FADE IN 05/10/16
EXT. RUSTIC TEXAS COUNTRYSIDE –
MORNING 1A
WALK AND
DREAM – MYSTERY AND DILEMMA
The sun’s first rays greet the beautiful Texas
landscape. Serene. Rustic. Inviting -
- as a solitary WOMAN, whose face we never
see, begins scaling the hill of a lonely dirt road, walking determinedly and
optimistically, fully engrossed in a book -
WOMAN (V.O.)
I write because I
have to. I
cannot not write. It's
not as
much what I do as
who I am. So
I write, sometimes
for pleasure, sometimes to learn, sometimes
to remind myself
I'm alive. And
always with an eye
to the sublime.
MID-DAY
As the sun mercilessly beats down on its
scorched victims, the woman strolls on, slower than before, continuing up the
dusty trail, writing furiously -
WOMAN (V.O.)
There is so much more I wish
to see, to feel, to dream but
there is no more time to
pretend.
Life is too precious.
EVENING
A haunting, orange sunset illuminates the
sky as the woman, spent by her day’s journey, book and papers in hand, thinks
of eternity as she crests a hill and slowly trails out of sight -
WOMAN (V.O)
That is why I write you now,
to tell you who I really am.
I also write to say good-bye.
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - MORNING
PUSH AND
ARGUE – WHO SHE IS/HER GOAL
We
now see the face of fiery idealist and hopeless romantic OLIVIA RAMSEY, 35,
reading “Walden,” intensely inspired -
+
OLIVIA (V.O.)
“… to front only
the essential
facts of life, and
see if I could
not learn what it
had to teach,
and not, when I
came to die,
discover that I had
not lived.”
-as
she reverently shuts the book and her eyes, drinking in every word, bathing in the
power and richness of the moment.
OLIVIA
Some
day I’ll touch the world
like that
– with a word. 113
We
now see her fully, sweaty and dirty, as she and RUTH, 17, her frustrated,
self-conscious daughter, struggle to push their stalled, time-worn Ford Model T
down the road. Her hyperactive son, ALEX, 6, barely visible, excitedly steers
from the front.
RUTH
Fords! Overpriced scrap metal!
Horses are more reliable. Why are
we always the cheapest, oddest…
OLIVIA
Just think of us as
being unique.
RUTH
“Unique”ly weird.
OLIVIA
“Weird” is
underrated. Besides,
you don't want to
miss all this
exercise and
attention, do you?
RUTH
I’d rather blend
in.
OLIVIA
Come on, everyone
wants to stick
out a little and be
noticed.
As
Alex playfully honks the horn, Ruth retaliates with a scowl, cursing under her
breath. Alex honks again and Ruth finally loses it, beating on the car and
kicking a tire in a furious frenzy then glances hopelessly at her soiled
appearance.
+
RUTH
Look at me! I have
a date
tonight. I can’t go
like this!
OLIVIA
So you do
want to be noticed! 107
Ruth
lets out an exasperated, “get me out of here!” scream.
OLIVIA
Come on, Ruth,
can’t you see
beyond your fear
and myopia at
the limitless destiny
unveiling
itself right in front
of you?
Olivia
and Ruth suddenly freeze, sensing something foreboding up the road then quickly
run for cover as a pickup truck roars by, honking. Dirt clouds cover the sky -
and them. Dusted!
The Model T rolls off the road and Alex
yells “HELP!” As the dust settles, the lazy, quaint town of Belleville appears.
EXT. BELLEVILLE TOWN SQUARE – LATER THAT
MORNING
TOWN
SQUARES – HER ENEMY
Olivia
and Alex, shopping bags in hand, playfully window shop past rows of stores. PASSERSBY
watch: some amused, most appalled. Lagging behind, Ruth distances herself, embarrassed.
OLIVIA
Which dress should I wear to the
Governor’s Inaugural Gala?
ALEX
I like the red, furry one with
the blue gloves and white hat…
(tauntingly)
Wonder what Ruth’s wearing?
Ruth
remains aloof, looking around to see who is watching then, unable to hold back
any longer, excitedly joins in.
