senior seminar portfolio pdf
TRANSCRIPT
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Nicole Pieretti Kutztown University of Pennsylvania Professional Seminar Summer 2015
Major: Professional Writing Graduation Date: Summer 2015
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Statement of Purpose I have always had a passion for writing. I recently found a short picture book I wrote when I was eight years old buried beneath old VHS tapes in my basement. I read it and mostly laughed at myself because the grammar was horrible and there were countless misspelled words but even then I was trying. Ever since I can remember I was writing short stories, poems and writing journal entries in my marble covered notebook. The purpose of this portfolio is to show you some of the work I have completed while I was a student at Kutztown University as well as interning for Upgrade Your Story. My pieces range from fictional short stories, a screenplay and projects I have completed and worked on during my internship. There is a wide range of different types of writing in this portfolio, as I have learned how to write in many different styles. The pieces I have included from Kutztown are pieces of writing I am most proud of while the other projects I have included from my internship are examples of work I did that was completely new to me and that I am proud to say I can now do.
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Table Of Contents
Statement of Purpose………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….2 Resume…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..............4 Internship Work………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….5
William Galain’s Pubslush Campaign………………………………………………………………………………..5 Social Media…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….7 The Grays……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….11
Professional Writing Work…………………………………………………………………………………………................15 Gone………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….............15
The Hilltop……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..21
Stuck………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………24
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NICOLE M. PIERETTI(484) 574-3287
[email protected] 103 Fawn Lane
Chadds Ford, PA 19317
OBJECTIVE Obtain a carer consisting of extensive professional writing and editing.
QUALIFICATIONS• Extensive writing and editing skills•Experience with marketing and social media•Strong computer and research skills•Organized and reliable
EDUCATIONKutztown University of Pennsylvania May 2015Bachelor of Arts in English/Professional WritingDean’s List: Fall 2014
Internship EXPERIENCEUpgrade Your Story Summer 2015 Intern
•Researched marketing ideas for clients•Created social media pages •In charge of clients’ Twitter accounts•Worked extensively with social media sites •Researched and suggested ideas for author campaigns
StrongPoint Marketing Summer 2013Intern Wimington, PA
•Organized extensive excel spreadsheets •Created Press Releases•Analyzed and compared Food and Wine events to formulate a binder of the most notable for presentation purposes •Recommended events for the Wilmington Food and Wine Festival with extensive research•Shared and edited posts on social media sites to promote events•Administered the TEDx Wilmington Facebook page
Work EXPERIENCEDinner A’fare Summer 2012Customer Service Employee Chadds Ford, PA
•Ensured customers are instructed of cooking methods •Assisted customers in selecting the best ingredients for their dishes•Trained new employees •Kept track of inventory
JP Tours, Inc. Summer 2011 Assistant Chadds Ford, PA
•Edited promotional material •Answered phones and helped clients resolve airfare and ticketing issues •Adapted to clients’ unforeseen challenges dealing with hotels, costs, transportation, and customer service
RELEVANT SKILLS•Microsoft Word, PowerPoint, Microsoft Excel, Keynote, Numbers, iPhoto, Adobe Photoshop•Proficient conversational Spanish language
COMMUNITY INVOLVEMENT• WSFS Bank Soft Shell Crab Nouveau fundraiser: Created Venues, Led Tours of Buena Vista Conference Center • American Heart Association fundraiser volunteer• American Cancer Society fundraiser volunteer
References Available Upon Request
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1) William Galaini’s Pubslush Campaign
This is a project I worked extensively on in the beginning of my internship. My internship supervisor, Ally Bishop, introduced me to a book in the midst of being published by William Galaini. William needed to produce an effective campaign to spread the word about his book and produce some funding. My job was to do many hours of research and comparing of different kinds of campaigns and figure out which ones worked the best and why. His book is fantasy, fiction, historical fiction and it is also under the diverse book category as well. I researched countless campaigns until I came up with the best results for William. After his Pubslush campaign was up I checked regularly to see if we were keeping up with the check points Pubslush provided to achieve a successful campaign. I critiqued the video, made suggestions for giveaways, and made sure everything stayed consistent. This was one of the first projects I was given and it gave me a chance to learn about the world of marketing and campaigning. I had never worked on something like this before and it opened my eyes to how difficult it can be to launch a book and be successful. William’s campaign has raised north of $3,000 out of a $5,500 goal.
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2) Social Media Projects The next project I have been working on throughout the duration of my internship is the Mechanicsburg Mystery Bookshop and William Galaini’s social media. This has been an ongoing process that had to be done daily. Before starting at this internship I had never worked much with social media. When I say social media I do not mean Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. I am talking about the behind-‐the-‐scenes part of social media. I had no idea there were sites like Buffer or Crowdfire and I learned quickly how useful they can be. Buffer is an application that you can use to schedule tweets for one or multiple accounts. To grow the bookshop and William’s accounts I had to add tweets to their buffers that filled out the entire week. Sounds easy I thought. The trick is knowing the client well enough not to piss them off with the tweets you provide for them. Along with Buffer, there was Crowdfire — a very tricky but useful tool. Each week I followed and unfollowed authors and non-‐authors for seven different twitter accounts (all of Ally’s clients). I had to judge each person I followed based on their profile and avoid robot accounts. The goal of all of this was to grow these accounts and help them promote their work and business. These clients counted on the growth of their networks and there were definitely some bumps along the way. This extensive project taught me a tremendous amount and I was able to develop many different social media skills. Before this, I had never dabbled in the complex social media world and it has taught me so much. Below are screenshots from some of the accounts I was dedicated to this summer along with the spreadsheets I created for them every week.
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CROWDFIRE AND BUFFER
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TWITTER SPREADSHEETS
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3) The Grays Throughout the duration of my internship I was (and am) working on a short story. When I began my internship supervisor asked me what my skills were and what I liked to do. Since creative writing is what I have loved since I was little, she told me to work on a creative piece of my choice. She is an amazing editor and I knew this would be a great opportunity to get my work edited by a professional. It is still a work in progress but I have copy and pasted the first couple of pages below. It was a struggle to come up with an idea. Since I usually begin writing whenever an idea comes to my head, I had to really sit and brainstorm for a while before I came up with an idea I liked. I started over about three times before I got the beginning right and I still am not 100% sure I am in love it. I have such a love/hate relationship with the pieces I write and this time was no different. I promised myself I would finish this one and make it so that I am completely happy with it. It is the story of a lonely housewife who finds love with her husband’s criminally insane brother.
