My 30 Second script:
EXT. – DAYTIME – A deceased mansion occupies the entire frame, with the whole area covered in rubble and black charcoal. The entire situation seems bleak – there is leftover smoke from when the firefighter’s – who are currently preoccupied with a broken piece on their fire engine – took out the fire, and a heavy fog covers the area. The only thing that juxtaposes this picture of death is the standing room in the middle, which somehow miraculously survived the fire.
CUT TO: A woman in a long, black coat and black hat that covers her features walks over. The camera TRACKS her as she walks over to a pile of cast-aside rubble and stands on it, her gaze focusing on the room in the centre.
A CU of her face reveals her brown eyes and determined gaze. She checks her watch, clearly telling herself that for some reason, this is the right time to follow through with her goals. She continues to walk to the centre of the destruction, stops as she reaches the door to the lone room, and enters a microcosm of the universe that once existed before the fire.
INT. – Inside the room – it is clearly decorated in expensive wallpaper, with paintings from around the world hanging on the wall. A coffee table, two chairs, and a turntable – quietly playing Le Gazza Ladra Overture – stands in the centre of the room. On old man occupies one of the chairs, his focus clearly on the letters and novel he is holding.
The woman we have come to briefly form a sense of knowing with sits in the opposite seat, the old man not being disrupted by this. Instead, while still focusing on the objects in his hand, he says:
You know it was them, who did this.
Yes. I know. I’ll be quicker next time, I’m sorry.
For the first time the old man looks up. He frowns.
It’s not your fault. You’ve been born into this world, there’s nothing you could do to escape being part of this…but there is something you can do to ensure you do not die because of this world, but I think you know that already. Am I correct?
I thought so.
He takes the letters and novel in his hand, puts them in a brown bag, carefully, and hands them to the woman.
OLD MAN [CONT.]:
I want you to have these. They are the only things that can save you. Decipher each and every letter your mother and father sent to each other; ensure you understand every page of the book – the notes are just as important as the text itself. I can no longer continue to go on anymore, but I know you can. When you leave this room you will not be in the same place you were when you entered it – physically and mentally – I need you to be prepared for this, do you understand?
The old man had adopted a worrying expression on his face, and was growing paler and paler by the second. The woman nodded, understood this was their last conversation, and, with no words being said – just a simple nod from one to the other, showing their mutual respect, they parted ways.
EXT. LONG SHOT of the door. It opens, and the woman’s face is shocked. The camera PANS OUT SLOWLY to reveal that she is in the middle of an ocean, with an ambitious jump between wear she stands at the edge of the door and a ship opposite. She makes the leap, the bag containing the documents intact.
My storyboards (my drawings are so bad and so is my handwriting please don’t judge me I am not gifted):