Creative Spirit with Screenplay Read online

  MASON

  I'm here on an Arts Council grant. I'm supposed to work on my sculpture.

  ROTH

  Your first time at one of these retreats, is it?

  MASON

  Yeah. I don't know anybody here.

  (nods toward painting)

  But I have a feeling I won't be lonely.

  ROTH

  Ah, Ephram Korban, the old bastard. He's the reason I'm here, actually. Besides bird-chasing.

  MASON

  Scenic shots of the estate?

  ROTH

  No money in that. I'm cashing in on the bugger. Doing a tabloid shoot.

  MASON

  Some sort of scandal? He's been dead a long time.

  ROTH

  His bloody ghost isn't dead, Governor.

  Mason looks at Roth as if the man has been drinking too much. Roth probably has, but he is serious. Roth sees Spence in a circle of admirers.

  ROTH

  Might as well get a few of that bloke as well. You never know when he's going to have a massive coronary. Tabloids have been known to pay rather handsomely for those "last living" sorts of shots.

  MASON

  That's the writer?

  ROTH

  Remember what I said about how famous they make you? The critics made Spence very famous. Whether he deserves it or not.

  Anna and Cris come over to Mason and Roth. Cris is a little tipsy and has a drink in her hand.

  ROTH

  (aside to Mason)

  Ah, things are looking up.

  (to the women)

  Hello, ladies. What an attractive collection of talent to have under one roof.

  MASON

  We were talking about Jefferson Spence.

  ANNA

  I had to study one of his books in college. A style I call “stream of pompousness.”

  ROTH

  I don't doubt it. Personally, I've never read a word of him.

  The COOK, 40, a dour, round woman in apron, stands in the servant’s entrance, glaring at Anna, who stares back.

  CRIS

  I've read all of his stuff. He slipped a little on the last couple. Lost the fire.

  ANNA

  Excuse me, I'm going to get a little fresh air.

  Mason senses her discomfort and looks at the servant’s entrance. No one is there.

  ROTH

  Careful out there, love. Don't let the wild beasties eat you up.

  Anna leaves. Mason looks after her as Roth enters Spence's circle. Just before Roth can interrupt the writer, Miss Mamie taps on a wine glass with a spoon. When she has everyone's attention, she starts a speech.

  During it, the manor's guests pose:

  SPENCE, annoyed at having his limelight stolen.

  BRIDGET gazing adoringly at Spence.

  MR. and MRS. ABRAMOV, elegant the way classical musicians should be.

  PAUL and ADAM give each other winks and smirks, Paul mocking Miss Mamie.

  ROTH miming taking a photo of CRIS.

  MISS MAMIE

  I'd like to welcome you all to Korban Manor. As most of you know, this house was built in 1890 by Master Ephram Korban. After he passed on, God rest his soul, it came into my family's hands. Master Korban's final request was that we open the manor as an artist's retreat. It's my duty to carry on the legacy, and I do that with great pride and joy.

  ROTH

  And profit.

  The crowd laughs. As Miss Mamie continues, cut to reaction shots of those in the room. Mason checks out the sculpture and the hand-carved furniture.

  MISS MAMIE

  That, too, Mr. Roth. But it's more than just a way to fund the estate's preservation. It's a labor of love, a continuation of Ephram's vision, because he was a great admirer of the arts. Sometimes, when our guests are caught up in a creative burst, it's as if the Master himself is standing right here watching. I hope each of you finds fulfillment during your stay, and in doing so, you'll help keep Ephram alive in your own way.

  MASON

  (aside to CRIS)

  Korban is apparently the most alive dead person who ever lived.

  CRIS

  Maybe Anna will catch his ghost.

  MASON

  Do you believe that crap?

  Miss Mamie has been giving an inspirational speech about creativity and motivation.

  MISS MAMIE

  (raises a glass of wine)

  —and, in honor of Ephram, we're having a party three nights from now. It's a very rare and special time. The second full moon, a blue moon, in October. So I propose a toast. May the Muses bless each of you.

  Roth tips his glass to Korban's portrait.

  ROTH

  And may the gods grant us an exclusive sneak peek.

  THE CROWD drinks, claps, cheers.

  CUT TO:

  EXT. FOREST

  Anna at the edge of the lawn. She looks back at the manor. The upper floors are dark. Smoke from the chimneys mingle for a moment, and a vague face forms.

  RACHEL'S GHOST (O.S.)

  (whispers from the woods)

  Anna.

  Anna switches on her flashlight and shines it among the trees.

  RACHEL'S GHOST (O.S.)

  (whispers louder)

  Anna.

  Anna sees a trail, then takes a last look back. Laughter and music come from the manor. Anna heads into the forest.

  ANNA

  Okay. You brought me here, damn you. Now what?

  She listens to the whispering forest for a moment, then heads up the dark trail.

