Burnt

The following was written to a prompt at Go Into The Story: Write a scene up to 2 pages long in which you begin with this line: “Smoke stings his/her eyes.”
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BURNT

INT. URBAN BLIND PIG — AFTER MIDNIGHT

Smoke stings her eyes as NOE sits through another set, slowly nursing a vodka-rocks. She watches guitarist KAL to the exclusion of the rest of his bandmates.

KAL watches NOE, too, blinking away the filmy haze of cigarette and pot smoke as he performs.

The set ends. KAL breaks down and stows his portion of the equipment on the band’s dais. NOE stands, abandoning what’s left of her drink to pace in front of her table as she watches and waits.

CLOSE ON KAL as he approaches NOE, leaning in tight to whisper in her ear

KAL

You deliberately teased the fuck out of me all evening, didn’t you?

NOE

Who, me? Hell no, I—

KAL cuts her off, gripping her chin in his hand as he kisses her breathless, pulling away only after he feels her relax. NOE’s eyes are heavy, her mouth slack, prompting KAL to smirk.

KAL

Yeah, you. Your nasty little skirt kept slipping all night. Every time I looked down I got a flash of your thighs.

Muffled shouts and breaking glass wrenches KAL’s attention away from NOE. Their heads turn in tandem, looking for the source of the noise.

KAL grips her upper arms and pulls her toward him as he whispers in her ear.

KAL

It’s a raid.

NOE

(panicky)

Shit, I can’t be here, my husband—

Wild-eyed, she clutches at his arms as he jerks her along, dragging her toward the back door.

BLACK OUT.

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© Copyright 2013—All rights reserved.

By Femme Malheureuse

Dire Straits

This script was written to a prompt at Go Into The Story for September: Scene Writing Month. The challenge for September 4th: Write a scene featuring two characters sitting on the edge of a bridge.
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DIRE STRAITS (Ver. 1 - shorter)

EXT. STRAITS OF MACKINAW - NAUTICAL MORNING TWILIGHT

CLOSE ON profiles of two teenagers who lean together. Her head rests on his shoulder as they sit, looking toward impending sunrise.

EMMA sighs as SAM shuts his eyes. They listen to the susurrus waves as seagulls squawk overhead and early fishing boats thrum in the distance.

CLOSE ON their hands, joined on his denim-covered thigh. Their hands push back and forth at each other as they talk.

EMMA (V.O.)

You started this. You're the only person who has ever gotten under my skin.

SAM (V.O.)

No, you started this. You've known me since first grade. You know which of my buttons to press.

EMMA (V.O.)

You didn't have to goad me, though.

SAM (V.O.)

And you didn't have to call me a chicken.

CLOSE ON their profiles as they continue to watch the changing light as they talk.

EMMA

You know I can't back down from a dare. Especially in front of people. Like the entire cafeteria. What was up with that?

SAM

You could've stopped right after you swallowed the goldfish in Biology. But no, you had to call me a chicken when I didn't want to eat one, too.

EMMA

Serves you right. You're lucky that goldfish only gave you diarrhea.

SAM

I don't think it was the fish. I think it was nerves. (beat) Are we done now? Did I prove I wasn't chicken? Will you promise not to call me chicken if I don't dare you again?

EMMA

(laughing)

I promise.

SAM

I promise, too.

CLOSE ON the couple as SAM leans into her a bit. SAM kisses EMMA's forehead. EMMA looks up and kisses him back on his lips. They stare at each other again for a moment before looking toward the sun as it peeks over the horizon.

EMMA

(grins broadly)

Race you back to the beach. Last one to hit the sand has to start thumbing for the ride home.

SAM

(looking shocked at first, then intent)

Oh hell no, I'm not thumbing, you are!

VERTICAL PAN UP AND OUT SLOWLY as the couple scrambles from where their seat on the edge of the Mackinaw Bridge deck, more than 150 feet above the water between lakes Huron and Michigan, two miles from the straits' southern shore.

FADE OUT.

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© Copyright 2013 — All rights reserved.

By Femme Malheureuse

Zuklear

ZUKLEAR

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

LANI lies swaddled under blankets in her darkened room. Clock radio reads Weds Aug 28 11:00 AM. ALAN enters room, stopping to take note of his wife’s condition.

ALAN

Are you alright?

LANI

(muffled)

Huh? (beat) What do you think?

ALAN

You’re all bundled up and it’s August. It’s warm in here and it’s even hotter outside. You’ve been like this for days.

LANI

(muffled)

Yeah, well, that happens when people get the flu during summer. I’ve got a fever and I feel chilled because of it.

ALAN

Do you need anything? Are you sure you shouldn’t see the doctor?

LANI

No, I’m drinking fluids, getting rest, and I’m not paying two hundred bucks to sit in a waiting room filled with sick people for two hours just so Doc can tell me my symptoms suggest I’ve got the flu, drink fluids, and rest.

ALAN

Okay, then. I’ll just get you some fresh water. Anything else?

LANI

Can you go to Shelley’s and pick the vegetables in her garden? She left Sunday and won’t be back until Tuesday.

ALAN

Can’t her boyfriend pick the garden? I’ve got a meeting at the office, a lunch meeting, and then a golf match.

LANI

(moans) Jay got a small contract job and won’t be around during the day. Don’t worry about it. We’ll have to hope it doesn’t rain or the vegetables will go nuts.

ALAN

Um, it’s sprinkling now. It’s supposed to pour tonight.

LANI

Thanks. I feel so much better knowing that. (sighs)

ALAN

Go back to sleep. It’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight.

FADE OUT.

INT. HOME OFFICE - EARLY EVENING

LANI is seated at her desk, beneath a calendar displaying the day’s date, Tues September 3. She’s still sniffling a bit and wearing a sweater. LANI picks up the phone on her desk when it rings.

