Wanting and Giving [Revised]

Silver labret-
she’s learning to play the keys,
in her head there’s a melody;
she wants someone to sing her a song.

Black nails-
she’s studying the masters,
in her head there’s a canvas;
she wants someone to paint her a picture.

Eyes hide behind brown hair-
she’s reading all the classics,
in her head there’s a man and a woman;
she wants someone to tell her a story.

My head is low,
my eyes shut,
above the stolid ivory runnels
I abide, creating nothing.

Theef

[Viejo.]


Would be smart of me to
write it down,
just can't seem to
find the time.
sleep and bed
are my best friends
but sloth has stolen
all my rhymes.

The Birth of Stanley Harbor

[This one is not in the same vein as the others....It is much older.]


They lifted the mast,
slowly his eyes fluttered
open.
They all gasped, amazed,
trapped by the blackness
and the coldness of his gaze.
They collected themselves,
asked him his name.
Could he remember?
Was he healthy?
Even sane?
He rubbed the dark marbles
in his face.
"Stanley," he said with a voice
like burnt ice.
"Stanley Harbor is my name."

The Only Star (Later Scene)

[Same disclaimer as before. Oh, and just to fill you in: John awakens and he is no longer in outer space. His ship has washed up on a strange beach with palm trees and gray skies. He gets out to explore this latest unbelievable phenomenon.]

EXT. White-sand beach, day

John staggers through the sand, weighed down by his flight suit. He regards these new surroundings with amazement and disbelief. After traversing the beach for several more minutes, he comes across a fantastic sight: A large plane, beached on the shore like a giant, silver whale.Suddenly, a voice calls to him from the treeline.

VOICE:

Hello there!

John turns to see an oddly-dressed man walking towards him from the trees. The man comes to a stop in front of John and salutes, and John realizesthat this man's strange outfit is in fact an old, brown flight suit.

MAN:

(Still holding his salute)

First lieutenant Leonard G. Johnson, sir.

JOHN:

Where are we? What is this place?

Leonard does not answer, but frowns slightly as he waits for John to return his salute. John returns the salute impatiently, and Leonard's frown disappears.

LEONARD:

Why, this is the island of lost travelers, sir! At least, that's what we've taken to calling it, ever since we washed up here. That's my bird, right there.

Leonard points to the silver plane on the beach.

LEONARD:

Where's your ship, sir?

JOHN:

(Ignoring the question)

This isn't earth. It can't be... can it?

LEONARD:

(Amused)

No, I should think not! I've been here for some time, I'd say, and I haven't aged one minute...haven't had a bite to eat, either. Besides, how many deserted islands are there on earth that lie in oceans that never see any sign of seaship or airplane? No, I'd say we've all left earth pretty far behind, sir.

Leonard begins to walk toward the beached airplane; John follows.

JOHN:

But how long have you been here, exactly? How many months, or how many years?

LEONARD:

(Shaking his head)

I don't think you understand. This place is special. There's no day and there's no night. Do you even see a sun?

John surveys the sky, and to his surprise sees no trace of the sun in the gray sky.

JOHN:

(Softly)

Jesus....

LEONARD:

You seem surprised, sir. Why should any of this be so hard to believe, after what you've been through. Wasn't the way you came here incredibly strange? What about the lonely star?

JOHN:

(Surprised and slightly suspicious)

How do you know about the star?

LEONARD:

Everyone sees the star before they come here.

JOHN:

There are others here?

LEONARD:

(Shiftily, quickly)

There used to be.

Leonard steps up to the silver plane and pats its massive side, brushing away patches of wet sand. For the first time, John notices the numbers "441" printed boldly on the shiny metal of the aircraft.

