Post by Mark Storm on Nov 29, 2016 7:55:24 GMT -6
Title of Show: N/A
Logline: Stumbling through life; Trey's had enough, something has to change, something has to give. There's more to life than working nine to five. And he's about to find that out.
..
..
[ From darkness there's light; transitioning with a fade from black.]
"And how long have you been feeling like this?" A gentle tone; evidently a female, although you can't see the subjects facial features, but her soft tone was convincing enough. "How long have you been, scared?" You see merely her lips in motion, pampered with red lipstick, striking a pose of confidence and maturity.
Location; London, Hounslow; Therapy Session.
Date; November 29th, 2016
Time; 13:37
"For as long as I can remember." A man answered, as calm as he possibly could as he tried to hide the tremors that ran through his hand, bringing his hand under the table and diverting his eyes away from the lady who sat opposite him - and now, we have a clear viewing of the scene.
She sits by her desk, pen clenched between her finger tips and notepad laid out in front of her. Dressed in a shirt, unbuttoned at the top; a blazer draped over the back of her seat, black trousers and classy shoes to complete the attire.
He sits opposite her, teeth digging into his nails, eyes quickly moving from left to right as he analyzes the room; dressed in a hoodie, jogging bottoms and some beat up nike trainers.
"It's normal, having doubts and fears of the future.. we all have them, you're not alone Trey." She says, introducing the protagonist by name. He almost looks ashamed to look up at her, his head tilted down as he struggles to find the words to say, clenching his fists beneath the desk and finally nodding his head in acknowledge, his eyes tightly closed whilst he licks his dry lips.
He opens his eyes and clasps his hands together, resting his elbows on the sides of the chair and looking up at the lady, who's looking down at her watch. "Looks like that's it for this week, Trey." She says, with annoyance, as she had finally managed to unveil some problems. "Same time, next week?" She asks, and he nods his head in reply before getting up from his seat and walking towards the door.
"Trey."
He turns his head ever so slightly, he hand firmly gripped on the doornob.
"But if you need me, I'm one phonecall away."
There's no reply, there's just a silence that lasts forever and he stands, replaying her voice in his head as she watches with concern but before she can say anything else, he's gone, out the door, back in his real world.
Logline: Stumbling through life; Trey's had enough, something has to change, something has to give. There's more to life than working nine to five. And he's about to find that out.
I'm scared.
I'm scared of the future.
I'm scared of what it entails.
I'm scared that I won't make my parents proud.
I'm scared that all of this would've been for nothing.
..
I'm scared that she'll leave me again.
I'm scared that she'll leave me for that guy I hate.
I'm scared that we won't end up together.
I'm scared that it might be for the best.
..
I'm scared that I care too much.
I'm scared that I'm overthinking and can't sleep at night.
I'm scared that I'm going to go down the same course for the rest of my life.
I'm scared that there's no way to get out of the ends.
[ From darkness there's light; transitioning with a fade from black.]
"And how long have you been feeling like this?" A gentle tone; evidently a female, although you can't see the subjects facial features, but her soft tone was convincing enough. "How long have you been, scared?" You see merely her lips in motion, pampered with red lipstick, striking a pose of confidence and maturity.
Location; London, Hounslow; Therapy Session.
Date; November 29th, 2016
Time; 13:37
"For as long as I can remember." A man answered, as calm as he possibly could as he tried to hide the tremors that ran through his hand, bringing his hand under the table and diverting his eyes away from the lady who sat opposite him - and now, we have a clear viewing of the scene.
She sits by her desk, pen clenched between her finger tips and notepad laid out in front of her. Dressed in a shirt, unbuttoned at the top; a blazer draped over the back of her seat, black trousers and classy shoes to complete the attire.
He sits opposite her, teeth digging into his nails, eyes quickly moving from left to right as he analyzes the room; dressed in a hoodie, jogging bottoms and some beat up nike trainers.