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The Grays Silvia Gray wiped her forehead with a soft, white towel. The small digital screen in front of
her read 7.45 mi. Her legs started pumping faster but her breath remained steady and in control. Beads of sweat rolled around her bright blue eyes that were staring at the mirror in front of her. The women on the bikes behind her were not going as fast and this gave her more power. She was almost at 8 miles. A minute later her screen began blinking and words formed in red digital letters, “CONGRATULATIONS YOU HAVE COMPLETED YOUR WORKOUT.” Her legs slowed and she watched the speed drop; 6.0, 5.8, 5.4 … tingles crawled up and down her legs as the adrenaline left her body. “Looks like Silvia finished first again!” The spin class instructor announced. Silvia wiped her face with her towel, slowly got off of the bike and walked towards her bag in the corner. Some of the other ladies looked up and her as she walked across the room. She was envied by most women and wanted by all men. She still looked beautiful even after biking eight miles. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a perfect high ponytail and even without makeup she barely had any wrinkles. At 35 she could be mistaken for a 22 year old. Once she was in the locker room she pulled off the sweaty clothes that clung to her toned body. She folded them neatly and put them into her duffel bag. Janice Brown, one of the other ladies from the spin class walked into the locker room as she was leaving. “One of these days I’ll beat you,” Janice said smiling. Silvia smiled at her and continued walking. “So are you coming to our fundraiser tomorrow night?” Janice asked. Silvia turned back around. Janice was taking off her blue tank top, revealing fake boobs and an even faker tan. Her and Silvia’s husband golfed together some Sundays and they had been invited to Janice’s for a fundraiser party. “George and I wouldn’t miss it,” Silvia said, flashing a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Great. We’ve spent a fortune on the catering so bring an empty stomach.” “Sure. See you tomorrow.”
Janice’s eyes remained on Silvia as she turned and left the locker room. She opened the gym doors and squinted up at the sun. Hot, thick air greeted her as she opened the door to her new, black Mercedes. Seven minutes later she was in front of her house. It sat on top of a hill partly shaded by a giant oak tree. It was about three times the size of a normal house. Some called it a mansion. George came from a family of money and when his parents died, he got most of it. He only had one other sibling but no one had heard from him in years. Silvia stared up at the looming house knowing it would be empty when she got inside. The maids were done work at four and George always worked late. In the three years they had been married he never came home from work before nine. He was the CEO of an investment company and even though they would be fine without him working another day, he insisted he needed something to keep him busy. Silvia unlocked the big wooden door and the cool air kissed her skin. The house was dark and quiet. Her legs ached as she climbed the wide, spiral stairs to her bedroom. Most everything in their home was an antique and the furniture was barely ever used. They had about five untouched rooms. Silvia thought of it as a sample home like the ones relators used. There were no memories hidden in the living room from last Christmas or in the kitchen from Thanksgiving. She turned on the shower and closed her eyes as the water hit her face.
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Silvia sat in her red lazy boy, just about the only piece of furniture she was comfortable in, and read. Her wet hair sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her to dry it before George got home. He didn’t like it when her hair looked messy. The tall colonial clock in the corner of the living room started singing. It was eight o’clock and the sky finally began to grow dark. She loved the long days summer time brought. Cicadas began talking outside the opened living room window. Silvia looked at bright sliver of moon surrounded by a sprinkle of stars. The dark branches from the oak tree looked like long, withered fingers reaching down to earth against the barely lit sky. Silvia stood up to shut the blinds when she saw a stream of light coming up their long driveway. The sensor light that was mounted at the top of their four car garage illuminated George’s black Maserati. The garage door roared loudly as it opened for him. Silvia looked in the small oval mirror to the right of the front door and pulled out her ponytail, allowing her long blonde hair to fall neatly onto her shoulders. The door off of the garage opened and closed quietly. She heard him walk into the kitchen and set down his briefcase. “Silvia!” Silvia walked into the kitchen and found George sitting at the kitchen table looking down at his phone. His black suit jacket was draped around the chair and his thick, brown hair was still combed perfectly to the side. He looked up when he noticed Silvia in the doorway. “Hey,” he said smiling. He had green eyes, a tan face, and his five o’clock shadow made him look like he had just been plucked from an issue of GQ. “Hey, honey,” Silvia said. “How was your day?” “Long.” George looked back down at his phone. “Is everything okay?” Silvia walked over and sat down next to him. He didn’t respond and continued looking at his phone. “Did you make dinner?” “There’s leftover chicken and asparagus in the fridge. I made you a plate and put it in the oven. It should still be warm.” “Great. Leftovers, again,” George said under his breath but loud enough for Silvia to hear. “I’m sorry, hon. I had a busy day.” “Yeah, your little spin class must keep you very busy.” George took his plate out of the oven and sat back down next to her. “My brother is coming to visit us this week.” Silvia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Your brother? You mean the one nobody has heard from in ten years?” George shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. “12 years actually,” he said through chews. “What the hell are you talking about? Why is he coming here? Where has he— “He needs a place to stay. He got into some trouble and found my number somehow. I told him he could stay for a couple of nights.” “What kind of trouble? You didn’t think to ask me first?” “Look. He’s my brother. I know he’s a piece of shit but I gotta help him out.” “What did he do?”
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George put down his fork and took a deep breath. He looked at Silvia and shook his head. “He’s being framed for murdering his girlfriend.” Silvia’s mouth dropped and her eyes widened. “What the f— “I know it sounds terrible but I don’t want my little brother going to prison.” “You mean the little brother you haven’t talked to in 12 years?” Silvia’s voice was rising and she could feel her face getting hot with anger. “Calm down, Silvia.” “So we’re hiding him from the police? Are you fucking kidding me, George?” “It’s only for a couple of days. I’m going to help him get his passport, give him some money and send him on his way.” Silvia stood up from the table.
“You do what you want. I want no part of it. I’m staying with my mom until he leaves.” “You can’t do that.” George said calmly as he picked his fork back up and continued eating. “And why not?” Silvia narrowed her eyes at him. “Because if you leave you’re not coming back.” “Excuse me?” “I said, if you leave you will not be welcome back into this house. You will be on your own. I
won’t have a wife that comes as goes as she pleases.” “Are you hearing yourself right now? I don’t want to be in a house with a man that may or
may not have killed his girlfriend!” “Fine. Make your own decision. But let me remind you. You don’t have a job, you don’t have half of my money, you have nothing without me. If you leave you will be living with your poor parents in a small, dirty house for the rest of your life.” Silvia stared at him in disbelief. “How could you do this to me?” “For better or worse, right? I need you right now.” Silvia shook her head and took a long , deep breath. “If we get in any kind of trouble for this I will tell them I had nothing to do with it.” “That fine, honey.”
