tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86563029642594414442024-02-18T23:40:09.450-08:00Vivid Images ProductionsFrom Concept to Story to Film and MusicUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-39681945384962873272022-10-27T21:53:00.005-07:002022-10-27T21:56:02.470-07:00<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">THE HEALER</blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">Written by
Michael Meyer<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></blockquote></blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-7miOcFBDuoplb9xp779s7BOk2nPoqd9DWNBGay9npEV3N2zCM96dfccK5QieXQUAub7sftFjwu_bze8KhuoV-QQwk1cFqnI0FU_3tXkaVGvICI2rq7SRwwSBFlqs_gM6csJQeNXu04ZIEz0QM-G479t539Mh4fNtbT6j1NhBi8U2d7cJpwkKeJ8qA/s1254/iStock-1131235611.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1254" data-original-width="836" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-7miOcFBDuoplb9xp779s7BOk2nPoqd9DWNBGay9npEV3N2zCM96dfccK5QieXQUAub7sftFjwu_bze8KhuoV-QQwk1cFqnI0FU_3tXkaVGvICI2rq7SRwwSBFlqs_gM6csJQeNXu04ZIEz0QM-G479t539Mh4fNtbT6j1NhBi8U2d7cJpwkKeJ8qA/w242-h320/iStock-1131235611.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><br /><b><i>Soon to be written and filmed in India. With copyright permission it will be the sequel to Star Man </i></b><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">EXT. THAR DESERT - INDIA - MOONLIT NIGHT
Music: Message From The Cosmos by Kitaro
Palms sway in a warm breeze. A lone figure of a man walks
along the horizon of sand, his silhouette blends a flowing
gown just above his ankles. A boy drinks from a well
shimmering in the moonlight, then looks upward as he hears
footsteps nearing. The light reveals his eyes are blind as he
drops his cup to the ground. It rolls slightly to a pair of
feet in sandals. A shadow of a man umbrella’s the boy when
suddenly two hands reach for his face. The boy begins to
shiver and quake.
BOY
You’re him...the man in my dreams.
It’s you!
Tears start to swell beneath his blank eyes. The gentle hands
calm the boy as they cover his eyes. Then glorious rays of
light appear and disappear as quickly. The lone figure
removes his hands to reveal the boys eyes have been made
whole. Looking into the face of the man who healed him he
CRIES OUT for his father.
BOY (CONT'D)
(joyfully)
Father! I can see...where are you?
Quickly from behind his father appears and turns the boy
toward him as he kneels to look into his eyes. His face turns
from shock to joy then he stands for a sign.
FATHER
My boy, what am I wearing?
The boys smiles eagerly.
BOY
A long silk tunic...
FATHER
My God! It’s true.
He starts sobbing when suddenly he realizes the boy doesn’t
know the color.
FATHER (CONT'D)
It is blue and gold.
He stands and looks beyond as the boy turns toward the well.
The Healer is gone.
2.
EXT. CLOISTERS - VATICAN - ROME - DAY
A Bishop in black is scurrying amongst the columns. The
breeze wisps his cloak into the air.
INT. SPIRAL STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS
A pair of worn leather slippers patters up the stairway.
INT. CARDINALS QUARTERS - CONTINUOUS
Bursting through the doorway the Bishop lowers his head to a
CARDINAL facing a mirror being prepared by a servant dressing
him in his scarlet cassock. He views the Bishop in the
reflection. The Bishop now looks up moving one step closer as
he huffs heavily from his hurried flight up the stairs.
BISHOP
(exclaiming)
We found him! India...walking on
the Ganges.
The Cardinal stops his servant and turns.
CARDINAL
Where along the Ganges?
BISHOP
No sire. Not along. Walking on the
Ganges.
The Bishop anticipating orders waits as the Cardinal looks
stunned.
CARDINAL
Then it’s true.(sighs)Notify the
proper diocese and set up a time
for council.
BISHOP
Yes sire.
The Bishop exits.