"It's normal, having doubts and fears of the future.. we all have them, you're not alone Trey." She says, introducing the protagonist by name. He almost looks ashamed to look up at her, his head tilted down as he struggles to find the words to say, clenching his fists beneath the desk and finally nodding his head in acknowledge, his eyes tightly closed whilst he licks his dry lips.
He opens his eyes and clasps his hands together, resting his elbows on the sides of the chair and looking up at the lady, who's looking down at her watch. "Looks like that's it for this week, Trey." She says, with annoyance, as she had finally managed to unveil some problems. "Same time, next week?" She asks, and he nods his head in reply before getting up from his seat and walking towards the door.
"Trey."
He turns his head ever so slightly, he hand firmly gripped on the doornob.
"But if you need me, I'm one phonecall away."
There's no reply, there's just a silence that lasts forever and he stands, replaying her voice in his head as she watches with concern but before she can say anything else, he's gone, out the door, back in his real world.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
UNTITLED
story by storm.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Location: Hownslow, London; the streets.
We're in the real world now.
Our protagonist Trey stands outside for a few seconds, staring into nothingness with a stern look in his eyes. He looks to his left before looking to his right, before making his way down the alleyway and emerges into the busy streets of a town centre. Hands in his pockets, earphones plugged in with the hit track "Leave Me Alone" by AJ Tracey booming through his ears.
London, this one scene resembles a whole city.
A multicultural environment, we see a range of different racial colors, different generations, different people as a whole. And it's beautiful as Trey weaves his way through commuters, checking his shoulders for a brief moment and realizing his bus is on his way. A light jog follows as he stretches his arm and decreases his pace as he approaches the bus stop. He stops as the bus does, and allows an elderly couple onto the bus first before following and tapping his oyster against the reader. He makes his way over to a window seat and cozies himself up, leaning his head against the window as he looks outside. And right there before him, he see's an argument commence. He can't tell what's being said, as his booming music is preventing him from doing so but through body language - he can guess what's happening. A total of four women; two white; who are together, one behind a pram - both women around their early twenties and opposite them, two black women; one also behind a pram, with her companion holding her back. There's a racial tension here. Trey doesn't have to be off the bus to tell as people crowd around to listen to the slur of language that emerges from both parties.
The bus begins to move.
And we're taken on this adventure through this small part of Brixton, South London. We pass a pub; where a mixed ethnicity of whtie, black and asian men hang outside with pints in their hands, laughing and embracing each other with hugs. We then pass a group of youths who look intensely at Trey, who looks back at them. You can't see their faces but you can see their eyes. And through their eyes you can see their story; their story of hardship, a story that is emulated throughout london. These youths are also a mix of racial backgrounds.
Trey looks down at his phone. No new messages. He huffs and rises to his feet as he's coming to the end of his journey. Thanking the driver with a wave of his hand, he hops off of the bus and stands stationary for a few seconds. He looks at this estate from across the road and a look of despair is embedded on his face.
Exhaling heavily, he shakes his head before proceeding.
It's a typical council estate setting; an abundance of flats surrounding a park that's in the center of it all and within are a group of youths, younger than the ones seen before who are playing football (soccer) in the cage. Trey walks past and one of the kids notices him "Trey!" one says and waves, with the group of youths stopping their play and also call out to him.
"What you sayin' young ones!" He says confidentially, his previous demeanor disappearing as now he puts on a mask.
"Do you wanna play Trey, we need anotha' player on our team!" One of the kids asks, "Are you jokin'! That's well unfair!" another kid argues, and an exchange of words commence between the two teams.
"Listen listen; uncle Trey's been out the game for too long! I can't play." He approaches the cage, not entering, but gripping his fingers on the outside of it. "But how's the football goin' though, you all still kickin' for Grove?" They all nod their heads. He smiles and nods his head. "That's good. Keep kicking ball boys and who knows, maybe I'll be watchin' you on the tele in a few years. Safe boys." He says as he backs away, and they all salute.
