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It is a whirlwind in here

Who Gets The Bottle Of Wine At The High School Reunion?

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I am putting my hand-written manuscript, There Was A Time, Oh, Pilgrim, When The Stones Were Not So Smooth, into the computer. I was coming to the end of my main character’s (Alison Alexandra) high school reunion.

When I type I aim, at the end of day, to be at the end of one of my hand-written pages.

The folk at the table where Alison Alexandra sat, had all trooped up to get the buffet food. When they returned, there was a bottle of wine on the table, with a bow tied around it,  And a card. I was at the bottom of a page.

But I wanted to know who got the wine. So onward I typed.

I’m guessing (hoping)  if it interests me so much to know who got the wine, the reader will give a “Hoot! Hoot! (as did the folk at the table) when the card is read.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

When they reach the food tables, there is not the curiosity from others concerning who is who. Most are intent about filling plates and returning to their tables.

Everyone at their table is getting steak except for Betty, who has opted for the salmon. She also opts to carry Allan’s plate as she sends him on to the bar to get another round of drinks. She looks at Ed and Lee.

“Are you two satisfied with tea and coffee?  Those drinks they are going to bring to the table, carried by sadly inexperienced students.”

“That’s fine with us,” says Lee. “And we can always snag some bottled water.”

Plate in hand they return to their table. In their absence a plate of rolls and butter has been deposited in the middle. There is also a bottle of red wine, with a bow and a note attached.

“Well, well,” says Betty, wanting to immediately open the unaddressed envelope. “I’ve never seen the like of this.”

“A modest but decent bottle,” says Alison Alexandra.

“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” says Betty.

“Maybe you do,” says Alison Alexandra.

Betty Dragger is taken by surprise at the idea and snorts. She then sees Big Stakes Gamble approaching, and clears some space for the drinks he is carrying. He is fast at a sip of his beer before he speaks.

“Who got the wine?”

“We don’t know,” says Betty.

“Then someone should open the card.” He picks up the bottle and hands it to Ed.  “And that sounds like a job for an officer of the law.”

Ed is not sure if a joke is being played, and if it is being played on him. He is as curious as not, so he takes the knife beside his plate and slits open the envelope. He reads the card and laughs.

(Image)https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/previews/000/000/624/non_2x/red-wine-bottle-vector.jpg

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Prank call results in Dominos driver attempting to deliver pizza to The Queen — Royal Central

A prank call resulted in a Domino’s driver attempting to deliver a pizza to The Queen on 6 June. Specifically, it took place after the state banquet in honour of US President Donald Trump at Buckingham Palace. Someone ordered four large cheeseburger pizzas for ‘Elizabeth’ at Buckingham Palace, and then the delivery driver attempted to…

via Prank call results in Dominos driver attempting to deliver pizza to The Queen — Royal Central

Kafka Had A Father For Life

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In Kafka In The Castle, I fill in the ‘missing’ diary entries from Kafka’s real diary. He either did not fill in these days himself, or he destroyed them. There are some estimates that Kafka destroyed 70% – 80% of everything he wrote. 

Kafka’s father gets a bad (and unwarranted) rap from Kafka and history. Hermann Kafka was emotionally distant, and devoted his life to his business (at which he was very successful). But he did this as much for his family, as for any other reason. He had come from hardship, poverty and want, and he wished different for his children. As long as they didn’t get in his way.

++++++++++++

01 January 1917

              There was a cloud caught in the branches of a tree today, outside my parents home. Or so it appeared. I got up from the cot and went to tell Ottla, but she was clearing the kitchen, tending to the dishes.

So I was radical, unthinking – driven by haste – and told the only one not consumed by labour. I told my father.

“In the trees?” he asked.

I propelled him from his chair, thrusting the papers aside. He followed me, and I could see the surprise on his face.

“Where?” he asked; and I pointed out the window. “But I see nothing.”  

“Oh, you have to lie on the cot.”  

“On the cot?”  

“And with your head just so.”

I pushed him onto it, and he lay, looking sideways.

“But you are right,” he said.