CARDINAL
(sotto)
If it’s not too late.</span> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p>Michael Meyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14431122054152728197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-286005167952619402009-12-03T17:45:00.000-08:002011-03-24T13:47:59.434-07:00Ferry Across The Mersey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8b1Aam8ArjRwrRnl97ofMF65W_BsBcCtphpDnl1xtbRWFDHnzUO5h8JJHLPY6FrdZ8Y-VI3RjwPBvdLmCf8lCrNJ2ml-6SQtGF1R2clTajEZTum7ACJVemWjkiKVMGeJ9pZ-UBGh5EI/s1600-h/A+Hard+Days+Nitght+Title.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 288px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 169px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411191974943236402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8b1Aam8ArjRwrRnl97ofMF65W_BsBcCtphpDnl1xtbRWFDHnzUO5h8JJHLPY6FrdZ8Y-VI3RjwPBvdLmCf8lCrNJ2ml-6SQtGF1R2clTajEZTum7ACJVemWjkiKVMGeJ9pZ-UBGh5EI/s320/A+Hard+Days+Nitght+Title.jpg" /></a> <meta name="Title" content=""><meta name="Keywords" content=""><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" equiv="Content-Type"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"><link rel="File-List" href="file://localhost/Users/michaelmeyer/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_filelist.xml"><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 16777216 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-hansi-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style>
<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(153,0,0)">Beatlemania is sweeping America. An impetuous aspiring actress lives out her small town high school play, Bye Bye Birdie, in real life as she puts her boyfriend on hold during their senior trip to London when she falls for a British rocker who desperately needs a hit song</span><span style="font-size:100%;">.</span></span></p><p><em><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Imagine being the girl he wrote the song for....'Love Is All Around'</span></em></p>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zpQQ8S_ZQecRuVhfPOhJ7pRQrNmh_hlIVVzs55137cluUJkW-AcA5hPKelaSu9X6WEFEkl5CosxvXSn73AALT3kAZiw3I5b-5RYxiuih4bcRvQHfMpGOw5znopLAIZGV9rOFbsMYuec/s1600-h/birdie+small.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 144px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 208px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411191821528033074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zpQQ8S_ZQecRuVhfPOhJ7pRQrNmh_hlIVVzs55137cluUJkW-AcA5hPKelaSu9X6WEFEkl5CosxvXSn73AALT3kAZiw3I5b-5RYxiuih4bcRvQHfMpGOw5znopLAIZGV9rOFbsMYuec/s320/birdie+small.jpg" /></a>
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6M3Q6sYSMOJoXzRldB87afp7no5lpZobTOZr-Us-cQNxk_c1UASMzUHk2A9hxH2cVugcVluiPlJYix9Bp6T7YbMrLgHktn4cp5u9RU-ZB7FJg3sd667-7_xaL_RPEUq9oOt8apvR8bZw/s1600-h/London+Routmaster.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 144px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 124px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411191594923771666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6M3Q6sYSMOJoXzRldB87afp7no5lpZobTOZr-Us-cQNxk_c1UASMzUHk2A9hxH2cVugcVluiPlJYix9Bp6T7YbMrLgHktn4cp5u9RU-ZB7FJg3sd667-7_xaL_RPEUq9oOt8apvR8bZw/s320/London+Routmaster.jpg" /></a><a id="uploadButton" class="cssButton" onclick="'if" href="javascript:void(0)" target=""> <div class="cssButtonOuter"><div class="cssButtonMiddle"><div class="cssButtonInner">Romantic Comedy Musical 1966
<br /></div></div></div></a>Feature Film - Script Completed
<br />Original Screenplay
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-31866305487805865292009-11-30T09:20:00.000-08:002011-04-14T20:02:54.744-07:00The small town girls in Ferry Across the Mersey visit London<div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1r8p0PsYhgB4gDua1A2oWf_gMfvse1BOWlYYSg906ihBGWaRnjI3vOHCzYAQYgDdrOKuQpfQ93JiEGYOnXAC0IKU8np7skgmG4raNeMHHocGFy12U7LMHz0myL5s_uPDtlwSf0JomS74/s1600-h/60's+fashion.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 184px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412174670077969970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1r8p0PsYhgB4gDua1A2oWf_gMfvse1BOWlYYSg906ihBGWaRnjI3vOHCzYAQYgDdrOKuQpfQ93JiEGYOnXAC0IKU8np7skgmG4raNeMHHocGFy12U7LMHz0myL5s_uPDtlwSf0JomS74/s320/60's+fashion.jpg" /></a> <strong><em>Julie, Jill, Gretchen and Bobbie love their new fashion.</em></strong> </div><br /><p align="center"></p><br /><p align="center"></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-18914920573759246632009-11-28T00:52:00.000-08:002011-03-28T13:55:33.314-07:00One Clear Night In Kansas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xzYAv0VeqhmBE0Ne9fbN43okaHXQKr4KWO1spyuZZWkBN2Z5LjOxj3D6aFp65bHRe-ONKTZQQ77x4RgfD-YiaFIA56y_xSwJL01jG6lmECkPhrOW9sJ9S3HcodpZ-X3Pt8Dh1YJ0pI0/s1600/YAA1CAF40AFQCANKU96ACAF5811LCAMQYDO0CAIVI2TXCA6NF53UCA9HFVQACAZTBXIZCA1U57J4CAPKP97YCA2TX1KICAH3MOVUCA9GNVHMCA94IKKECA0X8XWVCATB3L0CCAMLTL9RCA6DUW9J.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 677px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 185px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554169299742745938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xzYAv0VeqhmBE0Ne9fbN43okaHXQKr4KWO1spyuZZWkBN2Z5LjOxj3D6aFp65bHRe-ONKTZQQ77x4RgfD-YiaFIA56y_xSwJL01jG6lmECkPhrOW9sJ9S3HcodpZ-X3Pt8Dh1YJ0pI0/s320/YAA1CAF40AFQCANKU96ACAF5811LCAMQYDO0CAIVI2TXCA6NF53UCA9HFVQACAZTBXIZCA1U57J4CAPKP97YCA2TX1KICAH3MOVUCA9GNVHMCA94IKKECA0X8XWVCATB3L0CCAMLTL9RCA6DUW9J.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><em><span style="color:#663300;">A father and daughter come to terms one long night at an abandoned farm house in Kansas. When he reveals his secret life of an outlaw man he must chose between the queen of diamonds or the queen of hearts before its too late.