someone as beautiful as you, as precious as you, as damaged as you. But all I found was pain, and fear, and revulsion. So I had to kill them too. Five years I roamed… so many girls, so many faces… And I cried every time, I promise you. I cried for them as I cried for you… my sweetest Sarah. And my travels brought me back here, as I knew they would one day… but they were waiting for me, with their sirens and their dogs… and their guns. - Police sirens are heard in the horizon. A file of patrol cars are driving rapidly across the cemetery roads. CHARLES: I guess this is it. I don’t expect we will see each other again. I know where I am going and I know you will not be there, my sweet angel… my sweetest Sarah. - He rises painfully and pulls out a gun from the back of his trousers. CHARLES: So good-bye, my love. I guess it’s time to end things right.

Ricardo, A little melodramatic for my taste, but there was some nice imagery in the middle dialogue. I like the line, "You don't do that to people, not like that, not when they are pouring out their souls." I would have liked to sit in that moment of vulnerablitly for a bit longer.

Feedback 3 This was imaginable, but what let it down for me was her doing all that chiseling in such a short space of time. After all, its not that easy a thing to do or we'd all be down there decorating our own headstones It might have been more believable if she'd just got as far as three letters, BAS and you'd left the rest to a viewers imagination.

Feedback 2 Great idea, talking to a grave--with someone alive inside; that is unexpected. Well done. Instead of jamming a twig into a half-inch copper tube, which might not obliterate it completely, you could have tried for the conversation to last, until Connor got no more response from the grave. Then have Connor McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave.

FEEDBACK 2 Little nuggets of foreshadowing like “what were you thinking?” or “I know I promised,” are a great device to string the audience along, but I think it can be stronger. Those questions don’t demand attention or invoke more questions for me. Perhaps if the audience had something to chew on up front they would have a framework in order ask meaningful questions. For example, when I hear, “what were you thinking” the first thing that comes to mind is, well I don’t know what he was thinking, he must have done something stupid, but I’ll have to wait for some more information. It’s too broad a place to start asking questions. It’s not a terrible place to start, but the information that came afterward was still hazy for me. On the other hand, if the mourner throws a huge stack of money on the grave and says,”Here’s your cut,” my brain immediately starts asking questions. Okay, this person just died. They were successful in whatever they did, but died in the process? This guy must be really loyal to give him his cut after death, especially when it’s useless for the dead guy, why is he here? Usually, huge stacks of money mean trouble, I’m thinking this was a hit or illegal deal? My example isn’t great, but I hope it gets the point across and is helpful. Perhaps I’m just crazy and everyone else got their fill from this scene, but personally I wanted to know what made these two characters tick. I craved more information to grab onto. Why is pouring Red Bull weird? What’s the story? So he died just being a gangster? Did he die a gruesome death? Why is this guy fulfilling the promise in the first place? I WANT MORE ANSWERS! That said, I still enjoyed the scene.

Scene 3 A haggard MAN (60s) meanders through a cemetery. Dirty, unshaven and unkempt but with a dignity about him. His sorry state is a recent development, isn't natural for him, not yet. He's carrying a shoe box, searching. Finally his eyes find what they're looking for, a small, flat, inordinate but clean headstone. MAN: There you are. Murray Isaacson, 1951-2015. No epitaph. No mention of family. Whole life summed up between two numbers. You can't blame them. Mess you left behind. Lucky you didn't end up in Plotter's Field. Might've been better off. I imagine you'll get some visitors who just want to spit on your name. People you hurt. Fun while it lasted, eh Murray? Got to live the high life, rub elbows with the kings of Wall Street. Called a genius, an innovator. Everyone wanted to give their money to Murray, didn't expect they'd never get it back. You had to have known it was gonna come crashing down eventually, didn't you? Of course you did, you had a plan for that. Can't say it was the most elaborate plan, scribbled on a napkin to the wife "Jumping off the George Washington Bridge. Goodbye." You know they dragged the Hudson for days? All they got was your jacket and one of your shoes. Even in death you had to be a pain in the ass. I guess after enough time they gave up looking. Wanted some finality. Wanted to put something in the ground and forget about you. That's what this is for. The Man holds up the box, flips off the lid and removes a piece of paper, Murray's birth certificate. MAN: If we're going to forget how you ended up, might as well forget how you started out. He tosses it down next to the headstone, goes back into the box. More official documents: social security card, passport, certificates, licenses, etc. All forming a pile on the ground. MAN: Everything you were, everything you accomplished. It all needs to go. He pulls out one last thing, Murray's New York driver's licence. The face is a few years younger and a lot happier but it's unquestionably the face of our Man. He tosses it to the pile, produces a small bottle of lighter fluid and douses his paper life, lights a match and it all goes up in flames. He watches it burn. MAN: Nothing personal, Murray. You had to die so I can live. My name's Jack. Jack's a stand-up guy, an honest, hard-working American you can be proud of. He's going to do something with his life. Something positive, help people. He's going to forget all about you. Jack squirts more fluid on the fire and watches the flames grow. JACK: And Jack's going to sleep at night, dammit.

