Screenwriting : Book to film? by Cindy Sprigg

great, will have a look, do you like writing Fantasy/Dramas?

It really isn't the case of what I like to write as much as what my mind tells me to write. I have written horror, sci-fi, kids books, fantasy,drama, erotica and I am currently working on a literary, medieval romance. I have attached, two samples of my work, so you can compare the different forms ad styles. Composed in Blood CHAPTER ONE The flame from the old oil light cast eerie shadows around the room. The night was still, except for the steady "ping, ping," sound of the last of the evening's rain drops, falling from the shack's roof to join the many before them in the rusty black cast iron pot which was a permanent fixture on the kitchen table. A breeze caught the flame and made the shadows appear alive as they swayed to and fro on the blood soaked walls. A figure sat with his hands held up to the lamp, squinting his eyes in the dim light. His face was screwed up in a grimace; his tongue, held between twisted, blackened teeth, lolled from the side of his mouth. Lost in deep concentration, he slowly uncupped his hands to reveal a desperately fluttering moth. The young man held the moth carefully between thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled off one wing. The insect tried desperately to regain its freedom, beating furiously with the other appendage. He closely examined the liquid and tissue that formed a string from thorax to wing as he slowly pulled the other wing free, then losing interest in his captive, he dropped it into the flame where it popped and hissed as flame engulfed it. Tommy's head cocked to one side as he listened to the sound of a dog barking outside. Jumping to his feet, he moved quickly towards the door. His left foot started to slip sideways as he stepped in a puddle of blood on the linoleum floor. Quickly he shifted his body weight to the other leg, regaining his footing as he reached for the doorknob, and opening the door he stepped out into the night. Grabbing the axe that was leaning against the wall of the tool shed, he rushed out into the back yard. The dog was standing only a few yards away, head lowered and lips drawn back in a menacing snarl, revealing large, sharp canines. A deep low growl emanated from somewhere deep within its chest. Even for a shepherd-wolf cross, he was a massive animal. The dog's fur was wet from the rain and matted with a mixture of blood, leaves and mud. Tommy raised the axe above his head and swung it with all his strength at the dog just as it lunged. "I'll kill you this time Max" Tommy shouted at the dog, but the axe made contact with only air; the animal had vanished. "I'll get you next time Max" he mumbled to himself as he started to walk back to the shack, flinging the axe to the ground. Realizing the time, Tommy broke into a run: it was time for Grandpa's bath, and he would be in big trouble if he were late. "Where were you?" his Grandma said in her cruel voice. "You were out there trying to see a girl again, weren't you?" "Well, speak to me!" She screamed. "You've been a nasty boy again haven't you? You have been playing with nasty boy parts, haven't you?" "No Gram" he said in a quivering voice. "I told you next time I would cut the whole thing off and not just clip it with the nail clippers. Didn't I?" came his Grandma's voice. The young man started to cry and backed away slowly, pleading all the way. Of course his Grandmother could no longer hurt him with the clipper, or get that great beast of hers to attack him any more. She could not hurt anyone and neither could Max. Tommy had seen to that. His Grandmothers corpse sat in a corner propped up in a chair, a piece of toast and a warm cup of tea in front of her. The right arm was missing at the elbow. The youth had removed this with the axe to use as bait for the dog. Fresh meat had always perked its interest, and as he suspected, it hadn't been long before the smell of the fresh kill brought it running to the kitchen. As he looked at his Grandmother, a movement on her arm caught his attention. A mass of flies buzzed on the decaying limb. A large fat worm-like creature drew his eye. He picked up a carving fork and poked at it. There was a slight popping feeling as its flesh yielded to the fork's pressure and he brought it nearer to his face for closer inspection. He wondered if he could use these as bait to catch a fat catfish for his dinner. Tommy was now 17 years old and had only seen the outside world through the grimy glass of the small room he was locked in most of his life. His mother, only a child herself, had died giving Tommy life. Just three days after her thirteenth birthday and two months pregnant with Tommy, Jenny Fox moved from Upstate New York to an abandoned mining camp in the back woods of Minnesota to give birth to her illegitimate son. Jenny Fox was born of society parents. Her father was a well-known Supreme Court Judge and the father of Jenny's child. Because of their Catholic faith, abortion was out of the question, and so a young Jane Doe was found and a Doctor's malpractice suit was dismissed in exchange for his signature on a phony death certificate for the young Jenny Fox. Under the pretence of mourning, the judge's wife was said to have gone to another state to stay with friends. Jenny was put into a large steamer trunk and loaded into the back of a truck and taken to the camp, so as not to be seen by anyone. Her mother resented the child's very existence, not only because it was her husband’s child, but because it caused her to lose her social standing and life of ease and luxury. It forced her to go from a large