<font face=newroman>[I know it's long. Don't get scared away. Hehe.]
<font color=blue>They are standing
outside their hotel rooms,
dressed in hotel robes,
slippers and pajamas.
<font color=green>“Oh, my God…”
<font color=black>“Someone call 911.”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=blue>The fog stands a few feet
above the roadbed,
clouding everything within fifteen feet.
The power lines
hum in the humid air.
And the steam rises
from the mangled car
with a faint hissing sound,
like a tire releasing its air,
or a carnival calliope.
<font color=green>“Is he alive?”
<font color=black>“I’m… I’m checking. I’m checking.”
<font color=purple>“Has anyone called an ambulance?”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=blue>Mr. Black--
he’s travelling on company business--
sucks nervously on a cigarette
and blows smoke into the thin, cold air.
He stands outside room forty-five
in a blue bathrobe.
But he doesn’t say anything;
he watches anxiously
as the other man approaches the wreck…
<font color=black>“I can’t really see.”
<font color=blue>…cautiously,
as if it were about to grab him.
<font color=purple>“Maybe you shouldn’t touch him.”
<font color=green>“Christ… Be careful…”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=black>The car rests at a funny angle,
its front smashed against a tall pine.
And its victim lies dead on the hood:
a giant, white-tailed buck.
The windshield in cracked in a radius pattern,
unfolding from the point at which the driver
struck his head.
He must have hit the deer,
then ran into the tree.
<font color=blue>He remains outside room forty-five.
<font color=green>“Check ‘im…”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=black>The road gravel slips out
from under his shoes
with a skittering sound
as he nears the car.
Only three feet away.
The raw, wild scent of the buck…
He can smell it.
He takes two steps forward
and kneels slowly by the wreck.
The driver’s arm dangles lifelessly
from the open door;
his knuckles barely touch the ground.
<font color=blue><i>No one knows.
No one knows.</i>
A hand on the doorknob.
<i>Just go back in.</i>
Twist…
<i>And no one will know.</i>
“Uh… I’ll call the paramedics.”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=black>The driver is dead.
It’s very obvious.
His fair forehead
is marred by a deep, frightening wound,
and a small stream of blood
trickles out of his nose.
He looks around,
afraid to touch the man.
He imagines he will suddenly come alive
and grab the collar of his shirt
and shake him,
until every one of his teeth falls on the ground,
scattering like little blanched jellybeans.
“Hold on… there’s something in his hand.”
<font color=blue>“Shit.”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=blue><i>Calm down.
Calm down.</i>
He feels a faint stir in his groin,
standing motionless outside room forty-five.
The other man reaches out gingerly,
inches from the driver’s clenched fist.
<i>What should I do?
What should I do?</i>
The cigarette lies on the ground,
it’s gray smoke uncoiling in the air.
<font color=green>“What is it?”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=black>A faint, human warmth radiates
from the driver’s hand
and disappears in the frigid air.
He can see something…
in the fist.
Peeking out.
What is it?
The rising sun beats against it
and causes it to glow.
Inching closer,
still bent on one knee,
he attempts to unfold the fist.
“Just a second…”
<font color=purple>“He’s holding something?”
<font color=green>“What’s he holding?”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=blue><i>No…</i>
The fog is thinning,
and Mr. Black can see the wreck more clearly.
Again…
the feeling in his groin.
And a tightness in his throat.
Frantically, he stamps out the cigarette
and suddenly steps off the small landing--
but he seems unable to go any closer
to the car.
The other two watch him with confusion.
He is an executive,
respected,
well-liked,
travelling on business.
He manages to take another step forward.
<font color=purple>“Are you okay, Mr. Black?”
<font color=green>“What’s the matter?”
<font color=black>“I’ve almost got it.”
<font color=blue>“I’m fine.”
<font color=green>“What’s he holding?”
<font color=blue>“Don’t touch him.”
<font color=purple>“Did you call the paramedics?”
<font color=blue>“No.”
<font color=black>“He won’t let go.”
<font color=blue>“Don’t touch him.”
<font color=purple>“Mr. Black, what’s wrong?”
<font color=black>“Wait--it’s a key.”
<font color=blue>“Don’t touch him!”
<font color=purple>“Mr. Black!”
<font color=green>“A key?”
<font color=blue>“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”
<font color=green>“Hey!”
<font color=blue>“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”
<font color=purple>“Mr. Black!”
<font color=blue>“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”
<font color=purple>“What’s going on?”
<font color=green>“I don’t know!”
<font color=black>“It’s to room forty-five.”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=purple>“Forty-five?”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=blue>He stops in the street, breathing hard.
He remembers tossing the robe on
the moment he heard the crash.
Tossing it on…
Tossing it on…
Running outside to see…
Tightening the belt…
His heart pounds.
It racks his chest.
<font color=green>“…Mr. Black?”
<font color=purple>“Room forty-five?”
<font color=gray>Pause.
<font color=blue>“Please. Don’t tell.”
He voice is small.
He begins to weep quietly.<font color=black>
Reason for writing:
Inspired by a short film I saw on the Independent Film Channel. It's a little experimental; I would really like some comments/advice. Do you get what's going on? Is it too vague? How is the pacing? Does the different-color-for-each-speaker thing work? Any and all help is appreciated. I really put a lot of time into it.
Birth sign: Virgo
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