a bit of the screen play I'm writing -- Fictional Getdown

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Date Posted: 02:08:08 08/09/02 Fri
Author: Raych
Subject: a bit of the screen play I'm writing

this is in story form BECAUSE it will be easier to translate to movie. I need your tips though.

She groaned as a single beam of sunlight hit her sleeping face. Something inside was telling her that it was going to be one of those days. She didn�t know what that meant, all she knew was that she didn�t want to leave the safe comfort of her warm queen sized bed. She didn�t want to move, but knew eventually she�d need to climb out of bed and get ready for the day. That moment came sooner than expected.

�Isabella, get out of bed.� She heard the Hispanic accent as one of the staff of her Manhattan Town House entered her bedroom. Isabella groaned, pulling the blankets up over her head. She knew exactly what was going on. Rosa-Marie was walking across the room, with her sauntered quick step. She had a bit of a sway or waddle, being an extremely stalky woman. Then she would throw open the heavy blue curtains on the 10 foot floor to ceiling windows, one window at a time until she had finished all five. �Get out of bed little girl.� Her voice was piercing. It made you cringe when you heard that thick accent speak English with a nagging tone.

�No, I�m going back to sleep.� Isabella replied. Her voice was muffled from the blankets over her head.

�No you aren�t.� Rosa-Marie scolded, pulling on the blankets. �You get up.�

�Why?� Isabella whined. She wanted more than anything to continue her comfortable slumber, to not have to face the world. Rosa-Marie plopped down on the end of the bed.

�Your parents called. They said you need to be up by 7.� She said. She wore a knee length light green dress with a white apron.

�What? By 7? No.� Isabella couldn�t take it. She would fight with Rosa-Marie to the end.

�Get up. You�re lazy.� Rosa-Marie was a consistent woman and wouldn�t give up with out a fight. Isabella knew this, as well as knew she couldn�t win. She gave up and sat up in her bed, staring at the woman who stood and walked across the room, picking up clothing items and straightening things out. �I clean your room every other day, if not every day, and still, you make this big of a mess. Child, you amaze me.�

�I amaze myself.� Isabella responded, stretching her arms. She wore a white tank top with matching shorts. �So why do my folks want me up by 7? Are they coming home?� Her spirits heightened, wanting to see her mother and father. They were hotel tycoons, her mother being in Europe for a few weeks and her father in South America.

�No, they just want you up. I don�t ask the questions, I just do the job.� Rosa-Marie was Isabella�s closest mother figure, and she was thankful for the loving relationship they shared. Isabella ran her hand through her thick curly almost black colored, longer than shoulder length hair. She had tan skin and dark eyes as well.

�Alright. I�m up. Now what?� She asked, spreading out her soft lavender blankets. Rosa-Marie looked as though she was going to drop all the clothes she carried.

�Get ready for your day.� Her distinct accent said. �Breakfast is in the dining room.�

�Have someone bring mine up.� Isabella said, standing up. She squinted at the bright sunlight. Before she knew it, her companion was gone. And she was once again alone. She resisted the urge to climb back into bed, giving into her sleepy temptation. She walked across the room to her closet, so she could get dressed, glancing at herself in the mirror along the way. She was probably 5�6�/7� with a skinny, yet voluptuous body, consisting of a C-cup chest and curvy hips. She walked into her closet and quickly began to get dressed, taking her pajamas off. She figured it would be somewhat chilly that day, since it was mid-late September. She finally decided on a basic outfit; dark blue and tan colored plaid pants along with a tan sweater, and black boots. Soon she left her room, planning to leave the house and head to a coffee shop. She found her little sister, Gabrielle sitting in the living room reading.

�Shouldn�t you be in school?� Isabella asked. Gabrielle looked up from her book. She was lying on the couch.

�It�s Saturday. Where are you going?� She counter asked. Isabella groaned, grabbing her black purse.

�To get some coffee. I�ll be back later.� Gabrielle was 15, while Isabella was 20. They belonged to a very catholic Italian family. They were so catholic that Isabella in fact had 9 siblings. They consisted of 5 brothers and 4 sisters. Isabella quickly left the house and headed to her favorite coffee shop, 6 blocks over. She wrapped her black leather jacket tightly as she walked down the street. By the looks of it, New York would probably have an early snow. It was raining now. She went inside and smiled, taking her jacket off and placing it on the coat rack. She ordered her usual coffee and sat down at a small circular table. She was flipping through a magazine that was already there, her legs crossed, sipping the hot cappuccino.