I thought, because of the holiday, he might be humouring me, but then I saw that his jaw hung open, and his face was astonished.

Does the boy never grow, that he can feel so good to be vindicated by his father?

Proof of Life as Time Does What Time Does

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What sights indeed are these, that cause the racing clocks to pant their minutes in counterpoint to a life still learning the difference between wretchedness and love?

The swing goes up and the swing goes down, and then goes up again. If you are on that race, with childish yells, and up-down-mess-it-around feelings in the pit of your stomach, they haven’t lowered that coffin lid yet.

No, not yet.

****

What sights indeed are these, that make a heart argue the worth of dying, and ring the bells across the hill when there is no hand upon the rope?

There are happy tunes on the breeze and, yes, even the unicorn lifts its head with twitching ears and mouth agape.

And even (so it has been recorded, in long-ago books) our Lord Jesus God would pause in His ministrations at the wonder of it all.

****

What sights indeed are these, that ease the night’s passage and sow the fields full of restful dawn?

A race against the end is run by all of us; when the kitten kicks and purrs through her ball of string, or when the ancient’s cane tap-taps across the room. Eyes, whether young; or dim; or blind; can still open in amazement, and still marvel at the ever-changing newness.

Marvel and rejoice.

****

What sights indeed are these, that turn all tunes into rhapsodies of joy, and make the moon do gypsy dances through the night sky?

A sky of stars that shower and shake and stream across the galaxies to cram unto the ends of the distant universe. Grains of sand upon the shore would take sensitive fingers, and a lifetime of counting, yet still could never fill this distant space where even numbers stand in awe.

Zeros with mouths agape.

 

(Image) https://wornandwound.com/library/uploads/2017/06/Zytglogge-Bern-Astronomical-Clock-2.jpg

Nixon And Trump Walk Into A Bar

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~ Mr. President.

~ President Tricky.

~You know I’m dead, right?

~I’m not one for details.

~It was details that did me in.

~I just dined with the Queen and was right jolly.

~So?

~So, I didn’t spill soup. I can handle details.

~You didn’t spill soup when we ate together, either.

~We had some good talks then – thanks.

~ You’re trying to replace me.

~ What?

~ In the affections of the American people.

~ Have you been drinking?

~ Fucking A about that. You are ruining my reputation.

~ I don’t even think about your reputation – believe me.

~ But you’re pulling a Nixon.

~ Not even close, Dick. May I call you Dick?

~ Sure, Donny. Is it true you don’t drink?

~ Not a drop.

~ Jesus – you do this stuff sober?

~ I’ve got the Will of the People and the Blessing of God.

~ God doesn’t give a shit.

~ I know that. And neither do the People.

~ They’ll take you down, Donny.

~ That was a big part of your problem, Dick.

~ What?

~ You cared what people thought of you.

~ They brought me down – the bastards.

~ Yeh – but you lived out your life OK.

~ Heh! I became an Elder Statesman.

~ And kept out of prison.

~ If I had sung, I would have brought down the whole corrupt Elite with me.

~ If I drank, I’d drink to that, Dick.

~ So, Donny, do you plan sticking around?

~ While I’m having fun – yeh.

The Naked Man Roller Skates To The Flatiron Building In New York

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After decades, Macmillan, the publisher that produced my two novels, has left the Flatiron Building in New York. I am surprised that this news causes such a pang. But then, those days were exciting and unique

The first description following, is my blog where I describe my first meeting with my editor. During my first trip to New York. Where I first entered the Flatiron Building

The second article is by an editor at Macmillan, describing what it was like to leave the Flatiron Building and move elsewhere.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

My friend Google tells me that “over the transom” is still a viable term. In this case it refers to a manuscript accepted by an editor submitted cold – perhaps even from the dreaded slush pile.

At any rate, my manuscript for A LOST TALE was accepted “over the transom”, and I was asked to New York to meet the editor. Although I had experienced and appreciated Montréal,
Toronto, London, Berlin and other large cities by that time, I had not been to New York. Many events of that trip are memorable, but none more than my “lunch” with the editor.

