Fiddling with turning “First Time: The Legend of Garison Fitch – Book 1″ into a screenplay …
First Time by Samuel Ben White
[Setting: home laboratory. Heather is standing off to the side, looking excitedly anxious.]
[A blinding flash of light. The time machine appears, with Garison standing on a tarp that is tied to one leg of the time machine. His dark brown hair is in a pony tail. His clothes are from the 1700s. A popping noise comes from the "engine" of the time machine, then it begins to smoke. Garison jumps off the tarp, as if trying to get away from the machine, but his progress is blocked by an excited hug from Heather]
Heather: [excited] It worked Garison! It worked! You were gone and now you’re back! It’s so wonderful!
[Heather kisses Garison on the cheek. Garison looks confused-and doesn't returned the hug. When she starts to kiss him on the mouth, he breaks off the kiss and takes a step back. Looks confused at running into a work bench.]
Heather: Garison? Is something wrong?
[Garison looks around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. Some things are familiar, but some things are new or wildly out of place. Notices that the video cameras he had installed are in the right places. Looks over Heather. She's beautiful, but he has never seen her before.]
Garison: [suspiciously] Who are you?
Heather: [reaches for his head, as if checking for a bump] Are you OK, Garison? Did you hit your head?
Garison: [angrily swats her hand aside] No, I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine. Who are you?
Heather: [starts to reach out again, withdraws her hand. Recognition dawns in her eyes] Wait a minute, you’ve changed. How did your hair get so long in two seconds? How did you grow a mustache that quick? And those clothes? Except for that jacket, you look like you’re…from the revolutionary war or something. And you look older. [worried] Garison, what happened?
Garison: Who are you?
Heather: Heather [takes a step toward him again, but he backs away, down the workbench]
Garison: Heather? Heather who? I don’t know a Heather. What kind of name is that, anyway? A plant name?
Heather: You don’t remember me?
Garison: Why should I?
Heather: Heather Fitch. Heather Dawson Fitch.
Garison: Fitch? You’re not related to me. Just what are you trying to pretend here?
[She reaches out to touch him again and again he slaps her hand away, this time with more force. She brings the hand back, seemingly shocked that the slap had stung.]
Heather: I’m your wife.
Garison: My wife? [forced laugh, then patronizing] All right. What’s going on? Who put you up to this?
Heather: What happened to you, Garison?
[She touches his head. He doesn't slap her away, but it's obvious he doesn't like her touch. He's contemptuous.]
Heather: [touching the lines around his eyes] What are these?
Garison: [surprised] Huh?
Heather: These lines around your eyes. You never had these before. And you’ve got gray hair that wasn’t there before you left. How do you turn gray in a couple seconds?
Garison: I’ve been turning gray for-who are you? Tell me the truth!
Heather: I’m Heather Fitch. I’m your wife.
[Setting: colonial town. A shed is on fire. Sarah rides up as men are trying to put out the fire and keep it from spreading to other buildings. Sarah jumps off and rushes for the building. Finneas, who is one of the men fighting the fire, grabs her to keep her back.]
Sarah: Garison! [looks at Finneas] Was he inside?
Finneas: [nervous, Irish accent] I dunno. He told me he was going in there. But we have not found any evidence, except this. [holds up a padlock]
Sarah: [gasping] Where was it found?
FInneas: Out here, on the ground. We heard no sound or voice. And we’ve seen no sign of a body. Maybe he weren’t in there.
Sarah: [sinking to her knees in grief] He was inside, then. He would never leave the lock outside like that unless he were inside with the door bolted. Garison always did it exactly the same way every time.
[Finneas sinks to his knees and puts his arms around the sobbing widow of his best friend. He begins to cry.]