George smiled at her like the conversation never happened. Silvia stormed out of the kitchen leaving George at the table eating his leftovers.
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1) Gone During my time as a Kutztown student I wrote many different kinds of pieces. I took creative writing, journalism, technical writing, screenwriting and many more. The first piece I want to include is one I wrote for my creative fiction writing class. I had never actually finished a story before because I have the terrible habbit of beginning a story and then hating it halfway through and not finishing it. This is the first short story I have completed and been proud of. In this class, we had workshops. In each workshop, three students had their stories critiqued for 45 minutes. The worst part was we could not talk at all or respond for the whole 45 minutes. I had never done a workshop like this before and I was beyond nervous. Having 20 of your classmates read your story and then responding to it was very scary to me. It turned out to be such a great experience. Although some did not agree about the ending of my story, I kept it that way because I liked it. I have included the entire story below so you can make your own judgment call on the ending.
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Gone
He stared out the window as the rain fell softly and the sky darkened. Gray clouds were rolling in from the West and none of it seemed real. Doug stood up from his chair and walked to the long oval mirror in the corner of the bedroom. His black suit was a big on him and his tie was a little crooked but she was the one that always fixed it for him and she wasn’t here anymore. He picked up the small folded piece of paper from his desk and opened it. His chicken scratch covered the page. As he read, the words began to melt into each other. He blinked away the tears and took a deep breath. Before the funeral he wanted to find her half written manuscript. He thought it would be nice to read some of it out loud. She had been working on her second novel and had kept asking him to read some of it. “I’m busy right now, bring it back to me later,” he would always say. He never got around to reading any of it. Her small office was cluttered with boxes of folders and papers. He started opening the drawers looking for the manuscript. He pulled at the bottom drawer but it wouldn’t open. He tried again. A tiny lock was next to the handle. Why would she lock this? He began searching for a key. He soon remembered a place it could be hidden. He quickly ran up the stairs and looked for the small clay box she had made for him. He found it in her sock drawer. He had told her he didn’t need it and thought it was silly for a man to have a jewelry box. He worked on construction sites and most days had to leave his wedding ring behind. Lynn thought he could use a place to put it so he would stop misplacing it around the house. He opened the box and there was a small silver key lying inside of it. The drawer squeaked open and he peered inside. There was a manilla folder and nothing else. He flipped it open and found letters. They were all addressed the same way, “My Dearest Lynn...” The signature was always the same as well, “Love always, R.L.” He began racking his brain for friends whose initials were R. L. Lynn’s parents had died years ago and she was an only child it couldn’t have been a relative. There was a romantic sort of tone to the letters but not enough to assume an affair. It didn’t make any sense. The funeral was just as painful as he expected it to be. He kept reliving the day a cop stood on his porch and told him his wife was hit and killed by a pickup truck. Just hours before that she was kissing him on the cheek and telling him she was going shopping for a bit. She was wearing a red floral dress that hung just above her knees and her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun. She looked beautiful as always. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the memory but when he closed them all he saw was her. He sat in her office chair where she wrote every day and stared at the letters. He flipped through the letters and a small photo slipped out. It was a picture of Lynn sitting in the park with a Harvard T-‐shirt on. The letters did not hint to who this man was. They must have kept them vague on purpose. Does he know she’s dead? He put the letters down and rubbed his tired, red eyes. The sun streamed in through the window and he blinked his eyes open. He had fallen asleep in their bed with the letters next to him. His grabbed his bottle of pills from the night stand and downed them without water. The door bell suddenly rang and he jumped up in bed. He assumed it was someone offering their condolences. A man with short blonde hair and blue eyes stood on his porch. “Hello, Mr. Ryan.”
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The man reached out to shake his hand and Doug noticed a gold ring around his pinky finger. “What a ring you got there.” “Harvard,” he said with a cocky grin. Doug froze as he remembered the picture of Lynn with a Harvard T-‐shirt on. “Who are you?” “My name is Ray Long. I wanted to say I’m sorry about your wife.” “How did you know my wife?” “I was helping her with her novel. I’m sure you know about it.” “Are you the R.L. from the letters? Were you having some sort of affair with my wife?” “Your wife and I were very close.” “Get out of here, now.” Doug slammed the door not wanting to hear more but then instantly regretted it. He had to know. He opened the door back up but the man was gone. He saw a small black car driving away from his house. The next day his mother came to visit from Florida. They sat together in his living room. “Your father wanted to come but he’s just so busy with work.” “Yeah, whatever.” “So how are you holding up? We miss you.” “Well, mom. My wife is dead. Thats sort of a dumb question.” He grabbed his pill bottle and threw a couple back. His mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat and watched him with concern. “We just haven’t seen you since you got ou—” “Mom, please. Do not start with that.” She folded her hands nervously in her lap. “Did Lynn ever mention anyone by the name of Ray Long to you?” Her breathing quickened for a moment but she quickly recovered and cleared her throat. “No, dear. Never. Why?” “He showed up here yesterday and I think he was a little closer with Lynn than I would have wanted.” “What did he say?” “He said he was helping her with her novel.” She looked at him and then looked at the floor. She fumbled with the latch on her purse. “Whats wrong with you? You’re all twitchy.” “I’m fine, dear. Lets eat.” They sat in silence for a while eating sandwiches his mother brought and sipped on iced tea. After, she went back to her hotel and promised she would be back in the morning. Doug decided to go into town and grocery shop. The wheels of his shopping cart squeaked as he walked aimlessly through the aisles. While he was reaching for a box of pasta, a tall figure suddenly appeared next to him. He was wearing the same gray suit as the day before and his gold ring shined on his finger. “Hello, Mr. Ryan.” “What the hell do you want?” “Your wife and I have some unfinished business.” “What are you talking about?”