The editor took me to some dark and trendy place for a late lunch. There were not many people there and, restaurant fiend though I am, the food was not my top priority. Discussion of “the work” and proposed changes was more on the menu for me.

However, as I sit across the table from my editor, I can not help but notice a man seated by himself beside the wall. He is tieless and shirtless and, though the lighting is dim, what there is reflects from his naked skin. He sits with a beverage and seems to hum to himself. My editor is discussing both the menu and some confusion he perceives at the beginning of my novel. I note items on the menu unknown to me and am doubly confused.

The shirtless man at the other table increases the volume of his humming and eventually a waiter goes to him and has words. The shirtless man has words back, but they sound like gibberish. At my table the editor suggests something from the menu and I happily comply. There is wine.

Whilst I eat and listen to suggestions, the shirtless man is spoken to by two other waiters. As I (wisely) restrict myself to a second glass of wine, two uniformed policemen enter the restaurant and approach the shirtless man, whose gibberish had increased even more in volume. In the course of a few minutes three other uniformed police officers – one of them female  – arrive on the scene. They are now ranged around the shirtless man and his table. I finally tell my editor what is happening behind him and why I am not concentrating fully upon his suggestions. He turns around.

Two of the officers remove the table from in front of the shirtless man. Two others, one on each side of him, haul him to his feet. It is then that we see his shirtless state continues all the way to his naked feet. The female officer takes the tablecloth from the table and drapes it around him. The four male officers form a circle around the naked, shrouded man uttering his gibberish, and hustle him from the restaurant. The female officer picks up what appears to be a pile of clothes from beneath the table, and a pair of roller skates, and follows them.

I say to my editor that I have never seen anything like that.

My editor concurs.

[Image]https://untappedcities-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/featured-flatiron-buildingknyc-untapped-cities1-1.jpg

****************************************************************************

Bidding Farewell to the Flatiron Building

Kat Brzozowski, in a photo taken from CEO John Sargent’s office on the Flatiron’s 19th floor.

Today’s the first day that Mac Kids is in our new home at 120 Broadway. We spent the past few weeks packing our work belongings in orange crates, preparing to settle into the Equitable Building in the Financial District, trading our beloved triangle for an H-shaped office (because what would Macmillan be without an unusual layout?). I still remember arriving at the Flatiron Building for my first day 10 years ago. I looked up at the building in awe, thinking, “I can’t believe I get to work there.”

Walking through the Flatiron Building was like traveling through a science museum that showcases different ecosystems—the rainforest, the desert, the tundra. In your office on the 7th floor, you’d be stripped down to a tank top, sweating, with the AC blasting even though it was full-on snowing outside. But travel to the 10th floor conference room, and you’d be covered head to toe, wrapped up in an actual blanket, shivering.

The bathrooms alternated by floor—men on even, women on odd—and we all knew which bathrooms to avoid (the ones so small you’d be bumping elbows with your boss on the way out), and the ones that a friend called “destination bathrooms” (11, with its large waiting area; 19, with a gorgeous view of the city). Those bathrooms were worth the elevator ride. And who knows, while you were waiting—which could take a while—you might run into Jill Biden, or Tyra Banks, or Jim Carrey.

At my first job at Macmillan, at Thomas Dunne Books, I worked on the 17th floor in a sectioned-off area we called “the annex,” but which I thought of as Narnia. No one could ever find me, because my desk was accessed through a door that not every floor had. Yes, every floor was different, giving the building a funhouse feeling as you wove left and right, searching for the conference room or the kitchen anew with each floor.

And each company felt as unique and as special as its floor plan. Mac Kids, where I work now, was a wonderland, with framed art crowding the walls, brightly colored board books packed onto shelves next to classics, and a sparkling energy fueled by employees whose early lives were shaped by books. Walk by one office and you may spy a menagerie of life-size zoo animals, painted freehand by a famous illustrator. Where else but the Flatiron can an artist paint on the walls?