RUTH
I'll take the
emerald gown,
matching parasol, satin purse…
A
frumpy CLERK taps on the window from inside, pointing to a "NO
GAWKING" sign while a gaggle of snooty WOMEN GOSSIPS leer on from rocking
chairs across the street at Beth’s Beauty Barn.
OLIVIA
We'd rather dream anyway. In
our minds we can go anywhere, be anyone, do
anything we desire.
RUTH
Mother! People are
watching.
Olivia abruptly halts, casting a stern gaze
at the clerk then at the Gossips then at all other onlookers, defying them all
–
OLIVIA
Let 'em watch.
- then throws them a cold shoulder as she walks
off. Across the street a gang of obnoxious MALE HECKLERS lounge and BS.
HECKLER 1
How’s the writing, Shakespeare?
Anything in there about me?
HECKLER 2
We’ll give you something to
write about, honey
bunch! Or
maybe we ain’t good
enough…
OLIVIA
Aren’t good enough!
Olivia
sighs hopelessly as several of Ruth's GIRLFRIENDS rush over to them, embracing
Ruth and teasing Alex to his disgust.
GIRLFRIEND 1
Hi, Mrs. Ramsey! I
loved your
guest
editorial on free speech.
It was so inspiring
and…
GIRLFRIEND 2
C’mon, Ruthy, we're getting
sodas. We can take you home.
Olivia welcomes the girls who continue
pestering Alex and coaxing Ruth, who looks back pleadingly to Olivia.
RUTH
Please,
mother? I’m not a
little
girl anymore!
+
Olivia struggles a moment, knowing she’s
not a child but not an adult either, then reluctantly agrees, exhaling a stern
sigh -
OLIVIA
Get home at a
decent hour.
As
the girls leave and Alex waves them off, BUBBA BUKOWSKI, 55, Belleville’s
oafish yet kindly mailman excitedly sneaks up from behind, startling them, as
he carefully over-inspects a letter.
LETTERS
Hi, Livi. Looks like another
rejection. Too thin to be…
Olivia
quiets him with a growl and cold stare, grabs her mail, and eyes the letter
with suspicion then signs, knowing he’s probably right. Shrugging it off, she
heads down the street.
Having
to coax Alex along, they reach the Hope Christian Church charity drop-off site
and a pile of donated items - all junk. This is the main reason they came to
town in the first place. A sign reads, “GOD LOVES A CHEERFUL GIVER.” Alex
frowns.
As
Olivia gives him an “It’s time” glance, Alex opens the bag he’s now clutching
and looks forlornly inside at his favorite caste-iron toys then glances pathetically
back at Olivia.
ALEX
Can I have a minute to myself?
Olivia
empathetically nods, proud of Alex, who takes out his prized tractor, caresses
it then returns it to his bag. He walks slowly to the pile and solemnly
relinquishes his stash.
Pastor
G. MATTHEW GATES, 52, overly friendly and staunchly Baptist, greets them,
offering Alex an encouraging smile.
GATES
With that kind of
faith, son,
You may be a pastor
some day!
ALEX
I'd rather be a gangster.
The
crowd gasps as Alex playfully shoots an imaginary Tommy gun into the air then becomes
soberly conscious of the crowd and remembers his pitiful plight. Pastor Gates commiserates
with his predicament a moment then leans in to him with a sly smile.
GATES
You know, we might not need
quite all that metal today.
A
smile radiates over Alex's face as he reclaims one of his bags and runs back to
Olivia, freezing as he meets her stare.
He
regrettably returns to the pile, painstakingly forfeits his sack, and sadly
faces Pastor Gates.
ALEX
Sacrificing your favorite stuff
is part of being… a “gentleman.”
Hating
that word, Alex slinks back to Olivia who gives him a big hug then resolutely pulls
out some notes from her purse.
Clearing
her throat loudly, she waves over to Pastor Gates, and marches toward him. Seeing
her coming, he reluctantly smiles.
GATES
More sermon criticism, Olivia?
I’m still absorbing
last week’s.
Maybe you
should preach Sunday.
OLIVIA
Maybe I
should.
The
crowd gasps again at her boldness as she pockets her pages, grabs Alex, and
hurries off, just in time to meet Belleville’s most feared and hated resident,
newspaper owner and self appointed town boss, JOSIAH SMYTHE, 66.They exchange
frowns.
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