The First Post

Right then. This is my blog. Like all blogs, there will be random thoughts and observations and other such stuff, but for the most part this is going to be a showcase for my stories. It's my life's ambition to be a mega-successful author, and anything that'll help me, no matter how small, is worth using to the point of destruction. Unless I forget about it.

However, with me still remembering this blog exists, I think it's best if I just get on and post up a story. My first offering is a screenplay (oddly enough), a ten-minute film that I wrote as the final assessment for my Introduction To Screenwriting module (see my profile for explanation). At the risk of shooting myself in the foot, I consider this to be my best work to date. Judge for yourselves what that means.

So, let's open the curtain on this new internet adventure of mine. Have fun, y'all...

Of Angels And Other Stories

By Matt Appleby

Note: unless otherwise specified, all action is to be filmed in black-and-white, using Claymation technology.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM. NIGHT.

At first, all we see is a black screen. There is no scenery or decoration of any kind, nothing apart from endless black. Aside from a low, regular thud, faintly like a heartbeat, there is also nothing to hear.

After a short time, the following words, written in white, fade into view:

A man may have a hundred children and live a long life; but however many his days may be, if he does not get satisfaction from the good things of life and in the end receives no burial, then I maintain that the still-born child is in better case than he.

Ecclesiastes VI, 3

The writing fades away again after a few seconds. Other words, also in white, soon fade in to replace them:

Of Angels

And Other Stories

These words, the title of the film, then also fade away. There’s a few more seconds of nothing but the thud sound, then a faint white line vibrates across the screen. Its waving motion corresponds to the thuds, like a heartbeat monitor in a hospital. In fact, as the line gets bolder and the thud gets higher-pitched, it soon becomes clear that a heart monitor is exactly what we’re looking at.

It isn’t long before we get a view of the heart monitor itself. Sat on a small trolley in the midst of drip stands and other medical equipment, this piece of kit looks like every heart monitor in every medical drama you’ve ever seen.

The surprise comes from what the monitor and everything else is connected up to: not a hospital bed, but a small Perspex box. This box, no more than two feet in any dimension, contains a tiny baby. It can’t be any more than a few weeks old, and based on all the tubes and cables connected up to it, that’s probably as old as it’s ever likely to get.

Aside from the Perspex box, there are only three other features in this small room. One is a small cabinet by the corner, on top of which is a dim lamp: the only source of illumination, aside from what little moonlight creeps in through the shuttered window. The other features are two rickety chairs, positioned side-by-side next to the door.

Both of these chairs have someone sat on them. The person on the left, LAURA, is a woman who can’t be in any more than her early twenties. Her long, light-colored hair frames a face that would be pretty if it wasn’t swollen with crying, and her baggy cardigan and unkempt jeans suggest someone who’s long since stopped caring about their appearance. The person on the right, GREG, is of approximately the same age and appearance as his companion. He has the long hair and stubbly beard of a man who has bigger concerns than either, and his dark-colored Caterpillar T-shirt just seems like something to cover his scrawny frame. These two, then, can only be the child’s parents.

However, they aren’t alone in this room. After a few seconds of stillness, save for the heart monitor and the rain lightly falling outside, a mysterious figure steps out a deep shadow in the corner of the room. All we can see is that they’re a scrawny, hunched-up creature, with loose-fitting jeans and a plain Addidas hoodie, whose pulled-up hood completely hides the face in darkness. As we will soon learn, this sudden arrival is none other than DEATH itself.

From the looks of it, Laura and Greg aren’t sure if they should be alarmed or not.

LAURA
Who the…who the…who the hell are you?

DEATH
I think a more pressing question would be “how the hell did I get in here?” (pauses) Sorry, that was pretty vague. (pauses) Well, the answer should be obvious, if you think about it.

As if its entrance speech wasn’t incongruous enough, Death doesn’t even deliver its words in tones like these. Instead, based on its voice, build and clothing, Death is most likely a girl between fifteen and eighteen.

Death’s remarks are met with a few seconds of confused silence. Eventually, Greg shakes his head and starts to speak.

GREG
No. That didn’t make any more sense, no.

DEATH
Shame. (pauses) Okay, would it help if I carried a scythe?

GREG
No.

Death shrugs.

DEATH
No, I imagine it wouldn’t.

After a few seconds of silence, Laura suddenly grows an expression of enlightenment.

LAURA
Wait a minute…are you Death?

DEATH
No.

GREG
Then who are you?

DEATH
I’m Death. But you can call me Cassandra, if you like.