estate that was always full of guests, to a run down drafty shack without plumbing or electricity and a life of secrecy and solitude. Tommy remembered the good days, the days when once a month, Grandpa would drive to the camp and under the cover of night, take him to the lake to fish. He would gorge himself on the fish they would catch, cooked over a fire near the shack. His misshapen jaw caused a severe speech impediment, and his legs, although strong, were deformed from many breaks, causing him to walk with one leg trailing slightly. He didn't understand why his Grandma and Grandpa fought so much, but he knew it was his fault. Grandma told him this. Carl, the man that worked for Grandpa, would come once a week to bring groceries and would secretly put special treats for Tommy in through the broken window of Tommy's room. Tommy would have to hide them and play with these when he was alone in the room. Carl once brought him a flashlight so he could play in the dark. He knew that if Grandma found out about these special things that Carl could no longer come. Grandpa would always bring him something as well, but these he could only play with the day Grandpa brought them. Grandma would always throw them in the fire as soon as he left. As Grandpa started getting older, he had difficulty doing things for himself and Tommy would have to help him with his bath. He would make the many trips back and forth to the well, carrying bucket after bucket of water, pouring them into the big black kettles that hung over the fire to heat. Then he would carry them to the back room to fill the metal tub for Grandpa's bath. Grandpa liked it when Tommy bathed him, because Tommy was Grandpa's good boy. He was the only one that called him a "good boy" and Tommy didn't mind doing things for Grandpa. "You make sure and clean my bad boy parts" he would say, "make sure you use lots of soap, so Grandma knows I'm nice and clean." "Oh, that's so good. You are such a good boy" Grandpa would tell him, "I will bring you something special." He was awakened from his memories by a scuffling sound as a rat ran out from under the cupboards and towards his grandfather's body that was lying on the cot in the other room. Tommy had stripped the old man down and prepared him for his bath. Grandpa had passed away from a heart attack one night last week, while fishing with Tommy. Tommy had never seen a dying person before and not knowing what to do, sat a few feet away and quietly watched with curiosity as his Grandfather held his chest and started turning blue. Tommy was fascinated by the way Grandpa's eyes seemed to almost pop from his head as the old man struggled to take in air. His arm stretched out toward the boy as he slowly dragged himself over the ground towards him, trying to get his help. Tommy slowly backed away to stay just out of reach of the outstretched arm, but still staying close enough to see the struggle for life by the light of the campfire. Tommy had seen his Grandpa have breathing problems and hold his chest a lot lately and knew that the little pills in the funny red container in his breast pocket made it go away. Maybe that was what he wanted Tommy's help with. His attacks had never been this bad before and Tommy was interested to see what came next. The boy pushed down with the palm of his hand against the old mans stomach. He leaned with more and more pressure and listened as the final breath escaped past the purple-blue lips. It was some time before Tommy put the fire out and dragged the old man's body up the bank and down the path towards the group of shacks that made up the old mining camp. He put his Grandpa's body in one of the dilapidated shacks closest to the outskirts of the town and headed to the one he and his Grandma occupied. Upon entering the shack, his Grandmother started questioning him about his Grandfathers whereabouts. Her voice was getting louder and louder as she stared past him down the path searching for her husband's silhouette. The questions stopped abruptly as Tommy reached out and caught her by the throat: he realized the effect was the same as with the rats he used to kill and eat when the hunger became to much to bear, laying alone in the dark of his locked room. Tommy heard a dull snapping sound when he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back sharply. Thinking about the rats in his room brought the memory of the running rat back into his mind and he followed its path to the cot that his Grandpa was laying on. The rat, taken by surprise, leaped into the air and off the old man's chest, where it had been dining on the decomposing flesh of the right cheek. The rat tried to make a run for the open door, but the hard heel of Tommy's boot crushed its spine. He picked it up and carried it into the kitchen, dropping it on the counter; he would save it for later, he thought. Hearing his Grandmother's voice, he slowly turned around to face her; "I found that book in your room, that dirty girl book. Do you really think any girl would want you? You are no good to a woman. That thing of yours doesn't work, and you are ugly. Anybody would think you a monster." He held his hands tightly over his ears to block out the sound as she began to laugh and taunt him. He turned away until her voice and laughter fell silent. He slid one hand down the front of his pants and scratched himself. He remembered the day he had been so bad that Grandma had put rubber bands around the two round parts under his body's water hose. He remembered being locked in his room, holding back with all his might the urge to scream with the pain. He also remembered Grandma's warning him that if she heard so