  CUT TO:

  INT. THE STUDY

  Roth waves Mason and Cris to his side, then takes the opportunity to join Spence's circle.

  SPENCE

  As I was saying, there are hermeneutic elements in Wolfe's “Look Homeward Angel.” But I submit that Gant is a flimsy extended metaphor propped up by ten thousand adjectives. If you sent that mess to an editor today, she'd say, "Wonderful, now can you make it read like Stephen King?"

  The CIRCLE murmurs approvingly. Spence takes a deep drink and continues as Roth nudges closer.

  SPENCE (CONT'D)

  The worst book of the century, though? I think not. That dubious distinction must go to Hemingway for “A Moveable Feast.”

  CRIS

  And why is that, Mister Spence?

  SPENCE

  The critics adored the so-called undercurrent of tension. Claptrap. It's nothing but Hemingway-in-a-bottle, quintessential Ernest. Too earnestly Ernest, one might say.

  The CIRCLE laughs, Roth loudest of all.

  SPENCE

  Sir William Roth, is it?

  ROTH

  A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Spence. This is my friend, Mason Jackson.

  As Spence and Roth shake hands, the bystanders murmur in awe. Mason nods to the writer.

  SPENCE

  So what brings you to Korban Manor? Don't you usually do Darkest Africa and that sort of thing?

  ROTH

  Business, sir. Always business, with me.

  SPENCE

  Hmm. I'm working, too, if you can believe it.

  MASON

  This place must be inspiring to you. I heard you wrote your first book here.

  SPENCE

  The past is dead, young man. But I'm back. If my current project doesn't win a National Book Award, then you can be sure the judges have been drinking heavily.

  The CIRCLE laughs, a few applaud. Mason looks out the window.

  He sneaks away from the ceremony, glances at the portrait of Korban, then leaves the room.

  CUT TO:

  EXT. THE FOREST—NIGHT

  A FLASHLIGHT BEAM bobs among the dark trees, accompanied by the sound of breathing. All we see is the light, seemingly disembodied and forlorn. Anna comes focus, following the trail.

  A SHAPE flickers in front of the flashlight. Rachel's Ghost beckons Anna forward by waving the dead flowers.

  They come to an old cabin. Rachel's Ghost fades into the door. Anna l
ifts the latch and goes inside.

  CUT TO:

  INT. CABIN

  In the dark interior is a GIRL GHOST, 10. Her mouth opens, words like a winter wind.

  GIRL GHOST

  We've been waiting.

  Anna backs away, stumbling.

  ANNA

  Ghosts aren't supposed to talk.

  GIRL GHOST

  Don't go.

  Anna is at the door, ready to run. Girl Ghost looks over her own shoulder, as if afraid of what might be waiting for her back in the darkness.

  ANNA

  Ghosts don't talk.

  GIRL GHOST

  Please.

  Anna hesitates, then takes a step forward. Anna plays the flashlight beam over the fading Girl Ghost.

  ANNA

  What do you want from me?

  GIRL GHOST

  (barely audible)

  Everything.

  The Girl Ghost reaches for Anna and dissolves. Anna shines the flashlight around the empty cabin.

  ANNA

  Hello? Where are you?

  A NOISE by the window. Anna flashes the light there, sees an old woman's face. It is OLD SYLVA, 80's, a mountain witchwoman who lives on the estate.

  Sylva moves away from the window. Anna runs to the door as Sylva reaches the forest. Anna chases but trips on the steps.

  Anna searches among the trees. A SHADOWY FIGURE steps out of the brush. Anna shines the flashlight into his face. It is Mason.

  ANNA

  What the hell are you doing?

  MASON

  I saw you leave the manor and I—

  ANNA

  Are you some kind of stalker or something?

  MASON

  All this talk about ghosts, I got curious.

  ANNA

  You wouldn't know a ghost if it came up and bit your head off.

  Anna storms away.

  MASON

  I saw her.

  Anna stops, turns, shines the light in Mason's face again.

  ANNA

  The ghost?

  MASON

  What ghost? I saw that old woman.

  A NOISE among the trees. Anna shines the light around, but they see nothing. They instinctively move closer together.

  MASON (CONT'D)

  Is that why you came here? Because of the ghost stories?

  ANNA

  I didn't come because I wanted to. I was summoned.

  MASON

  I heard you talking in there.

  ANNA

  She knew me. It's like she was waiting for me to come.

  (half to herself)

  I think I'm supposed to help her. Help all of them.

  MASON

  How can you help what's already dead?

  ANNA

  Maybe you have to become dead yourself.

  Anna heads down the trail toward the manor. Mason follows, checking over his shoulder.

