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Fenway

by RLK


So, I decided to try something new for once besides short stories. I've been thinking about screenwriting for awhile, I thought that I should give it a go. So here it is, keep in mind this is really only an example and not something I plan on continuing.

FADE IN:

EXT. HOME BASE - FENWAY PARK - MIDNIGHT - ESTABLISHING

A man COLTON ALBRECHT (40) wearing a dark hoodie stands on home base looking out toward the stands. In his right hand is a worn out glove clinching onto a baseball. The stars and the moon providing whatever visible light that shines down on him. From behind him appears a little boy GRIFFIN ALBRECHT (13) with a rolled up sleeping bag in his left hand and a glove in his right.

GRIFFIN:

(Anxiously)

Dad?

Colton unveils his head slowly taking off the hood as he turns around to face his son. Big dark bags hang underneath his blue eyes. Patches of red stain his black wavy hair. Dried up blood is sprinkled across his face. A long deep scratch runs all the way from his forehead down to his jaw line.

COLTON:

(Sleepily)

Yeah, son?

Colton looks down at the dirt, watching as his shoes leave imprints as he walks toward the pitcher's mound.

GRIFFIN:

Is this the place? Where they use to play baseball? Are we safe here, dad?

Colton reaches the pitcher's mound and looks out toward the empty stands. He listens for awhile, every now and then gun shots echo from somewhere in the city.

COLTON:

This is Fenway Park, home of the Green Monster.

Colton turns and points out toward the right field bleachers.

COLTON:

Way over there, can you see it? That's the lonely red seat. It signifies the longest home run ever hit here. Ted Williams with one swing on his bat sent that baby flying, flying over right field and into the stands. The crowd went crazy, giving him a standing ovation as he ran from base to base. Finally he ended up right there, right where you're standing. Home base.

Griffin looks down at the whitish dusted plate embedded within the grains of dirt. He kneels down and brushes the dirt off with his hand. The plate becomes a fainted white, with small residue of the reddish grain. Griffin looks back up, staring as his father looks out toward right field.

GRIFFIN:

(HESITANTLY)

Are we safe here? Will they find us daddy?

Colton doesn't want to look at his son. Instead he continues his stare at the rows of empty bleachers. His eyes mostly fixated on the lonely red seat. His limps tremble from the cold night breeze that passes once in awhile. His teeth chatter loudly.

COLTON:

We're safe here. We're safe here.

GRIFFIN:

Will they find us?

COLTON:

No, I don't think so.

Colton turns around and begins walking toward Griffin who is shaking uncontrollably. Griffin's glove now lays on the ground beside him. He's hugging his sleeping bag tightly with both hands. Colton grabs the ball from his mitt and stuffs it into the pocket in his blue jeans. Before reaching Griffin, Colton stops and takes off the backpack he has on his back. Griffin unzips it and lightly pushes the mitt that use to be in his hand deep into the pouch. Then, again starts walking toward Griffin.

COLTON:

Tired?

GRIFFIN:

Sorta.

COLTON:

Cold?

GRIFFIN:

Kinda.

COLTON:

I don't know how you couldn't be.

GRIFFIN:

I'm trying to be strong, like you.

Colton grabs onto Griffin's hand, squeezing it tightly.

GRIFFIN:

(Whining)

Ouch! That hurts!

Colton loosens his grip, letting himself laugh silently for a minute. A grin comes across his face as he looks down directly and Griffin for the first time in awhile. Griffin's hair is blonde like his mothers. He has bluish-green eyes, snowy white skin unlike Griffin who has somewhat of a farmers tan.

COLTON:

I think we should go inside. What do you think, Kid?

GRIFFIN:

Are we safe inside?

COLTON:

I'm right here by your side right?

GRIFFIN:

Yeah.

COLTON:

Your always safe with me, I'll always be right by you. I promise.

GRIFFIN:

Okay.

The two walk until they reach one of the dugouts. It's littered with trash and broken bats. Pieces of razor sharp glass stick to the floor like glue. It reeks of scotch. The floor makes crunching sounds as the remnants make impact with Colton and Griffin's shoes.

COLTON:

Someone must've been drinking here, huh?

GRIFFIN:

(Yawning)

Yeah.

In the middle of the dugout is a door that leads downward. It's closed shut, but isn't locked. The door handle is pulled right off and lies on the ground near the seats where the players use to sit.

