EXT. EXPOSED TAB

INT. WEBSITE - DAY

It's a minimalist sight. A blank canvas. White but for those little marks that draw your eye.

IAN IAN, intensely ginger, sits opposite you and offers a warm smile. sits opposite you and offers a warm smile as he swirls a tumbler of the finest scotch. sits opposite you and offers a warm smile as he swirls a tumbler of the finest bourbon. sits opposite you and offers a warm smile as he swirls a tumbler of the finest piña colada? sits opposite you and offers a warm smile as he swirls a mug of tea. sits opposite you and offers a warm smile as he swirls a mug of lukewarm tea.

IAN

You came. I'm really glad to see you. But it's been a while. But it's been a while, hasn't it? Are you well?

A pause.

IAN

You don't have to answer. I guess I should talk, really. This is my website after all...

He takes a sip, sits back.

IAN.

Not much has changed since we spoke last. I still love words. I still make films, which you can gander at below or in the standard portfolio bit.

(beat)

I still code. Sometimes useful things like this site. It's a bit experimental, but I like it. Oh, and now it's meta too? Amazing! I also made a Spotify lyrics finder, and a Reddit post scraper.

He sits forward, nudges his drink to the side.

IAN

But back to us. We lost sight of each other, got distracted. Flashing lights, dreams. All those clichés. We didn't know what we want, but...

Another pause. A fond smile.

IAN

I realised that we want the exact same thing.

(dramatic pause)

To make cool stuff. New stuff. Stuff people look at go "nice". I can't wait to make that cool stuff with you so, now that we're on the same page... Let's start again, yeah?

He sits straight. A good posture is it's own reward, maybe you should... A good posture is it's own reward. Bet you just adjusted your seat. Ian then takes a deep breath, nods, and...

IAN
Hi. So, I'm Ian. You can contact me if you want? I do stuff with words. Music videos. Music videos. Music videos. Music videos. Narrative stuff. Narrative stuff. Storytelling for brands, and games.

INT. SOUL CRUSHING OFFICE - DAY

Grey. Grey walls. walls, grey floor. walls, grey floor, grey faces at grey desks typing grey words. Agressive visual metaphor, that.

Among those desks sits a MAN. Middle-aged, balding.

And he stops typing.

He rips open his shirt.

He sighs.

Looks to the side at his COWORKER, a woman in her 40s.

She freezes, sees him out of the corner of her eye.

And he gives her a little smile. His heart isn't fully in it, but he really is trying.

She narrows her eyes and shakes her head before turning back.

Ooft. Another crushed dream closer to making him live out his true fantasy...

INT. THE FINAL GARDEN - DAY

Intense light.

Intense light filters through the leaves of a grand tree.

Before it lies a long table.

Before it lies a long table draped in white cloth. Sat there are twelve creatures. Embodiments of punishment for sin.

GLUTTONY, ever hungry.

GLUTTONY, ever hungry; The twin LUSTS trapped in caustic pleasure.

GLUTTONY, ever hungry; The twin LUSTS trapped in caustic pleasure; GREED with his beloved gold embedded in him.

GLUTTONY, ever hungry; The twin LUSTS trapped in caustic pleasure; GREED with his beloved gold embedded in him; ANGER melting under burning tar.

GLUTTONY, ever hungry; The twin LUSTS trapped in caustic pleasure; GREED with his beloved gold embedded in him; ANGER melting under burning tar; TREACHERY wearing his sin as a second face.

GLUTTONY, ever hungry; The twin LUSTS trapped in caustic pleasure; GREED with his beloved gold embedded in him; ANGER melting under burning tar; TREACHERY wearing his sin as a second face; VIOLENCE ever suffocating; HERESY turned into a false idol.

Among the monsters sits a SERAPHIM.

Among the monsters sits a SERAPHIM, a guardian angel with six wings. Beside her is the human that she is here to save.

From beneath the table crawls a CHILD wielding a dagger.

The monsters scare him. But he has to be brave...

INT. COLOURLESS COLOUR RESEARCH LAB - UNKNOWN TIME

A mad scientist's laboratory. Posters and scrawled notes about the science of colour cover the walls.

Three absolutely chipper men are hanging out there.

Three old, wise men are behind their work stations. They have been there for a long time. Years of failed experiments surround them, all building to this one.

There's RED.

There’s RED, the chemist toying with chemicals that will power their great machine.

YELLOW, the physicist.

YELLOW, the physicist, preparing the huge machine by flicking switches and checking wires.

A cluster of those cables leads into a giant mechanical eye. BLUE, the biologist, is getting it ready. BLUE, the biologist, is getting it ready by attaching it to a flesh and blood brain.

They are all experts in colour.