LEONARD:

(Pensively)

October 30, 1954...the last date I ever knew. We were transporting personnel to a naval base in Portugal. We hit some bad weather, so I flew above it- 19,000 feet, like you should. But suddenly the storm clouds just rose right up and grabbed the plane. I tried to go higher, I tried to go lower, but the storm wouldn't let us go. Then, when the clouds cleared away, everything was gone. The ocean, the mountains, hell even the god-damned sky was gone! We were floating in pitch-black; couldn't see anything except the star.... This might sound crazy, but I think we might actually have been flying through outer space! Sounds crazy, I know, but....

John is surveying the airplane with renewed interest. It seems somehow familiar to him. He shakes his head, not paying full attention to Leonard.

JOHN:

Not crazy. Space travel is common now; it has been for about ninety years. The air force carries out many missions in space...cartography, resource location, biological indexes.... I was traveling through space myself before I was brought here.

LEONARD:

(Excited)

You, sir, are a real-live cosmonaut?! Hell, I never thought I would live long enough to meet one- well, I suppose I didn't, not really.Of course, right before I came here there were lots of rumors... all about the damn Russians, of course. Tell me, sir, did they ever actually build that...that "artificial Earth satellite?" Have people visited other planets yet? Is your ship close? May I see it, sir?

John is not listening. He has just realized why the ancient silver airplane seems so familiar.

JOHN:

Wait! Now I remember! Flight four-forty-one. This is the Lockheed Martin Super Constellation that disappeared over the Bermuda triangle! It just vanished without a trace. This ship was supposed to be the most bizarre disappearance in aeronautical history.

LEONARD:

(Happy, flattered)

Well, how do you like that! You've heard the story? Is it a famous story in the future? Am I famous in your time?

JOHN:

Not many people know the story, actually. I read your story in a book. They don't teach things like this in history classes at the academy.... Strange and inexplicable cases usually get swept under the rug.

LEONARD:

(Disappointed)

Oh, I see....

JOHN:

So where are all the personnel you were transporting? Where's your crew?

LEONARD:

(Suddenly very sullen and brooding)

They're gone.

JOHN:

Well then, why are you still here?

Leonard does not answer; instead, he turns away and begins walking back up the beach and towards the trees.

LEONARD:

(Calling over his shoulder)

Come on, I'll show you the island.

The Only Star

[The format isn't quite what it looks like on Celtx, so forgive me.]






INT. space shuttle

John Taggard is strapped into the pilot's chair in the cockpit of a space shuttle. The only thing visible through the front viewports is a single star; all else is absolute black. The light inside the shuttle is fluorescent, white, and harsh. John shows physical signs of suffering extreme cold. He reaches a hand toward a switch labeled "log recorder." He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts, then flicks it on. A green light shines to life, indicating that the device is recording.

John

This is Commander John Taggard aboard the STS Theseus. According to my chronometer, it's been six days, four hours, and twenty-three minutes since I came into contact with theelectrical storm. Navigation systems remain nonfunctional....

John stops speaking as he begins to shake. He folds his arms across his chest for warmth and continues his log, but he now speaks with less confidence.

John

Only systems powered directly by the fuel cells are operational. I still have light, but the climate control is losing power. Interior temperature is steadily dropping. Food and water stores are nearly depleted. I...I still don't know where I am. It doesn't seem possible. I'm completely surrounded by empty space; all recognizable stars have disappeared. Everything is black except....

John's voice trails off. He looks through the front viewport at the lonely star; the only speck of light against the endless, black doldrums.

John

(Losing composure and pretense of military professionalism)

Catherine...Catherine, I know they told me to only record my logs with this, but I don't care. To hell with them. It doesn't matter anymore. I just need you to know what I'm doing. I'm floating in empty blackness. I don't know where the storm took me, but I can only see one star. Cold and dark surround me for infinity, and the only light in all of existence that can reach me comes from one little star.So, Catherine, I'm doing the only thing I can do. I'm orienting myself to reach that star, heading straight for it. I may not know where I am, but I do know where I'm going. I'm coming back to you. You have to be there, because that star is the only source of warmth and light in all the universe right now. How could you be anywhere else? How could you be somewhere in the freezing darkness? No, you're there in the light. I know you're there.