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“Lynn would not be happy if her novel was left unfinished. I’m sure you read some and know how good it is. I want to complete it for her.” “My wife is dead. Leave me alone. If you ever come near me again I’m calling the police.” Doug turned around without his cart and walked out of the grocery store. Before Doug went to bed that night he took some more of his pills. He quickly fell into a deep sleep. A couple of hours later, there was loud rustling coming from his window. He sprang out of bed and looked outside. It was too dark to see anything. He turned on the outdoor light in the kitchen and scanned the yard. He turned the light off and thought it must have been an animal. A loud THUD came from Lynn’s office. He raced down the hallway and stood in front of the closed door. His hand reached slowly for the door knob. He twisted it and swung it open. The room was empty. A large pile of papers that had never been there before were now lying on her desk. The top page read, “Gone” by Lynn Ryan. He grabbed the manuscript and took it upstairs. He fell asleep reading. The next morning he looked up Ray Long’s number and called about a dozen before he found who he was looking for. “Hello again, Mr. Ryan. What can I do for you? You left in a hurry yesterday.” “Look you bastard. I know you were in my house last night and I’m going to call the cops.” “I’m afraid thats not true, Mr. Ryan.” “You left the manuscript out! What were you doing with it? Did you want to steal—” A loud static took over and he held the phone away from his ear. “Hello? Hello?” There was nothing but silence on the other end. He slammed the phone down and uncapped his pill bottle. The manuscript was sitting on his nightstand and he flipped to page 15 where he left off. He read the words out loud to himself in a whisper. “He wasn’t himself anymore. I didn’t know who he was. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a tiny hint of the man I used to know. He was a zombie and I—” BANG, BANG, BANG. Someone was knocking on his front door. His mother walked in with a smile that did not reach her eyes. She held two bags of groceries. “I thought you could use a couple of things. I know you hate when I baby you so I didn’t get much.” “I went to the grocery store yesterday, I don’t need anything.” She opened the fridge. There was a carton of milk, a bottle of ketchup, and something wrapped in tin foil. “Where is all the food you bought?” “Oh, um, I—” “Its okay, dear. I got you some things.” Doug sat at the kitchen table and rubbed his eyes. His mother sat at the table with him. “Whats wrong, honey?” “Nothing. Its just been a strange couple of days.” “I could call your father and tell him to come up here.” “I started reading Lynn’s novel yesterday.” His mother stared at him. She cleared her throat. “I’m going to call your father and tell him to come.”
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“Don’t do that. He’s busy.” “Would you like to go to the park today? Maybe get some fresh air?” “Uh, sure but not for long. I have to get back here and deal with some things.” They walked through the park side by side in silence. The green tree leaves swayed with the wind and the sun shone brightly. They sat on a bench. “Would you consider moving to Florida?” “Why would I ever do that?” “Just to be close to your family. We miss you.” “I can’t do that. Not right now.” “Maybe we could move her—” Doug suddenly stood up and stared intently at the trees. Ray was leaning up against a tree staring at him. “What is it, dear?” “Its him. I knew he was following me.” “I don’t see anyone. Please sit down.” Ray began walking away. Doug quickly followed leaving his mother sitting on the park bench. He saw Ray turn the corner onto the street his house was on. Doug started jogging after him, but when he turned the corner Ray was no where in sight. Doug ran to his house and noticed the front door was open. “I know you’re in here you bastard! I’m calling the cops!” He picked up the phone but all he could hear was static. He threw the phone to the ground and darted upstairs to call on the phone in his bedroom. The window was open and the papers of Lynn’s novel were flying around the room. He began grabbing at them and then stopped dead in front of the mirror. Beads of sweat were pouring from his short blonde hair and his blue eyes had dark circles beneath them. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his gold ring twinkling against the sun coming in through the window. He turned his hand around and stared at the ring. He began stumbling backwards and passed out on the floor. His eyes snapped open. He stared at the white ceiling above him. He was in a strange room with white walls and a small wooden desk in the corner. The door opened and his mother peeked her head in. “Can I come in, dear?” She sat down on the bed next to him and looked down at the floor. A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away. “Mom, where am I? “You’re at Rodney Mental Health Institution.” “What? Why the hell am I here?” “Shh. Calm down, honey. It’ll all be okay.” “Did you put me in here? My wife just died! I’m depressed not suicidal!” His mother twisted the tissue she had in her hand. “Answer me!” “Honey. Lynn died over a year ago and Ray Long is not real. He is the man you started making up a long time ago.” “What? No! He was writing letters to my wife! They’re in her office if you don’t believe me.”
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“We’ve been through this, dear. You wrote those letters to her from this very room at that desk a long time ago. You thought you were him.” Doug’s breathing quickened and he tried to get up but the restraints around his wrists kept him down. “What is going on!” He began violently twisting and turning trying to break free. Nurses rushed in and the last thing he saw was a needle. He began opening his eyes slowly. The restraints were no longer around his wrists and he sat up. He stumbled to the door but it was locked. He began to get dizzy and he fell into the chair at his desk. He let his head fall onto the desk and when he began lifting it he noticed something. The name Ray Long was carved over and over again down the sides of his desk. He brushed his hand over the words and began feeling woozy again. Then everything went black.
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2) The Hilltop
The next piece I would like to include from my career as a Kutztown student is an article I wrote for my literary journalism class. This was one of my favorite classes during my four years at Kutztown. I loved that we could write creatively and subjectively while sticking to the facts and reporting. We had to write an immersion piece so I wrote about the Hilltop Crab and Seafood House. I know that this is a place notorious for the infamous Pegan biker gang and I thought it would make an interesting story as well as be a cool experience. I was a little nervous at first to be entering a restaurant/bar as a 21 year old college student that has bikers as their regular patrons but I thought it would give me a taste of what it feels like to be a journalist. I ended up coming up with an article that I really liked and I believe that’s partly because it was a brand new experience for me. I wasn’t able to get any in depth interviews with the bikers but I collected as much as I could. I decided to make it a subjective piece because I wanted to portray how nervous I was. I have included the article below.
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The Hilltop
Their sign read, “Coast to Coast 8:30 p.m.” A live band would be performing at the Hilltop
Crab House that night. The parking lot was crowded and people began making their own spaces on
the grass. A long row of Harley’s were parked along the side of the Crab House and two of the bike
owners were leaning against the brick wall smoking cigarettes. They were matching in black leather
jackets, pants, and boots. They stood to the right of the entrance and I held my breath as I walked
through their cloud of smoke and into the building.
The bar sat in the middle of the restaurant and clones of the men outside swarmed around it
like bees protecting their nest. They were everywhere. We got seated at a high top table in the
back about 15 feet away from the bar. A man with a long grey beard walked past our table and the
insignia that was on the back of his jacket proved my suspicions to be true. The word “Pagan’s” was
written across the top of his jacket and the picture beneath was hard to make out but it was full of
splashes of orange and red. Below the picture were the letters m and c. I assumed they stood for
motorcycle club, but I wanted to be certain. When the waitress came to our table I asked her if
they were members of the Pagan biker gang and what the insignia meant. She quietly confirmed
yes to the first question and could not answer the second.