Soon she felt that uncomfortable feeling of staring eyes on her body. She looked up to see a guy sitting at the table across from her, looking at her. She quickly looked back down, and tried her best to ignore him, looking at the magazine. As she flipped the page, she looked up again to see him still looking at her. He smiled. He had light brown hair, and scruffy facial hair. However his eyes were a pure shade of bluish green, almost teal that caught her attention.

�Hi.� He said. He had a strong male voice. It had just the right resonant of bass in it.

�Hi.� She replied, sounding irritated. She looked back down.

�I�m sorry.� He suddenly said. She looked back up. �I�ve upset you. Ya know, never mind I even��

�No I� just�. I had to get up earlier than I normally do.� She apologized. He nodded. �What brings you here this early on a Saturday? I mean, I was forced to get up. How about you?�

�I was forced as well. But it�s like they say� well no one really says it, only me I guess. Umm, Garbage men work on Saturdays too.� He stated. Her heart sank. How could such a perfect guy be a garbage man?

�Oh yeah�� She looked back down, then back up. He was still looking at her. He had a newspaper with him and was drinking a cappuccino as well.

�I�m Will by the way.� He stated. She nodded.

�Isabella.� There was an awkward silence. She knew, that to not seem rude she needed to offer him to sit down. �So, would you like to join me?� His smile got a little bigger. A man walked in the front of the coffee shop, wearing a heavy coat.

�Sure.� He had a perfectly straight smile, nice white teeth. He quickly got up and sat down in the chair across the table from her. �So what do you do, Belle?�

�It�s Isabella and I-� She was cut off by the man who had walked in yelling.

�Everybody on the floor!� He pulled a gun out of his coat. David dropped to the floor, Isabella froze. Before she had time to think, he had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground as well, covering her body with his muscular one.

The moment Isabella tightly shut her eyes, her mind found it�s self-taking her to a place she didn�t want to go; an alternate reality. A place where David didn�t grab her.

�Everybody on the floor!� He pulled a gun out of his coat. David dropped to the floor, Isabella froze. �On the floor!� The man once more yelled. Isabella didn�t know what to do. In a panicked state, the man raised his gun, pointing it at Isabella. �Get on the floor.� She stared at him, down the barrel of the gun. He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight out of the black pistol and into Isabella�s forehead. Scared he ran out, before her body even hit the ground.

�Gimme all the money!� The man with the gun yelled as Isabella opened her eyes and was brought back to reality. Isabella began to whimper in fear.

�Caro Celeste padre, orologio sopra il mio corpo e protegge me Signore.� She mumbled in Italian, closing her eyes. �Tenerme sicuro dalle persone di danno vuole affidare verso me. Nel nome del padre, figlio ed il santo , amen.� (�Dear Heavenly father, watch over my body and protect me Lord. Keep me safe from the harm persons want to commit towards me. In the name of the father, son and the holy ghost, amen.�) She was once again whisked back to her flashes of death.

�Everybody on the floor!� He pulled a gun out of his coat. David dropped to the floor, Isabella froze. �On the floor!� The man once more yelled. Isabella didn�t know what to do. In a panicked state the man reached for her, she screamed. He wrapped his arm around her neck, holding the gun to the bottom of her throat. �Gimme all the money!� He yelled to the woman at the cash register. �DO IT! Or Prima-Donna here gets it!�

�Oh il Padre protegge la mia anima.� She cried in Italian. (�Oh Father protect my soul. �) The man tightened his grip on her. Once he got the money he started to take her out of the coffee shop. One other man, in an attempt to be brave reached to help Isabella break free. The man with the gun pulled the trigger on her, and ran out, once more before her body could reach the floor.

�No one get up!� She was brought back to reality again. He had a brown paper bag full of money. �No one look up!�

�Il padre celeste, me perdona per tutti i peccati. Occuparsi del suo bambino nel suo tempo di bisogno. Lei sono il solo Dio. Proteggerme oh il Signore.� She whispered, holding her body as still as possible, David still laying on her back. (�Heavenly father, forgive me for all my sins. Take care of your child in her time of need. You are the only God. Protect me oh Lord.�) Then the man quickly ran out of the coffee shop with a couple hundred dollars. Everyone slowly got up.

Isabella stared at David�s blue eyes as he helped her stand up. �Ringraziarlo il Padre.� She mumbled. (�Thank you Father.�)

�What were you saying?� he asked. She looked down, realizing that at times, she had been loudly praying.

�Umm� nothing, just�. You saved my life.� She took a deep breath. �Dan-�

�David.�

�David, you saved my life. I have to repay you.� She reached for her purse. David stared, shocked.

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