For Annabelle Part I
Welcome to book 3 of The DSU. If you want to download and own this in full as an ebook, please follow the links...
This is a story in 4 parts, links forwards and backwards will be provided top and bottom. Comment below or tell me what you think at:
Before jumping straight into things, a quick synopsis...
Before we start...
This is a story told in the rough form of a screenplay - a movie.
If you've never read a screenplay, you'll need to know the following:
EXT - Exterior. Found in scene headers to indicate we are outside.
INT - Interior. Also found in scene headers, but to indicate we are inside.
(O.S) - Off screen. Found next to character names.
(V.O) - Voice over. Also found next to character names.
(CONT'D) - Continued. Used to indicate continued speech next to character names.
SUPER: - Superimpose. To indicate text is seen over images.
The rest should be self-explanatory.
Enjoy...
FADE IN:
EXT. DESERT - DAY
A blistering hot day. A small figure wanders in this arid and endless wasteland. Yellow and blue, that's all there is to see. Sand, sun and sky. Nothing else.
This figure is the BACKPACKER. He is the Backpacker because he wears a backpack. There is not much more to say about him as of yet.
Thirty-something, a bit scruffy, but otherwise unremarkable.
His bag clunks as he walks. There are metal objects within his bag that move about against softer material.
In the man's pocket, not his waistband for some reason, is a revolver. It sticks out of his side looking uncomfortable. He doesn't seem to notice it though.
The man walks with his chin up. He's sure of himself and where he is going.
All around him is desert, nothing else, just blue and yellow.
INT. STORE - DAY
A general store that looks over a hundred years old, stocked with all your modern everyday items.
Everything about the store is a contradiction to what's in it. It's as if the guy who owns the corner store near your house watched too many westerns, liked the look of things, yet, still wanted to sell cans of Coke and Snickers bars and extortionate prices.
Out of the window is nothing but sand and sky.
At the till is a fed up and bored CASHIER, late forties.
Backpacker enters, he surveys the store then casually walks up to the till.
BACKPACKER
Hey, how you doing?
CASHIER
All right. What can I get you?
BACKPACKER
I don't know. What you got behind there?
Taps the counter.
CASHIER
What? Under here?
BACKPACKER
Yeah, why not?
CASHIER
My lunch.
BACKPACKER
I'm guessing that's not for sale.
Cashier shrugs, exhaling a polite laugh.
CASHIER
You want some smokes?
BACKPACKER
No, no, no, thanks. Erm... some water?
CASHIER
Yeah, that's back there, in the fridge.
Backpacker goes to the fridge to get a bottle.
CASHIER
So, you a hitchhiker, or camping, or... what?
BACKPACKER
What do you mean?
Backpacker brings the bottle back to the till.
CASHIER
The bag. Where you off to?
BACKPACKER
Nowhere specific, at least I don't think I am.
CASHIER
That's one forty-nine. You coming from somewhere then?
Backpacker digs some coins out of his pocket, in doing so, lifting up his shirt and revealing his gun.
Cashier grows very anxious.
BACKPACKER
Again, nowhere specific. You ask a lot of questions.
Cashier forces a smile. Backpacker looks at the coins in his hands.
BACKPACKER
How much was it again?
Cashier tries to talk, but can only manage a stutter.
Backpacker looks down at his gun.
BACKPACKER
Ohh! I'm sorry, I really am.
Backpacker takes the gun out of his pocket and places it on the till.
BACKPACKER
This isn't a hold up.
Cashier doesn't want to believe him.
BACKPACKER
Hey, trust me, man. This was my father's gun, well, my father-in-law's. Annabelle's father.
Backpacker smiles, thinking the situation is explained.
CASHIER
It was one forty-nine.
BACKPACKER
(handing him the money)
I'm sorry, he died recently and I was picking up the gun.
Cashier puts up a relaxed facade.
CASHIER
Oh, ok. I'm sorry for your loss.
Backpacker just shrugs.
CASHIER
Doesn't it have a belt or something?
BACKPACKER
I like you, always got questions.
Backpacker laughs for an awkward second, he then opens the bottle and starts drinking.
BACKPACKER
You get many customers in here?
Cashier shakes his head, no.
BACKPACKER
You must get bored.
CASHIER
Yeah, well...
BACKPACKER
I used to work in a store. Didn't last long. The owner hated me.
CASHIER
That's the way it is, man.
BACKPACKER
What do you mean?
CASHIER
Owners... they don't much like anybody, you know. When I started out the same happened to me.
BACKPACKER
You started out here?
CASHIER
No, way out west.
BACKPACKER
You the owner?
CASHIER
Yup.
BACKPACKER
No shit. You seem like a nice guy, I mean...
CASHIER
I don't know...
There's another awkward silence. Backpacker downs the water.
BACKPACKER
That was good.
He goes and gets another.
Cashier studies the gun as he goes.
BACKPACKER
One forty-nine?
Cashier nods. Backpacker hands him the money.
BACKPACKER
Two ninety-eight on water? Right about now, I'd be asking if you were some kind of ball-buster, but I like you, man.