Older members of the gang with long grey beards and wrinkled faces sat at tables around me
and quietly watched the younger members drinking and yelling at the bar. Everywhere I looked
there were men in black leather jackets and sometimes they had a girl with them who were also
dressed from head to toe in leather. Although feeling like an outsider without any leather on, they
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paid no attention to me.
I walked to the bar eager to get closer to members of this infamous biker gang. I squeezed between two
men and ordered a Blue Moon. The man to my left had a short brown beard, bushy eyebrows, and a
protruding belly. He looked at me and smiled, exposing a set of crooked and yellowing teeth. Although my
heart was beating out of my chest, I had to know what possessed him to become part of the Pagan’s. I
told him who I was and what I was doing there and surprisingly he was okay with it. He laughed when I
asked him why he joined the gang, shrugged his shoulders, and said without any emotion, “Seemed
right.” I looked around the bar and noticed I was beginning to draw attention to myself. I said thank you,
grabbed my beer, and walked back to my table disappointed in myself for being too scared to continue.
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3) Stuck The final piece I want to include is a 25 page screenplay I wrote in Screenwriting I. Before entering this class I had never written a screenplay or knew how to write one. This was definitely one of my favorite classes and I learned so much about screenwriting and story development. For our term project we had to adapt a story and write a screenplay. I chose to adapt the story, 12:01 P.M. by Richard A. Lupoff. It is a story about a man named Myron Castleman who is stuck in a time loop. To adapt this story and make it my own I developed new characters and changed most of the plot. I am very proud of this screenplay and I think it would be amazing to be a successful screenwriter one day.
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Stuck A story of a man forced to relive one hour for the rest of
his life with no way to escape. Nicole Pieretti
INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM-‐DAY
MYRON CASTLEMAN is lying in bed staring at his white ceiling. At 35 years of age, his hair is already thinning. His eyes are sunken in, his skin is ghostly white, and his
complexion is blotchy. Footseps are heard coming up the stairs. Myron’s door opens and PAM, a woman about 75 with short white curly hair and
deep wrinkles around her eyes comes into the room.
PAM Myron? What the hell are ya doing? Why aren’t you at work? Don’t you have that meeting with Mr. Kern
today?
MYRON Ugh.
PAM Are you drunk again? Is that a whiskey bottle on your desk?
Pam walks briskly to his desk and picks up the empty bottle.
PAM Damnit, Myron! I told you, you can only stay here if you help pay! You can’t do that if you’re always
drinkin’!
MYRON Dammit ma, when will this sink into your rotting brain?! In 20 minutes you will be standing in the kitchen making that coffee thats in your
hand.
PAM Jesus Christ, Myron! I’m sendin’
25
you away if you keep this crazy shit up.
Myron pulls the covers over his eyes and groans loudly.
MYRON Why, God? Why?!
PAM
I’m going to the ma-‐
MYRON The market. Yes, yes. I know.
Goodbye.
Myron’s door slams and he throws the covers off of his head. He picks up the newspaper that reads FLORIDA TIMES at the top. Below, a headline reads,"IT IS COMING."
Myron reads the lines beneath the headline like he does some
mornings. "Physisct R.M. Burns reports that the time loop will occur on May 1st, 2020 at 10:00 A.M." "The third and fourth dimensions will come crashing together leaving us reliving one hour over and over again: 10 A.M to 11 A.M." "We will not be conscious of it, but it will nonetheless be
happening."
MYRON Not be conscious of it my ass.
Myron throws the newspaper across the room. He looks at the small, black alarm clock next to his bed. 10:59 A.M.
MYRON
Welp, that was a waste of an hour. His vision begins to get blurry and his head starts feeling
prickly like usual. Everything then goes black.
TIME LOOP INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron’s eyes snap open. He is staring at his white ceiling.
His alarm clock reads 10:00 A.M.
MYRON Time to get more whiskey.
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Myron throws the sheets off of him and stands slowly. He is wearing a ratty white t-‐shirt that is too short revealing a bit of his hairy, round stomach. He walks to his door and
into the hallway. Pans are clanging in the kitchen. He tip toes down the
stairs but the wooden planks creak loudly.
PAM Myron? That you?
MYRON
(from the stairs) Yes, ma. Who else would it be?
PAM
Oh, hush. You want a cup of coffee?
MYRON No. I’m heading to the office. See
you later.
Myron trudges down the rest of the steps careful not to let his mom see him and what he is wearing.
PAM
Want anything from the market?
MYRON No.
Myron slams the back door behind him.
EXT. SIDEWALK
Myron squints up at the sun and pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his stained red shorts.
MYRON
Fuck this heat.
Myron looks at his watch. It reads 10:13.
MYRON Better get a move on.
27
Myron begins walking briskly down the street. A small shopping center is seen across the highway. He waits for a clearing and crosses. A car whizzes by just missing him and
he throws up the middle finger. LIQUOR STORE is in big, bold red letters at the top of a
small, dingy looking place.
INT.LIQUOR STORE
RANDY WALTER, a tall, thin man about 60 years old with a scar running from his ear to the corner of his mouth greets
Myron from behind the register.
RANDY Hey there, Myron. What are you
doin’ here so early on a Wednesday?
MYRON Ah, you know. My mom loves that
whiskey.
RANDY Pam! Hows she doin?
MYRON
Good, good.
RANDY Man, I miss that woman! You tell her to come get her alcohol herself and visit me. Hows her health?
MYRON
Not better, not worse. She’s still her old feisty self.
RANDY
Ha! I bet. I remember when I still lived across the street she always gave me hell for not properly
watering my flowers.
MYRON Sounds like her. I’d love to catch up, but I’m in a bit of a rush.
28
RANDY Oh, sure sure. Here I am talkin’
your ear off when you probably have to get back to work. Go ahead. Whiskey is down that isle.
Randy points to the third isle.
Myron walks to the isle with the whiskey, grabs a bottle and then heads to the counter.
He pulls some crinkled cash from his pocket and places it on the counter before Randy gives him a price.
Randy takes the money and begins pushing buttons on the register.
RANDY
So you still workin’ at that accounting firm? Your mom used to rave about you becoming CEO one
day. Ah, what a proud mother-‐always bragging about ya.
MYRON
Uh, yeah. Still working there.
Randy puts his bottle of whiskey in a brown paper bag and places it on the counter with a big smile revealing his
crooked yellow teeth.
RANDY Well you tell her I say hello. She
still go to that tiny italian market down town?
MYRON
(mumbling) Sure does. Every hour.
RANDY
What was that?
MYRON Nothing. Have a nice day.
29
RANDY So long!
Myron takes the bag from the counter and leaves the store.