</span></em> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-65152678016461600782009-11-27T20:15:00.000-08:002011-06-07T12:55:12.905-07:00Michelangelo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9poMkykwqcP9rBm4aYokSUMctQ46pyvEWZ9L0WXRkifEreAxy8oqDtIO1Tp060_0akDd8tFYLS6852dDrqFvrNmxGYMq2PYmEAbbZOsZZCousEda-szmqoD_7Abmyq-uIEj5DxtCkW3M/s1600-h/Michelangelo.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 203px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411238818003862242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9poMkykwqcP9rBm4aYokSUMctQ46pyvEWZ9L0WXRkifEreAxy8oqDtIO1Tp060_0akDd8tFYLS6852dDrqFvrNmxGYMq2PYmEAbbZOsZZCousEda-szmqoD_7Abmyq-uIEj5DxtCkW3M/s320/Michelangelo.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="TEXT-DECORATION: underline"></span>A Full Length Feature Film<br />from<br />The Lives of the Artists<br />by<br />Giorgio Vasari<br /><br />The Life of Michelangelo Buonarroti,<br />Florentine Painter, Sculptor, and Architect<br />(1475-1564)<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">"..the most benevolent Ruler of Heaven mercifully turned His eyes towards earth , and, witnessing the hopeless quantity of such labors of struggling artists , the most fervid but fruitless studies, and the presumptuous opinion of men who were further from the truth than shadows from light , he decided , in order to rid us of so many errors , to send to earth a spirit who, working alone, was able to demonstrate in every art and every profession the meaning of perfection in the form of design...He gave us ...Michelangelo, the very hand of God."</span> <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">Giorgio Vasari 1564 </span><br /><br />Seeking Production and Filming in Italy<br />Script in DevelopmentUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-47006149111471540122009-11-26T06:12:00.000-08:002019-06-04T06:42:47.057-07:00The Ancestor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6jhN_znxvUjH2BM-s30TPkcVF1xypabpr47dKa9PJ2JdnYTN_qpuTfJpV8tYchHPWPUgvKQBtvdgFsNFfsKNzq8XvusbF_2Ko88G9GtqKge378HM3JZurbxQdd6OEc5jD75XYE_D8mE/s1600/JpgFrontCover+Final+Cover+Image+Dec+2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1050" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6jhN_znxvUjH2BM-s30TPkcVF1xypabpr47dKa9PJ2JdnYTN_qpuTfJpV8tYchHPWPUgvKQBtvdgFsNFfsKNzq8XvusbF_2Ko88G9GtqKge378HM3JZurbxQdd6OEc5jD75XYE_D8mE/s320/JpgFrontCover+Final+Cover+Image+Dec+2018.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
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It’s the end of summer. Daniel studies the back acreage that intrigues him to the estate the Realtor is showing him. The house is large and antebellum with a modern addition that makes it attractive to this Southern California novelist. He needs a place to stay in the South while caring for his mother and taking that overdue sabbatical to get centered from his mid-life crisis. His agent is masterful at patiently stalling the publisher while constantly prodding Daniel’s progress to meet his promised deadline. Daniel has become weary of cell phones, freeways and word processors and buys a diary book, notepads and a supply of pens tp practice calligraphy. He knows he’s not going to live up to his promised deadline so his ailing mother and a struggling marriage is the perfect excuse to get away.<br />
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A short time passes. The leaves turn color. Daniel's preparation for a long winter is all for naught as his mother unexpectedly doesn’t pull through. At the funeral he is moved between the warmth and comfort of a multitude of family members and the feeling of emptiness and loss. He takes a walk through the older part of the cemetery and notices the small confederate flags at some of the grave sites. He bends down and reads the name and date engraved on a weathered stone.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">BELOW LIES A CONFEDERATE SON
FRANKLIN MOORE
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">BORN JULY 10, 1846, DIED SEPTEMBER 18, 1864 </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">He is on one knee staring at the headstone. Michelle
walks up from behind and puts her hand on his shoulder. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Daniel ponders aloud, “He was 18. Am I the first person
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">to look at this in over a hundred years?” He takes one of the
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">flowers she’s holding and puts one on his grave.</span><br />
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Between his lonely nights with grief, guilt, and a growing obsession to find his purpose, he begins to hear strange noises coming from the forest in the back. It’s pitch dark when he turns on the back flood lights and walks out to his balcony deck. He concludes he’s hearing things and decides to try and drink into the night and sleep.<br />
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Scene : Somewhere in Time<br />
Chapter from book out now.<br />
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The Time Portal<br />
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<span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-size: 33pt; vertical-align: -14pt;">D</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">aniel’s finishing his morning shower routine. He walks
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">into the kitchen looking fresh and awake, wearing
his full-length robe. The sunshine is breaking through. He
pours his usual cup of coffee and opens the doorway out
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">onto the balcony, then steps outside. He looks out as he
is about to take a sip and freezes like a deer in the head-
lights. His eyes widen and his face has an expression of
astonishment. He’s startled by the panoramic view in front
of his eyes.