Turning away he proceeds through the estate and comes towards a tunnel. Emerging from the darkness is a hooded man, and initially there's a sense of fear until all of sudden, the two greet each other with an original handshake, with an exchange seeming to take place. They nod heads at each other afterwards, and the hooded man walks quick out of tunnel. Trey stays stationary and opens his palm, a bag of cannabis within and he smiles, nodding his head before going into the entrance of the flats.
Location: Trey's Flat
Slamming down the bag of weed onto the table before collapsing to his seat, he exhales heavily. Everything he needed to say, he said. He felt relieved, and had a little hope in a way, and sitting next to him is his best friend Benny who realizes this great weight has been lifted off the shoulders of his best bud.
"Is it that deep?" Benny asks, referring to the bag of weed; believing that Trey's stress has be alleviated through acquiring the substance. If only he knew. "Feels good." He holds the bag in both hands before bringing it up to his nose, and laughing majestically. "Smells good, too." He laughs, nodding his head in appreciation as he rises from his seat.
Benny is taller than Trey. A lot skinnier too.
He places the bag on the table and exits the room, presumably looking for some roll ups.
"It took you that long draw? Man.. you must be starvin', still. I can't lie though man.. haven't smelt anything this good since Jamie's.. and that smell, stays with me til this day my brother." He laughs again, entering the room with his essential necessities; as if he's a professor in the class of rolling up.
"Look at you all happy and shit!" He says with surprise. He sounds molasses as he speaks. "Who got you smilin' man? You can't tell me it's just the weed that's got you smiling bro."
There's a moment of silence.
"Nothing, man. I just.. just feel, good." He says reluctantly.
Benny nods his head, a smirk appearing upon his lips.
"You chat the mostttt. You actin' like you just got brain of Asa Akira! I'm talkin' levels!" The two laugh in union. "I'm talkin' euphoric.. but whateva' man, it's nice to see you smile, for once."
"It's the season, it's got me feeling jolly and shit."
"Nah man, don't give me none of that. The season's got people down with a cold, or a flu. It's too early for that Christmas shit! You lookin' like you caught feelings all over again or something." He laughs, diverting his attention back to the joint in his hand. "How long you and Jada been back together now?"
"Like.. three months now."
"Forreal? Time goes too fast. I remember when you were knockin' up at my doorstep after everything that happened."
"Can we not?" He asks immediately, not wanting to go down memory lane.
"I'm just sayin!" He holds his arms up, before bringing them back down gradually.
Location: Hownslow, London; the streets.
We're in the real world now.
Our protagonist Trey stands outside for a few seconds, staring into nothingness with a stern look in his eyes. He looks to his left before looking to his right, before making his way down the alleyway and emerges into the busy streets of a town centre. Hands in his pockets, earphones plugged in with the hit track "Leave Me Alone" by AJ Tracey booming through his ears.
London, this one scene resembles a whole city.
A multicultural environment, we see a range of different racial colors, different generations, different people as a whole. And it's beautiful as Trey weaves his way through commuters, checking his shoulders for a brief moment and realizing his bus is on his way. A light jog follows as he stretches his arm and decreases his pace as he approaches the bus stop. He stops as the bus does, and allows an elderly couple onto the bus first before following and tapping his oyster against the reader. He makes his way over to a window seat and cozies himself up, leaning his head against the window as he looks outside. And right there before him, he see's an argument commence. He can't tell what's being said, as his booming music is preventing him from doing so but through body language - he can guess what's happening. A total of four women; two white; who are together, one behind a pram - both women around their early twenties and opposite them, two black women; one also behind a pram, with her companion holding her back. There's a racial tension here. Trey doesn't have to be off the bus to tell as people crowd around to listen to the slur of language that emerges from both parties.
The bus begins to move.
And we're taken on this adventure through this small part of Brixton, South London. We pass a pub; where a mixed ethnicity of whtie, black and asian men hang outside with pints in their hands, laughing and embracing each other with hugs. We then pass a group of youths who look intensely at Trey, who looks back at them. You can't see their faces but you can see their eyes. And through their eyes you can see their story; their story of hardship, a story that is emulated throughout london. These youths are also a mix of racial backgrounds.
