Library e-Book : 978-1-5384-7308-5
Trade e-Book : 978-1-5384-7309-2
This digital document has been produced by Nord Compo.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
ANNOUNCER
NARRATOR
JAMES NEMEROFF – A TENSE, FAILING ARTIST. 40s.
SOBERIN – A CYNICAL, TALKATIVE LANDLORD. 60s.
CHARLES ATKINSON – A GRUFF, SINISTER STONEMASON. 60s.
MARTHA ATKINSON – CHARLES’ COLD, MYSTERIOUS WIFE. 60s.
RADIO ANNOUNCER
DJ
BUS DRIVER
PASSENGER
MUSIC:
OPENING THEME.
ANNOUNCER:
You can run, but you can’t hide. It’s far too late for that. Welcome to the dark side, where the night Never ends – as Fangoria presents … Dreadtime Stories with your host, Malcolm McDowell.
MUSIC:
UP AND UNDER:
NARRATOR:
Have you ever had a premonition? You know, that uncomfortable feeling warning you of a future event? The phenomenon is often characterized by sensations such as anxiety, uneasiness, vague feelings of disquiet suggesting impending disaster, and visual or auditory hallucinations. Premonition is sometimes referred to as a “gut-level” feeling. The sensation tends to occur prior to disasters, accidents, deaths and other traumatic and emotionally charged events. Some people even attribute them to the presence of supernatural or paranormal abilities. Abraham Lincoln had a prophetic dream of his death and funeral, which he related to both his bodyguard and his wife, mere hours before his assassination. In the dream he saw people crying in the East Wing of the White House.
As he went to investigate, he was told the weeping was for the President who had been assassinated.
His wife and bodyguard made light of the dream and days later he was shot in the head by assassin John Wilkes Booth in the Ford Theatre. His body was later held in the East Wing of the White House so that people could pay their respects. The sinking of the Titanic on its maiden voyage is one of the most talked about events in history. Did you know that there are more than 20 verified incidents of premonitions and precognitions by would-be passengers who cancelled their reservations after dreaming of the ship’s doom? Have you ever had a premonition? I warn you, they’re not to be taken lightly.
MUSIC:
UP AND OUT.
SOUND:
PENCIL SCRATCHES AT PAPER UNDER NEMEROFF.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES, READS ALOUD AS HE WRITES, SO NOT VERY FLUID AT FIRST): Today’s date .. is August 20th, 2012, shortly .. before midnight on what .. I am sure is the hottest .. day of .. the year. I am writing .. this at a shaky table before an open window. I’m not sure where this house is, but it must be a few miles from my apartment in Chicago, Illinois. I have had what I believe to be the most remarkable day of my life, and I’m attempting to put the details down on paper as clearly as possible while they are still fresh in my mind.(FADES)
MUSIC:
A BRIDGE - STATELY - IN AND UNDER.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) Let me say at the beginning that my name is James Franklyn Nemeroff. You must remember that in order to feel the full effect of my story. James Franklyn Nemeroff. I’m 45 years old, in perfect health, hardly been sick a day in my life. By profession I’m an artist. Not a very successful one, I must confess...
SOUND:
FADE SCRIBBLING THRU TO SOBERIN POUNDING ON NEMEROFF’S DOOR. FAINT TRAFFIC SOUNDS FROM OUTSIDE.
SOBERIN:
(OUTSIDE) Nemeroff! Nemeroff!
NEMEROFF:
(SIGHS)
SOUND:
HE TAKES A FEW STEPS TO THE DOOR AND OPENS IT.
SOBERIN:
So, Mr Artist...
NEMEROFF:
(WEARILY) Mr. Soberin.
SOBERIN:
You got my rent?
NEMEROFF:
Rent?
SOBERIN:
Rent. The payment you make to me on a monthly basis, in return for which I allow you a room in this building.
NEMEROFF:
I know what rent is, Mr Soberin, it’s just that-
SOBERIN:
It’s just that you owe it, and I want it. Don’t get me wrong, Nemeroff, if we lived in a society less reliant on money, you could stay here as long as you liked, sketching your little sketches from sunup ’til sundown. But when I checked the news this morning, we weren’t living in such a Utopia. No, Mr. Nemeroff, we live in a-
NEMEROFF:
(ANTICIPATING SOBERIN – THEY’VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION BEFORE) Capitalist society.
SOBERIN:
(WITH NEMEROFF) That’s right, a Capitalist society, and I need my capital. Now, do you have it, or do I change the lock on your apartment door, and start selling your possessions on e-bay?
NEMEROFF:
Wait a second – today’s the 20th.
SOBERIN:
Today is the 20th, hottest day of the year so far, and, incidentally, my granddaughter Elizabeth’s eleventh birthday. She lives in San Diego with her mother, and she never calls.
NEMEROFF:
What I mean is, the rent is due on the last day of the month, or have you forgotten that?
SOBERIN:
I have forgotten many things in my life, Mr. Nemeroff; I’ve forgotten my age, my telephone number, my zip code, I’ve even started forgetting my beloved Lillian’s face (may she rest in peace), but I have never once forgotten on what date the rent is due.