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">PANNING BACK AND FORTH, ALMOST
ENCIRCLING HIM, REVEALS THE
ENTIRE BACK ACREAGE ACROSS THE
CREEK IS ENCAMPED BY HUNDREDS OF
CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS.
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Most are dressed in uniform, but some are not. There are
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">layers of smoldering campfires among the dozens of tents.
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Many horses are neighing, exhaling the cold air. Some men
are cooking, others washing clothes by the creek, even one
is bathing in a heated tub. Many lay sleeping on the ground
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">under wool blankets. Others are cleaning rifles, while some
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">are tending wounded. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The breeze picks up, blowing those same leaves, but a
different setting below. Daniel sets down his coffee without
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">taking his eyes off the scene beneath. Suddenly, a flock of
honking geese fly overhead, forcing Daniel to look up and
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">catch the identical formation from the previous day vanish
into an invisible line in the sky as if into another dimension.
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">He scurries downstairs and steps out onto the ground.
He pauses and looks left to right, confused by the change
of scenery. He contemplates another shot of whiskey, but
keeping clear-headed, steps into the back acreage of his
yard and walks toward the creek then stands at the bank. He
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">spots three young boys gathered around a smoldering fire.
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“What are you doing here?” he calls out, squinting if
perhaps it was an illusion.
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They offer no answer. From the creek’s edge, he
stretches one leg toward them, stepping on one rock, and
then reaches the bank on the other side. His robe turns to
a long wool coat in a mystical moment. He begins to walk
through the tent area with trepidation. The men are going
about their business, acknowledging him, but giving little
concern. He walks with a bit more trust then approaches
and stops by one soldier, a young boy, stooping and cooking
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">with a pan over a fire.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Is this some sort of reenactment?”<br />
The boy glances up at him, but gives no response. He
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">asks the other soldier, “How old are you?”<br />
One boy stands and spits, eyeing him up and down.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Seventeen, sir.”<br />
Daniel, feigning a grin, and sensing relief exclaims,
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“You’re a Scout troop, right?”<br />
The third boy sharpens his knife, but says nothing.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Learning survival skills. That’s good,” Daniel juxtapositions a more cautious tone. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="page" title="Page 62">
<div class="section">
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Daniel again tries to uncover this strange scene.
“Seriously, what are you doing here?”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The one boy seems more talkative, with a strong country
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Southern twang; he is the first to explain, “Texas Brigade,
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">sir. We’re holding Sandy Creek til further orders.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“You’re holding my back yard!” Daniel exclaims.
They all look at him.<br />
Quickly, cautious again, Daniel covers up his remarks,
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“That’s good,” as he looks around suspiciously. “Holding
it from who?”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Yankees! Maybe two days out. Got us on the run fer now.
Waiting orders from General Hood where to ambush ‘em.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The third one, sharpening his knife, chimes in barely
understandable, “That yorn house yonder? Yuz got
any chikns?”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Daniel turns back and sees his house, then looks back
to the soldier with a crazy expression. “Yorn? You guys are
good. Really, what’s going on?” It’s all incredulous to him.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Rebel boy cooking holds out a frying pan after taking
a sample. “Take ye’ some. Darn tasty beins brown tail.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Daniel looks about questioning as his thoughts try to
rationalize what his eyes are seeing and his ears are hearing.
