I thought there was more I could do with an image prompt I did a while back called “Grimhollow” – so I made an opening to a screenplay. The formatting here will be a little off than the proper standard, but such is the way of WordPress.
Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated.
FADE IN.
A dark screen. Through the darkness, the sound of a BATTLE, and fading in above it all, the gentle rowing of oars through the sea…
EXT. – ORSIR’S SHIP – NIGHT
The eyes of AETHLAN, a twelve-year-old boy, open as he jolts awake. He realizes his hands are bound. He struggles to sit up –
Suddenly, there is a torchlight near his face. He looks up in fear as one of the viking RAIDERS looms over him.
RAIDER #1 speaks in Old Norse, but Aethlan does not understand.
AETHLAN: I… I don’t…
The Raider notices his confusion. He laughs derisively and motions to his captain – ORSIR WOLFHIDE, a bearded viking warrior in his 30s.
Aethlan attempts to back away for fear of Orsir as he leans in to look him over, but there is nowhere to back away – he is leaning against the mast of the ship.
AETHLAN: Please, what… what do you want with me?
Aethlan stares at Orsir, whose eyes dart over him. Only the torchlight reveals part of his face – a runic mark, not unlike a brand, is on his neck.
ORSIR: You are lucky.
The boy is surprised.
AETHLAN: You speak my tongue?
Orsir smirks a little.
ORSIR: You think me a savage? That your tongue is hard to learn?
AETHLAN: Your other men don’t speak it.
Orsir’s smirk is gone in an instant.
ORSIR: Like I said, boy – you are lucky.
Aethlan glances around the ship.
ORSIR: You are on my ship. By the grace of the gods, I have given you mercy.
The memories begin to return to Aethlan… the SOUND of the battle fades into his ears, then dissipates as he looks up at Orsir.
AETHLAN: My village! My home, you, you-
Orsir cuts the binds on Aethlan’s hands. He looks down at them, but Orsir only smirks again as he gets up.
ORSIR: The binds are no longer needed – you will not go anywhere.
Aethlan gathers his courage and jumps to his feet. His eyes dart around for a chance at escape, a chance to leap overboard –
But the sea is dark and rushing… in the distance, THUNDER rolls.
Exhausted, Aethlan slumps back down.
Orsir chuckles derisively at him.
ORSIR: Patience. We will be home soon enough.
He orders one of his men to do something in Old Norse.
Aethlan looks up as another Raider looms over him. He raises his arms defensively, but the Raider offers a waterskin to him.
He glances at Orsir, who nods.
Aethlan grasps the waterskin and drinks from it greedily. The Raider who offered it to him laughs and says something in Old Norse.
RAIDER #2: Pig.
Aethlan glares at the Raider. He hurls the waterskin to the ground.
Raider #2 shouts something in Old Norse. He grabs Aethlan by his tunic and lifts him up with one arm –
Only for Orsir to bark an order at him in Old Norse. Raider #2 grunts an affirmative, and shoves Aethlan back down.
Aethlan catches his breath. He looks at Orsir. He rubs his wrist, where the marks of the ropes are fresh.
He leans back on the mast, and slowly his vision fades as he succumbs to an exhausted sleep…
FADE TO:
Amidst the dark screen, the oars keep moving… the sea keeps moving with it… the thunder rolls on…
SUPERIMPOSE: GRIMHOLLOW
To see the image prompt that inspired this, click here: https://wallflowershowcase.com/2020/05/08/image-prompt-2/
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