NEMEROFF:
So, I’ve still got eleven days.
SOBERIN:
No, you have minus twenty days. You still owe me for last month, or have you forgotten?
NEMEROFF:
No, I haven’t forgotten – but I was, sort of hoping you might have.
SOBERIN:
And what are the chances of that, Nemeroff?
NEMEROFF:
Slim, Mr. Soberin.
SOBERIN:
Slim – which is what I’ll be, if I don’t get money for food. Look at me, the weight is falling off me in this heat! And you want to hear the craziest thing? -- the local market insists that I make payment before they let me take groceries out of the store. You know why? Because we live in a- say it with me...
SOBERIN & NEMEROFF:
Capitalist society.
SOBERIN:
See, you can be taught. So how about it?
NEMEROFF:
Will you take a check?
SOBERIN:
Do you have a checkbook?
NEMEROFF:
No.
SOBERIN:
Then that was a dumb question.
NEMEROFF:
OK, look. Tomorrow. You’ll have the money tomorrow. I swear.
SOBERIN:
I’m a nice guy, you know that Nemeroff? Everybody says so.
NEMEROFF:
I bet they do.
SOBERIN:
But I have my limits. And to continue like this, it’s not fair to either of us. How old are you?
NEMEROFF:
Forty-five.
SOBERIN:
Forty-five. And you still don’t know what to do with your life.
NEMEROFF:
I’m an artist.
SOBERIN:
You’re an artist who hardly ever makes any art!
Don’t get me wrong, I admire creative people, I do – maybe that’s why I go so easy on you. But you gotta have direction. You don’t have that, you’re not any kind of artist – you’re not any kind of anything.
NEMEROFF:
I get it.
SOBERIN:
Do you, James? Do you?
NEMEROFF:
(LOSING HIS PATIENCE) Yes, I said I GET IT!
SOBERIN:
Then what are you gonna do? What are you gonna do to help me and help yourself?
NEMEROFF:
I’ll... uh... I’ll start making calls. You have to appreciate, it’s not easy, selling a sketch isn’t like selling... I dunno, a cellphone.
SOBERIN:
You do sketches, right?
NEMEROFF:
You know I do, Mr. Soberin.
SOBERIN:
Then why don’t you draw for the comic books?
NEMEROFF:
(GROANS)
SOBERIN:
Have you been to the movies lately?
NEMEROFF:
I couldn’t afford to, even if I wanted to.
SOBERIN:
Just about every movie is a superhero movie. I’m telling you for your own good, there’s money in the comic book business. Plus, you get to draw. Sounds to me like a win-win situation.
NEMEROFF:
I’d sooner die.
SOBERIN:
Then do it outside. I don’t want the smell of your “rotting-corpse” in the carpet when I rent the apartment out again.
SOUND:
SOBERIN SLAMS THE DOOR.
NEMEROFF:
(AFTER A BEAT) What carpet? What am I gonna do, what-am-i-gonna-do..? Music. I need music. Inspiration!
SOUND:
NEMEROFF TURNS ON THE RADIO.
SOUND:
HEAVY METAL MUSIC.
SOUND:
NEMEROFF CHANGES THE FREQUENCY.
NEMEROFF:
Pass.
DJ:
-hot! Damn hot! Hot and sticky! I swear, when I leave this studio today, I’m jumping into Lake Michigan! So remember, if your phone rings in the next half-hour, make sure you pick it up and shout: “I Stay Cool listening to W-
SOUND:
NEMEROFF SWITCHES THE RADIO OFF AGAIN.
NEMEROFF:
Forget it.
SOUND:
HE FORCES OPEN THE WINDOW...
NEMEROFF:
(...WITH A GRUNT)
SOUND:
TRAFFIC NOISE INCREASES.
NEMEROFF:
(A LONG, WEARY SIGH) Let’s see...
SOUND:
NEMEROFF UNROLLS A SHEET OF PAPER AND SLOWLY BEGINS TO DRAW. FADE OUT UNDER NARRATION.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) I sell most of my drawings to newspapers and magazines to accompany the article. I’m not married and my only close relative, my sister, died 5 years ago -- so really, there’s no one in particular to whom I address this manuscript. Only you, who might happen to read it someday. For, because of the odd circumstances you are about to learn, I have the strongest premonition that I will never live to tell anyone about it --
MUSIC:
- FILLS A PAUSE - THEN UNDER.
NARRATOR:
The time is present day, the place is the windy city of Chicago, only on this stifling hot summer day, there is no wind. You’ve just encountered James Franklyn Nemeroff. Age 45, profession: Artist. Up until today, Nemeroff’s life could be filed neatly under the heading of “average.” But something very strange, very unusual and worthy of telling is about to happen to Mr. Nemeroff -- all because of a premonition. A premonition of brooding terror, of unseen forces in the summer’s heat. So, if you’re inclined, let’s look more closely at James Franklyn Nemeroff – the protagonist in another of our… DREADTIME STORIES.
