The Accidental Siren

5.2 Fairytale Part One: The Girl

Wattpad readers, there are several excerpts from James' screenplay that are supposed to have a slightly different format than what WP allows. Hopefully the itallics will be enough to separate the screenplay from the reality! Hope you're still enjoying the book!

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06  INT. THE RED ROOM - NIGHT

THE GIRL walks in a very inviting room with lots of red in the design. A big bed is in the room. It has red and white pillows. A table is in the middle and covered with a mysterious white sheet. White candles are lit and sit on other small tables.

TWO GIRLS stand along the wall in scary poses but they don't move. A scary-sounding lullaby plays in the background. The ribbon on the girl's finger leads her to a cool looking box with fruit in it. The girl looks awfully hungry. She reaches for a strawberry but a SCARY VOICE makes her stop.

“Who goes there!” Dad said with a mischievous cackle. 

Mara jerked her hand away from the fruit. “Who are you?” she stammered. “Where are you?”

Dad emerged from burgundy drapes. His body was wrapped in a crimson cloak, his face was plastered from hair to chin with white silicon, and his head was crowned with a tiara of black feathers. He wore pendants and chains around his neck and gloves like a butler. “I'm here,” he said in his most despicable voice.

Mom chuckled from the doorway and I shushed her immediately; the basement guest room was my set, and I wouldn't tolerate unnecessary noise. She respected my authority and made a zipping gesture across her pinched lips. I put my eye back to the viewfinder and panned to Dad.

“I didn't mean to frighten you, little girl,” he continued. “Why don't you come inside and relax? I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Maybe just for a minute,” Mara said. She removed the ribbon from her finger, then plucked a strawberry from Mom's fancy cigar box.

My elaborate production design included wrought-iron trinkets from around the castle, bottles from the beach, Mara's candles (saints facing away), crystal glasses, and red curtains borrowed from Mrs. Greenfield's antique booth in Grand Rapids. Above the bed hung a bowl of dry ice--frothing with bouts of heavy smoke--inspired by my alter boy friend.

“I'm very hungry,” Mara said.

Dad stepped forward. “Hungry, you sayyy?”

I signaled Jake with a frantic wave. He nodded, then pulled the string that raised a sheet that magically revealed a table of food.

“Whoa!” Mara said. “Is that for me?”

Dad rapped his gloved fingers together, lowered his head, and grinned. “Yes, child. It's all for you.”

“Annnd cut!” I yelled.

Mom nearly lost it. She grabbed her knees, snorted once, but kept it in. Whit lowered the boom pole and laughed, then Mara and Jake joined in. Dad looked at me--his face like a confused hobo clown--and I couldn't help but crack a smile.

“I don't know what's so funny,” Livy said, dropping her arms to her side and shaking flour from her hair. “It's the middle of July and there's no AC down here. I get to put cute makeup on Mara, and I hafta make myself look like a dead Pinocchio.”

Mom covered her mouth to suppress the laughter. It wasn't working.

Kimmy unhinged her pose and slapped flour from her gown. “What are we supposed to be, anyways?”