DRAMA ON THE TRAIL
a screenplay scene by S. Lake
FADE IN:
INTERIOR a stall at a stable.
CLOSE UP on S, a lovely middle-school girl with a great smile and intelligent eyes. S is just finishing tacking up her horse, CHAMPION, a tall bay Thoroughbred.
S
Ready for our trail ride, Champ?
PAN TO the door of the stall as C and L appear outside. They are each leading a tacked-up horse.
L
Ready to go, S?
S
(as she finishes latching Champion’s bridle) Ready! Let’s go!
CUT TO
EXTERIOR, a field behind the stable. The three girls are trotting along side by side on their horses.
C
Should we ride on the Winding Trail today, girls?
S
(looks worried)
I’m not sure about that. Our riding instructor, Matt, told us never to ride there. It’s dangerous.
L
(laughs)
Don’t be silly. We’re all good riders. Especially you, S.
Matt says you could ride in the Olympics someday—unless you decide to follow your headmistress’s advice and run for president or become a Supreme Court justice. I’m sure someone as multitalented as you can handle the Winding Trail, and you can help us if we have trouble. Okay? Let’s try it.
C
Yes! Come on, S. We’re going whether you like it or not.
S
(still looks doubtful)
Well, if you insist. I guess I have to come along to make sure you’re all right. I hope nothing bad happens.
FADE OUT
FADE IN on the three girls a few minutes later. They are making their way along a spectacular mountain ridge. The trail is wide and smooth, and the horses are trotting slowly. The scenery is amazing, and C and L are gasping and exclaiming as they look out over an endless prairie of tall, waving grass.
S glances around from side to side, still looking worried.
S
Maybe we should head back now. My sixth sense is telling me something bad could happen soon.
C
(carelessly)
What could happen?
L
(glancing at S)
I don’t know, C. You know S’s sixth sense is never wrong. It’s probably the most reliable of all her supernatural powers—even more reliable than her ability to control the weather. Didn’t she predict that earthquake last month? And remember when she saved the President from alien terrorists when he visited our town? Then there was the time she foresaw the breakup of that Hollywood marriage that everyone else said—
L stops with a gasp.
L
(eyes widening)
D-Did you guys hear that?
C
Hear what?
From offscreen, there is the unmistakable sound of a GROWL.
C
(suddenly looking frightened)
That sounds like—
CUT TO a stand of underbrush nearby, just as a huge GRIZZLY BEAR bursts out of it with a CRASH and another series of GROWLS. C and L scream in terror, and all three horses start rearing and trying to race off.
S
(shouting)
Keep your horses under control! It’s our only chance to escape!
L
I—I can’t! Aaaaaaaaaaah!
Her horse, THUNDER, whirls and lets out a shriek of terror as the bear comes toward him. Thunder starts to run, heading straight for the edge of the cliff—a dropoff of hundreds of feet at least. L screams again and again as the reins slip out of her hands.
S
(bravely)
Hold on, L! I’ll save you!
S rides toward L. Just as Thunder is about to leap over the cliff, S leans over from Champion’s saddle and grabs the panicky horse’s bridle, stopping him just in time.
L
(breathlessly)
Thank you, S! You saved my life! Again!
From nearby, there is a SHRIEK and another GROWL.
S
Uh-oh.
PAN TO follow her gaze as she looks and sees that C has fallen off her horse and is lying helplessly just beneath the grizzly’s sharp claws. The bear raises one paw and prepares to swipe as C screams again.
S
Hold on, C! I’m coming …
Okay, I’m not sure what happens next, but I could come up with something if Peter wants me to.
Let me know what he thinks of my scene, okay? See you tomorrow at Pine Hollow!
Dear Diary,
I can’t believe the school year ends in less than two weeks! It seems like we just started a few days ago … Oh well. Actually, I haven’t been thinking about school too much. I’ve been too busy wondering what’s going on with my parents. They’ve been acting really weird lately, and I have no idea why. They’ve been tip-toeing around the house and whispering to each other whenever they think I won’t notice. But I have noticed. And it’s starting to get really aggravating. I can’t help thinking something bad is going on—maybe even something really bad, like Alice Jackson’s parents … Well, I guess it won’t do me much good to wonder and worry any more than I have to. I just hope they decide to let me in on the secret soon—even though I’m afraid I’m not going to like it, whatever it is.
Okay, I’m really going to try to stop worrying about it. At least until I get my creative writing assignment out of the way. It’s our final assignment of the year. We’re supposed to write something that sums up how we feel about the school year that’s just ending. It can be any format we like. In a way, that makes it harder to figure out what to do. I’d like my assignment to be something good and creative, not only for the grade, but also to sort of show Ms. Shields how much I’ve learned from her this year. I mean, I never knew how many ways there are to communicate something. If I were Stevie, I’d probably try something crazy like turning in a combination poem-story-essay-play-letter to show that. No, scratch that. If I were Stevie I probably wouldn’t want to spend that much time on mere homework with summer so close. Ha ha!