There’s no experience similar to working in the Flatiron Building. We’d bemoan the lack of conference rooms, then brag to our friends that we got to work in that building. We’d complain about the fact that we needed our key cards to get from one side of the floor to the other, then we’d pour out of the doors at lunchtime to get burgers at Shake Shack, or a BLT at Eisenberg’s, or a flat white at Birch Coffee, a plethora of delicious (and affordable) options spread out in front of us like a glorified mall food court. We’d tell our authors, “Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not that nice inside,” then see their eyes light up as they took out their phones to snap a shot from the point office, with views that stretched all the way to Times Square, with the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building so close you felt you could reach out and touch them.

That feeling I had on my first day in 2009 hasn’t gone away. I’ve felt it again and again over the past 10 years, the magic of seeing something from a postcard come to life in front of me. Farewell, Flatiron Building. You’re leaving a triangle-shaped hole in our hearts.

Kat Brzozowski is senior editor at Swoon Reads/Feiwel & Friends.

https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/childrens/childrens-industry-news/article/80191-bidding-farewell-to-the-flatiron-building.html

“Kill Me, Or You Are A Murderer.”

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Franz Kafka was born in 1883, so he would probably be dead had he lived.

I wonder what Kafka would think about the worldwide communication and information of today. He was a rigid fixture of the staid (he hated using the telephone). He also was a keen observer of the world around him (he wrote the first newspaper report about aeroplanes, and he invented the safety helmet). It was more this deep divide in his personality which caused him his problems, about which he so famously wrote.

He did not fit into his personal world, yet he fit into the real world perfectly. He was adored by his friends and by many ladies. He was respected at his work and rose to a position of power. His stories were published to acclaim in his lifetime.

Kafka lived a Kafkaesque life. He died a Kafkaesque death (he caught tuberculosis because he drank “pure” unpasteurised cow’s milk). He was rigid in his personal beliefs (until proved wrong), yet he was a beacon of compassion to others.

Kafka was always on a tightrope. He looked at things with such accuracy that his comments can seem bizarre. Supposedly his last words were:  “Kill me, or you are a murderer.” They were to  his doctor, as Kafka beseeches for an overdose of morphine.

I have written much about Kafka. This is a diary entry I had him write in my novel Kafka In The Castle:

03 July 1917

The anniversary of my birth. In honour of the day, I do not make it my last.

Author Reads An Elephant His Rights

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Tracked down to my apartment, I give a sample reading from my book of short stories, The Elephant Talks To God. And I explain the genesis of the book. Gotta say, it might have been more entertaining to emote some of the Elephant’s poetry.

http://www.authorsaloud.com/prose/estey.html

From The Elephant Talks To God:

The elephant was a curious pachyderm, and followed his persistent quest with a guileless intensity.

“More lucky than smart,” said some of the other elephants, as he blundered his way toward another piece of knowledge. They nodded their heads in his direction with the heavy weight of caution, and warned their small ones that too much thought would make them strange.

“An elephant wades in water,” they would sagely say, “only if the mud hole is wide enough.”

And the little ones would watch him, as they stood between the legs of their parents, and wish that they could follow.

Available at:

Burning In Berlin / A Horror Movie

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[From my long-ago time in Berlin this movie script (and two novels) emerged. Here is the beginning sequence.]

EXT. BARREN FIELD WITH AUTUMN GRASS – DAY

Traffic sounds comes from the four streets bounding the field.

EXT. HILL IN FIELD – DAY

An information sign is at the foot of the hill. A newly-painted Linden tree grows beside it.

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

THE INFORMATION SIGN READS Fehurer Bunker

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

A middle-aged TOUR GUIDE stands by the front seat, facing the passengers.

TOUR GUIDE

The Berlin police don’t

want us any closer.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Tourist faces peering from the windows.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Tourists from the far side of the bus bend and peer over those seated.

EXT. LINDEN TREE ON HILL – DAY

One raven flutters and lands on a tree limb.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Two or three faces are pressed in each window.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide is pointing through the window.

 

TOUR GUIDE

All of a sudden, the city says it

is unsafe. (laughs) They don’t want

to see all you rich tourists being

swallowed.

 

2.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Peering faces, and Tour Guide’s finger pressed to window.

