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breakinglight11Well, here concludes one of the most unusual 31 Plays in 31 Days in my entire fourteen year history of the challenge. I was never late, in fact staying a few entires ahead until the very last day, and worked on a project I was absolutely not expecting to work on— in sequence, no less. So, here is the next scene of The Wicker Man adaptation, which I will definitely be finishing even though the month is over.
Day #31 - "A Wild Hare"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
EXT. MANOR TERRACE – CONTINUOUS
Elise makes to reenter the house, but pauses a moment, frowning. She sticks her head just inside the doorway and listens. Hearing nothing, she considers and resolves.
She pads back into the house as quietly as she can manage.
INT. LORD SUMMERISLE’S MANOR – DAY
Elise looks around with great care as she creeps to the entryway, doing her best to avoid detection. She startles a moment when a piano begins to play from elsewhere in the house. Lord Summerisle’s voice can be heard raised in song.
LORD SUMMERISLE: “Summer has arrived,
Loudly sing, cuckoo!
The seed is growing
And the meadow is blooming,
And the wood is coming into leaf now,
Sing, cuckoo!”
Elise creeps in the direction of the sound and peers down a hallway.
INT. LORD SUMMERISLE’S PARLOR – CONTINUOUS
At the far end of it, she can spy Lord Summerisle sitting playing at the keys of a grand piano, singing in a clear, resonant voice.
LORD SUMMERISLE: “The ewe is bleating after her lamb;
The cow is lowing after her calf.
The bullock is prancing,
The stag cavorting.
Sing merrily, cuckoo!”
Confident that he is distracted, Elise disappears back to her task.
INT. LORD SUMMERISLE’S MANOR – CONTINUOUS
Elise scans the room until she locates the journal belonging to the first Lord Summerisle. She flips through it, examining his notes, sifting through the sketches and photographs sandwiched between the pages.
She murmurs to herself as she reads, pulling out her phone to snap pictures as she flips through.
ELISE: “Features of the soil conditions”… “undeveloped potential as labor force”… “notable bounty of local women?” Jesus Christ…
She turns to a page with what appears to a be frontispiece from a children’s book, depicting a blonde woman decked in flowers carrying a horn of plenty. Animals dance adoringly about her.
ELISE: “Reference Kenilworth’s The Lady of May for theoretical underpinnings”…
Eyes narrowing, Elise lifts the book for a closer look… then a photograph slips from the pages. She bents to retrieve it, and gasps. It is of a girl dressed as the May Queen among the harvest from the previous year— the one missing from the wall in the Green Man. Only this girl is the missing May Morrison, and the harvest is lean and paltry compared to the lush offerings displayed in previous years.
LORD SUMMERISLE: “Cuckoo, cuckoo,
You sing well, cuckoo,
Never stop ye now.
Sing, cuckoo, now; sing, cuckoo;
Sing, cuckoo; sing, cuckoo, now!”
Summerisle finishes the song with a piano flourish. Elise hurries to take two last snapshots, of the frontispiece and the May Queen photo, and closes up the book. With one last glance, she rushes out the terrace door and flees from the house.
EXT. CEMETERY – DAY
Elise looks on while Cairn and MacGregor shovel up the last few spadefuls of earth near the pile of stones marked May Morrison. They have not gone very deep before they hit the boards of a child-sized wooden casket.
The men loop a cargo belt beneath the box, and with Elise’s help, they lever it out of the hole. MacGregor produces a pry bar and jams it under the lid. He leans against it, causing the wood to creak, but the casket only lifts itself off the ground.
ELISE: Oh, for God’s sake.
She braces her boot on the top of it and throws her weight behind the bar with him, until at last the sealing nails crack away. Elise shoves off the lid and peers inside.
ELISE: What in hell…? Is that…?
It’s not the body of a child lying within that wooden box.
ELISE: A hare?
The lean twisted body of the dead animal stares sightlessly up at her. Rate and confusion mounting, she whirls on the men.
ELISE: A wild hare! What does it mean?
CAIRN: What?
ELISE: I know you pagans see symbols in everything. A dead hare in a girl’s casket— what does it mean— fertility? Madness? The hunted prey?
MACGREGOR: Do you think we put it there, woman?
ELISE: Was this young girl somebody’s prey?
CAIRN: You’re barking up the wrong tree again, sergeant. As you can see, there’s no lost girl in this box. Only somebody’s buried a dead rabbit beside a pile of gravestones.
He steps to her, coming a little too close.
CAIRN: So. What now, sergeant?
EXT. TOWN CENTER – DAY
Elise strides down the main street, growling at her useless cellphone. When she comes upon a pair of women, she hails them with a bit too intensity.
ELISE: Hoy! You there.
WOMAN: Ah— beg pardon?
ELISE: A library— have you got one on this rock? Has it got computers? With Internet?