Actually, though, maybe I will ask Stevie for suggestions when I see her at the stable tomorrow afternoon. After all, this is a creative writing assignment. And Stevie is nothing if not creative …
Summer’s Approach
a haiku by Lisa Atwood
School—and life—move on;
lessons learned, so much remains.
That’s what makes us real …
Dear Diary,
The haiku I just copied above this entry is the one I wrote for my final creative writing assignment. It was Stevie’s idea to do a haiku—she thought it would be the shortest and easiest way to get the assignment done.
That’s not why I did it, though. When she was talking about how nice and short a haiku is—has to be—I was thinking about something Ms. Shields told us once. She said it’s sometimes harder to say or write a short, important thing than a long, ordinary one. I remember, because when she said it, it made me think about my letters to Peter. The parts of his letters where he says what he really feels about stuff are more meaningful than any of the other, longer stuff he writes about less important things. Also, I’ve found out how hard it is to condense everything that happens in my life into a diary or a letter or any other limited space. If I wrote about everything that happened to me (the way I thought those diary writers in that article did), I would never have time to do anything but write. So I have to decide what’s important enough to mention and what I have to skip. That makes me think a little more about everything I do.
I bet Peter is discovering the same sort of thing as he works on his screenplay. I’m sure it will be a huge challenge for him to sum up the adventures of The Saddle Club in just one movie (even though I’ve already sort of narrowed it down for him in my letters). It makes me happier than ever that I decided not to send him Stevie’s screenplay scene a few weeks back. If he really thought we ran into grizzl
y bears and earthquakes and the rest of it, he might just give up on writing about us entirely!
Oops, I’m getting a little off the topic, which is my haiku assignment. I turned it in yesterday, and I haven’t been able to stop worrying about it since (except when I’ve been distracted by worrying about my parents’ weird behavior, which is more mysterious than ever). I hope Ms. Shields understands why I decided to write a haiku instead of something longer. I guess there’s no way for her to know that it probably took me just as long to get it right as it would have taken me to write an essay or something. I just hope she realizes why I chose to do it and doesn’t think it’s because of more, well, Stevian reasoning.
I guess it’s too late to worry about that now, though. I’ll just have to wait and see what Ms. Shields says. In the meantime, I’m starting to wonder if I should ask Mom and Dad if I can call Peter on the phone. I haven’t heard from him since I sent my comments about his screenplay scene, and I think he finishes school soon, too. I hope I wasn’t too harsh. I just told him it was mostly good and then passed on a few of the more important mistakes that Carole pointed out. She’d probably be annoyed if she knew I didn’t bother to explain to him the difference between saying “white” and “gray.” It’s not like those Hollywood studios don’t have fact checkers for that kind of stuff, right? At least I assume they do. Anyway, as I said, I didn’t send him Stevie’s screenplay sample at all. I told her it was because he might get confused, since there are no huge mountains or grizzly bears in Willow Creek. She was a little insulted, I think, but luckily Veronica happened along as I was breaking the news. She said something obnoxious, which made Stevie forget all about Peter and the screenplay and everything else. I guess Veronica does have her uses after all!
Dear Diary,
I’m stunned. That’s the only word for it. Stunned. Stunned. Stunned.
I got a nice fat letter from Peter yesterday. The top sheet was a little note saying how grateful he was for my comments on the scene he sent before. He said he got so inspired that he wrote several partial scenes, which he was enclosing.
I set aside the top sheet and started reading. I finished a few minutes ago, and I still don’t even know what to say about it. So for now, I’m just going to paste it in and let it speak for itself.
RIDING FOR YOUR LIFE
a screenplay by Peter Atwood
FADE IN:
INTERIOR a stable, twilight. Outside the high, narrow windows, the sky is red and ominous. Thunder rumbles in the distance.
PAN TO three teenage girls standing outside a stall. LILA, a lovely brunette dressed in riding breeches, is leaning against the wall. CARLA, an African American with big brown eyes, is looking into the stall. STELLA, a vivacious, fun-loving blonde in cutoff jeans, stands nearby. Inside the stall is a horse.
STELLA
Hurry up, Carla. Finish grooming Diablo so we can start the party.
LILA
(nervously)
I don’t know. What if Mr. Renney finds out? He’ll be really mad if he hears we held a party in his stable when he was out of town.
STELLA
Don’t be such a worrier, Lila. How’s he going to find out?
(giggles)
Those hot guys we met at the diner this afternoon aren’t going to tell him, that’s for sure.
CARLA
I kind of wish you hadn’t invited those guys, Stella. We don’t know anything about them. And they looked kind of unsavory, if you ask me.
CRASH OF THUNDER, closer now. The light outside has faded while they were talking, and the stable is now dimly lit by only a couple of bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. As lightning flashes, the lights flicker, then resume their yellowish glow. A gust of wind blows down the stable aisle, setting the bulbs swinging, causing grotesque shadows to dance on the walls.
CARLA
(shudders and glances around)
It’s kind of a spooky night, isn’t it?