Trey looks down at his phone. No new messages. He huffs and rises to his feet as he's coming to the end of his journey. Thanking the driver with a wave of his hand, he hops off of the bus and stands stationary for a few seconds. He looks at this estate from across the road and a look of despair is embedded on his face.
Exhaling heavily, he shakes his head before proceeding.
It's a typical council estate setting; an abundance of flats surrounding a park that's in the center of it all and within are a group of youths, younger than the ones seen before who are playing football (soccer) in the cage. Trey walks past and one of the kids notices him "Trey!" one says and waves, with the group of youths stopping their play and also call out to him.
"What you sayin' young ones!" He says confidentially, his previous demeanor disappearing as now he puts on a mask.
"Do you wanna play Trey, we need anotha' player on our team!" One of the kids asks, "Are you jokin'! That's well unfair!" another kid argues, and an exchange of words commence between the two teams.
"Listen listen; uncle Trey's been out the game for too long! I can't play." He approaches the cage, not entering, but gripping his fingers on the outside of it. "But how's the football goin' though, you all still kickin' for Grove?" They all nod their heads. He smiles and nods his head. "That's good. Keep kicking ball boys and who knows, maybe I'll be watchin' you on the tele in a few years. Safe boys." He says as he backs away, and they all salute.
Turning away he proceeds through the estate and comes towards a tunnel. Emerging from the darkness is a hooded man, and initially there's a sense of fear until all of sudden, the two greet each other with an original handshake, with an exchange seeming to take place. They nod heads at each other afterwards, and the hooded man walks quick out of tunnel. Trey stays stationary and opens his palm, a bag of cannabis within and he smiles, nodding his head before going into the entrance of the flats.
Location: Trey's Flat
Slamming down the bag of weed onto the table before collapsing to his seat, he exhales heavily. Everything he needed to say, he said. He felt relieved, and had a little hope in a way, and sitting next to him is his best friend Benny who realizes this great weight has been lifted off the shoulders of his best bud.
"Is it that deep?" Benny asks, referring to the bag of weed; believing that Trey's stress has be alleviated through acquiring the substance. If only he knew. "Feels good." He holds the bag in both hands before bringing it up to his nose, and laughing majestically. "Smells good, too." He laughs, nodding his head in appreciation as he rises from his seat.
Benny is taller than Trey. A lot skinnier too.
He places the bag on the table and exits the room, presumably looking for some roll ups.
"It took you that long draw? Man.. you must be starvin', still. I can't lie though man.. haven't smelt anything this good since Jamie's.. and that smell, stays with me til this day my brother." He laughs again, entering the room with his essential necessities; as if he's a professor in the class of rolling up.
"Look at you all happy and shit!" He says with surprise. He sounds molasses as he speaks. "Who got you smilin' man? You can't tell me it's just the weed that's got you smiling bro."
There's a moment of silence.
"Nothing, man. I just.. just feel, good." He says reluctantly.
Benny nods his head, a smirk appearing upon his lips.
"You chat the mostttt. You actin' like you just got brain of Asa Akira! I'm talkin' levels!" The two laugh in union. "I'm talkin' euphoric.. but whateva' man, it's nice to see you smile, for once."
"It's the season, it's got me feeling jolly and shit."
"Nah man, don't give me none of that. The season's got people down with a cold, or a flu. It's too early for that Christmas shit! You lookin' like you caught feelings all over again or something." He laughs, diverting his attention back to the joint in his hand. "How long you and Jada been back together now?"
"Like.. three months now."
"Forreal? Time goes too fast. I remember when you were knockin' up at my doorstep after everything that happened."
"Can we not?" He asks immediately, not wanting to go down memory lane.
"I'm just sayin!" He holds his arms up, before bringing them back down gradually.