EXT. SHOPPING CENTER PARKING LOT
Myron steps out of the store and sees a red toyota pull up in the parking lot. LAURA FRAY, a frumpy woman wearing a
blue dress that is too tight steps out. Myron tries to hide behind a cement pillar.
LAURA
Myron? Is that you?
MYRON (under his breath)
Fuck.
Laura begins walking towards where Myron is standing just outside the liquor store.
Myron looks at his watch. Its 10:26.
LAURA Hey there, stranger.
MYRON Hi Laura.
LAURA
I haven’t seen you in awhile.
MYRON Yeah, sorry ’bout that. I’ve been
busy.
Laura looks at the brown bag in his hand. Myron shifts uncomfortably and looks at his watch.
LAURA
Guess you’re not working’ at JP Accounting anymore.
MYRON
What makes you say that?
30
LAURA Well, you just bought a bottle on a
Wednesday morning. She looks him up and down.
LAURA
And you’re wearin’ an old ratty t-‐shirt. Doesn’t look like JP Accounting attire to me.
MYRON
Yeah, well I’m taking a few days off. I’m kind of in a hurr-‐
LAURA
Look Myron. I thought we had a nice time on our date and then no text or call? I need to know why.
MYRON
We did bu-‐
LAURA But nothing. I should’ve known you’d be like every other guy.
MYRON
You talked to me about marriage!
LAURA So...?
MYRON It was our first date!
LAURA
I felt something between us! We had a connection, a spark, a-‐
MYRON
Look, Laura. I gotta go.
LAURA Don’t cut me off! We need to talk
about this.
31
MYRON We have-‐ just a couple of hours ago
actually.
LAURA What the hell are you talking
about?
MYRON I saw you a couple of hours ago
when I needed to get another refill.
Myron holds up the brown paper bag sarcastically.
MYRON
And here you were. Givin’ me shit for not calling you.
LAURA
What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve seen you since
our date. Are you insane?
MYRON Possibly.
LAURA
You’re delusional!
MYRON Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’ll tell me that again in a few hours. Maybe less depending on how quick I can
finish this whiskey.
LAURA You are seriously disturbed. Mryon looks at his watch. 10:50.
MYRON
Dammit. I gotta go. See you soon.
Myron leaves Laura standing there with a confused look on her face.
32
INT. MYRON’S HOUSE
Myron walks into his house, cracks the bottle and starts chugging. His watch reads 10:56.
MYRON
(speaking to the ceiling) Why am I the only one that knows?!
Why God? WHY?!
Myron’s vision begins to blur and then everything goes black.
TIME LOOP. INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
White ceiling.
Myron is still clutching the whiskey bottle in his hand. He unscrews it and continues drinking. 10:00 a.m. Footsteps are heard coming up the stairs.
MYRON Fuck.
Myron hides the whiskey bottle under his bed and runs to the bathroom. At the same time the bathroom door slams his
bedroom door opens.
PAM Myron? You in here?
MYRON
(from the bathroom) In the bathroom, ma!
PAM
Why aren’t you on your way to that meeting with Mr. Kern yet? Don’t
you want that promotion?
MYRON Yeah, ma. I’m gettin’ ready.
PAM
Well hurry up! I’m goin’ to the market. Want anything?
33
MYRON No.
Pam closes his door and her footsteps are heard descending the stairs. Myron comes out of the bathroom.
He looks at his phone sitting on his desk. He walks over to it and clicks it on.
Close up of phone. Countless missed called from Mr. Kern. Texts and calls from Laura. Messages and calls keep coming
in. He quickly turns it back off.
MYRON Jesus.
He throws the phone back on the desk and reaches under the bed. 10:13. Myron chugs from his whiskey bottle. He grimaces
and shakes his head like a dog. He looks back at his phone on his desk and smiles wickedly. He picks it up, turns it on, and dials Mr. Kern’s number.
MR. KERN (V.O)
Myron! Where are ya? Didn’t we say 10 o’clock?
MYRON
Yes, we did.
MR. KERN (V.O) Get caught in traffic or something?
MYRON
No, nothing like that. I just don’t feel like coming anymore.
MR. KERN (V.O)
Don’t want to come anymore? What the hell are you talking about?
MYRON
Honestly, Mr. Kern, I think you’re a disgusting human being and working for you was the most
dreadful thing I have ever endured.
MR. KERN (V.O) What the f-‐
34
MYRON
Don’t interrupt me please, its rude. I also think you’re an
asshole for cheating on your hot wife with that slutty secretary of
yours. God knows how many STDS she has.
MR. KERN (V.O)
How did you.. thats not true! You’re making things up. You can’t
prove anything.
MYRON Don’t worry, Mr. Kern, I wasn’t planning on telling people your little secret. You should be thanking me actually.
MR. KERN (V.O)
Thanking you for what?
MYRON Well, while you were off
galavanting with that little girl, I was keeping your wife occupied.
MR. KERN (V.O)
What the hell does that mean?!
MYRON I think you know what it means.
MR. KERN (V.O)
You’re finished Myron Castleman! Finished!
MYRON
Have a lovely day, Mr. Kern. And by the way -‐ your wife is amazing in
bed.
Myron clicks the phone off and smiles stupidly. The room begins to spin. 10:26. He sits down on his bed. His eyes are heavy and he begins to lean backwards. He passes out.
35
TIME LOOP.
Myron jumps up in bed. It’s 10:00 a.m.
MYRON Ugh.
Footsteps are heard coming up the stairs. Pam opens his door and walks in.
Pam looks at the bottle of whiskey on the floor. Only a few sips are left.
PAM
God dammit Myron! What are you doing?
Pam’s face is turning red and her eyes are bulging.
MYRON
Ma, calm down.
PAM NO! Why are you drinking? You’re useless! You drink all weekend and now you’re drinkin’ during the week too? I didn’t raise you to be this
way!
MYRON You didn’t raise me at all! Dad
did! And where is he? Dead. Cause you nagged him all day and he
killed himself.
Pam’s mouth dropped a little. She looked at him and tears formed in her eyes.
MYRON
Ma, I-‐ I didn’t mean that.
Pam turns around and walks out of his room.
MYRON Ma!
No answer. Shit.
36
MYRON
Myron lies back down and closes his eyes. He quickly drifts off to sleep.
TIME LOOP.
INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron’s eyes open. His eyes are red and the circles beneath his eyes are dark.
He looks at his little black alarm clock. It is 10:00 a.m. Myron gets out of bed and walks downstairs.
INT. KITCHEN
MYRON Ma?