They are all experts in colour but they have never seen it. The world they live in is entirely greyscale. The world they live in is entirely greyscale, and their one purpose in life is to discover true colour.

This machine is their best hope yet, and the experiment is about to start...

INT. DISUSED METAL WORKSHOP - DUSK

Dusty. Abandoned. Old machinery and metal sheets have been pushed to the side. In the clearing are four people tied to chairs. Backs to each other, sacks on their heads.

They’re struggling against their bonds.

A figure approaches in heavy boots and a skull ski mask.

He reaches out a gloved hand.

He reaches out a gloved hand and rips the bags from the captive’s heads. The first is scared. the second, defiant. The third is confused...

And the fourth is pretty alright actually.

And the fourth is pure rage. He growls. Swears. Spits.

The masked man rises, walks around the captive.

And kicks him onto his side hard enough to shatter the chair as he hits the floor.

In pain, the CAPTIVE watches as the masked man approaches him. Bends down. Pulls away the mask to reveal…

That the masked man is him. A perfect copy. Sharing his face. Sharing his face, and his anger.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - SOMETIME

werwer

EXT. TRAIN STATION - MORNING

Wind teases rubbish along the mostly empty platform of a British train station.

NORMAN is standing in the middle of that platform.

NORMAN is standing in the middle of that platform, looking around with a mixture of pain and extreme nervousness.

We pan out to see the source of his pain.

We pan out and see the source of his pain: a CHILD is sat by his side.

We pan out and see the source of his pain: a CHILD is sat by his side and striking him hard, over and over, with a hammer.

A TRAIN ATTENDANT walks by not long after. He stops in his tracks as he sees NORMAN's situation.

A pause, and then he approaches.

TRAIN ATTENDANT

(nodding at the child)

What's this? He yours, Sir?

NORMAN

Nope. No.

TRAIN ATTENDANT

Are his... He lost?

NORMAN

Not quite sure. He just came up to me and here I am.

TRAIN ATTENDANT

Oh.

(beat)

Well. Suppose there are worse places for him to be.

INT. WRITER'S STUDY - DAY

[Mid-scene. THE WRITER has realised that the very manuscript he is writing is controlling his world yet is unable to stop.]

He continues to type, jaw tightening and face contorting. A sharp pain is growing in his skull and yet he continues.

THE WRITER (V.O. Cont.)

(reading the script)

His hands move over the typewriter, but he is fitful. Erratic. Distracted by pain deep in his head. Distracted by the aching. Aching. Aching. Aching. ---

THE WRITER’s finger presses against the now jammed ‘A’ key. He pushes it several times, to no success.

THE WRITER (V.O. Cont.)

Suddenly, the-

His finger hovers over the stuck key.

His finger hovers over the stuck key, then moves slowly along the typewriter before writing again:

THE WRITER (V.O. Cont.)

-Key to the left of ‘S’ on the typewriter becomes firmly stuck. THE WRITER fails to dislodge it. He is a failure. Yet his fingers still move fitfully over the typewriter. He is not in control. He is never in control.

He touches his forehead, feels sweat.

EXT. THE BRAND'S ZONE - DAY

A cinema, the lights down low with a blank screen before you. IAN is in the seat next to you, aggresively offering you popcorn. It's good popcorn.

IAN

I'll just be up front about it, I had to decide between this section fitting the script thing I've got going here and it actually making sense for you to browse it.

(pause)

So naturally I'll be writing this as an action scene, each brand becoming some kind of super hero in an epic battle.

So naturally I'll be writing this as an action scene, each brand becoming some kind of transformer in an epic battle.

So naturally I'll be writing this as an action scene, each brand becoming some kind of warrior in an epic battle.

So naturally I'll be writing this as an action scene, each brand becoming some kind of Power Ranger in an epic battle.

So naturally I'll be writing this as an action scene, each brand becoming some kind of Rock-Em Sock-Em Robot in an epic battle.

So naturally I'll be writing this as an action scene, each brand becoming some kind of Batpeople in an epic battle.

So naturally I'll be writing this as an action scene, each brand becoming some kind of Battletoads in an epic battle.

Okay fine. At least it's still exciting. Click here to reveal some of the brands I've been lucky enough to creatively work with.

EXT. MOUNTAIN RANGE - NIGHT

The milky way shines above the white crests of a mountainscape. Before your eyes, that expanse of stars shifts into a question mark.

IAN is just kind of... There.

IAN

Yeah, uh, sorry. This section is coming soon. Soon enough to be worth me adding it to the site so far, not soon enough for me to say when. Anticipation is good, right?

In the meantime, why don't you look at some strange demos I've made in the past? They're nowhere near done, but they might inspire you! CLICK HERE

Ian@IanBousher.com

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