The friendlier rebel boy spits again. “Squirrel meat,” he
pauses. “You ain’t got nothin ta worry about, sir. We won’t
bother yer house.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Daniel decides to look around more. He pets a horse
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">on the face, then glances further. He notices two officers
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">looking over a map outside a tent with a table so he then
walks toward them. They stand straight and look his way.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The first uniformed officer looks up and notices a some</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-
what nervous Daniel approaching. With an educated tone of
comfort, he assures him “We won’t be needing your house,
if that’s what you’re seeking.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Well, that’s a relief.”<br />
</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">He looks at the map with puzzlement. “You’re
lost, right?”</span><br />
<div class="page" title="Page 63">
<div class="section">
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“No sir. This is Sandy Creek Ridge, yonder is Sugar Hill.
Cavalry scouted the area a fortnight back.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The other officer looks over Daniel then, with a deep
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">good ol’ boy voice, “You seen any Yanks?”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Quickly, a civilian rider pulls up and slides off his horse
with a saddle bag full of mail. He dumps it out on the table
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">and then hands the officers specially tied letters.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The rider is out of breath, “Ya’lls lucky I got through.
Yanks everywhere twixt here and Atlanta. No more mail
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">lieutenant, this is it.”<br />
They quickly hand him some water and food while
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">he then hops back on his horse and rides off. Daniel’s
mouth is open.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The second officer grimaces, “That settles it.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They go back to their map.<br />
“Agreed. Hood ain’t comin. We’ll retreat further south.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Daniel walks around unnoticed to where he can see
the mail. He picks up an envelope and reads the postmark.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">AUGUST 19, 1864<br />
He then picks up a post card, dated the same year, with
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">perfect cursive handwriting.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">My dearest beloved husband, the war can wait. Our
children are hungry and crying for their father. Please
come home. Your devoted wife, Martha May.
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Daniel sets it down in awe, completely perplexed.
“Excuse me. This is dated August 1864. These letters are
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">all dated...”<br />
They chuckle and look at each other grinning “That’s
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">only a month late. Least it’s the same year.” More laughter.
Now Daniel looks around in disbelief. He makes one last
attempt at clarity. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="page" title="Page 64">
<div class="section">
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">“In that case, could I borrow your telephone?
Mine’s dead.”
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They look at him with blank stares and dead silence.
Daniel politely dismisses his request, “Never mind then</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">”
He looks at his wrist, but there’s no watch. “It seems
</span></div>
</div>
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’ve lost track of time.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Scene and chapter: Finding Sarah<br />
<br />
• Discover hiding with slave<br />
• Background: Age 22; Married Union officer when away to college; daughter of a wealthy Southern plantation owner; disowned by parents; raped by rebel raiders; slave Marcus kills all 4 with his bare hands and a knife ; she has a baby;<br />
• Slave, Marcus, runs away and is loyal to her and saves her from death<br />
• She’s conflicted about keeping baby if her husband returns from the war, he will make her leave it behind (Daniel proves who's baby it is by retrieving DNA into the future for testing)<br />
• She’s told her husband is missing and probably dead<br />
• Daniel becomes infatuated with this young woman as she expresses so vibrantly the child within her.<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving and Abraham Lincoln 1864<br />
<br />