No answer.
MYRON Myron goes into the living room. He looks around but no one
is in there. Myron walks back upstairs.
INT. PAM’S ROOM
Myron sees Pam lying in bed. She looks like she is sleeping.
MYRON Ma?
Myron walks over to her and gently shakes her arm. Her eyes stay closed. She looks very still.
MYRON
Ma? Ma? Wake up!
Myron shakes her harder this time and still she does not move. Her skin is ghostly white.
Myron checks the pulse on her wrist. He falls into the bed crying.
MYRON
No, no, no! How can you leave me now? I need you!
37
Myron sits up and wipes the tears from his eyes. He pulls the white blanket over her head. He walks around to the other side of the bed and lies down. He shuts his eyes.
TIME LOOP INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron stares at his white ceiling. He is back in his
bedroom. It is 10:00 a.m. He begins crying.
Something hits his window. He jumps out of bed and looks out the window. No one is there. He looks across the street. There is a beautiful woman sitting on a bench. She is
wearing a long red dress and her black hair falls just past her breasts. She looks up at him.
Myron runs downstairs and out the front door.
EXT. SIDEWALK
Myron stands on the sidewalk looking across the street at the beautiful, mysterious woman sitting on the bench. She looks at him and a small smile creeps across her lips.
Myron steps into the street. A loud horn sounds and CRASH. A mac truck hits him and his
body flies into the air. His bloody limbs are strewn all over the street.
Onlookers rush towards the road and everything begins fading to black.
TIME LOOP INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron’s eyes snap open and he is staring at his bedroom
ceiling.
MYRON Why am I still alive?
His alarm clock reads 10:00.
MYRON MA! MA!
Myron leaps from his bed and runs into her room. She is
still lying there lifeless beneath the covers.
38
MYRON NO, NO, NO! Why won’t you come back
to life too?
Myron slams hit fist into the wall and breaks through the plaster.
He falls to his knees and begins crying in the fetal position.
MYRON
Just kill me, God! Please! Myron slowly stands and walks back into his bedroom. He
looks at his empty whiskey bottle. INT. LIQUOR STORE 10:15
Randy is sitting at his chair at the register reading a newspaper. He looks up when he sees Myron walk in.
RANDY
Myron! How you doing?
MYRON (mumbles) Morning, Randy.
RANDY
What are you doin’ here so early on a Wednesday?
Myron ignores him and heads straight for the whiskey. He grabs the bottle and heads to the counter. His eyes are still bright read from crying and two of his knuckles are
bloody from when he punched the wall.
RANDY You’re not lookin’ so good, Myron.
You all right?
MYRON Fine.
Myron throws money on the counter. Randy takes the money, eyeing him suspiciously and counts it.
39
RANDY Umm, looks like you’re a dollar
short.
Myron begins digging through his pockets and comes out with some lint and a nickel.
RANDY
Don’t worry about it, Myron. I’ll spot ya this time.
Randy puts his bottle in a brown paper bag and sets it on
the table.
MYRON Thanks, Randy. I appreciate it.
RANDY
Don’t mention it. Tell Pam I say hello.
Myron walks quickly out of the store without saying a word.
EXT. SHOPPING CENTER PARKING LOT
Myron sees the red toyota pull into the parking lot and he begins walking briskly in the opposite direction. He turns
the corner quickly and collides with someone.
MYRON Shit!
The woman from the bench outside of his apartment regains her composure.
MYRON
Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry are you okay?
The woman looks at him and begins smiling. Her big brown eyes are captivating and her long black hair flows
flawlessly in the wind.
40
WOMAN I’ve been looking for you.
MYRON
Uh, what?
WOMAN I saw you get hit by that truck. I was hoping your death wasn’t
permanent.
MYRON Wait... You know? You know about
everything? The woman looks at the small gold watch on her wrist. She
leans into Myron, her lips brushing against his ear.
WOMAN (whispering)
3...2...1.
Everything goes black.
TIME LOOP INT. MRYON’S BEDROOM
Myron leaps from his bed and throws off his clothes
revealing a big hairy stomach and whitey tighties. He puts on a red collard shirt and khaki shorts. He looks at his alarm clock: 10:02.
Myron rushes down the stairs and out the front door.
EXT. OUTSIDE OF MYRON’S HOME
He looks frantically around. Drips of sweat begin to form on his forehead.
WOMAN VOICE
Myron? Myron, is that you?
Myron whips his head around excitedly and sees MEGAN KERN (38) is walking towards him. Her hips sway back and forth in
a tight red dress.
MYRON Shit.
41
MEGAN
How are you Myron? I haven’t seen you since we-‐
MYRON
I can’t get into this with you right now. I’m kind of in the
middle of something.
Myron is looking around not paying attention to her.
MEGAN Fine, be that way, but I’m telling
him.
MYRON Do what you want, Megan. It doesn’t
matter.
MEGAN How doesn’t it matter? You slept with your boss’ wife, how can you
just not care?
MYRON Because -‐ wait ... what are you
even doing down here?
Megan says something but he isn’t listening. He sees the woman walking across the street, her black hair flowing in
the wind. Myron runs after her leaving Megan standing in the street. He turns his head briefly back around but Megan is no longer
standing there. He gets to the end of the street and sees the woman sitting
in MEL’s DINER.
INT. MEL’S DINER
Myron rushes through the doors and up to the woman sitting at a table in the corner.
42
MYRON (out of breath) Mind if I sit?
The Woman nods her head slowly and smiles. Myron looks at his watch. 10:35 and sits.
MYRON
We don’t have much time to talk but I-‐
A waiter walks up to their table.
WAITER
What can I get for you? Something to drink?
MYRON
Uh, just a coke please.
WAITOR Nothing to eat?
MYRON
I’m kind of in the middle of a conversation, do you mind?
The waiter looks at him with a confused look on his face.
MYRON
Please! I don’t have much time.
The waiter gives him a strange look and walks away. Myron looks back at the woman.
MYRON
So, please tell me who you are.
WOMAN We don’t have enough time for that
now, Myron.
Myron looks at the red clock on the wall: 10:55. The woman slips a note across the table.
43
MYRON Whats this?
Myron eyes the note then grabs it and puts it in his pocket. He looks up at the clock and everything begins getting
blurry.
TIME LOOP INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron digs into his pocket and unfolds the note. Up close of
the note: In beautiful cursive handwriting it reads, "Crystal Lake"
Myron springs from his bed and he is out the door in 30 seconds.
EXT. SIDEWALK
Myron runs down the street and turns onto Juniper. He bumps
into an older man.
