31 Plays in 31 Days 2025, #24 - “Willow”
Aug. 24th, 2025 09:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Scene six of my Wicker Man remake! This is another scene that deviates from the original and reflects my own interpretation of the story, which I’m finding is mainly showing up in my depictions of the characters. I like what this one adds, though I’m concerned that in keeping some things vague I may not be conveying to the audience exactly what I want.
Day #24 - "Willow"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
EXT. HEDGEROW – CONTINUOUS
Elise seizes Willow by the wrist and drags her back into concealment along with her.
WILLOW: Elise Woodward? I can’t believe it’s you!
ELISE: And I can’t believe it’s you, dancing naked ‘round a campfire like some kind of madwoman! For Christ’s sake, get your kit back on!
WILLOW: There’s nothing evil in the natural body, Elise.
Still, she shakes out her dress to step back into it.
ELISE: How on earth did you end up here?
WILLOW: I went a lot of places after I left. You know how it was for me; I had to get away.
ELISE: After you disappeared, nobody knew if you were alive or dead. Your ma cried herself into an early grave, and we didn’t even know how to reach you for the funeral!
WILLOW: If she wanted to keep me, she could have done sommat to stop my dad!
Some of Elise’s self-righteousness runs out of her, and she softens.
ELISE: Fair enough. But you couldn’t spare a word to any of us?
WILLOW: Didn’t know who was about to call me a willful child or a wayward whore.
ELISE: We weren’t all like that!
WILLOW: Should have known you wouldn’t understand. Good little church girl like you, who nobody ever made to feel guilt or shame just for living your life.
ELISE: I would have been there if you’d let me, Sharon.
Willow throws up hands, hair flying around her.
WILLOW: My name’s not Sharon anymore! It’s Willow. I started over; this is who I am now.
ELISE: All right. Willow. And who is that, exactly? A— a witch? Are you doing witchcraft now? Was that what the naked frolicking was about?
WILLOW: Don’t be ignorant. This is the faith of our ancestors— the ancient Celts before they were colonized. We worship the sun and the trees and all the gifts nature gives us.
ELISE: And that’s what you believe now? In gods in trees and water and the like?
WILLOW: I believe in the ways of Summerisle. Here, folks don’t have a moral judge and jury hanging over them. We don’t have to feel ashamed for what we do with our own bodies.
Elise holds up her hands and takes a step back.
ELISE: All right, all right. I’m not here to judge your worship. I’ve got official business— I’m investigating a girl gone missing.
WILLOW: Ah, that’s you.
ELISE: You know about it?
WILLOW: It’s a small island; word travels fast. What makes you think someone’s lost a child?
Elise calls up the image of the envelope, the letter, and the photograph on her phone. One after the other, she shows them to Willow.
ELISE: It’s a real postmark from here on Summerisle, and that’s a damn long way to go to send a fake letter to a cop.
Willow stares at the photo displayed on Elise’s phone.
WILLOW: I don’t know the girl, but… that picture’s real. It was taken around here on the island.
ELISE: What? How do you know?
Willow points a long fingernail at the stone structure partially visible behind the girl.
WILLOW: Because that’s the old shrine on the cliffs. Out overlooking the sea.
ELISE: So she did come from Summerisle! Then why doesn’t anybody recognize her? Or… why won’t they admit they do?
Elise fixes Willow with a look of intensity.
ELISE: Shar— Willow— you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to help me find out what happened to her.
WILLOW: I don’t want anything to do with trouble from the mainland. I came here to get away from all that.
ELISE: But what if this girl is one of your own? Or, if one of your own did something to her?
WILLOW: What could I do? I don’t know nothing about it!
ELISE: But you’re part of this community. People will talk to you. They’ll listen if you ask them to. Can’t say for certain they’ll do anything for me.
Willow turns away, refusing to look at her any longer.
WILLOW: Why should I help you? I don’t owe you anything, Elise.
ELISE: Maybe not. But you know what it’s like to be a little girl with nobody to stick up for her. Isn’t that what you came here to get away from?