John pauses, pain is etched on his face as he prepares to verbalize the inevitable.

JOHN

I know I won't be alive when you hear this message. It'll take years to reach that star, and I probably have a day left...two at the most.But I want you to know...I want you to know that I didn't die lost and afraid in some damn abyss. I'm on my way out. I'm on the road home. I'm not staying here in the cold and the blackness. I'm leaving it behind for sunlight, and air, and your warmth. That's all I'll think about until it's over.... I promise. I'm not afraid, so don't be sad.

John reaches out a finger to turn off the recorder.

JOHN

Commander John Taggard, STS Theseus...out.

He flicks off the recorder. The green light is extinguished. Once again folding his arms across his chest, he sighs, leans back his head, and closes his eyes.

The Naming

The night was warm and still. I walked a deserted street, carrying with me a red book; a French-English dictionary. This volume was not for reference, as I have never successfully commanded the French language. Rather, I was transporting the book to my home, where it would be used to repair a wobbly table.

Very suddenly and without warning, a monster leapt from the ditch and into my path. He had matted hair and long, sharp teeth, which flashed at me as he spoke.

“You,” growled the monster, pointing hungrily at me with a clawed finger.

“Me?” I asked nervously, which was silly of me to say, since I have already explained that the road upon which I travelled was deserted.

“Yes…you,” said the monster. “I am going to eat your flesh and floss my teeth with your hair.”

I gulped and clutched the dictionary close to my chest.

“Unless…” continued the monster. “Unless you can name me.”

“Name you?” I asked incredulously. “You mean if I guess your name correctly, you won’t devour me?”

“That’s right,” replied the monster, taking a step closer to me. He smelled of dirt and blood. “Name me and you will have nothing to fear.”

Stifling panic scratched at my face. How could I possibly guess this monster’s name? There must be hundreds of monster names…maybe even thousands!

“And what if I guess wrong?” I asked the monster. His answer was a grin full of cruel teeth.

I attempted to suppress a shudder. The chances of guessing the monster’s name correctly seemed astronomical. I would surely die if I did not concoct a scheme for escape. However, the monster was one step ahead of me.

“Don’t think that you’ll outsmart me, boy. You may think yourself clever, but believe me, I am more so.”

“But I’m very quick,” I replied. I was rapidly gaining confidence in the face of such a grim situation. “I’m much quicker than I am clever. I could run from you.” It was true, the monster was terrifying and imposing, but he was also very big; too big to be very quick.

“You can’t escape me,” said the monster, shaking his massive head. “Even if you did manage to escape me this night, I would find you, and I would tear you apart. I would never stop chasing you. If it took me all your life, I would eventually find you.”

This option did not seem much more promising than guessing the monster’s name. In fact, it seemed much less promising. What sort of life could I live if I was forever running from this beast? I resolved, therefore, to name the monster; to face my foe and not live in fear.

Then, hardly knowing what I was doing or why I was doing it, I opened the dictionary I was still holding. I turned to page two hundred and forty three and said aloud the first word that I saw.

“D-Doute,” I said, willing my voice to be steady and brave. “That is your name. You are Doute.”

A moment passed and neither I nor the monster moved. Then, with one last angry growl, the monster lumbered back into the ditch and disappeared into the dark night.

I had done it! I had named my enemy, and in doing so, chased him away. Happily I made my way home, noticing much more keenly how particularly fine the summer air tasted. That night I slept peacefully in my bed, without fear, knowing that I would never again have anything to fear from Doute.

Lamentirely

Mine are unconscionable cave-drawings,
crass, cro magnon.
I have nothing but asterisks and parlor tricks,
playing to the sound of
cymbal splashes and car crashes.

But yours are fine things,
and though they belong to someone else I
still dip in a cold fingertip, touching it to my tongue;
it tastes like seeing places I’ve never been,
like hearing songs that’ve never been written,
like touching the hand of a girl I’ve never met.