• <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjURXXR0PXOWi1hR5GcjumPZU30EM0a5f52o0d8rLvVdWYsWo0BsOhjnRjr85aaC_xuOuw7JCjlqA_OApzRnfUKi-Es608gvK3Tzy7GTYrn5DNaPQdvDpjujcBQfNMS7DS2PElABqRbnSs/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+Civil+War.jpg">See diary for set up</a><br />
• Before actual Thanksgiving day : all is at peace for one day.<br />
• Marcus can cook<br />
• Lincolns proclamation and healing<br />
• They play music, sing and celebrate<br />
• The arrival of General Sherman and battle plans<br />
• Thousands of lives awaiting their fate<br />
<br />
<br />
Andersonville: Journey into the Heart of Darkness<br />
<br />
• Purpose: Daniel to find his great great grandfather and give him hope and a reason for his life by telling him of the future before he dies in prison<br />
<br />
<br />
Novel released June, 2019/ Also in Original Screenplay<br />
<br />
Genre: Historical/Science Fiction/ Drama/Romantic/Time Travel or Time PortalUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-57464596534670837392009-11-25T11:27:00.000-08:002019-06-04T06:40:05.470-07:00The Ancestor<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Ancestor</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A Journey in Time Reveals a Family Mystery</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>From the short novel written </i><br />
<i>by </i><br />
<i>Michael Meyer </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Coming to Amazon and bookstores June 2019<br />
Paperback and Kindle</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZf2jTLssnbd_OGYmX7RoiU5eVy5zaRwKwWAPfrBur7_fX8XOxzRu3e6UD_84RC7K_GGCPwIQz_Z6jNlxlFSG4RQBZur2MpeIxEZIpp5jIthDdxdZloyEHU22vHCnYWg8Ep1U4W74gUJk/s1600/JpgBackCover+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1050" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZf2jTLssnbd_OGYmX7RoiU5eVy5zaRwKwWAPfrBur7_fX8XOxzRu3e6UD_84RC7K_GGCPwIQz_Z6jNlxlFSG4RQBZur2MpeIxEZIpp5jIthDdxdZloyEHU22vHCnYWg8Ep1U4W74gUJk/s320/JpgBackCover+%25281%2529.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-53587250932689725802009-11-24T21:13:00.000-08:002015-01-30T13:02:24.667-08:00Behold The Whirlwind<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFW9OzCYsAr6MDJZMvgFj1Xwy08oI1OFfj_r7DYth94jjrMAU5cjKncszHNeuWm39INTeC7FBHyAOI2gMU7urbqmI6jDai0hzWgkkRo2eATPteVFyr_Em-eNtP1OWizkxHH0cbWmRzLM/s1600-h/A+Man+Sent+From+God.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFW9OzCYsAr6MDJZMvgFj1Xwy08oI1OFfj_r7DYth94jjrMAU5cjKncszHNeuWm39INTeC7FBHyAOI2gMU7urbqmI6jDai0hzWgkkRo2eATPteVFyr_Em-eNtP1OWizkxHH0cbWmRzLM/s320/A+Man+Sent+From+God.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414955852147622498" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 258px;" /></a><span style="color: #cc9933; font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">God spoke to a young boy out of a whirlwind. What followed was a poor humble man from Kentucky who became the greatest faith healer of the 20th century. A skeptic journalist is assigned to report on the groundswell of miracles and discovers a prophet beyond belief. Not only does he heal the sick and raise the dead, he sees it in visions long before it happens</span></span>. </div>
<br />
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</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #663333;">Adapted to Screenplay</span><br />
<a href="http://www.bridemessage.org/mansent1.htm#mansentb"><span style="color: #663333;">Based on a True Story</span></a><br />
<span style="color: #3333ff;"><span style="color: #663333;">Set from the 1930's through 1960's.</span> <span style="color: #663333;">Drama; Spiritual</span> ; In First Draft.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
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</div>
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</div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<br />
1948 After Major Healing Service.</div>
<br />
<div align="center">
Journalist Lowell Carter has just retired to his hotel room having witnessed the miracles.</div>
<br />
<div align="center">
INT. REVIVAL TENT - PRIVATE AREA - 2:OO AM<br />
Branham is in prayer. Tired and slow to get up he walks toward a smaller meeting tent where local ministers are gathered.<br />
SMALLER TENT - CONTINUOUS<br />
LINDSAY<br />
(concerned)<br />
Gentlemen, maybe we should continue this conference tomorrow-<br />
Branham perks up and greets them with a smile.<br />
BRANHAM<br />
(Jesting)<br />
Has God gone to bed Lindsay?<br />
LAUGHTER. Lindsay acquiesces and makes introductions.<br />
LINDSAY<br />
Brother Branham, they all are in agreement. They want you to stay and extend another week. It’s up to you.<br />
BRANHAM<br />
I have my answer as God has spoken it in a vision. But before revival can remain here in St. Louis brothers reproof and correction must be made-<br />
A minister stands up.<br />
MINISTER<br />
We’re all most grateful and ready for your lead brother Branham.<br />
BRANHAM<br />
I think not brother as some of you are still skeptic and some have the love of money on your hearts.<br />
