Opening Scene TG
The priest approached the bed. He knew this was going to be the climax. They had exhausted all other options?medical science and prayer alone were not enough.
He had to exorcise the demon from Samuel Proctor, before it was too late.
As he opened the door, and walked in, he knew he would win. He could feel the armor of god protecting him. No matter what the demon threw at him, he would make it out of that room alive.
He grasped the handle of the door without hesitation. It was freezing cold, and opened with a long, slow screech. The smell of rotting fish seeped out.
Rain and wind blasted against the window. A flash of light?and then thunder.
From Samuel's bed came whimpers. The priest turned and looked down at the bed. It was hard to see the boy in the darkness, but from what he could see, Samuel lay on the bed upside down. The priest could not see the boy's face. Despite this, he wanted to reassure the boy. "Samuel, it is time."
Only whimpers, and another flash of lightning. The door slammed shut.
"Samuel, I'm going to begin now," the priest said, stepping forward. A branch slammed against the window. It cracked. Rain began to drip in through the cracks.
"Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on us," the priest said.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The bed slammed against the wall.
"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done."
Hisssss. The priest turned to the window and looked down. The rain that had crept in through the window had turned to snakes. Looking down, he could see them slithering to him.
The priest thought three things:
First:
Wow, those are really good special effects.
And then:
They are just an illusion, I need not be afraid.
And finally:
I mean, in the context of the movie, my character believes they are just an illusion. I should show no fear.
He turned back to Samuel, intent to carry on with the ritual, illusions be damned.
"On Earth as it is in heaven," the priest said, holding his bible above the boy.
Samuel rolled over on the bed, but the priest did not see Samuel.
He saw a pale woman, with soft cheeks and lowered eyes. Her head was covered with a white scarf. A blue shawl covered her shoulders, and red silk covered her demure body and petite breasts.
The woman spoke: "Come, father. Bow down to me. You can see there is no demon here. It is only I--"
"NO!" the priest screamed. Lightning flashed again. In the back of his mind: knock it off with the lightning, guys. It's starting to get campy. Well, campier, anyway. But it gave him time to get a quick breath, so he could bellow his next few lines: "Do not speak the words! Do not defile her name! You are NOT the Virgin Mary!"
She grinned, her lips turning redder with each passing moment. The priest couldn't let her delay him more... he did not feel the armor of god weakening, but this being before him grew stronger as the boy's health faded. If the beast devoured Samuel's soul completely, there would be nothing he could do.
"Give us this day, our daily bread..." It was like the girl on Samuel's skin was being covered in honey. Was her neck growing longer? Her lips were certainly gaining volume. I thought we were going to add these effects in post-production... how are they even doing this?
"And forgive us our trespasses..." The white scarf vanished, and her hair formed into layered tresses.
"As we forgive those who trespass against us..." The blue scarf sank into the bed, and the fabric of her dress began to roll up. This is amazing, I really need to shake Bobby's hand after this is all done.
"Lord Jesus Christ!" The dress formed into a strapless black bra. It looked like her skin was covered in moisture, the type of eggshell composure you'd see in some well-done photoshop.
The lighting flash and thunder distracted him, so he stood his ground said it again: "LORD JESUS CHRIST!" Hopefully the writers don't whine about the repetition.
"Because he hopes in you, my God!" He could watch the breasts growing before his eyes. A dark shadow crossed her smoothly curved eyes.
She spoke: "Don't you mean, 'she hopes in you,' priest?"
"Send him help from the holy place, Lord!" It is still Samuel I am praying for.
"Look at me," the woman said, sliding forward on the bed. "Isn't it time YOU confess, father? You want me, don't you." She jutted her chest out, giving them jazz hands to boot.
"Give him heavenly protection!" He had to maintain the prayer. His hands already reaching for the holy water.
The snakes hissed at his feet. He glanced down for but a moment, and when he saw them, he could see they were real. Really real.
"Back!" he snapped at them. "The grace of God protects me!"
