Screenplay: The Red Scarf
I wrote this screenplay in one day (about 6 hours). It was my first attempt at screenwriting, it is a rough draft. There was just so much energy inside my body that needed an outlet. Originally it was called "Consumption" because it is about what happens when we try to heal what's on the inside with what's outside of us. At the time, I was watching a lot of David Lynch films and this was heavily influenced by his style.
Click on my imagined movie poster for a readable PDF of the screenplay.
Fiction: The Reading
I remember when this young woman came to see me. It was a slow day and the rest of the readers had gone home. I had agreed to stay and put things in order, so that the Romanov Tea Room could open the next morning to the same high standards the people of Moscow had given it.
I had just pulled my coat from the closet, when I heard the front door being pushed open. I put the coat back and headed for the front room, because I got a light-headed feeling and knew it would be my last reading for the day. I walked into the foyer to find a very pretty woman with a short modern haircut and brown eyes that could hold many secrets, though she seemed as fragile and elegant as a Faberge Egg.
Excuse me ma’am, I realize it is very much past your closing, but if I could…”She looked down and shifted her weight from one foot to the other and her words had begun to dissipate as my senses were tuning themselves to her.
“Please, I will read for you. I must have you relax. Follow me.”
I led her into the main parlor and seated her in a chair across from me at the fireplace, because she had gotten chilled, and I knew without her comfortable, my senses would be interrupted and I too would become too cold. She shifted her weight gently, smiled and placed a generous donation into the wooden box on the stand beside me.
My sight went completely blurry, and I began to feel my clairvoyance become sharper. The pictures of very large names swirled above her head amongst a pair of intertwined gold bands.
“You have the appearance of a person to be married into fame.”
I could feel her interest rising as a warmth of vibrations danced up from my feet into my stomach. Images of brightly-colored splashes of paint, canvas and gemstones invaded my mind space.
“The person you are to marry will have a great appreciation of art and jewelry. He could even possibly be a collector.”
My physical sight had begun returning. I could see that this lady was serious in her inquiry, even though she kept a smile on her face and her legs crossed. She rarely looked into my eyes. She straightened her back, and brushed her hair behind her right ear. This was a gesture I was taught indicated the inquirer had full intentions of keeping my words in her memory.
A strong smell of expensive tobacco smoke entered into my nostrils, causing a tingly, bubbly feeling to shift from the top of my head into my heart. My heart then began to pound feverishly, my vision changed from first to second sight, and I saw a very happy man at a desk in a classroom with this young lady at his side.
“You will make him very happy and have a dramatic effect on his work. He will be a highly-respected man and a very effective teacher. He is much older than you…”
The image became clearer, and I saw a ladies tiara on top of his head.“…and he is of royal descent.”
At that point she became excited, but she remained a lady and covered her mouth as she giggled.
“Can you tell me more about this man?” She spoke direct and politely, but her desire for his name overwhelmed my senses. I too became desperate for the name of this man, an action that impairs my ability to see. I had no idea who he was. I concentrated vigorously draining every last bit of energy that I had left. Scenes of cities, towns and countrysides flashed apace and violently through my head, and a view of Paris lingered. It was raining there, and the entire image changed as the rain turned red and covered it in a blood-like film. I became overwhelmingly sad for her.
“You will travel a lot and will inevitably leave your homeland. I think you should stay away from Paris though, I can see no happiness there.”
We sat there for a few moments, and I had one last vision. It was of many people taking paintings, money and jewelry from her. The last and final image was of two burial caskets; one old and one new.
“You need to be careful with your possessions. You will probably have things stolen from you, and you also have the tendency to spend too much. There is quite a bit of danger involving this. It is important that you take extra precautions.”
For one second she had stopped smiling. She took in a deep breath and returned to her composure, and her smile. My visions had completely diminished and so had my energy and strength.
“I believe that is all I can do for you today, but please young lady, do this old woman a favor and promise to me that you will return for future readings, I so much want to help you.”
She shook her head yes once gently. She stood up from her chair, smiled and thanked me. I walked her to the door and watched her walk away. I could tell she wondered if my predictions were true and I too wondered this. When she left my sight, I closed the door and hoped that she would return. Like her, I also wanted to know his name. I went back to my coat, took it off the hanger, and my sight went blurry. His name…Kandinsky. I didn’t know where to find her. I didn’t know who she was, and she never returned to find out.
I like to tell stories, to entertain, and mystify. It's just what I do.