31 Plays in 31 Days 2025, #21 - “Rowan”
Aug. 21st, 2025 08:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Scene four of my Wicker Man remake idea. This scene is the first one I think that truly adds something rather than just iterating on the original. I’m not sure it has all the layers and nuances I want— it’s kind of in that place where I can’t tell if I’m being too obvious or not clear enough. But I’m overall pretty happy with how it came out.
I always loved the name Rowan.
Day #21 - "Rowan"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
EXT. THE GREEN MAN YARD – DAY
Rowan leads Elise across the yard to toward the goat paddock.
ROWAN: So you’re looking for some girl who’s supposed to be missing?
ELISE: May Morrison. I’m told you’re the only one by that name on the island. Any relation to you?
She shows him the image on her phone.
ROWAN: Heh, my late mother’s name was May. But unless your photo is a few decades out of date, I doubt she’s your girl. And since last I paid respects, she’s not missing neither.
They approach the paddock fence. Rather than open the gate, he athletically vaults over the slats, while Elise leans against the railing, observing him.
ELISE: Seems everyone I’ve met agrees, no girl is missing, then. Then why do you suppose somebody’s tried to make me believe there is?
ROWAN: Couldn’t say, detective. Might be someone’s playing a prank?
ELISE: Strange prank to play, on a copper two hundred miles away, who you might never even see to laugh at. Why not bother a local cop?
ROWAN: Oh, we don’t have police around here.
ELISE: You don’t? Then, how do you keep the law?
Rowan laughs at her as he fills the water troughs in the goat shed.
ROWAN: We do things differently than they do back on the mainland.
ELISE: That’s clear. But here I thought you only didn’t have women cops.
ROWAN: Oh? Why’s that?
ELISE: Well. As far as I’ve seen, folks don’t take well to women just trying to do their jobs around here.
Rowan pours grain into the feed buckets.
ROWAN: Ah, that. We may be provincials, detective, but I promise we’re not all like that.
ELISE: Really. Then why have you got your waitresses dressed like that?
ROWAN: (Laughs) That’s not my doing— that’s for the coming celebration.
He emerges from the shed and claps his hands together to call in the goats.
ELISE: Celebration?
ROWAN: (to the goats) Hi! Hi! Here, in for your supper, my dears.
ELISE: What celebration?
ROWAN: Why, the May Day, of course.
Some of the goats begin trotting into the shed, while a few straggle. Rowan jogs out to shepherd them.
ROWAN: One of the most important days of the year for people on Summerisle. In honor of the bounty of the earth, and the hope for a good harvest in the coming year.
But instead of driving them, he picks up a pair and hefts them one over each other, carrying them effortlessly back. Elise can’t help but gape.
ELISE: Ah… right. I remember the church picnics when I was a girl. For the Marian devotions and the Holy Family.
ROWAN: Hm. Roman Catholic, then? I thought so…
ELISE: Why?
She looks at him askance. He grins and points to her lapel around the leg of one of the goats.
ROWAN: The St. Benedict’s medal. I’ll warn you, miss, most of our ancestors came out here to get away from the Papists, so it shan’t endear you to anyone.
ELISE: Well. I’m not going away just yet, Mr. Morrison. Not until I’ve gotten to the bottom of this.
Rowan unloads the kids, emerges from the shed, and hops the fence again, landing close to Elise. She tries to neither start nor back away.
ROWAN: A word of advice, Sergeant Woodward. If you’re going to make any headway with folk here, you’re going to have to understand our ways. We live here because we’re people who had enough with kings, and churches, and other… stern fathers. If you stride in first and foremost as their agent, you’ll never hear a word of truth or have a moment of help at their hands.
He takes her hand earnestly, enfolding it in his.
ELISE: Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I’ll take it under advisement.
Beat as she disentangles from him.
ELISE: I expect it will take a few days for me to complete my inquiry. In the meantime I’ll need to arrange for lodgings— perhaps you can recommend a place.
He sweeps an expansive hand back to the main building.
ROWAN: Why, you’re in luck, my friend. The Green Man is the finest inn on the island.
ELISE: Not that you’re biased.