Feedback 3 Well done. I didn't expect the dark turn it takes and really liked the timing of it. I agree with the other review that I'd like to see more bits of his vulnerability/anger. His obsession comes through really clear but I wanted a better glimpse at what makes him kill. Everyone has been hurt by rejection, but what happened to him that he needs to lash out with such violence?

FEEDBACK 3: Quirky and funny monologue. This makes me curious about what Andy’s relationship with his mother was like and what kind of person she was. I imagine they were drinking buddies. What if after his touching revelation that he misses her, he gives a toast and pours a little beer on her grave to honor her? Or he brings her a tall boy and leaves it at her grave as an offering. He could make a toast and “clink” her beverage.

Thanks N D and Jonathan Melikidse for your feedback. I guess I saw Charles as a really fucked up character trying to find a logical explanation within his sick and twisted mind. In reality, Sarah was crying and begging for her life, not laughing and mocking him at his love declaration. But I agree, I could have expanded his vulnerability a bit more and showed a bit more of the guy's tormented soul. Good tips. Cheers!

SCENE 3 EXT. BAMBOO FOREST CLEARING - DAY The end of the day sets blueish tones around this tiny clearing covered with a thin duvet of snow. In the center, a MAN (late 50s), old winter Korean clothe on, grey hair, almond shape eyes and rounds glasses on, stands in front of a freshly made bump of dirt. The place is silent, except for a distant chatter and laughter by the small fire inside the forest, and barely disturbed by the soft snow falling like cotton. MAN: Look how you did for yourself. There is no one here. Why? What have you done to be so pathetic? The laughter gets a little stronger for a beat in the background. MAN: No one cares. See? I know, there was Sohyeon. She left, smashing your heart to pieces. He pauses, pensive, as a snowflake lands on the top of his glasses. The laughter has died in the distance but the chatter continues. As he takes off his glasses to remove the snowflake: MAN: But you could've tried again. You had thirty five years. Thirty five damn years. The chatter is but a very distant sound now and a soft warm fire like light slowly rises around the Man as he drops the glasses. MAN: And all you did was fantasising on her return, believing in something that never existed and all for what? Because she left you a damn piece of jewellery? Warm tears roll down his face, shinning in the growing light, as he extends his right arm and removes a simple, yet beautiful watch. He drops it too. The chatter is no more than a memory now. After taking a beat to recover he slowly squats to grab the watch. He finds it next to the glasses which started to disappear in a soft spur of shiny particles. The particles rise slowly, dancing with falling snowflakes and passing the Man who doesn't pay attention but instead picks up the watch and reads the inscription on the back. MAN: Kim Jaeyoung, my love, this is not the end. He stand up, his eyes fixed on the watch, now surrounded with light as his own body starts to dissipate in rising shiny particles. MAN: This is not the end. The light grows more intense and as his body dissipates quickly, he looks back at the tomb and throws the watch on it. The light disappears to reveal that the night has fallen and the chatter, now back, is slowly over shadowed by the growing noise ofsnow cracking under foot steps. A WOMAN's hand reaches out for the watch on the tomb, brings it close to her heart and sobs. She is fully covered with layers of clothe so that we can't see her but we hear her barely silent sadness. WOMAN: Kim Jaeyoung, my love, in the next life maybe.