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

A second Raven settles upon the sign. It hops about until it

stops over the word ‘Fehurer’.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

A BOY and GIRL, both slender and twelve, are staring from a window. A MAN WITH AN EYE PACH, in his forties and muscular, wearing a suit from the Salvation Army and a work shirt, bends over them, peering.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy and Girl have their heads together. The girl moves her

hand, and points through the top of the window.

EXT. LINDEN TREE – DAY

A third crow is landing on one of the branches. The other two

are agitated, but quickly settle.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch hastily puts his hand over the

girl’s mouth.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Shh.

 

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The girl moves her hand from the window. The childrens’

faces move back.

EXT. LINDEN TREE – DAY

The two Ravens in the branches descend to the Information

Sign.

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

The Three Ravens shuffle together, and stand shoulder to shoulder.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide has his head pressed against the window.

3.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide, bent against the window, speaks loudly.

 

TOUR GUIDE

Too big for crows. They’re ravens.

 

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

The three Ravens flutter down to the ground. They hop

erratically on the brown grass.

 

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide reluctantly leaves the window, and faces

the tourists.

 

TOUR GUIDE

Maybe the ground is dangerous, and

they feel it. Hitler’s original

bunker is still down there. Even the

Russians didn’t dare blow it up. It

would have caved in a dozen

surrounding blocks.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

There are now so many faces in the windows that some

jostling is going on. A few heads turn, speaking

angrily.

EXT. FOOT OF INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

The three Ravens no longer hop erratically. They are

obviously moving in a ritualized formation. Their

dance finishes with them lined up, staring at the

Tour Bus.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide is standing at the top of the steps,

facing a YOUNG MAN with a Movie Camera around his

Neck.

 

YOUNG MAN

I gotta get a picture for my

Gramps. He fought Hitler and

still hates him.

 

 

4.

TOUR GUIDE

I’m not supposed to let –

 

YOUNG MAN

One guy won’t make it cave in.

 

TOUR GUIDE

But the others –

 

YOUNG MAN

I’ll be off and back in a minute.

The YOUNG MAN hold up the Camera to the Tour Guide.

 

YOUNG MAN

I’ll use the zoom. I won’t even walk

on your precious field.

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Three Ravens are stock still. The one in the middle cocks

his head toward the bus. The Other Two close their eyes.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY.

The door of the Tourist Bus opens.

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Two Ravens with closed eyes cock their heads in the same

direction as the middle bird.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man steps from the bus.

 

YOUNG MAN

Gramps will kick my ass if I

don’t.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The man With the Eye Patch pushes the Two Children onto the seat,

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Two Ravens with closed eyes open their eyes in unison.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With The Eye Patch stands in the aisle.

 

 

  1.          MAN WITH THE EYE PATCH

Stop him!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide takes one step along the aisle of the bus.

 

TOUR GUIDE

It’s just a frigging picture.

 

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man walks across the sidewalk to the edge of the field.

He holds the Camera in front of his face.

 

YOUNG MAN

Cement twenty feet thick. It

can’t cave in.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With The Eye Patch sits with the Two Children.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man looks behind him at the bus, then starts to walk

across the field.

 

YOUNG MAN

There’s something written on the

sign, but the zoom can’t get it.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide is standing on the bottom step.

 

TOUR GUIDE

Hey!

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Three Raves silently take flight

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man is adjusting the Camera when he hears the Tour Guide. He turns around with a scowl.

6.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is standing outside the open door. He is beckoning with his hand.

 

TOUR GUIDE

I can get fined. Come back here!

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man is adjusting his Camera, his back to the field. He doesn’t look up as he yells to the Tour Guide.

 

YOUNG MAN

They’re not going to fine you

for two more minutes.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Middle Raven starts to dive, while the others fly on.

EXT. TOUR BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide starts crossing the sidewalk.

 

TOUR GUIDE

I’ve already got one guy

complaining.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens fly in unison, side by side.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

 

The Young Man finishes adjusting his Camera. He looks up to see

the Tour Guide at the edge of the field. He holds up his Camera.

 

YOUNG MAN

It’s new. I got it for this

trip.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is on the grass. He stops, and puts his hands on

his hips.

