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Screenplay Festival: May 24, 2018 Event
A showcase of winning TV Pilot screenplays, plus short & best scene readings.
CAST LIST:Rob Notman, Meghan Allen. Lauren Kristina Maykut, Kyra Weichert, Jarrod Terrell, Matt Barnes,Allan Michael Brunet
DRAMA TV PILOT – HEADCASE, by Christopher K. Jones
Genre: Drama, Sports
Dr. Andrew Beck, is the goto Sports Psychologist for pro athletes. But he has a gambling problem, and he gets deep in debt with Fergus McKenzie, a psychotic Scottish gangster. To get out of trouble with his skull intact, Andrew is forced to trade on his patients’ state of mind.
CAST LIST:
Lorry: Lauren Kristina Maykut
Sandra: Meghan Allen
Marcus: Jarrod Terrell
Narrator: Matt Barnes
Andrew: Rob Notman
Fergus: Allan Michael Brunet
Gina: Kyra Weichert
1st Scene TV CRIME – THE WRONG TICKET, by John Ravitz
Genre: Crime, Thriller
A United States Senator, and the Republican Presidential Nominee is a sleeper…
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Read Poem: Howl for help!, by Khatuna Tsuladze
Smile,
Give the world your smile!
Show
Not your back!
Pray
To survive
From me;
Drown
In the Black Sea
Bottom…
Hop,
Hop,
Hope…
Restricted to the corner,
Inhale the sky,
Exhale the sun,
Spit out the rain,
Soak the ground,
Howl,
Howl
For help!
Penetrate
Inside the hole,
Holy dreams
Paint
On the canvas of my soul;
Disguised in elements,
Hint
You’re coming
To welcome the Earth,
Water,
Air,
Fire;
Howl,
Howl
For help,
My Dear!
© Khatuna Tsuladze
Read Poem: Rough Flight, by Gary Beck
Migratory birds
fly south for the winter
to escape the cold,
find good feeding grounds.
Imagine their shock
when they finally land
in North Carolina
and it’s so cold
they just keep going
until they reach
Miami Beach
that’s so crowded
with SUV’s and hummers
they can’t even find
a place to land
and get something to eat.
Read Poem: THEY WERE EATING LIVING THINGS, by Nicole Marie Kupper
A)
And the food-stamps were cut off
Three months or more
The children’s eyes were
Stuck in the black of their pupils
And the doctor said wait
And the CPS officer said wait
And JFS said take a hike to the FREE STORE
And the chicken they got there got real hot
Came alive in the old oven
And blew up.
B)
And she said
Mom, the food’s alive
It’s eyes are seeping
A sunrise contraption
Green cucumbers
The color of grass
The blades are strangling me
Chocolate like mother earth
The vegetables on TV dance so happily
Then why can’t we buy any food
Colors are everywhere why can’t we eat
Shh.. the mom said, you have a fever
Then in the store at the top of her lungs
The girl began to scream.
C)
The hungry children
Stood brown on the unsuspecting road
Walking up
Crossing at the stop light
They saw their mother sell their toys
And they would try to stop her
On the hot, black tar
Of the Cincinnati road.
Read Poem: How to Write a Summer Poem, by Marta Knobloch
Slip time from your wrist.
Feel the pulse of the day become your heartbeat.
Curl into the nutshell of this moment.
Float on a sea-glass sky.
Breathe July’s green sweat.
Bathe your eyes in shadows.
Grow deaf to the thrumming of bees.
Watch a breeze stir ripples in your nether-mind.
Wait
Read Poem: MORONIC MOTORISTS, BY JOHN ROSS HARVEY
Driving is a skill; it requires math, and reading.
Being a motorist is not skilled because math and reading are not performed.
If you block an intersection, you lack brain function.
This is kindergarten level geometry.
You don’t fit don’t be a twit.
Engage your eyeballs before your feet to not be an ass.
Left is not right
One is not two
The only people who turn wrong are motorists without an IQ.
You don’t have 18 wheels, you don’t get two lanes, taking them is proof of no brains.
That’s how moron came to be, because they don’t know the difference between one and three.
The zipper merge is a fantasy of great proportions.
Your rectangular car does not fit in a triangular space simply because you ignored the diamond shaped road sign.
The hundred feet behind me are easier to merge than the ten feet in front of me. Learn geometry.
No lights at night are no brains in sight.
No lights in rain are not using brain.
Snow is the worst motorist problem because it creates the highest amount of stupidity. Morons with a complete inability to see.
They are the Three Forces of Evil:
Mobile Snow banks, Defroster Dunces, and the Wipers Only Brigade.
Wipers are not a snow removal device.
Elbow grease is.
Brush and Scrape and stop being impaired by stupidity, ice and snow.
Your filled wheel wells will not allow you to go.
Clean your roof, before it kills somebody when it slides off as a sheet of ice.