MUSIC:
THEME.
FADE DOWN.
ANNOUNCER:
We’ll continue with our story from “FANGORIA’S DREADTIME STORIES” in a moment.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
ANNOUNCER:
And now back to “FANGORIA’S DREADTIME STORIES” and... “A Heated Premonition” starring (----------).
MUSIC:
THEME.
THRU TO:
SOUND:
NEMEROFF CRUMPLES UP A SHEET OF PAPER.
NEMEROFF:
Dammit! What’s the matter with me? I can’t think, can’t draw – what is wrong with me anyway!?
SOUND:
HE THROWS THE PAPER AWAY.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) You don’t know me -- and If I’m right, I’ll soon be dead, and you never will -- but take my word for it, this was a pretty average day for me.
I glanced through the paper, poured myself a glass of lemonade and proceeded to let my mind wander – in the hope that I might happen upon some subject for my pencil etchings. Even with the window open, my room was oppressively hot, and I’d just made up my mind that the coolest and most comfortable place in the neighborhood would be the deep end of a swimming pool, when –
MUSIC:
… DARKENS … UNDER.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) – Without warning, I was suddenly shaken by a strong feeling that swept over me in such a way as I had never experienced before. It was a swirling, overpowering sensation. I attempted to rise to my feet, but it seemed as though I’d somehow become glued to my chair. I didn’t know what was the matter with me. At first I thought it might be heatstroke, or maybe a seizure. I reached out to try and brace myself. And then, before I knew what I was doing, my pencil was in my hand –
SOUND:
PENCIL SCRATCHES AT PAPER.
NEMEROFF:
What the hell?
SOUND:
PENCIL CONTINUES TO DRAW, IN A MORE FLUID MOVEMENT. CONTINUE UNDER NARRATION.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) -- and suddenly I began to draw. It was as though someone had taken hold of my hand and was moving it across the paper – swiftly, feverishly.
And then after what seemed like a few minutes time “I” seemed to take over. My hand, under its own power now, began to draw. I soon forgot about the stifling August heat. Everything was forgotten in my overwhelming and frantic desire to finish the sketch as soon as possible.
SOUND:
THE PENCIL IS MOVING EVEN FASTER NOW, SCRIBBLING FURIOUSLY.
MUSIC:
REACHES FEVER PITCH, THEN CUTS OUT AS...
SOUND:
THE PENCIL STOPS. DROPS TO THE FLOOR & ROLLS.
NEMEROFF:
(GASPS, AS THOUGH COMING UP FOR AIR). Damn! How long have I been drawing? What have I been drawing? The time, what’s the time? Four o’clock! And I started just after breakfast! What happened to me?
Maybe... maybe this is what real creativity feels like, like Michaelangelo when he painted the- What am I talking about? I’m putting myself up among the giants and I don’t even know what I’ve been doing half the day! Could be just some childish scribble, could be-
SOUND:
HE PICKS UP THE PAPER.
NEMEROFF:
(STUNNED) Wow.
SOUND:
TRANSITION FADE THRU TO SOBERIN’S APARTMENT.
MUSIC:
SOBERIN IS LISTENING TO AN OLD SCRATCHY RECORD.
SOBERIN:
(HUMMING TO THE MUSIC)
SOUND:
A FRANTIC KNOCKING ON THE DOOR.
SOBERIN:
Who is it?
NEMEROFF:
(BEHIND THE DOOR) Mr. Soberin, it’s me.
SOBERIN:
I know a lot of “me”s. Which “me” are you?
NEMEROFF:
(BEHIND THE DOOR) It’s James Nemeroff.
SOBERIN:
James Nemeroff. If you have my money, you can come in. If you don’t have it, I respectfully request you go to hell. And if you’re here to complain about the air conditioning, there’s nothing I can do for you. You are not technically a resident in this building.
NEMEROFF:
(BEHIND THE DOOR, CAGEY) I have something to show you.
SOBERIN:
Unless it’s a check for last month’s rent, I’m not interested.
NEMEROFF:
(BEHIND THE DOOR) Mr. Soberin, please!
SOBERIN:
(WEARY) All right, all right.
SOUND:
HE UNLOCKS H
IS DOOR.
SOBERIN:
(AS HE UNLOCKS) Don’t be standing behind this door with a gun or anything, my faith in human nature is already at a pretty low ebb, I promise you.
SOUND:
HE OPENS THE DOOR.
SOBERIN:
OK, Nemeroff, so what’ve you got to show me?
SOUND:
NEMEROFF PRODUCES THE PICTURE.
NEMEROFF:
I drew this.
SOBERIN:
Is this supposed to be in lieu of cash? Cause if it is, you can stick it up your -
NEMEROFF:
(CUTTING HIM OFF) Look at it.
SOBERIN:
I’m not gonna buy it, I got nowhere to put it.
NEMEROFF:
(URGENT) I need you to look at it, Mr. Soberin.
SOBERIN:
So I’m looking.
SOUND:
HE TAKES THE PICTURE.
A Heated Premonition Page 1