much as a peep from him, she would cut out his tongue. His muffled sobs went on the rest of that day and well into the night until the pain overcame him and he passed out. Grandma told him that God had told her to do this because lust was a sin in the eyes of God: the dirty book with all those girls in it was made to test weak men, and the weak must be punished. Carl never came back to the camp after she found the book. Another man dropped off the supplies. Tommy never saw this man because he was locked in his room, the window had been boarded up and he was warned to keep silent. Tommy never hated his Grandmother for the things she did to him because he knew she was doing what God told her to do and she told him this was the only way he could go to heaven. She told him how beautiful heaven was and that he would meet his mother there and that he would be handsome in heaven. All the things that God had made her do while he was on Earth were just tests and his body would be perfect. He went to his Grandmothers room and lay on her bed. Soon with the thoughts of heaven running through his head, he slept. UPON THE FINS OF THE UNICORN PROLOGUE Gone are the lush forests of my youth. The trees now stand bare of leaves as if locked within winters spell and the clear running streams that once meandered their way through the Kingdom have long since dried up. I myself spent many a lazy day frittering away the hot summer hours, lost in dreams at the edge of one of these streams, as a worm at the end of my line teased a trout into biting. As the morning sun burned the mist off the hilltops that surrounded the castle walls, I could hear the sound of hooves on the stones of the court yard below and knew it was the King and his men readying themselves for the morning hunt. I also knew that they would return empty handed, as they had every morning for many years now, ever since the unicorns left. Through the eyes of an old and dying man, I look out over fields once ablaze with a rainbow of colours of the many flowers and wild grasses, now brown and overgrown with scrub brush and brambles. A land where wildlife abounded and unicorns could frequently be seen, frolicking, or grazing at forest’s edge, or drinking from a nearby stream. A land where the sounds of children’s laughter at play mixed with the cheerful sounds of the songbirds now was a land where only the cries brought about by hollow bellies permeated through the stone fortress and its outbuildings. And so, without further ado, myself being one of the older members of the castle’s inhabitants, I have taken it upon myself to record the story before now lies in ruin.it is forgotten by all. The story of how a once-thriving kingdom, one of the richest in the region, ---~~~--- CHAPTER ONE It was in the late spring of my 32nd year; one bright clear morning, I was awakened to the sounds of a commotion outside my bedroom window. An excited crowd had gathered outside the castle gates and from inside the building’s great stone walls, came the sounds of excitement and hasty activity. This would be a day of great celebration; for on this day a princess was born. She was fair of hair and blue of eye and surely must have been the loveliest maiden ever born. They named her Mandolin. Mandolin’s early years were happy ones and everyone in the Kingdom doted on her. Her kind nature and gentle ways made her the center of attention wherever she went. As she grew, so did her beauty and she turned many a young man’s head. As she approached her sixteenth birthday, a young prince and his entourage arrived from a neighboring kingdom, to negotiate land and provision trades with King Mainard. It was love at first sight and on the Princes’ return visit that fall, Prince James asked the King’s permission to court his daughter. As the days turned into months, their romance blossomed and grew, a date three years hence was set for them to be wed, after the prince returned from the crusades, and the two kingdoms would be joined to create one. And so, it was arranged by the two kings that both Kings would rule this new realm, side by side, until both were too old to handle their appointed duties, at which time James would wear the crown for both. CHAPTER TWO "M' Lady, M' Lady, Please don’t run so fast! I can’t keep up." the handmaiden’s voice, with its heavy, guttural, country accent could be clearly heard. The two lovers, ignoring her, ran ahead, giggling as they ran. At the crest of a small hill, they looked back to see how far behind she was. James led Mandolin into a clearing in the trees. He pulled her close to him and they embraced. He brushed aside a lock of her hair that had fallen across one eye then drew her closer and as their lips gently met, their hearts beat as one. "Oh Mandolin, my love, I cannot wait for the day I can take you for my wife." the young prince softly said, barely able to conceal the passion he felt for her. Just as the lovers were about to steal another kiss, the handmaiden came into view between the trees. She was slightly out of breath, but still managed to give the Princess a scolding about leaving her sight. “Now M'Lady, “she said, "you know this isn't proper. You know my duties to your father, the King and you know he would have my hide for this." She knew it was her duty to the king to show her disapproval and guide the Princess in the ways a lady of her stature should act. But, she also remembered what it was like to be young and in love and knew by the way the young couple looked at each other, that it would be like asking the flowers to stop blooming. The lovers once again joined the handmaiden Eloise to complete their walk. A few hundred