Slowly, Death reaches up with two pale, skinny hands to pull back its hood. The face that gets revealed is, as we suspected, of a girl no older than eighteen. Everything about her, from her hunched-up frame and simple black ponytail to her big eyes and tiny wisp of a smile, suggests a distinct quiet melancholy.

DEATH
Probably not what you were expecting, was it?

Laura looks towards the Perspex box.

LAURA
Are you here for our daughter?

Laura, at least, seems to have accepted the reality of Death’s presence, not to mention the forthcoming event that has been implied since she appeared. In return, Death nods once.

A single tear quietly slides down Laura’s cheek. Greg reaches over to hug his partner, who reciprocates by burying her head in his chest. Remarkably, neither of them starts crying, though Greg looks like he needs the support more than Laura does.

Death watches them in silence for a moment. Presumably, she doesn’t wish to intrude on their solitude. But after a short while, Greg looks up at her anyway.

GREG
How will she die?

DEATH
I’m not sure exactly. (pauses) I can’t imagine she’ll suffer, if that’s what you’re worried about.

GREG
No, losing our only child is what I’m worried about. (pauses) Wait…aren’t you supposed to know how everyone dies?

Death sighs wearily. She’s probably had to explain this one before.

DEATH
And I’m also supposed to be a seven-foot skeleton with a black robe, a white horse and a huge scythe, not to mention all those billions of tiny hourglasses to measure everyone’s lives with. But I’m not. I’m just me.

Greg nods. He gets the idea.

GREG
Do you at least know how long she has?

DEATH
About five minutes. No longer than that, anyway.

Slowly, Laura releases herself from Greg’s arms. As she sits fully back in her seat, we can see that she’s just been crying. After a second or so, Laura holds out her hand to the side, and Greg takes hold of it.

We now see that Death’s finally moved from the spot where she arrived. She’s crossed over to the Perspex box, where she’s now gently stroking her finger over the baby inside. Somewhat creepily, her hand has gone through the box itself like it wasn’t even there.

DEATH
What’s her name?

LAURA
Tamzin.

The scene lapses into silence again. Death continues to stroke Tamzin’s tiny head, her thumb and index finger sliding through all the tubes and cables.

DEATH (TO HERSELF)
Such a waste. Such a waste.

Still stroking Tamzin, Death turns to face the parents.

DEATH
What’s she dying of?

Neither parent answers. After a few seconds, Death blushes as she realises her faux pas.

DEATH
Sorry. That was tactless. It’s none of my business, really.

Laura looks up at Death, managing a weak smile.

LAURA
No, I suppose it is. (pauses) She’s just a premature baby, really. I was supposed to be due three months from now. Babies usually survive being this premature, but sometimes…

DEATH
They don’t.

Death stops stroking Tamzin and takes her hand out of the box. However, she doesn’t move from where she’s stood.

DEATH
I’m really sorry about this. You don’t deserve this kind of treatment. You shouldn’t have to go through something like this.

Before either parent can answer, Death walks over to the window. She lifts a corner of the blind to one side, revealing only another Victorian-era hospital building a short distance away. Between them, a long way below the window, a gravelled garden can just about be seen.

Laura removes her hand from her Greg’s just before she speaks.

LAURA
Don’t worry about it. To be honest, we’ve just been spending the three weeks of her life waiting for her to die. (pauses) It’s hard, it really is, but… (pauses) You already know all about that kind of stuff, I imagine.

Death drops the blind and turns to face Laura, but she doesn’t say anything.

GREG
Where will you be taking her?

DEATH
I don’t know where her soul will be going, if that’s what you mean. All I do is take them off the mortal world. What the immortal world looks like, I have no idea. I can’t imagine it’s that bad, though.

Greg shrugs. If he isn’t satisfied by her reply, he obviously doesn’t want to say it.

LAURA
Listen, Death… (pauses) Can I call you Cassandra? You said I could.

Death smiles faintly.

DEATH
You can call me Frank if it makes you happy. (pauses) Sorry. To be honest, I’m not sure if my name is Cassandra. It might have been, once. I’m just Death these days.

There’s a brief silence, as the two parents figure out what Death just said. However, there’s no enlightenment, just even greater confusion.

GREG
Who are you?

DEATH
Now there’s a question.

Death leans against the wall by the window. Thanks to the poor light of the lamp, she’s now half-obscured by shadow, the right half of her face almost invisible. She sighs deeply before starting her story.

DEATH
I shan’t bore you with the details. I don’t remember most of them. When you have my kinda job, matters of time and space get a might fuzzy. (pauses) I was a human once, that much I do remember. Not sure how long ago, maybe only four or five years. Maybe not even that.