  CUT TO:

  INT. MISS MAMIE'S ROOM—NIGHT

  Miss Mamie, in her nightgown, sits before a dresser mirror. The reflection shows Korban's portrait hanging above her bed. Miss Mamie, visibly aged, rubs at the wrinkles under her eyes.

  She opens a small cedar box and takes out a LOCKET. The locket contains Korban's picture in sepia.

  MISS MAMIE

  You promised.

  The mirror shimmers. Korban's VOICE comes from the mirror.

  KORBAN

  I always keep my promises.

  MISS MAMIE

  Do you like the collection?

  KORBAN

  You've chosen well, my sweet.

  Miss Mamie touches the mirror. Korban's face coalesces among the reflected light of the fireplace.

  MISS MAMIE

  They will serve you, given time.

  KORBAN

  They're dreaming me back already. I can feel the burning.

  MISS MAMIE

  Spence is back. And the sculptor. He'll build you.

  KORBAN

  They all build me.

  MISS MAMIE

  And Anna.

  KORBAN

  She will burn. Finally.

  MISS MAMIE

  (averting her eyes)

  What about Sylva?

  The fire grows hotter. Korban is angry.

  KORBAN

  What of her? Just an old witchwoman with a sack of feathers and bones and weeds. Her power is nothing but the power of suggestion. But my power—

  The fire roars up the chimney.

  KORBAN (CONT'D)

  —mine is the power that rules this side, the everlasting side. The side that matters.

  MISS MAMIE

  (caressing the mirror)

  So many years. I don't know if I can wait much longer.

  KORBAN

  Patience, pet. They will do their work. I will have what any lord and master deserves.

  MISS MAMIE

  And after they're done?

  KORBAN

  As I promised. We'll be together again.

  Korban's face fades into smoke.

  KORBAN (CONT'D)

  This time forever.

  CUT TO:

  EXT. WOODS BEHIND THE MANOR-MORNING

  Ransom and Mason walk along a forest trail.

  MASON

  How much farther?

  RANSOM

  Miss Mamie said to find you up some good wood. Said if I didn't, I better bring back enough to build my own coffin.

  Mason looks up the ridge where he and Anna had seen the ghost the night before. They come to a wooden TOOL SHED that leans with age.

  Ransom pulls a feathery rag ball from his coveralls and waves it in front of the door before lifting the latch.

  MASON

  What was that?

  RANSOM

  A charm for warding off.

  Ransom gives the doorjamb a kick, testing the shed's sturdiness. He enters, Mason follows.

  CUT TO:

  INT. TOOL SHED

  Ransom takes a crosscut saw and ax from the wall and gives them to Mason. He puts a coil of rope over his shoulder and collects a hatchet. Ransom looks nervously at the ceiling.

  MASON

  Is the sky about to fall or something?

  RANSOM

  Man's got a right to be scared, ain't he?

  MASON

  Scared of what?

  RANSOM

  Miss Mamie said not to tell.

  MASON

  Look, if there's some kind of danger, you owe it to your guests to tell them.

  RANSOM

  I reckon so. Don't let on to Miss Mamie, though.

  MASON

  Nobody here but us chickens.

  RANSOM

  She got ways of knowing.

  MASON

  Then she knows I don't give a damn what she thinks.

  Mason picks up an ax and gives it a test swing for weight.

  RANSOM

  A couple of months back, one of these old sheds caved in. My friend George Lawson was in it when it happened.

  (looks at his hand, flexes fingers)

  His hand was cut off by a piece of roofing tin. They found it laying on his face. Bled to death real slow, the doctors said.

  MASON

  Sorry to hear it.

  RANSOM

  He was of the old families. Not many of us left. But I aim to stick around a while myself.

  MASON

  Is that why you carry the charm?

  RANSOM

  The ashes of a prayer are stronger than the hottest fires of hell, my pappy always said.

  They gather the tools and go into the woods.

  CUT TO:

  INT. MANOR BASEMENT—DAY

  Lilith leads Mason down the stairs into the manor basement. She has an oil lamp. Mason carries a short oak log, his tool satchel over his shoulder. In the lamp's glow, the basement's dusty clutter can be seen.

  MASON

  It's warm down here.

  LILITH

  The central fireplace is just beyond t
he wall. Master Korban insisted on his fires.

  MASON

  So I hear. And I guess down here we're also twenty steps closer to hell.

  Lilith stops on the stairs just before reaching the bottom.

  Mason wrestles with the heavy log.

  LILITH

  Hell is a tunnel of the soul, Mister Jackson.

  MASON

  I already sold my soul. They gave it back when they found out it was worthless.

  Lilith shows Mason a cleared space in the basement. He sets the log on a work table as Lilith lights two candles and a lamp.

  LILITH

  The basement doesn't get much use. We've had a few painters use it. You're our first sculptor.

  MASON

  This is the first room I've been in that didn't have a painting of Ephram Korban.