They begin to move a bit nervously. Lindsay looks as if he knows what’s coming and sits down.<br />
BRANHAM (CONT’D)<br />
Many a congregation has been submerged to purely human level...is that the word Brother Lindsay? did I get it right...submerged?<br />
LINDSAY<br />
I believe that best describes it.<br />
BRANHAM<br />
(beat)<br />
You’re here because your church is dead. Empty of super natural presence.<br />
Branham senses to ease off.<br />
BRANHAM (CONT’D)<br />
Well...quit squirmin , I’m not gonna single you out. I dearly love each and every one of you. Answer to God not me. You know your weakness...Lord knows I have mine and they are not a few.<br />
He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his eyes.<br />
BRANHAM (CONT’D)<br />
(meekly)<br />
When he grieves I do grieve the same.<br />
Branham POUNDS his bible and stirs them up<br />
BRANHAM (CONT’D)<br />
(boldly)<br />
But he has compassion on us gentlemen and has given his word that if you will lock your self in a closet so to speak and pray mightily for one week with fasting you’ll have revival like you never seen.<br />
MINISTER<br />
(shouts)<br />
Thank you Brother.<br />
They MURMUR in agreement.<br />
BRANHAM<br />
And glory be to God I’m staying-<br />
They ERUPT in CLAPPING and PRAISING all standing.<br />
BRANHAM (CONT’D)<br />
(louder)<br />
No hell or high water shall prevail against our God and his servants. Glory! Run devil, you are powerless to stop the hand of the God and creator of heaven and earth...<br />
He raises his hand and bible. THUNDER CRACKS LOUD outside the tent and vibrates inside.<br />
BRANHAM (CONT’D)<br />
...I cast you out of this city...roar all you want...you’re hell and your demons are shaking. The lame shall walk, the suffering shall rise up, the blind will see...revival Is here in the name of Jesus Christ almighty, his kingdom come!<br />
EXT. REVIVAL TENT - CONTINUOUS<br />
ABOVE THE TENT - ABOVE THE CITY<br />
Lightening sparks and THUNDER RUMBLES.<br />
INT. HOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS<br />
Lowell’s eyes open. Light flashes in his room.<br />
LOWELL V.O.<br />
I awoke a new man. I wanted to tell the world.<br />
EXT. NEWS STAND - HEADLINES - FAITH HEALER BRANHAM TAKES ST. LOUIS BY STORM - MORNING<br />
A paper boy is CALLING.<br />
PAPER BOY<br />
Kansas City Star here. Miracle man...read about the healer..Kansas City Star here!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-7634490439134913442009-11-22T13:36:00.000-08:002009-12-21T14:18:01.903-08:00The Lost Pyramid<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGu-0T-wterrhZdC28t1nmbXf4eceWGl48vbRSdsUIKWOmEKvPXg3fmd_bXj9U2sHdc3WIPBzEjCf45q-Y9FHdiupNw3mg3B9ui-by7Wtutpw1Q-YMoUWOPPYM-HliwZIAQnqFmvC4_I/s1600-h/The+Lost+Pyramid.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGu-0T-wterrhZdC28t1nmbXf4eceWGl48vbRSdsUIKWOmEKvPXg3fmd_bXj9U2sHdc3WIPBzEjCf45q-Y9FHdiupNw3mg3B9ui-by7Wtutpw1Q-YMoUWOPPYM-HliwZIAQnqFmvC4_I/s320/The+Lost+Pyramid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417810463691112322" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-style: italic;">Our planet Earth is in peril. A quirky science professor is confidant his theory that the two great pyramids of Egypt and Mexico City were conceived and built by advanced intelligence in order to communicate to the cosmic source. What's missing is the third great pyramid which contains the capstone needed to harness the galactic energy and transmit the power to receive the message that's waiting far beyond the universe.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" >Concept by Professor Emo<br />Story and Screenplay<br />by<br />Michael Meyer</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-81776983848295248252009-11-20T15:50:00.000-08:002009-12-21T16:23:16.256-08:00Stalking Nicole<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii725zaxt3TPCOkV2Wrx2Y-YQSdA6jj03cEW13Q998n_rs4yuNIqVkFOrxmuAbBFqBUz2T6PMzt6Hatc6r2flnbbo34MKE6XhJmyBC-fbWN3Rp9q5qhkUrjqGMljUvlThSzV7bsgsUh48/s1600-h/Stalking+Nicole+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii725zaxt3TPCOkV2Wrx2Y-YQSdA6jj03cEW13Q998n_rs4yuNIqVkFOrxmuAbBFqBUz2T6PMzt6Hatc6r2flnbbo34MKE6XhJmyBC-fbWN3Rp9q5qhkUrjqGMljUvlThSzV7bsgsUh48/s320/Stalking+Nicole+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417841555413134162" border="0" /></a><br />A Hollywood detective is on the trail of a serial killer who has the city gripped with fear when he gets a call to investigate a stalker obsessed with actress Nicole Kidman. The mystery notches up when he realizes the line up of girls in the morgue are a dead ringer for the sultry, beautiful star. Her paranoia spins out of control and she trusts no one as the creep seems to know her closer than she could ever have imagined.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-64967437559979121272009-10-30T13:10:00.000-07:002010-11-10T19:54:33.725-08:00From Mafia Boss To The Cross<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0iPm4KRxAOo-5_7i2fJU0Xur7WE-SNZxVtOc0u3kilpRNXe_3tpb7Uy-vkGBVV9mf7MoCVtuQovpGGtf2Kg2o6hsQS1GpM1RHcuLl1s2z3TaLog8U4KbJnDE_fBDXhfs22veUeX8dec/s1600/183_cvr-BsstoCrss.