 

TOUR GUIDE

You said a minute. I’ll have to

leave you here.

7.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens start into a steep dive, one above the other.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man lets go of his Camera. It swings on the neck strap,

bouncing against his chest.

 

YOUNG MAN

Then you’ll have another guy

complaining.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Single Raven adjusts its dive. Its eyes blink.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man glares at the Tour Guide. He grabs his Camera again,

then turns back toward the Sign, raising the Camera to his face.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens shift position, the bottom one moving to the top.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide just starts to look up as the Lone Raven strikes

him on the side of the head.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens are in a steep dive. The top one gets behind

the other.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is rolling on the ground. The Raven’s claws are

clamped to his ear, and its beak is in his eye.

EXT. TOUR BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens enter the door of the bus.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Single Raven tears off the Tour Guide’s ear.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Bus Driver holds his hands protectively in front of his

face as the Ravens fly past.

8.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man turns toward the bus. He starts filming.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide attempts to get up. The Raven has its beak in his

mouth.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens fly along the aisle, amid screaming passengers.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With The Eye Patch grabs the two children. He shoves them

onto the floor between the seats.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Stay down!

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide has managed to stand. The Raven is fluttering in

front of his face. It has the Tour Guide’s tongue in its beak.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man continues taking pictures.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Panicked, screaming faces are in the windows. Many passengers are

beating their hands against the glass.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens keep a steady course, but get side -by- side.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch is taking off his suit coat.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Not fucking again.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens skim the roof of the bus. They both look down.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch glances at the Two Children.

9.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Children huddle on the floor. The Boy lies on the Girl.

stretching over her. He turns his head toward the Man With the Eye Patch.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch yells at the Boy.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Hide your face!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens dive simultaneously.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

 

The Man With the Eye Patch holds up his suit coat in front of him.

The two Ravens fly right into the suit coat, pulling it from the Man’s hands. The Birds, entangled in the suit coat, hurtle against the window. One Bird gets free, while the other, still encased in the suit coat, falls on the Children.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy shoves the Girl under the seat in front of them.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The freed Raven flies up toward the Man With the Eye Patch.The Man

crouches into the stance of a boxer, and punches the bird directly

on the side of its head. The stunned Raven tumbles over the

seat back.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy scurries under the seat where he had been sitting.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch grabs his suit coat with the trapped

Raven, and throws it to the far side of the bus.

 

MAN WITH THE EYE PATCH

(yelling)

All of you – get down!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Raven is half out of the suit coat when it hits the window.

10.

It spirals to the roof of the bus.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The raven which the Man With the Eye Patch hit, teeters on the

top of a seat back.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch grabs for his suit coat.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Raven on the seat back lifts into the air.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy finally manages to squeeze completely under the seat.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The two Ravens start flying to the front of the bus.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch holds his suit coat in front of him

again.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Stay down!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens reach the front of the bus. The Bus Driver is crouched

on the floor, jammed under the steering wheel.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch lowers his suit coat. He glances at the

two Children.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens fly out of the door of the bus.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is sprawled on his back. The Raven’s claws are

gripping either side of his neck, and its beak is jabbing into

his other eye.

11.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens wobble in their flight as they raise into the air.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man is walking toward the Tour Guide, filming. He

hesitates, stops walking, and looks up.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch is reaching between the seats.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Come on out.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man raises his Camera and steps back, aiming into the

sky.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch helps the Girl from under the seat.

As she gets up and stands by the window, he assists the Boy. When

The Boy is standing, the Man With the Eye Patch puts on his suit

Coat.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

You two knew about this, didn’t

you?

The Girl taps her finger against the window.

 

GIRL

Look!

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens swoop toward the Third Raven on the ground.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch and the Children look out the window.

The Boy glances up at the Man.

 

BOY

You said we’d be safe.

The Man With the Eye Patch stands straight.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

You’re safe, ain’t you?

(Image)https://i.pinimg.com/originals/3f/33/98/3f3398e10b275d21c698e4918748f790.jpg

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