COLTON:

Looks like we weren't the first people here. I doubt will be the last.

They both approach the door slowly. Colton lets go of Griffins hand and pushes him behind himself, guarding him from whatever may be behind the closed door. Colton's hands shake, sweet begins to form as a droplet falls from his hair and collides with the ground, drying up almost immediately. His fingers pass through the open hole where the handle use to be, he grips onto the wooden structure, and slowly opens the door. Colton walks in first, then Griffin flowing.

INT: OPPONENTS LOCKER ROOM - MIDNIGHT

A long hallway now stands in front of Colton. The lights flicker on and off. Pictures that use to hang on the wall are broken and scattered all over the floor. It's quiet. Griffin peeks out from behind Colton and takes a look.

GRIFFIN:

I...I don't like this place.

COLTON:

Don't worry, It's just the electricity being funky. We're safe here.

GRIFFIN:

Dad?

COLTON:

Yes?

GRIFFIN:

I'm sleepy.

COLTON:

It's okay, We're gonna find somewhere to sleep real soon.

Hesitantly and slowly they begin to walk through the hallway. More crackling comes from the glass, the sound bounces off the walls and fills their ears. With the light's flickering on and off it becomes unsettling. Colton knows there's more to it than just the electricity being weird. Colton knows there's a chance that they're here. That the infected are here, and that scares him.


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Thu Feb 27, 2014 4:04 am
emac6 wrote a review...



love the plot, love the imagery. i have to agree with some of the other reviews in that some of the descriptions and directions are somewhat funky. also griffin does seem to act a little younger than his proposed age but i have never experienced post-apocalyptic, zombie infested boston so who am i to say how he would have matured. overall i really cant stress enough how into this plot i am. i think its a great start.




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Wed Feb 19, 2014 8:02 am
Morrigan wrote a review...



Hello there!

I think Lucia said most of the nitpicky things, so I'm going to talk to you about format and stuff, in case you decide to return to script/screen writing.

Now, I'm no expert on screenplays, but I'm pretty sure that the directions should be in italics. Everything you want them to do, just slap italics on it. That's so you can see them more easily and stuff.

While this would be a good writing style for a short story, you need the descriptions of the characters all together at the top, in concise language, so the director can be like, "Ah, yes, this is what we need" right away instead of having to search through the script. You're still describing the appearance of the boy in the middle of the piece.

Don't give so many directions before lines. Generally, directions in parenthesis are for actions that don't necessarily go with those lines, but are important. As in, (sarcastically) or something. The actor will know how to inflect the lines that you are putting in here with the parentheseed directions in front of them.

I'd also leave the appearances a bit more vague. The director needs to have some hand in the character's appearances.

Altogether, put all your descriptions of your characters at the beginning, and make them concise. Make everything not in the dialogue concise. This isn't a novel. It's meant to be performed.

I liked the plot a lot, though, and I think it would be lovely if you did expand on this. You seem to have a bit of talent with dialogue.

I hope this was helpful. Happy writing!




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Wed Feb 19, 2014 6:59 am
Lucia says...



This is a pretty good start, with a full background of suspense. You didn't jump too quickly into character background, besides the occasional reference.

I'm a little confused over Griffin's character. You wrote that he was 13 in the beginning, but throughout the piece, he acts a lot younger in my opinion. These sentences are also a bit confusing: " Colton grabs the ball from his mitt and stuffs it into the pocket in his blue jeans. Before reaching Griffin, Colton stops and takes off the backpack he has on his back. Griffin unzips it and lightly pushes the mitt that use to be in his hand deep into the pouch. Then, again starts walking toward Griffin." First of all, a baseball is way too big to fit into the pocket of jeans. Secondly, you may have gotten Colton and Griffin mixed up in the following sentences, and you may want to look into it.
These last bits are just me being nit-picky. "Colton's hands shake, sweet begins to form as a droplet falls from his hair and collides with the ground, drying up almost immediately." You may want to change "sweet" to "sweat".
"Griffin's hair is blonde like his mothers." Do you mean that he as multiple mothers? Or did you mean to write "mother's"?

You're free to respond to this however you wish. You did a really good job with the story and the reality of it.

Keep adding to it!!





Who knew paper and ink could be so vicious.
— Kathryn Stockett, The Help