CASHIER
Thanks...
Backpacker opens up the water and takes a sip.
BACKPACKER
I think I understand your point of view, you know.
CASHIER
You do?
BACKPACKER
Yeah, but stop me if I'm being too presumptuous. I mean, you've got to talk to the people, you know. You're sitting in here, what, ten hours a day?
CASHIER
Something like that.
BACKPACKER
And it gets boring, you need to make the most of service, you've got to get your piece out of things, you know. You've got to get a conversation flowing.
CASHIER
I guess so...
Backpacker picks up a pack of gum and sets it down.
CASHIER
One o-nine.
BACKPACKER
That's a strange one.
Backpacker hands him the money.
Cashier takes it then passes him the change for all three items, leaving the cash register drawer open.
BACKPACKER
Oh, I forgot about that.
Backpacker checks the coins before putting them in his pocket.
BACKPACKER
Anyways, how do you do your pricing? Is it purely mathematical? You know, profit versus competition. Or is it, like, best guess?
CASHIER
I don't know...
BACKPACKER
I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend. Of course you know what you're doing. I don't need to know the business side of things.
Backpacker offers him some gum, he declines.
BACKPACKER
You want me to go?
CASHIER
No, no, no...
BACKPACKER
I'm not bad for business then?
He laughs then throws some gum into his mouth.
BACKPACKER
It's just that I'm so comfortable in these places. My father used to own this pawn shop. It's a different business, but there's probably crossovers. Right?
CASHIER
I think that... yeah...
BACKPACKER
My father used to play music though. It made the place... I don't know, more relaxed. You ever play music?
CASHIER
Sometimes. Around the holidays.
BACKPACKER
That's cool. You like music?
CASHIER
Of course.
BACKPACKER
Who'd you like?
CASHIER
Oh, no one specific.
BACKPACKER
No one specific?
CASHIER
Yeah, everyone I guess. I like all music. What do you call it...
BACKPACKER
Oh, it's something like, elect... something.
CASHIER
Eclectic.
BACKPACKER
Ahh, that's right. Me, myself, I like heavy metal. You like anything on the heavy side?
CASHIER
Nah.
BACKPACKER
But you just said you were eclectic...
CASHIER
I know, b -
BACKPACKER
It's all right, I get it. You don't think heavy metal's real music. I get that one all the time.
CASHIER
No, it's just not for me, you know.
BACKPACKER
Me, I think it's for everyone.
CASHIER
Music's so subjective though.
BACKPACKER
You see, I don't agree with that. I think that's what scared people say: 'let's agree to disagree', 'let's say it's down to personal preference', 'to each his own'. Personally, I say that's all bullshit.
CASHIER
Really?
BACKPACKER
Really. I mean look at it this way. To you, is music art?
CASHIER
I suppose.
BACKPACKER
And, to you, what is art?
CASHIER
I don't know... self expression.
BACKPACKER
It's emotional output.
CASHIER
That's what I said.
BACKPACKER
You said self expression.
CASHIER
Exactly.
BACKPACKER
(hits the counter)
That's bullshit! I'm sorry, I'm coming on too aggressive.
CASHIER
No, no, it's all right.
BACKPACKER
Well, what I mean is... art isn't a person saying 'this is me'. It's not a statement about the painter, author, creator. That's much too pretentious.
Cashier is not sure he agrees.
BACKPACKER
You see, art is nothing without an audience. I mean, who's going to say that Mozart is a genius or that Van Gogh is incredible, but the audience? To say that art is this one way thing is... I don't know, I want to say selfish or vain, but those aren't the right words. Maybe just stupid.
CASHIER
I think I get what you're saying, like, the author is dead or something.
BACKPACKER
I'm not sure what you mean.
CASHIER
Like, the writing and the creator aren't connected... unrelated, you know.
BACKPACKER
That doesn't make much sense to me.
CASHIER
I don't know...
BACKPACKER
What I was saying is that painting, music and stories only ever convey emotion. Let's look at heavy metal. What's the emotion there?
CASHIER
I don't know.
BACKPACKER
It's not a trick question.
CASHIER
Aggression?
BACKPACKER
Exactly. Aggression. Heavy metal conveys aggression.
CASHIER
You could say violence at times.
BACKPACKER
Of course not. Where'd you get that from? Aggression is an emotion. Violence is an act. Look at film, there is no such thing as violence on the screen. It's aggression, emotion.
CASHIER
I don't think I follow.
BACKPACKER
It's just images and characters. When you're sitting in a theater there's no act of violence going on. When a bad guy is stabbed fourteen times, or stomped to death, it's just aggression, anger, being displayed.
CASHIER
I disagree.
BACKPACKER
That's fine because right now we're talking about music. You see, all music uses emotion. It's incited through tones, notes and rhythm and so on. You can play fast and it can be euphoric or... or aggressive. You play a G, it could be happy. You play a D it could be sad. You play clean, it can be relaxing, but if you play distorted it can be invigorating. What music is, is a combination of these, and more, elements to convey specific emotions. Now, heavy metal is best at this.