ROWAN: Not at all, sergeant. It’s also the only inn on the island.
He grins, and jerks a head to invite her back.
ROWAN: While you’re here, try the apple crisp. It’s a specialty ‘round these parts.
I always loved the name Rowan.
Day #21 - "Rowan"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
EXT. THE GREEN MAN YARD – DAY
Rowan leads Elise across the yard to toward the goat paddock.
ROWAN: So you’re looking for some girl who’s supposed to be missing?
ELISE: May Morrison. I’m told you’re the only one by that name on the island. Any relation to you?
She shows him the image on her phone.
ROWAN: Heh, my late mother’s name was May. But unless your photo is a few decades out of date, I doubt she’s your girl. And since last I paid respects, she’s not missing neither.
They approach the paddock fence. Rather than open the gate, he athletically vaults over the slats, while Elise leans against the railing, observing him.
ELISE: Seems everyone I’ve met agrees, no girl is missing, then. Then why do you suppose somebody’s tried to make me believe there is?
ROWAN: Couldn’t say, detective. Might be someone’s playing a prank?
ELISE: Strange prank to play, on a copper two hundred miles away, who you might never even see to laugh at. Why not bother a local cop?
ROWAN: Oh, we don’t have police around here.
ELISE: You don’t? Then, how do you keep the law?
Rowan laughs at her as he fills the water troughs in the goat shed.
ROWAN: We do things differently than they do back on the mainland.
ELISE: That’s clear. But here I thought you only didn’t have women cops.
ROWAN: Oh? Why’s that?
ELISE: Well. As far as I’ve seen, folks don’t take well to women just trying to do their jobs around here.
Rowan pours grain into the feed buckets.
ROWAN: Ah, that. We may be provincials, detective, but I promise we’re not all like that.
ELISE: Really. Then why have you got your waitresses dressed like that?
ROWAN: (Laughs) That’s not my doing— that’s for the coming celebration.
He emerges from the shed and claps his hands together to call in the goats.
ELISE: Celebration?
ROWAN: (to the goats) Hi! Hi! Here, in for your supper, my dears.
ELISE: What celebration?
ROWAN: Why, the May Day, of course.
Some of the goats begin trotting into the shed, while a few straggle. Rowan jogs out to shepherd them.
ROWAN: One of the most important days of the year for people on Summerisle. In honor of the bounty of the earth, and the hope for a good harvest in the coming year.
But instead of driving them, he picks up a pair and hefts them one over each other, carrying them effortlessly back. Elise can’t help but gape.
ELISE: Ah… right. I remember the church picnics when I was a girl. For the Marian devotions and the Holy Family.
ROWAN: Hm. Roman Catholic, then? I thought so…
ELISE: Why?
She looks at him askance. He grins and points to her lapel around the leg of one of the goats.
ROWAN: The St. Benedict’s medal. I’ll warn you, miss, most of our ancestors came out here to get away from the Papists, so it shan’t endear you to anyone.
ELISE: Well. I’m not going away just yet, Mr. Morrison. Not until I’ve gotten to the bottom of this.
Rowan unloads the kids, emerges from the shed, and hops the fence again, landing close to Elise. She tries to neither start nor back away.
ROWAN: A word of advice, Sergeant Woodward. If you’re going to make any headway with folk here, you’re going to have to understand our ways. We live here because we’re people who had enough with kings, and churches, and other… stern fathers. If you stride in first and foremost as their agent, you’ll never hear a word of truth or have a moment of help at their hands.
He takes her hand earnestly, enfolding it in his.
ELISE: Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I’ll take it under advisement.
Beat as she disentangles from him.
ELISE: I expect it will take a few days for me to complete my inquiry. In the meantime I’ll need to arrange for lodgings— perhaps you can recommend a place.
He sweeps an expansive hand back to the main building.
ROWAN: Why, you’re in luck, my friend. The Green Man is the finest inn on the island.
ELISE: Not that you’re biased.
ROWAN: Not at all, sergeant. It’s also the only inn on the island.
He grins, and jerks a head to invite her back.
ROWAN: While you’re here, try the apple crisp. It’s a specialty ‘round these parts.
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