Feedback 4 I was not really expecting a dialogue when dealing with a "conversation" in a cemetery. But when you consider that she is in reality all alone, it definitely works in so many levels. Extremely sweet and endearing.

I have a sneaking suspicion you didn't read all the bad press Red Bull got in the States last year about their advertising. Sam just wants to go to heaven and for that he needs wings... He listened too much to the advertising... Red Bull te dar alas.

Feedback 7 Aurélién I leave it to someone with a lot more experience to analyse the technical merits of your writing style, but I feel that the purpose of these dialogue-writing challenges is to focus more on the dialogue than on the actions to drive the scene. As such, your scene relied way too much on the actions to convey the message. Furthermore, many of the action lines seem more suited to a book narrative than a script (e.g. "The chatter is no more than a memory now"). Having said that, this scene is really beautiful. The idea of the man's spirit talking to his buried corpse was unexpected so points for originality.

Thank you for your feedback. I agree, somehow this dialogue exercise is quite challenging. I feel the need to move a scene with action rather than dialogue so I can't help but to stick a couple of lines of action in between dialogue. As for “The chatter is no more than a memory now”, I'm always worried about repetition so that was a way to express the absence of chatter without getting into "The chatter has completely faded out", that just felt awkward to me after "The chatter is but a very distant sound now". Thank you

AHH! I gotchya. Went straight over my head there, now it makes sense. Sorry about that!

Writing Challenge: SCENE 3 EXT.- GRAVESITE – DAY Akio (37) dressed in a full Samurai uniform is standing next to a freshly filled in grave. It is snowing and the sky is gray. AKIO: I remember the day you were stuck in the cherry blossom tree. You were so afraid. You were crying. I heard you from a distance and I asked what was wrong. You could barely speak. Akio smiles just a little. Then he rubs his eye to remove a tear. AKIO (CONT.): I wanted to help you, but, I knew that if I did you would never learn for yourself. I told you that you must be brave and climb down. You cried all the more and begged me to save you. You were only a few feet off the ground so I knew you would be okay. I told you that you must do it yourself, and that a true Samurai would not be afraid. At that moment, Mother called us for dinner. I told you that if you did not get home in time I’d eat your portion. Then I turned and walked away. Akio sits down on a small boulder near the grave. He shakes his head. AKIO (CONT.): Well, Kazumi, I went home and ate my food. I waited for what seemed like a long time and you still were not home. Mother asked me if I knew where you were. I told her you were stuck in a tree. She scolded me for leaving you there and told me to go and help you. Father, however, told me to stay where I was and that I was right to leave you there. A few moments later you strolled in through the door as if nothing were wrong. I thought you’d be angry but you were smiling. You thanked me for making you do it yourself. After that, you became fearless. You did things even I would not have attempted. Akio stands up and walks to the grave stone. AKIO (CONT.): You became the greatest warrior that our village had ever seen. You had more courage and honor than I ever had. Akio kneels on one knee and tears well up in his eyes. AKIO (CONT.): I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me this time. I heard what happened and I vowed to avenge you. I found the men that attacked you. Cowards. They were boasting about how you died when I found them. Akio coughs and blood comes from his mouth. He wipes it away with his sleeve. AKIO (CONT.): Even though the odds were against me I killed them all. Unlike you, they all died without honor. I will see you soon, brother. Akio coughs again and more blood comes out. He is shown from the back and a large sword wound is seen he is bleeding from it profusely. He falls on top of his brother’s grave and dies…with honor.

Feedback 5 Right in so many ways. Good story-telling. Good visually. Fairly tightly written, too. And appropriate action to break up the monologue. Great job!