CASHIER
Isn't that down to the listener, the audience, as you said?
BACKPACKER
I didn't say the audience dictates what art is, but merely experiences it and allows it to be of significance.
CASHIER
So heavy metal just is the best kind of music?
BACKPACKER
For all intents and purposes, yes. Heavy metal, no matter if you're a fan or not, makes you feel something. If you like it, it's great, it's like a bazooka on your shoulder or fire in your chest. If you don't like it, you don't understand what's going on, you might feel scared -
CASHIER
To me, it makes no sense, it's just noise.
BACKPACKER
That's because heavy metal has great emotional depth.
CASHIER
Sounds like bullshit to me...
BACKPACKER
It's not.
CASHIER
There's just too much going on. It's not music, it's noise.
BACKPACKER
That's the one that really gets me: 'it's just noise'. To people who don't listen to heavy metal, it may just be this wall. But once you grow to understand it, you start getting in tune with the emotions, you begin to perceive its depth. There are so many undertones, ways of listening, ways of feeling -
CASHIER
How about rock?
BACKPACKER
What about it?
CASHIER
That's kind of close to metal.
BACKPACKER
It's a completely different thing.
CASHIER
So you're talking about, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Slayer--
BACKPACKER
For me, no. To me, heavy metal is Slipknot, Parkway Drive, Lamb of God, As I Lay Dying, Trivium, Deftones, in part at least -
CASHIER
I've only heard of Slipknot.
BACKPACKER
Well, I mean, you're eclectic, right...
Backpacker laughs.
CASHIER
I still don't see your point.
BACKPACKER
Hold on, I've not got into this yet. Music is supposed to be an exercise for the mind and ear.
CASHIER
Of course not. Music relaxes -
BACKPACKER
No, music can relax. It's supposed to -
CASHIER
Supposed?
BACKPACKER
It's what I was saying wasn't it?
(under breath)
Fucking...
CASHIER
You can't say things are supposed -
BACKPACKER
Well--just--you know...
The Cashier pipes down, hands up.
BACKPACKER
If you let me...
CASHIER
Go on.
BACKPACKER
Music is supposed to challenge. Otherwise, what's the point?
Cashier shrugs.
BACKPACKER
You see, the best music has layers. Songs should have this... quality. You should be able to listen to them over and over, you know. When a song has layers, you pick out parts: a bit of the toms, guitar one, two, bass, cymbals, keyboard, bass drums... a bit of this, that, here and there. Not just the voice. I-It's...
(stumbles, finding words, hands waving)
What I want to say is a song shouldn't be flat.
CASHIER
You're going to have to explain that.
BACKPACKER
Ok. A song can't be singer and background music because I'm not a caveman. I don't want to see the tribes people banging rocks on trees, the same beat over and over as some moron wails. You know?...
Cashier half laughs.
BACKPACKER
No, there should be complexity, an artist at each instrument. Not a machine and a talent. Fuck that, right?
CASHIER
I suppose. You prefer the concept of a band then?
BACKPACKER
I like the idea of creativity, actual artistry. Music is for an ear, but the ear...
Backpacker searches for a long while...
CASHIER
I'm really not seeing your point.
BACKPACKER
I don't know, I doubt you want to see it anyways.
Cashier shrugs to himself.
Backpacker picks up the gun. Cashier's reminded of the possible threat.
BACKPACKER
You sell headphones here?
Cashier shakes his head, no.
Backpacker looks away and thinks for a moment.
CASHIER
For the music?
BACKPACKER
Huh?
CASHIER
The headphones, the music, you know... heavy metal.
BACKPACKER
No.
Backpacker almost leaves the store, but stays put.
CASHIER
Is there anything else?
Backpacker shakes his head, no.
They stand in an awkward silence for what seems like forever...
CASHIER
Who -
BACKPACKER
What?
CASHIER
The headphones, I'm sorry, maybe I could order you some... um... who were they...
BACKPACKER
Annabelle.
CASHIER
Your girl?
Backpacker stares at the Cashier for another eternity.
Cashier goes through all kinds of emotions: confusion, fear, anger, but on the outside, he tries to remain calm.
BACKPACKER
Ok.
CASHIER
What?
BACKPACKER
Hold on.
He drops his bag and kneels.
The Cashier looks over his counter to see that he's about to unzip his bag.
BACKPACKER
Just a moment.
Cashier leans back.
He looks over his shoulder to a telephone on the wall.
Backpacker stands and...
BANG
... blows the Cashier's head off with his revolver.
Blood splatters, the Cashier drops backwards.
Backpacker leans over the counter, unphased, quite amused actually. This is not sadistic amusement, more like the amusement felt with a sense of accomplishment.
He points the gun at the dead body and thinks about shooting again. He doesn't. Instead, he completely forgets the body. To him it no longer exists.
He brings up his bag and takes out a box of bullets, three are missing.
He unclips the cylinder and takes out the two remaining bullets to refill the box. He then puts the box into his backpack along with a dozen other boxes.
Backpacker jumps over the counter and starts loading the money from the cash register into his bag.
Each coin he takes he checks before putting it in.
