EXTRACT FROM OLD VERSION OF 'PASSION FLOWER'
by Peter Devonald and Kevin Scrantz
COPYRIGHT 2004-2009: Email pdevonald@hotmail.com for non dialogue version

               FADE IN:



               EXT.  MEADOW - DAY   

               The sun, a crimson fireball, hovers over a broad meadow
               bounded on one end by woods.  

               PEOPLE step out of the trees by ones, twos, threes.  Country
               people, farming families mostly, in their Sunday best.

               The People's shadows stretch across scrub grass to their
               battered, dusty vehicles.  Not a word is spoken.  Only the
               BIRDS chirp.

               The People disperse into their vehicles, head down a rutted
               lane to the nearby highway.



               INSIDE PHIL'S PICKUP - MOVING

               PHIL drives.  Phil, mid-40's, craggy face, red from the
               elements, wears a John Deere cap, neatly pressed plaid shirt
               and jeans.

               Beside him, ELLA, big-eyed and serious.  She wears a WWJD T
               shirt and long denim skirt, her pale hair piled in a bun on
               the back of her head.

               Between them, a wide empty gap on the bench seat.

               Phil opens a spotless ashtray.  Inside, a single cigarette.

               Ella's eyes follow his hand as he takes it out, pops it in
               his mouth, presses the truck's lighter.

               They get eye contact.  Ella shows disdain.  Phil shakes his
               head, looks out the front window.

                                   PHIL
                         Doesn't matter now.



               THE LIGHTER

               Flares red as Phil lights his cigarette. 



               IN ELLA'S SIDEVIEW MIRROR

               The sun, a perfect red ball.



               EXT.  PHIL AND ELLA'S FARM - DAY 

               SHEEP look up as the pickup rolls to a small wood frame
               house.



               INT.  PHIL AND ELLA'S FARM - KITCHEN - DAY

               Near a window, an apple pie thaws next to an aluminum tray of
               lasagna.

               Ella unlatches the window screen.



               EXT.  PHIL AND ELLA'S HOUSE

               The lasagna tray collapses on the hard dirt, pasta and sauce
               spewing.

               The pie tin follows, rolls like a coin and spills fruit.

               Chickens mob the splattered food.



               PHIL  

               Opens a gate.  Sheep and a couple of pigs rush into the yard,
               scattering chickens, devouring lasagna and pie.



               ELLA

               Turns away from the window, notices the photo tacked on the
               wall beside it,



               AN ADVERTISEMENT

               Torn from a nursery catalog:  "THE MYSTERIOUS PASSION
               FLOWER!"  A photo shows glorious purple flowers.



               ELLA

               Sighs.  The screen door squeals open, bangs shut.  Phil stops
               in the threshold.  They look at each other, serious.  

               Phil walks purposely across the room, toward the bedroom.



               EXT.  PHIL AND ELLA'S HOUSE - HALL - DAY

               Ella walks past the open bedroom door.  

               Inside, Phil sits on the bed and cleans a shotgun.



               EXT.  PHIL AND ELLA'S FARM - DAY

               Ella holds the passion flower ad to her cheek, lowers it.  In
               the b.g., her own passion flower plant:  Flowerless, a dark
               lump engulfing a corner of the fence.

               She leans close, sees a single flower bud, tightly sealed.

               Ella unravels a garden hose and dowses the bud with water.  

               Behind her, the porch screen door whines open.  Phil pokes
               his head out, watches her.

                                   PHIL
                         You coming, Ella?

                                   ELLA
                         You go on ahead.  I'll catch you
                         up.

               He nods, watches her, backs into the house, disappearing
               behind the screen.



               ELLA  

               Twists the hose's tap closed.  

               A SHOTGUN BLAST O.S.

               Ella looks at the house while absently looping the hose up. 
               She lets it drop, turns slowly to the front gate.  



               EXT.  ROAD - DAY

               Ella walks down the center of the street.  HAMMERING O.S.



               ELLA'S P.O.V. - A SMALL HOUSE

               A MAN on a ladder nails a sheet of tin over an upstairs
               window.  All of the lower windows are sealed with tin.  

               A WOMAN sits on the edge of the porch, cradles a small CHILD,
               rocks back and forth.

               A DOG in the front yard howls at the sky.



               ELLA - MOVING

               Stares to the road ahead, wipes sweat from her forehead.



               THE SUN

               Lower on the horizon, hot pink in a bloody sky.



               EXT.  RIVER - LATER

               Reflected in rushing water, a bridge overhead, Ella crossing
               it. 



               ELLA'S P.O.V: THE ROAD

               A GRIM MAN comes toward her, his pressed white shirt buttoned
               to the collar, hair neatly combed.  He passes Ella like she
               doesn't exist.

               A WOEBEGONE WOMAN, in her Sunday best dress, follows.  The
               BABY in her arm holds a stuffed dog.  

               TWO BOYS, of about 10 and 12, in the same stiff white
               buttoned up shirts, follow. 

               Not one of them looks at her.



               ELLA  

               turns back to the road.  A trickle of sweat runs down her
               neck.

               Over her shoulder, the blurred white forms of the family, now
               on the bridge.  

               Grim Man lifts and drops his squealing children over the
               side.  Water splashes faintly.  

               Ella wipes her neck with the back of her hand.



               EXT.  RESIDENTIAL STREET - DAY

               Heat shimmers over dusty deserted pavement.  Ella appears in
               the distance, distorted in the waves.

                                   ELLA (V.O.)
                         When my cousin Stella died, you
                         made me miss her funeral.  You knew
                         she was like a sister to me, but
                         you remember what you said?

               Ella crosses the deserted street to



               PAT'S HOUSE

               Sprawling red brick in a shady yard.  A glass of iced tea
               sits untouched on a small table.  A large drop of moisture
               rolls down its side, pooling at the bottom.

               Beside it, a blank-faced WHEELCHAIR MAN.  In his lap, a small
               oxygen tank, tubes up to his nose.

               PAT, large, 50ish, cateye glasses and tightly curled hair,
               lights a cigarette and sticks it in Wheelchair man's fingers. 
               She notices Ella in the yard, purses her lips, perturbed.

               Pat straightens her silk dress and wilted orchid pinned to
               her breast, marches inside.  Ella follows.



               INT.  PAT'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

               A big room, nice furniture littered with discarded gift
               wrapping paper.  A banner sags on one wall:

               CONGRATULATIONS SHERRY AND LOUIS.

               Pat's heels clack across the wood floor as she collects paper
               plates with remnants of cake and sandwiches.