feet further up the trail, the prince stopped and picked a small bouquet of wildflowers. With all the flamboyancy of a week old colt, James turned and ran back the few yards to Eloise and fell upon one knee, holding up the bouquet as if as an offering. "Please forgive us My Lady, for we are young and know not what we do," James said teasingly. The three continued on their way, giggling all the while. At the spot where the trail met up with that which led to the castle gates, they were met by three men on horseback. A stately gentleman in the front dismounted and extending his hand in greeting, walked towards Prince James. "Hello to you Sir," he said as he shook James’ hand firmly. "I'm King Forther, my family home is Stoker Castle. I'm sure you will have heard of it?" he asked with one eyebrow raised. The King’s expression suddenly changed as his gaze fell upon the Princess Mandolin; his whole face seemed to glow, his old eyes twinkled and a smile so big it seemed to dwarf his other features beamed above the bearded chin. James, seeing the look on the king’s face, took it as meaning something other than what it really was, and he was as proud as a peacock. He cleared his throat and said to King Forther; "May I introduce to you, the Princess Mandolin, my lovely betrothed.” The King delicately took the princess’s offered hand and bowing low, gently kissed the back of it. He couldn't take his eyes off her all the time. James and King Forther exchanged small talk for a few moments and the King invited the couple to a party at his castle two days hence. He then mounted his horse, tipped his hat and bid the couple adieu. As if he were the wind itself, he and his men quickly galloped off and vanished around the bend ahead. When James, Mandolin and Eloise returned to the castle, her father, King Mainard, was waiting in the Great Hall for them. Mainard approached his daughter and kissing her on the forehead, he asked if she had enjoyed her outing, as he ushered the young prince to a chair beside the fire. "Yes father it was beautiful, and we met a king from another kingdom who invited James and I to his castle on Friday Eve. He said his name was King Forther of Stoker Castle. Have you heard of him?" asked Mandolin. "Forther… ah, it is said that he rules with an iron fist. It is also said that he treats both subjects and servants no better than his livestock. In my younger years, My father and I killed a stag while out on a hunt. He sent over a hundred men to chase us off. Part of his land touches the edge of Hadington Woods, to the north. I was little more than a boy, and did not yet know where the boundaries lie. I shot the stag on our land, but the arrow hit it in the flank. As we gave chase it ran out of the forest and into the field on the other side. I am sure if I had not been the son of a king, he would have had me strung up" said King Mainard. The king made a motion with his hand and his manservant placed a glass of wine in his hand and another in James’. He looked deep into the depths of the red liquid, slowly rolled it around the glass and said "But maybe he has gotten better with age", before taking a drink. And with that they all laughed loudly. The King looked at his daughter and said, "Okay, run along now and do your sewing, James and I have things to discuss." The next two days were rainy and cold and the two royal lovers saw very little of each other, the prince having to return home to deal with his duties in his father’s kingdom and the Princess entertaining what seemed to her an endless procession of visiting relatives and guests. Mandolin, missing James very much during the times they were apart, moped about the castle. Her manner was worsened by the fact that one of her younger cousins, Catherine, a freckled faced ten year old, had a crush on James and talked about him excessively. When she wasn’t telling Mandolin how dreamy he was, she was asking questions about him. Her constant chattering and following her about made the hours go that much slower. Many a time, one could find her staring out one of the many castle windows longing for the sun to return and bring the now familiar silhouette of James and his men as they approached from the castle’s Eastern wall. Twilight had returned once more. The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind only it’s gentle "ting, ting" song as the remaining droplets of water fell off the clay tiles of the castle’s roofs, a lingering reminder of the passing storm, to lull the inhabitants to sleep. The new moon cast long shadows on the courtyard ground and Mandolin longed to dance among them. Staring out her tower window, into the yard below, she could imagine being in James’ arms and they would slowly dance. They would be all alone, their bodies swaying to and fro to the rhythm of their hearts, a melody playing that only they could hear. A gentle breeze would be blowing that carried with it the sweet smells of evening stocks and grass made damp from the rain. A whippoorwill would call out to tell the world of their passion and a secret kiss as the lovers held each other close in the shadows. "Mandolin darling", her mother’s voice suddenly brought her back to reality, "You had best be getting some sleep. It is a long way to King Forther’s castle, and how would it look if the Princess was yawning through the meal?" Mandolin slowly turned from the window, still dreamy eyed from her fantasy, and abruptly became aware that not only was her mother in the room but also two maids. As she watched, one maid was filling the pitcher and placed it by the bowl, laying out clean cloths and soap beside it and the other placed the princess’s