Death suddenly lapses into silence, one that lasts for a short while.

LAURA
How long do we have?

DEATH
A couple of minutes. (pauses) Don’t worry, I won’t take that long. There’s not much to say, really. (pauses) Like I said, I was human once. Just a normal teenage girl. Like most teenagers, I thought I was something tragic, doomed to a life of pain and misery. (pauses) ‘Course, when the powers that be in the universe foster the role of Death on you, you get to see what tragic really means.

LAURA
People like us?

DEATH
Pretty much, yeah. (pauses) You know, being Death is a busy job. The amount of people in the world, there’s practically a death every minute. But, like I said, the laws of time and space don’t apply to me. Even with how busy I am, I always make time to talk to people. (pauses) What was it you were going to ask me?

It’s a few seconds before Laura responds. Whilst she’s thinking, she takes hold for Greg’s hand. It’s unclear as to who needs the reassurance.

LAURA
It’s just that…it’s just that… (pauses) none of this is fair.

DEATH
Death never is.

Death pushes herself off the wall and moves back to the Perspex box. She stands only a foot or so from Tamzin, but doesn’t reach out to touch her.

DEATH
Only this morning…at least, I think it was this morning, it’s kinda hard to tell these days…I went to this guy in Greece. He worked in a monastery at the top of a mountain. I think he was a cleaner. (pauses) Anyway, one of the nuns was sick, so he went to the town in the valley to get some medicine. He got mugged just as he was leaving the store. His attacker stabbed him in the heart and made off with his wallet and the medicine. (pauses) Dying in the gutter, just because he wanted to help.

Death’s tale is greeted by a protracted silence. Presumably, neither parent is sure how to take it.

GREG
Kinda makes us seem the lucky ones, don’t it?

DEATH
No, not really. You’re still about to lose your only child.

Greg responds by laying his head on Laura’s shoulder, and moving his hand to round her arm. Based on her pained expression, Death seems to get the point.

DEATH (TO HERSELF)
I could’ve put that better.

Slowly, Greg sits back up, his emotional moment over. But he still takes hold of Laura’s hand.

GREG
No, it’s okay. (pauses) As my wife said, we’ve been expecting this for a while. Maybe we weren’t expecting you to show up, but…

Suddenly, Greg smiles ironically.

GREG
We never even got to hold her.

After a few seconds, Death also smiles, but benignly so. The Perspex box, against all laws of physics, fades away into nothingness, leaving Tamzin and her life support kit sat on top of an open incubator unit.

Silently, Laura and Greg stand up and walk over to the unit. They reach out and stroke their child, like Death did before, neither looking like they can believe it’s real. It’s a short while before either of them speaks.

LAURA
There’s something I’ve been wondering about… (pauses) What are you for? I mean, don’t people just die anyway? (pauses) I know that must sound really rude, but…

Laura lapses into embarrassed silence. Death, on the other hand, smiles.

DEATH
No, it’s fine. I’ve thought about that one often enough myself. (pauses) I suppose I’m just here to…well, to make sure no one dies alone, really.

There’s a few seconds of silence.

DEATH
I think it’s time now.

Surprisingly, Laura and Greg don’t react. But that, in itself, is telling.

DEATH
What are your names, by the way?

Both parents look up, but don’t change their blank expressions.

LAURA
Laura.

GREG
Greg.

Death extends a hand, signalling that she wants to shake theirs.

DEATH
It’s been a pleasure to meet you both.

Laura and Greg silently reach out their own hands, Death shaking both in turn. After this slightly odd gesture, there’s yet another short silence.

GREG
Who are you seeing next?

Death has to think for a few seconds.

DEATH
A guy at a pedestrian crossing in Sao Paulo. About a minute from now, I think. (pauses) I can guess how he’ll be going out.

GREG
Oh, okay.

There’s a brief silence. Laura and Greg silently put their arms round each other’s waists.

LAURA
Thankyou.

For the first time, Death looks genuinely confused.

DEATH
What on Earth for?

Laura smiles faintly.

LAURA
For being there.

As Death also allows herself a faint smile, we focus in on the heart machine once more. In a deliberate reverse of the opening, the machine gets larger and larger in our view until it fills the entire screen. The heart line and the beat itself both start to gradually slow down, sign that Tamzin is indeed finally dying.

DEATH (VOICE-OVER)

Yeah, I think they’ll be okay. That’s the main thing.

After a final few seconds, the line and the thud have slowed down so much that they actually flatline. With Tamzin evidently now dead, they soon fade away. The screen returns to its original black state, to be filled no more.