Drivers are more skilled, and far more nice.
Nobody dies from patience, only impatience.
Impatience is stupidity.
Stupidity is bad for mobility.
Be a driver, read and do math.
If you don’t, you’ll hear my wrath.
Read Poem: PRETTY BLACK GIRL, by J. Lathen
A lil Country girl was she
Her skin was smooth and chocolatey
She would walked to preschool with her Daddy right by her side
Ummm she remembers the smell of the early morning breeze
Oh my that was a good memory
Pretty black Girl didn’t have a care in the world
In Girl Scouts she was the only lil black girl
Pretty black didn’t give it much thought like most would
She was happy she got to go to an upper-class neighborhood
She was called the N word at school
By a white girl
The word rolled off her tongue so effortlessly but it shattered Pretty black’s world
Although Pretty black didn’t know what the word meant at such a young age
It seem to be powerful because the white girl said it with such rage
What a dreadful memory
Umph! Pretty black really didn’t pay it no mine
Because it was very few there of her kind
The Teacher would say, “repeat the pledge of allegiance after me”
Pretty black didn’t have a clue she wasn’t in the land of free
Although mama & nem had limited education
They made sure pretty black went to school everyday without hesitation
Pretty black would go to work with her mother whom she adored
Only to watch her clean white people houses and scrub their floors
Pretty Black vowed that she would never be nobody’s maid
The image of her mother cleaning houses have never strayed
Pretty Black felt the need
to do what her Parent’s couldn’t do and that’s go to school and succeed
PRETTY BLACK GIRL
WINNING COMEDY SHORT SCREENPLAY – MARRIAGE COUNSELING 101, by Mark Engberg
| Winning Screenplay – MARRIAGE COUNSELING Written by Mark Engberg CAST LIST: NARRATOR – Becky Shrimpton |
SYNOPSIS:
Genre: Horror, Comedy
“Romancing the Stone” meets “Friday the 13th.”
Get to know the writer:
What is your screenplay about?
“Marriage Counseling 101” is about couple fighting in public. Some people can’t handle it and seek privacy before the argument gets out of hand. Some people could care less about the embarrassment. But innocent bystanders are the ones who seem to suffer the most.
What genres does your screenplay fall under?
Due to the amount of dialogue, Comedy. But it could easily be a horror story if the characters didn’t speak.
Why should this screenplay be made into a movie?
It’s an easy and inexpensive location that would only require three actors (2 speaking) and a brief CGI special effect for the ending. As far as…
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Read Poetry by Jasmine Lowe
I am home alone in my chair in the dark
The clock strikes twelve and I wonder where the time has gone.
I decide to go to bed, and so I begin to get up
But to my surprise I hear a knocking at my door.
I decide to ignore it and continue onto bed
Who in their right mind comes knocking at midnight?
So I climb the stairs as quietly as I can
But creaking sounds emerge from the wood.
I walk down the hall and gently open my room door
And to my surprise I still hear the knocking.
I walk across the floor and reach my bed
And climb in between the sheets to finally get some sleep.
I slowly fall deep into a slumber
Falling deeper and deeper until I am about to begin a dream.
But then there is a slam, and so I spring upright in fear
For someone has entered the front door in a wild furry.
I jump out of bed half disoriented and grab my gun
This crazy person has got to get out now!
I slowly creep towards the door and slip out of my room.
I move down the hall with Remington rifle.
I hear creaking footsteps coming up the stairs
Slowly, I hear them enclosing with my own.
I’ve got him now; he won’t even know what had hit him
And so I round the corner to face the intruder.
A loud bang rings through the house
And a loud thumping down the stairs falls afterwards.
I know blood is everywhere, splattered all the way down the stairs
It will be a huge mess to clean up in the morning.
I decide to call for help to get this situation over with
But I hear nothing; I see nothing from the darkness
I smell nothing, I taste nothing
But I do feel something.
I feel liquid and it is warm and thick
I notice my eyes are closed and I look at what had become.
Blood, it was everywhere like I had expected
But what I didn’t was a hole through my chest.
The blood gushed out from my heart and through my chest
I laid there at the bottom of the stairs unable to move.
I was out of breath and desperately trying to figure out how to find more.
I saw my eyes begin to close as my attacker walked down the stairs.
He walked down the stairs and up to the front door.
He had grabbed my gun just in case I wasn’t gone yet
But I was completely unable to breathe even one breath.
Then he opened the door and turned back towards me and made a noise like the clock.
I am home alone in my chair in the dark
The clock strikes twelve and I wonder where the time has gone.
I decide to go to bed, and so I begin to get up
But to my surprise I hear a knocking at my door.
I am home alone in my chair in the dark
The clock strikes twelve and I wonder where the time has gone.
I decide to go to bed, and so I begin to get up
But to my surprise I hear a knocking at my door.