SCENE 3 Quiet cemetery held in by high walls. Outside, traffic thunders past, honking trucks, clattering buses, sirens etc. Past the walls a sea of quiet, birdcall and gentle wind. A woman dressed in black, veiled hat and all, walks doggedly to a relatively new but overly decorated tombstone. WOMAN: Leonard Saldanha, what a pleasure! Never before have we spoken thusly, I’m sure. (simpers) (pause) WOMAN: Yes, in all these years we were married. Six years, was it? Never… (pause) WOMAN: Never did you let me speak! I was the nameless botany teacher that you married to meet the terms of your father’s will. The poor, docile, undemanding botany teacher… who wouldn’t speak up, not a word… (pause) WOMAN: Not about your shenanigans. Not a word about the lovely babes you gallivanted with… ‘fine day at the races, Leo…’.. But not a word. Not a word either, about how you cooked up them books, must keep our secrets all in the family, you know… (pause) WOMAN: Just a docile girl from the far suburbs… how would she know all this? The right fork, the right knife, the la-di-dah life? (pause) WOMAN: But there was something she did know, Leo. She knew her botany. She knew her Cordia from her terminalia and her terminalia from her datura (pause) WOMAN: Yes m’dear I did you in. Extract of Datura five drops in every cup of tea. Way neater than a pistol shot, don’t you think? (pause) WOMAN: I even tended a patch of datura right by the front door—but no one guessed. (pause) WOMAN: So when you had that heart attack, quite a massive one too, when you didn’t respond to the best treatment…what was the poor dear to do? Play the grieving widow, of course (pause) WOMAN: Police enquiry? For people of our status? Be serious, Leo. Of course your good –friends-- from the local station paid the grieving widow a condolence visit. That Inspector Shinde waited by the datura, a moment more than necessary, gave me a fright… then he shrugged and walked away (pause) WOMAN: What if he has questions? C’mon man, trust me to do better than that…Shinde is having dinner with the grieving widow next week. A gentle dose of Nux vomica… he won’t know what hit him. A girl’s got to take care of herself… goodbye, my love…

SCENE 3: EXT. GRAVEYARD – DAY On a dreary afternoon, RAMONA, 55, dark hair tied in a neat bun, kind but lonely, puts flowers in a vase in front of a grave stone. She plucks weeds around the headstone. She strikes a match and lights a single candle on a cupcake. RAMONA: Happy Birthday Max. Love you now and always. Make a wish. Ramona blows out the candle. RAMONA: What did you wish for? No, don’t tell me. Bad luck. She eats the cupcake. RAMONA: Guess what I’m making for dinner? Your favorite... Rib roast and potatoes. The meat’s slow roasting in the oven right now. Mmm... Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I promise not to start a fire... again. (laughs) Oh dear… Remember that night? I was fast asleep. Smoke filled the room. You woke me up and saved my life. My hero. (beat) I made a wish, too... She removes a vial of green powder out of her coat pocket. RAMONA: No, it’s not drugs. (laughs) You’re silly. This’ll make my wish, our wish, come true. I met a sweet old lady named Martina. She’s a homeopathic herbalist and… kinda sorta a witch. I know what you’re thinking. Too gullible. She’s selling a load of hooey. But she promised this will work. Ramona stands up and sprinkles the powder over the grassy grave. Strikes a match and drops it on the ground. FOOMP! Blue-green flames shoot up. RAMONA: Return to me and live once more. Let these flames open the door. The flames subside. The grave CRACKS open. Smoke clears. Sounds of rustling emanate from scorched earth. Ramona’s eyes grow big with anticipation. Suddenly, a cute French bulldog pops up from open grave. Ramona sweeps him up in a hug. RAMONA: Max! I missed your sweet little mug.