They slithered around him. Screams filled the room, a high-pitched girls scream. It felt as though the room were spinning, and suddenly the lightning wasn't just flashes of light. Strobe lights: pulsating from the window, throbbing with a hum in each moment. It was trying to drown him out.
He could see less and less of the young man Samuel before him. The priest looked at her on the bed; he could only barely make out her face, her eyes glowing red. Another flash of light, and another pulse. Now she was standing before him?but in each moment, it seemed she was standing still. Another flash of light, and another pulse. She was nose to nose. He could not but stare into her deep, dark eyes.
"May the Lord be with you," the priest said. It was barely a whisper.
Her mouth opened, jaws bearing wide. She screamed, and he could feel the spittle blasting into his face, smell the stench of vomit. It looked like she could eat him.
He was crying?he didn't know when, but he was crying?and he sobbed: "And with your spirit."
And then he fell to the ground, his body shaking.
It was like the room had been set on fire. The snakes slid up onto his chest, staring down into his face. And then, as he watched, they erupted in flames, and then instantly smouldered into dust.
It looked as though the walls were on fire, the bed burning.
And there before him, standing, shaking, was the young man: Samuel Proctor.
He wanted to call out?come to me, my boy. That was the line. But he couldn't muster it, he could only pant, whimpering really.
His hand reached out for the boy, and as the pillows exploded behind them, the boy took his hand.
And he felt human. The demon was gone.
The room went black.
He could feel the boy holding on, gripping him tight.
And then the room lit up and someone cheered.
The boy and the priest remained on the ground, holding each others' hands, while a clap filled the room around them. When the room had been filled with shadows, he could not see it all: the mics, the lighting equipment, or even the honest-to-god film (read: not digital) camera they'd shipped in the week before just for this scene.
The lighting guy and the rain guy helped the priest to his feet. He felt dazed; weak. Something turned off, and he could feel the armor of god receding from his body. No longer a priest.
"Michael!" His name was Michael Forestor. Actor. And then he thought: The exorcism is complete.
"James!" The young boy's name was James Atwill. Actor. And then he thought: The exorcism was a success.
"Where's Bobby," Michael heard himself saying. "Those snakes creeped me right the Hell out."
"Dude that wasn't even me! It was all lighting!"
"Lighting?" the lighting guys asked. "I thought it was animatronics."
Everyone was laughing. Michael felt nervous. "No, really, Bobby," Michael said, trying to push away from the crowd of shaking hands. "How did you do those effects? How did you make James seem to be a woman? How did you make him transform before my eyes?"
"Mikey, Mikey... the films over! We're done! Cut with the drama, brother!" Bobby shoved a beer into Michael's hand.
"That's a wrap!" the director called from "the hallway."
"But... but..."
Michael didn't really care about the effects, actually. He wanted that feeling back. The feeling of having the armor of God.
He turned to James. They'd shoved a beer into his hands too, and then he'd sat on the bed. Suddenly everyone was leaving him alone, backing away, having their own chats. The movie was over. It had been a long shoot, and a long shoot on a low budget meant a lot of work for a little pay. They wanted to get drunk.
Michael walked over to James, James who had turned into a woman before his eyes, and sat on the bed beside him. He could still smell the smoke in the air from the exploding bed. "James..." he whispered. Here, sitting with him, he could feel the sense of being the priest again. Here, sitting right in front of the camera, right where everything was pointed.
For a moment, Michael wondered how James felt. If I could feel God's armor when we were shooting, what did James feel? "James, how did they do it?" Michael asked. "How did they do all the special effects in one take? I thought we were doing everything in post production."
James turned and looked up at him with those big, beady eyes that had won him the role in the first place. There was a hint of tears in those eyes. "We won, right?" the boy whispered. "Did we win?"
At first Michael wanted to ask: Did we win what? But then it was all too clear. The boy had felt it too... the boy had been it.
"Yes," Michael said, wrapping his arm around the boy. "We won."