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 183px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0iPm4KRxAOo-5_7i2fJU0Xur7WE-SNZxVtOc0u3kilpRNXe_3tpb7Uy-vkGBVV9mf7MoCVtuQovpGGtf2Kg2o6hsQS1GpM1RHcuLl1s2z3TaLog8U4KbJnDE_fBDXhfs22veUeX8dec/s320/183_cvr-BsstoCrss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538135563306424658" border="0" /></a><br />ABOVE NEW YORK CITY NIGHT<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">BRUNO V.O. (CONT'D)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">(reflecting)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Joey said to take whatever Paulo offers. If he offers to kill you, that’s better than torture. If he offers to torture you, that’s better than torturing family or girlfriend in front of you. Just take whatever he offers. Last he said, dress sharp and clean. Go out in style...with some dignity.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">INT. CONNIE’S APARTMENT - LATER</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Bruno’s sitting in a chair in front of a mirror in what appears like a French parlor with panty hose and negligee hanging and strewn about. Connie, half dressed in silk robe like a street hooker on a break, is finishing cutting his hair. Angela is powdering his face and applying make up.</span><br />CONNIE<br />(Boston accent)<br />Angela, you really can do make up. We should start a salon.<br />Bruno takes a drink from glass.<br />CONNIE (CONT'D)<br />We can do hair and turn tricks too.<br />ANGELA<br />(perturbed)<br />Connieee!<br />CONNIE<br />What? Like he don’t know? (beat) Say, my mob client says he knows you.<br />BRUNO<br />Yeah.<br />CONNIE<br />Yeah...from Rikers Island.<br />Angela suddenly stops.<br />ANGELA<br />(alarmed)<br />You been to Rikers?<br />Bruno stone faced.<br />BRUNO<br />(firmly)<br />I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t ever bring it up again.<br />Bruno looks at Angela in the mirror then Connie. Then at himself. He looks brand new.<br />BRUNO (CONT’D)<br />It’s OK Angela. Connie, where’s those suits you mentioned.<br />Connie walks over to a curtained closet and pulls it back. It’s full of suits, ties, shoes along with loud colored dresses. She pulls one out and hold it next to Bruno.<br />CONNIE<br />(bragging)<br />Like I told you...my sugah daddy. He’s just your size.<br />Bruno comes out of the bedroom impeccable. Even with shimmering cuffs and tie clip. Connie puts her arm around Angela’s shoulders.<br />CONNIE (CONT'D)<br />(wowed)<br />And you said he was old and bald. He’s frickin goigus.<br />Angela’s dolled up in a tight short skirt, black lace hose, pumps and glamorous make up. She grabs her purse.<br />BRUNO<br />Where you goin?<br />ANGELA<br />With you.<br />BRUNO<br />Nah, nah, you could get hurt. I can’t-<br />She shuts him up with a kiss.<br />ANGELA<br />(sultry)<br />If you’re goin down then we’re goin down together.<br />He stands back and looks her over.<br />BRUNO<br />(trying to be light)<br />Well...you are dressed for the kill.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8656302964259441444.post-53988282120949881902009-06-01T14:16:00.000-07:002011-03-09T18:33:15.749-08:00BLACKOUT<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRXYf8zhFH7VowuB-eR_LybZ9PYqropH_EMkkGog62Z319vREbW1iJwNhA2oe49NgDfeGjhBcU9uKJRvLr3iJh3txRzkcjD1NETwGQD1L73LsxooNnqgz0oaGxTUE3o5WDT-_R_C5vk0/s1600/bigblackout.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 203px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559226327820040354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRXYf8zhFH7VowuB-eR_LybZ9PYqropH_EMkkGog62Z319vREbW1iJwNhA2oe49NgDfeGjhBcU9uKJRvLr3iJh3txRzkcjD1NETwGQD1L73LsxooNnqgz0oaGxTUE3o5WDT-_R_C5vk0/s320/bigblackout.jpg" /></a><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilB9pndo3Z_rSPo6l_Y_IZ-jRl6nHjmDUlMEi3EU9U5B6-9BG1r0fuAwDyduHkv3ArND2FhSLXutdfEtScfy7gASf5Myb59m4oHinpTkErJW3SKnioeGZoLerhQzvMj9Wc7nERXwBUd8s/s1600/240px-Zolpidem_structure_simple_svg.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 153px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559226492763198738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilB9pndo3Z_rSPo6l_Y_IZ-jRl6nHjmDUlMEi3EU9U5B6-9BG1r0fuAwDyduHkv3ArND2FhSLXutdfEtScfy7gASf5Myb59m4oHinpTkErJW3SKnioeGZoLerhQzvMj9Wc7nERXwBUd8s/s320/240px-Zolpidem_structure_simple_svg.png" /></a>What starts off as a harmless experiment with a mysterious, hypnotic induced drug that produces blackouts, takes on a more serious twist of bizarre events. The sub concious now takes over Sam Mills as he's no longer able to remember what goes on in his dark side. With no criminal background, a trail of clues and a sleuth detective from London connects him to some chilling crime scenes. The UK's most brilliant crime lawyer, Terence Downey, must now set the stage for an unprecedented Jykell and Hide defense for this landmark case.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com