SCENE 6 EXT. CEMETERY - NIGHT (Quentin(20's) stands over a fresh dirt covered grave in the middle of a gigantic flat field far away from any other grave in the cemetery. There is no tombstone or marking of any kind and the field is devoid of any landmarks. Quentin is exhausted and covered in dirt) QUENTIN: Mom'll surely kill me for movin ya here lil'brother. When I told her your wishes, the ones that only brothers can understand, she just wouldn't have it. You know mom. She always had to know everything and felt like she did. I suppose it'd be different if we were old men and prepared for these things in writin. (beat) QUENTIN: Don't worry though, she won't know where you really are and won't be none the wiser. Your old grave looks just like she left it, among the rest of the family, and with the proud family tombstone for all to see...the way she wanted it. (Quentin hides the new grave with sod) QUENTIN: I don't know...now that you're gone I've learned things about death that'd wish you could understand. I know, it sounds like bullshit being buried among family so we all meet in heaven and being proudly displayed so others can connect with your spirit...but...is it really so terrible to offer that comfort?...I suppose I'm the only one robbed of that. (He starts crying) QUENTIN:I suppose a man has the right to their beliefs...I hope your journey in death isn't as lonely as you believed it should or needed to be. Goodbye brother. Perhaps someday comfort will find me in knowing this is how you wanted it to be. (We see seasons and years go by. His grave alone and lost to the living)

Dialogue Challenge Day 3 Cemetery conversation Ext. Cemetery-Early Morning Snow blankets everything. ALICE stands before a small grave stone. She’s bundled up against the chilly weather. She carries a tote bag slung over one shoulder. ALICE: Good morning. She brushes off a dusty layer of snow from the top. ALICE: There, that's better. Oh, hush. I know you love snow but you'll catch a cold. She unfolds a blanket and settles down next to the headstone. ALICE: well, I had a good day yesterday. I brought you a surprise. She giggles as she reaches into the tote bag. She pulls out a little Halo orange. ALICE: Ta-da! I know they’re your favorite. I found them at the supermarket yesterday. You want to share? Why, thank you. Such a little gentleman. She begins to peel the orange. ALICE: Daddy says hi. He's sorry he couldn't be here. Had to work. But it's ok. He loves you. (beat) No, he hadn't forgotten about you. He just....it's hard for him. But that's ok. She finishes the orange, then scoops out a shallow hole at the base of the headstone. She places half of the orange in it, then gently covers it up. ALICE: There you go. She reaches back into the tote bag and pulls out a Harry Potter book and opens it. ALICE: Now where did we leave off, here we go. Harry is getting in trouble again. She pops an orange slice in her mouth, then begins to read: ALICE: Hello Professor Snape, Harry said.....

Feedback #3 Hey N D I have to say I really liked this piece. You had me going in a different direction thinking the Man had been swindled by Murray then it turns out he is Murray. You kept it to just what needed to be said and not much more. Makes you even feel sorry for the man after all the horrible things he apparently did. Very nice. Good luck, Jack. :)

Thanks, Jeff. I appreciate it!

FEEDBACK 13 Hey Nikki, I really enjoyed your scene. It was pleasing to read, it had clear direction, good pacing and I enjoyed the premise. This sounds exactly like something someone might do and it was described in a way that I thought was more bittersweet than flat out sad, which is a compliment by the way-I think graveyard scenes quickly turn into melodramatic diatribes. I’m a little interested in why you chose Harry Potter. Perhaps there is a connection I’m missing...maybe I need to be more of a fan of the books. Perhaps one place in the scene you could brush up on is some conflict. I almost don’t want to suggest it since your scene comes off as a nice little ending or perhaps a character development scene, but adding a little something unexpected that would add conflict could help drive the scene some more. Like I said, I really like the scene though, so that might be a bad suggestion!

SCENE #2: EXT. GARDEN – DAY BEATRICE, age 4, pats a small mound of freshly dug up dirt. Once satisfied, she looks around hesitantly, before using both hands to pull out blades of grass that she puts on top of the mound. She adds two small pink flowers on the top. Her father, WILL, sits patiently besides her. BEATRICE: What else should I do? WILL: I don’t know Bea. Maybe, do you want to say goodbye to Sammy? BEATRICE: Okay! She opens her mouth to say something, but pauses. BEATRICE: I don’t know what to say…. WILL: Well, what are you going to miss about Sammy? BEATRICE: I’m going to miss his smile… WILL: Really? How exactly does Sammy smile? BEATRICE: Like this – She purses her lips. WILL: Alright… what else? BEATRICE: I’m going to miss feeding him… WILL: You need some more help? BEATRICE: No, I think I’m ready…. Beatrice turns away from her father and back to the make-shift grave. BEATRICE: Sammy, you were my first fish, and I really didn’t want you to die, but at least I didn’t let Mommy flush you down the toilet, because then I couldn’t visit you. I’m going to miss feeding you, and I’m going to miss your smile, but hopefully you’ll be happy wherever you are. Beatrice turns to her father who nods in approval. He stands up and offers his arms. She scrambles up and the two of them walk back towards the house.