STELLA
(grins)
That’s why we need those big strong guys to protect us. (break—remainder of scene to come)
(new scene—later in film)
CUT TO Carla, huddled in the corner of a stall. She is barely visible in the dark of the stable. A large stallion stamps his feet nervously just in front of her. Both girl and horse are staring at the darkened stable doorway. The SOUND of something large being dragged down the aisle is audible over the howl of the storm.
CARLA
(speaks to horse in a nervous whisper)
Don’t give me away, boy. They can’t find me here.
The horse SNORTS loudly.
JAKE’s head appears in the stable doorway. Even in the dim light of the pocket flashlight he is holding, his scar gleams on his forehead and his snake tattoo is visible on his neck.
JAKE
(nastily)
What’s all the racket in here, you big stupid animal?
PAN TO Carla, still huddled in the corner, looking terrified. Jake’s eyes gleam eagerly as he spots her.
CUT TO full scene as Jake steps forward.
JAKE
(even more nastily)
Aha! What have we here?
He opens the stall door. The stallion backs away, and nothing stands between Jake and Carla but some straw.
CLOSE UP on Carla’s terrified face.
CARLA
(whimpers)
Please … don’t …
CUT TO three-quarter head-on view of Jake. The stable aisle behind him is completely dark; only his small flashlight illuminates his face.
JAKE
Heh heh heh. Time to have some fun.
There is a sudden CRASH of thunder, which sounds like it’s right on top of them. The accompanying LIGHTNING lights up the stable aisle behind Jake, and for a split second it is as bright as day. In that split second, a HOODED FIGURE dressed all in black is visible looming over Jake, holding a long set of leather reins in its gloved hands. Its face is hidden beneath the folds of its dark hood. Carla SCREAMS at the top of her lungs.
Jake is unaware of what stands behind him. The hooded figure takes a slow step forward until it is standing just behind Jake, a shadowy presence at the edge of the flashlight beam.
JAKE
(a little startled by the thunder and surprised by Carla’s scream)
Aw, come on. I only want to … AAARGH!
The rest of his comment is lost as the hooded figure swiftly loops the reins around the thug’s neck and pulls them tight. Jake’s eyes bulge out and his hands fly to his throat as he struggles to breathe, to escape.
CUT TO
CLOSE UP on Carla’s horrified face. She is paralyzed with fear as she watches what is going on, too terrified to scream again. Offscreen, the sounds of GURGLES and GASPS as Jake chokes. After a moment, lit by another flash of lightning, Carla hides her face in her hands.
PULL OUT slightly to show all of Carla. There is a final THUD, and a second later Jake’s lifeless hand flops, palm up, onto Carla’s riding boot.
There is the sound of slow, heavy FOOTSTEPS moving away in the aisle outside as Carla shudders helplessly in the stall.
A moment later, the sound of Lila’s voice from somewhere outside the stall window.
LILA
(offscreen, faraway; sounds nervous)
Carla! Stella! Where are you? Guys? This isn’t funny … (scene to be continued)
Dear Diary,
Okay, it’s been a whole day since Peter’s screenplay arrived, and I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe this is what he got from my life story. More importantly, I can’t believe how awful it is. How could my brother write something so bad, so stupid? I don’t want myself and my friends portrayed that way, even if he didn’t use our real names. Not that anyone in Hollywood would ever be interested in such a lame screenplay anyway … or would they? I don’t know. I’ve seen actual movies that weren’t any better than this. Well, not much better, anyway.
But how can I tell him what I really thi
nk? He’s been working on this thing for almost a year. It’s something he really wants to do—not just for fun, but for a living. How can I tell him what I really think without hurting his feelings and totally discouraging him? And what if I do tell him the truth and he doesn’t want to write to me anymore? I don’t think I could stand that.
I really have no idea what to do …
Dear Diary,
Great news! Actually, make that great news times three. First of all, I got an A on my haiku. Ms. Shields totally got why I did it—she didn’t think I was being lazy at all. In fact, she took me aside after class on the last day of school to tell me I ought to keep writing as much as I can. I’m definitely going to try to follow her advice, starting with this diary.
The second piece of great news isn’t quite that great, because I’m still not sure I did the right thing. But it’s great that it’s over with, anyway. I finally wrote back to Peter a couple of days ago. I didn’t really say that much about his screenplay—I just sort of praised the characterizations and the dramatic settings and a few other things, and corrected one or two minor things, like how he still has Stella wearing shorts around the stable, which she probably wouldn’t. I didn’t know what else to do. How do I even know the screenplay is even really that bad? Some people might actually like it, I guess.
On to my third piece of news, which is truly fantastic. You see, this morning when Carole arrived at Pine Hollow, she announced that she had a secret. At first I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that, mostly because my parents’ secret has been on my mind more than ever since the school year ended. But Carole’s secret turned out to be the good kind. It was a letter from Kate Devine. Carole gave it to me to keep after she read it, so here it is:
Bar None Ranch
17 Sidewinder Drive
Hello, Saddle Club! (c/o Carole)
Lisa Page 18