dressing gown on her bed. The Queen walked over to her and gently kissing her on the forehead asked if she was all right. "Yes Mother", she said, sounding a little more impatient then she had intended. "Okay dear, I'll see you at breakfast then." Her mother replied, and with that picked up one of the lamps from the table by the door and left her room. “Is there anything else you'll be needin' M' lady?" asked the senior of the two servants. “No, that will be all." And with that they both curtsied, each picking up a lamp and then backed out of the room, still in a bent position, eyes averted, closing the door behind them. With the click of the latch, Mandolin turned back towards the window, almost expecting to see two forms in the courtyard below. But gone now were the shadows of dusk, leaving behind only the veil of night. Her searching eyes only captured her own reflected form, staring back at her from the window. She let out a loud sigh, washed and readied herself for bed. It wasn't long after her head hit the pillow that the thoughts of the day faded and sleep overtook her. The morning brought with it the promise of brightness and sunshine. She was awakened by the familiar sounds of the cockerels in the Royal barnyards a few thousand yards to the south. Mandolin rose from her bed and donned her robe. She could feel the warmth in the sunbeam long before she reached the window. Almost blinded by its brightness, her hands felt for the two handles and turning them, she flung the window wide. A mild breeze ruffled her golden hair as she watched the king’s servants ready the royal coach for her visit to Stoker Castle. As she watched, her attention was drawn to a lower rooftop, where a morning dove displayed to his mate. With chest puffed out and head tucked low, he danced and cooed for her with such passion and energy, as if he was competing against every other male dove on the planet for her affections. As she watched the dove’s courtship below her, she remembered learning that the morning dove, like very few creatures of this earth, mates for life. She knew in her heart that her union with James would be the same. The sound of a horse whinnying and distant hoof beats were barely perceptible to the ear, but known well to Mandolins heart. It beat as if trying to free itself from the bonds of her body, her ribcage holding it fast as if within a bony cage. Her heart could feel the Princes’ approach long before her eyes or ears recognized his presence, beating wildly out of control with anticipation. A few moments later James and his men came within her range of vision and the Princess suddenly became aware that she was still in her gown and robe. Eager to join the Prince, she called for her handmaiden to lay out her gown for the evening’s merriment. James and her father, the king, were already sitting at the dining table when she entered the room. Both men rose as she entered the room. James eyes grew wide as he surveyed the turquoise gowned beauty before him. “My God, you look lovely", he blurted out, forgetting his place and that they were in the presence of the King. King Mainard cleared his throat allowing an out for an awkward situation. James held the chair and pushed it in for the Princess as she sat at the table. There was the odd tidbit of small talk, but the breakfast conversation that day, was mostly dominated by plans and preparation for the prince’s long journey to join the great crusades. Although they both knew James leaving was one of the duties that went along with his status as prince, the thought of being separated for so long caused them both great pain and grief. With breakfast done, and the servants having cleared away most of the serving platters and dishes, The King suggested that James join him as he carried out some of his royal duties, so he might learn what would be expected of him in this realm, when it was time for him to become its king. Princess Mandolin joined her Mother in the great hall. Together they sewed upon the huge family tapestry that had been worked on for generation after generation by the female lineage of the royal family, each in turn adding their branch of the family tree. The Queen, Queen Juliana, spoke softly as she worked, telling Mandolin of her ancestry. "One day, you too will sew into this tapestry, here," Juliana said, running her hand through the air as to show where a future piece of tapestry would lay, "The story of your marriage, and your children and the royal lines of this castle will continue to be recorded here for all to remember." The morning faded into afternoon until it was time for James and Mandolin to leave. Mandolin’s maidens gathered and packed the royal carriage with the things they would need for their visit King Forther’s castle. King Mainard had his men tie two of his finest oxen from the royal barns to the wagon that carried the servants, as an offering to King Forther, while Queen Juliana had them dig one of her finest rosebushes to include for his Queen. Though they were uncertain if he had a Queen they thought it best to include a gift. They said their farewells, James and his men took up the lead and they made off North towards Stoker Castle, in the still heat of the late afternoon sun.

Tried clicking on yer site but the link didn't work. I'd be interested.

sorry about that.....the link is working now...

I am interested. I have a Master's and a Bachelor's degree in film from the University of South Alabama and I am in the process of writing my third feature script. I am also a Doctoral student at the University of Southern Mississippi. If you would like to talk details, please let me know. derrick29@gmail.com