The woman nods warily and points.
WOMAN: It does— two lefts down, by the post office on Cobbler Street.
Without another word, Elise hurries off in the direction she was sent.
Day #31 - "A Wild Hare"
From The Wicker Man
By Phoebe Roberts
EXT. MANOR TERRACE – CONTINUOUS
Elise makes to reenter the house, but pauses a moment, frowning. She sticks her head just inside the doorway and listens. Hearing nothing, she considers and resolves.
She pads back into the house as quietly as she can manage.
INT. LORD SUMMERISLE’S MANOR – DAY
Elise looks around with great care as she creeps to the entryway, doing her best to avoid detection. She startles a moment when a piano begins to play from elsewhere in the house. Lord Summerisle’s voice can be heard raised in song.
LORD SUMMERISLE: “Summer has arrived,
Loudly sing, cuckoo!
The seed is growing
And the meadow is blooming,
And the wood is coming into leaf now,
Sing, cuckoo!”
Elise creeps in the direction of the sound and peers down a hallway.
INT. LORD SUMMERISLE’S PARLOR – CONTINUOUS
At the far end of it, she can spy Lord Summerisle sitting playing at the keys of a grand piano, singing in a clear, resonant voice.
LORD SUMMERISLE: “The ewe is bleating after her lamb;
The cow is lowing after her calf.
The bullock is prancing,
The stag cavorting.
Sing merrily, cuckoo!”
Confident that he is distracted, Elise disappears back to her task.
INT. LORD SUMMERISLE’S MANOR – CONTINUOUS
Elise scans the room until she locates the journal belonging to the first Lord Summerisle. She flips through it, examining his notes, sifting through the sketches and photographs sandwiched between the pages.
She murmurs to herself as she reads, pulling out her phone to snap pictures as she flips through.
ELISE: “Features of the soil conditions”… “undeveloped potential as labor force”… “notable bounty of local women?” Jesus Christ…
She turns to a page with what appears to a be frontispiece from a children’s book, depicting a blonde woman decked in flowers carrying a horn of plenty. Animals dance adoringly about her.
ELISE: “Reference Kenilworth’s The Lady of May for theoretical underpinnings”…
Eyes narrowing, Elise lifts the book for a closer look… then a photograph slips from the pages. She bents to retrieve it, and gasps. It is of a girl dressed as the May Queen among the harvest from the previous year— the one missing from the wall in the Green Man. Only this girl is the missing May Morrison, and the harvest is lean and paltry compared to the lush offerings displayed in previous years.
LORD SUMMERISLE: “Cuckoo, cuckoo,
You sing well, cuckoo,
Never stop ye now.
Sing, cuckoo, now; sing, cuckoo;
Sing, cuckoo; sing, cuckoo, now!”
Summerisle finishes the song with a piano flourish. Elise hurries to take two last snapshots, of the frontispiece and the May Queen photo, and closes up the book. With one last glance, she rushes out the terrace door and flees from the house.
EXT. CEMETERY – DAY
Elise looks on while Cairn and MacGregor shovel up the last few spadefuls of earth near the pile of stones marked May Morrison. They have not gone very deep before they hit the boards of a child-sized wooden casket.
The men loop a cargo belt beneath the box, and with Elise’s help, they lever it out of the hole. MacGregor produces a pry bar and jams it under the lid. He leans against it, causing the wood to creak, but the casket only lifts itself off the ground.
ELISE: Oh, for God’s sake.
She braces her boot on the top of it and throws her weight behind the bar with him, until at last the sealing nails crack away. Elise shoves off the lid and peers inside.
ELISE: What in hell…? Is that…?
It’s not the body of a child lying within that wooden box.
ELISE: A hare?
The lean twisted body of the dead animal stares sightlessly up at her. Rate and confusion mounting, she whirls on the men.
ELISE: A wild hare! What does it mean?
CAIRN: What?
ELISE: I know you pagans see symbols in everything. A dead hare in a girl’s casket— what does it mean— fertility? Madness? The hunted prey?
MACGREGOR: Do you think we put it there, woman?
ELISE: Was this young girl somebody’s prey?
CAIRN: You’re barking up the wrong tree again, sergeant. As you can see, there’s no lost girl in this box. Only somebody’s buried a dead rabbit beside a pile of gravestones.
He steps to her, coming a little too close.
CAIRN: So. What now, sergeant?
EXT. TOWN CENTER – DAY
Elise strides down the main street, growling at her useless cellphone. When she comes upon a pair of women, she hails them with a bit too intensity.
ELISE: Hoy! You there.
WOMAN: Ah— beg pardon?
ELISE: A library— have you got one on this rock? Has it got computers? With Internet?
The woman nods warily and points.
WOMAN: It does— two lefts down, by the post office on Cobbler Street.
Without another word, Elise hurries off in the direction she was sent.
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