Bake Sale

BAKE SALE

INT. KITCHEN AREA, GREAT ROOM - EARLY EVENING

Single, late twenty-something BETH sits on a stool at the bar in her plush modern apartment as she talks on the phone.

BETH

Sure, sweetie, I can make some cookies for your bake sale. Just because your mom is away on business doesn’t mean you can’t contribute some cookies to the fundraiser.

A large cat jumps up and plops down onto the stool next to her. BETH pets the cat.

BETH

Six dozen, wrapped in individual dozens? No problem, I’ll drop them off in the morning at your school. In the front hall? Sure. (beat) Your auntie loves you too, sweetie. You’re my favorite niece.

(beat) Yes, my only niece. You’re getting awfully smart. Bye for now, Lizzie. (hangs phone on wall)

BETH strides around the bar to the refrigerator and takes out two tubes of cookie dough before turning on the oven and getting out a knife and several cookie sheet pans.

After reading the instructions, BETH proceeds to open a tube of dough and prepare two pans with half of the first tube of dough.

The phone rings as she puts the pans in the oven. BETH answers the phone.

BETH

Hello? Oh, hey. No, I’m just baking some cookies for my niece’s bake sale at school. My sister’s on a business trip.

(beat) Oh hell no, I don’t make the dough, I hate cooking. I’m total fail at it. They didn’t teach that in business school, you know?

(beat) Yeah, it’s not difficult to fake-bake, I’m just using some store-bought dough in tubes. The tough part is PMS-ing. I could eat an entire tube right now before I even bake them. (laughs)

BETH breaks off a big chunk of dough and proceeds to nibble on it while on it while she listens to her caller.

Time Travelnaut Number One

TIME TRAVELNAUT NUMBER ONE

INT. PRIVATE HOME LABORATORY

MR. JOHNSON, a thirty-something year-old scientist, sits on a stool at a lab bench, multiple monitors and a computer before him while above and around him the large room is filled with molecular models and blueprints of equipment.

MRS. JOHNSON, his thirty-something year-old wife, sits on a stool next to him, peering at some calculations and graphic models on the displays as he punches away at his keyboard.

MR. JOHNSON

So you see, there’s no good reason based on these peer-reviewed calculations why women can’t time travel. It’s just gender-biased nonsense in science fiction that prevents us from seeing both women and men attempt to leap ahead to the future.

MRS. JOHNSON

Well, I’m game if you’re game. We don’t have kids, the house is paid off, my will is made out. I’ll give it a shot and be the first female human guinea pig, so to speak. Send me to the future!

MR. JOHNSON

I’m concerned, of course. There’s no absolute guarantee this is safe. But I’m okay with this if you’re okay. Let’s give it a whirl. The equipment is ready whenever you are, dear.

The pair jump off their stools and cross the lab, approaching a large, stainless steel box about the same size as a commercial freezer, fitted with many electronic displays, buttons, lights, wires, tubes, and switches.

MRS. JOHNSON slips on a nondescript jacket with a small flower-like brooch on the lapel. MR. JOHNSON adjusts the lapel and then turns on a small video display next to the box. The brooch appears to be a spy camera, currently showing MR. JOHNSON as he continues to fuss with the brooch before closing the top button of his wife’s jacket.

MR. JOHNSON turns on video cameras inside and outside the box. More displays outside the box show both the empty interior of the box and the couple outside the box.

MRS. JOHNSON waves to the small exterior camera pointed in her direction, before reaching out for her husband to give him a hug and a brief kiss.

Hot Enough

HOT ENOUGH

EXT. LOCAL MUNICIPAL PARK

MR. FREEZE and BATMAN sit an arm’s length apart at one end of a very long park bench in summer afternoon sun. The once-green grass around them has dried down and yellowed. The park is quiet except for the sound of children playing in a fountain and a dog barking in the distance.

MR. FREEZE

(as if to himself)

I don’t remember it ever being so hot that I didn’t feel like committing mayhem.

BATMAN

(beat) I don’t remember it ever being so hot that I couldn’t be bothered about your troublemaking.

(beat) I’m so uncomfortable I can’t move.

They sit motionless, a warm breeze playing with BATMAN’s cape as it hangs over the bench. MR. FREEZE pulls a handkerchief out of his pants’ pocket and blots his forehead, his brow knotted in frustration.

MR. FREEZE

Damn it. It’s so fucking hot today, my makeup is melting.

BATMAN

(beat) Tell me about it. My nuts are deep-frying in this stupid Spanx suit.

BATMAN wiggles his right leg as if to ease his groin. The two men continue their vigil.

Hi Hello

No segue eased him into her life, merely an abrupt switching of the line as the help desk engaged different departments.

 “And now we turn over the month-end migration to local support in Seattle. Chicago project management will stay on to assist.”

 A click and then just the two of them, keeping each other company.

 Software chugged, hard drives churned, creating grey data snow while his deep-as-night voice kept her company during the longest hours.

With a click Manila cut in as dawn approached; Chicago was gone until next month.

But then emails arrived, asking first about business. Then about Seattle; questions unfinished from last month-end were re-asked and answered.

She couldn’t imagine a month-end without hearing his voice.

 Until suddenly it wasn’t him. She was heartsick; he was the only thing that made the lonely midnight shift bearable during those long, dark hours.

 She debated about finding another job as she eked through her shift.

 This was the last month-end I’ll work, she thought as she shut her office and entered the foyer.

 “Hi,” said a familiar voice with a Chicago accent.

 “Hello,” she smiled, realizing only now that she had much to look forward to before next month-end.
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Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 200
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 30
Photo prompt: origin unknown