OLDER MAN Hey, asshole! Watch where you’re
goin!
Myron ignores it and keeps running, sweat is dripping from all pores of his body. Sweat stains are peeking from
underneath his armpits as he makes his way to Crystal Lake Avenue. He turns onto the street and goes through a gate
that reads, "CRYSTAL LAKE"
EXT. CRYSTAL LAKE
Myron’s feet make loud crunching sounds as he walks on the white and gray pebbles. The royal blue water is surrounded by docks for fishing. He scans the area. She is no where in sight. He climbs the steps and walks to the end of a dock
and sits. He looks at his watch: 10:25.
Ripples begin to form out in the water and he perks his head up. Something is swimming towards him. Then he realizes it is her. She climbs up the dock steps and stands before him. She is wearing a white bikini and the water is dripping down
her tan body.
44
MYRON Wow. You look like a goddess.
WOMAN
Come here, Myron.
Myron stands and walks towards her.
MYRON Please tell me who you are.
WOMAN
We don’t have enough time for that now. Come closer.
Myron is now standing inches from her. He puts his hands on her waist and feels her wet body. He leans in and kisses her slowly at first. She lets out a small moan and he starts
feeling every inch of her body. Myron pulls away from her lips.
MYRON
This feels like a dream.
WOMAN (whispering)
I can make all of your dreams come true.
Myron dives back into the kiss and begins moving his hand
down her stomach. He reaches underneath her bikini bottoms and she lets out another small moan.
He pulls away again.
MYRON What if we run back to my place
now? Maybe we could be together at the start of the next hour.
WOMAN
That’s not how it works, you know that. MYRON
But maybe we could just try and-‐and-‐ if it doesn’t work we’ll
45
keep trying different things until something works.
Myron looks at his watch: 10:55.
WOMAN
I don’t think so, Myron.
MYRON But why? We need to be together.
WOMAN
You’re wasting time. Myron looks at his watch. Two minutes.
MYRON
Where can I find you next?
WOMAN I’ll find you.
MYRON
My address is-‐
WOMAN I know where you live.
The Woman begins smiling slowly, a dangerous look in her eyes. Myron stares into her eyes as everything around them
begins to blur.
TIME LOOP INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron gets up and sits at the end of his bed. He puts his
head in his hands.
MYRON I can’t give up on her.
Myron rushes downstairs and out the door.
EXT. STREET
46
Myron searches everywhere for her. He runs up and down the street, ignoring angry protests from people he runs into. He goes to the diner, but she is not there. He sits on a bench
and breaths heavily.
MYRON Fuck.
Myron slowly stands and walks to the liquor store. 10:25.
INT. LIQUOR STORE
RANDY Hey there, Myron! What are you
doing here so early on a Wednesday?
MYRON Not now, Randy.
Myron heads straight for the whiskey, uncaps it and begins drinking it right there in the store.
RANDY
Hey, Myron! Whats wrong with ya? You can’t do that!
Myron wipes his mouth and walks to the register where Randy is sitting.
MYRON
I can do whatever I want.
RANDY Whats botherin’ ya? Is everything
okay?
MYRON Have you seen a beautiful woman with long black hair around here?
RANDY
No. Never seen anyone that looks like that.
MYRON Of course not.
47
RANDY You gonna pay for that?
Myron looks at the bottle and starts chugging from it again.
MYRON Probably not.
RANDY
Me and your mom go way back and all but I can’t let ya have it no
charge.
MYRON (slurring)
Well, guess what? She’s dead. Myron slams the bottle down on the counter and smashes it. Whiskey spills all over the counter and blood dribbles from
his hand.
MYRON (laughing)
Wow! Would ya look at that? Randy rushes over to the phone and three high pitched beeps
sound from it.
MYRON Yeah, yeah. Call 911, do whatever you want. Not like it matters.
Myron walks out of the store swaying from side to side.
EXT. PARKING LOT
Myron looks out into the parking lot and sees her. She is standing in the middle of the parking lot looking at Myron
and smiling. Myron looks at his watch. 10:50.
He runs to her as fast as he can but he is stumbling and running into parked cars. His vision starts to blur.
MYRON No! no! no!
The last thing he sees is her face looking upon him with
48
that dangerous smile.
TIME LOOP INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron cries loudly in his bed.
MYRON
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Kill me already!
He stumbles to his feet and throws his red collard shirt off. He punches his bed furiously. His face is red, his eyes are watery and sweat is coming down his forehead.
MYRON
(yelling) MA! I need you!
Myron begins sobbing into his bedsheets.
WOMAN V.O
I’m here Myron.
Myron perks his head up and looks around.
MYRON Ma? Is that you? Where are you?
WOMAN V.O
I’m here Myron, I’m here.
MYRON I need you Ma, I don’t know what to
do.
The room is silent. Myron stands up and wipes his eyes. He digs into his khaki shorts and pulls out the note the Woman gave to him at the diner. He opens it. Close up of the note. It reads "Crystal Lake" but it is no longer in the beautiful
cursive. It is his own messy chicken scratch.
MYRON What the...
49
Myron stares at the note. His head begins to feel fuzzy. It
is only 10:25. He begins to see images of himself at the diner-‐he was
sitting alone. He begins to see past memories of images of newspaper
headings-‐CRYSTAL LAKE CLOSED DUE TO CONTAMINATION
MYRON No…
He runs out of his room and down the stairs.
EXT. STREET
Cars are whizzing by and he looks across the street to the bench where he first saw her. She is there. Sitting there,
smiling. He runs across the street dodging cars.
MYRON You’re not real...
WOMAN
What are you talking about, Myron?
MYRON You’re not real!
WOMAN
Aw, Myron. Have you been drinking again? What did I tell you about drinking so much whiskey?
The Woman’s voice suddenly changes to Pam’s voice.
WOMAN
What did I tell you about all that drinking, Myron?
MYRON
(yelling) This isn’t real!
The Woman begins laughing wickedly. Myron shuts his eyes and shakes his head furiously back and forth.
50
MYRON
No, no, no.
Myron opens his eyes and the Woman is gone. He looks at the street that is crowded with moving cars. He walks to the
edge of the road.
MYRON Fuck this.
He steps into the road and SMASH. A red toyota hits him sending his limp body into the air. He lies in a deformed position on the side of the road. His head is twisted
halfway around and his limbs are twisted into different positions.
Everything begins to get blurry as people rush to him.
TIME LOOP INT. MYRON’S BEDROOM
Myron opens his eyes and he is staring at his white ceiling.
BLACK.