Willow is silent a long while. But at last the tension runs out of her body and her shoulders drop.
ELISE: Thank you, Willow.
WILLOW: It’s late, Elise. We’ll talk more tomorrow.
Day #24 - "Willow"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
EXT. HEDGEROW – CONTINUOUS
Elise seizes Willow by the wrist and drags her back into concealment along with her.
WILLOW: Elise Woodward? I can’t believe it’s you!
ELISE: And I can’t believe it’s you, dancing naked ‘round a campfire like some kind of madwoman! For Christ’s sake, get your kit back on!
WILLOW: There’s nothing evil in the natural body, Elise.
Still, she shakes out her dress to step back into it.
ELISE: How on earth did you end up here?
WILLOW: I went a lot of places after I left. You know how it was for me; I had to get away.
ELISE: After you disappeared, nobody knew if you were alive or dead. Your ma cried herself into an early grave, and we didn’t even know how to reach you for the funeral!
WILLOW: If she wanted to keep me, she could have done sommat to stop my dad!
Some of Elise’s self-righteousness runs out of her, and she softens.
ELISE: Fair enough. But you couldn’t spare a word to any of us?
WILLOW: Didn’t know who was about to call me a willful child or a wayward whore.
ELISE: We weren’t all like that!
WILLOW: Should have known you wouldn’t understand. Good little church girl like you, who nobody ever made to feel guilt or shame just for living your life.
ELISE: I would have been there if you’d let me, Sharon.
Willow throws up hands, hair flying around her.
WILLOW: My name’s not Sharon anymore! It’s Willow. I started over; this is who I am now.
ELISE: All right. Willow. And who is that, exactly? A— a witch? Are you doing witchcraft now? Was that what the naked frolicking was about?
WILLOW: Don’t be ignorant. This is the faith of our ancestors— the ancient Celts before they were colonized. We worship the sun and the trees and all the gifts nature gives us.
ELISE: And that’s what you believe now? In gods in trees and water and the like?
WILLOW: I believe in the ways of Summerisle. Here, folks don’t have a moral judge and jury hanging over them. We don’t have to feel ashamed for what we do with our own bodies.
Elise holds up her hands and takes a step back.
ELISE: All right, all right. I’m not here to judge your worship. I’ve got official business— I’m investigating a girl gone missing.
WILLOW: Ah, that’s you.
ELISE: You know about it?
WILLOW: It’s a small island; word travels fast. What makes you think someone’s lost a child?
Elise calls up the image of the envelope, the letter, and the photograph on her phone. One after the other, she shows them to Willow.
ELISE: It’s a real postmark from here on Summerisle, and that’s a damn long way to go to send a fake letter to a cop.
Willow stares at the photo displayed on Elise’s phone.
WILLOW: I don’t know the girl, but… that picture’s real. It was taken around here on the island.
ELISE: What? How do you know?
Willow points a long fingernail at the stone structure partially visible behind the girl.
WILLOW: Because that’s the old shrine on the cliffs. Out overlooking the sea.
ELISE: So she did come from Summerisle! Then why doesn’t anybody recognize her? Or… why won’t they admit they do?
Elise fixes Willow with a look of intensity.
ELISE: Shar— Willow— you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to help me find out what happened to her.
WILLOW: I don’t want anything to do with trouble from the mainland. I came here to get away from all that.
ELISE: But what if this girl is one of your own? Or, if one of your own did something to her?
WILLOW: What could I do? I don’t know nothing about it!
ELISE: But you’re part of this community. People will talk to you. They’ll listen if you ask them to. Can’t say for certain they’ll do anything for me.
Willow turns away, refusing to look at her any longer.
WILLOW: Why should I help you? I don’t owe you anything, Elise.
ELISE: Maybe not. But you know what it’s like to be a little girl with nobody to stick up for her. Isn’t that what you came here to get away from?
Willow is silent a long while. But at last the tension runs out of her body and her shoulders drop.
ELISE: Thank you, Willow.
WILLOW: It’s late, Elise. We’ll talk more tomorrow.
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