SCENE 7 EXT. CEMETERY--DAY A quiet cemetary with orderly rows of well-maintained graves. LACEY (23) approaches one, flowers in one hand, a small, wooden box in the other. LACEY (to box): Here we are, Dad. Just like you wanted. She stands next to the grave, scowls at the 'Beloved Mother' engraving on the tombstone. LACEY (to grave): And as for you, I'm only here because Dad made me promise. He wanted to be near you. She clasps the box protectively against her chest. LACEY: You don't deserve him, you know. You never did. And you should know that when you left, Dad and I were just fine. Her voice wobbles on the last word and she grips the box harder, determined not to cry. LACEY: It was just as well you went. We didn't need you. Dad was more than enough of a parent, and don't you dare blame him for my hating you, because that was all you. She shakes the flowers angrily at the grave. LACEY: Weren't we enough for you? I know I was a pain in the but kid, but I wasn't that awful. Was I really bad enough for you to run off with some meathead from the gym? Break Dad's heart? She swipes a tear from her cheek. LACEY: Dad always defended you. He said you were sick, you couldn't help yourself. I bet that moron you left him for wasn't anywhere near as loyal. (beat) LACEY: You know what? I know he wasn't. Cause he was nowhere to be found when the police found your drugged-up body. She's crying now in spite of herself, tears streaming down her cheeks. LACEY: You couldn't even leave a note, that's how selfish you were. Just let Dad clean up your mess like always. So this-- She gestures furiously at the engraving on the tombstone. LACEY: It's a load of shit. You never loved Dad, or me either. Just yourself and your drugs. She swallows, sets down the box and the flowers. LACEY: And Dad, you enabled her. You're even doing it now. And I brought you here like I promised, but this is it. This is all I can do. She presses her fingers to her lips, brushes them against the box, and walks away.

FEEDBACK 7 This scene did a really nice job of using dialogue to show the relationship between Beatrice and her father. Her speech to her fish was very cute and I really enjoyed reading your scene. Nice work! :)

Feedback 4 Great imagery and concept. I'm a sucker for Samurai stories so I like this. The only issue I had was the use of contractions and lengthy explanations. Remember who your characters are. Samurai are disciplined and efficient, even when they speak. Also, he knows he is about to die so he would use shorter sentences to talk to his brother.

Evan. Thanks so much. regarding Harry Potter, I picked it because 1) it's a long enough series that a mother would be able to sit and read for hours/days/months 2) the audience grew up along with the books...and yes you should read them. I always make it a point to read/watch popular works (even if its not my genre) just to see what about it makes it so popular. Also, I added a slight bit of conflict with the comment about the father, but "Alice" wanted me to focus on her relationship with her child...so I did. Thanks for the feedback.

SCENE 7: EXT. BACK GARDEN - DAY A scruffy 9 year old boy: SAM runs through the back garden. He approaches a small gravestone, with a name on it: PAWS. SAM Mum said I should do this. She said it would help. SAM She said you're in heaven. I hope you're having fun. The Reverend at school said there's no such thing as animal heaven but he's mean. Sam wipes snot away with his sleeve. SAM I'm sorry Paws, I'm so sorry. Mum was always saying "Paws has dog food, not people food", but when I gave you chocolate you always looked so happy. Sam fights the tears. SAM I miss the way it tickled when you licked my fingers. SAM And when we'd play football together. SAM I miss you Paws. I wish you'd come back.

FEEDBACK 5: I love the atmosphere of this one, it reminds me of the ending of Gangs of New York crossed with the Southern Gothic novels that I love. the dialogue works great, and you get the feeling that Quentin really knows what his brother wanted.