image from pinterest.com
“True love is like ghosts, which everyone
talks about, but few have seen.”
--Francois de La Rochfoucauld.
1(low wide shot) near the ground; prairie vast,
pocked with hillocks & arroyos--camera moves
toward the horizon, gathering speed; soon just
skimming the sagebrush.
2(sound cue) coronet & banjo--punctuated by
loud bleats on saxophones.
3(reduce to medium wide shot) suddenly, out of
the sage a large pair of brown birds bursts into
4(drone shot) tracking the buzzards, just above
them, as they gain altitude, and the ground
below slides by.
5(sound cue) harp strumming and great wings
6(drone takes the point of view of birds) as the
field of slain buffalo comes into view. and the
lens descends to the fallen bison furthest from
the young hunter.
7(sound cue) guitar & harmonica.
8(medium wide shot) Buck stood up & walked
toward the two buffalo, the graying black cow
standing next to the fallen albino bull. He halted
about twenty feet from their yellow horns.
9(close-up) the patriarch still breathing, but not
moving, still watching Buck.
10(sound cue) three cellos.
11(two-shot) the cow behaved like a tame Jersey,
swishing its tail, chewing its cud.
12(medium close-up) She watched Buck with
calm brown eyes that recognized him, somehow
understanding who he was, the singer of her
death song. She had already faced & moved
beyond her fear, leaving only a black stillness.
13( close-up) Buck: Get the hell out of here !
Leave ! I have killed enough of your family !
I don’t need your pelt ! I grant you life !
14(three-shot) They both stared at him with the
bemused patience of the aged. He drew his
pistol & fired into the air. We see the buzzards
fly off a few feet & stop to witness. The black
cow did not even flinch.
15(medium close-up) Buck: Goddamn it--didn’t
you hear me ? Go !! Join your baby & the others!
16(sound cue) French horns & snare drums.
17(three-shot) He fired the Thunderer twice,
kicking up gravel near her hooves. She did
flinch but would not run.
18(close-up) Buck’s anxious eyes, then her calm
19(medium close-up) Alright--so you have run far
enough? You faithful tired wonderful bitch--join
20(overhead drone shot) He raised the Sharps,
point blank, and shot her in the head--blood
spewing for several feet. It broke her neck, and
slapped her to the ground.
21(sound cue) cello & piano.
22( tight three-shot) They lie together, two ancient
bison, their true love shot away. Buck sank to his
knees, weeping, like he had when his mother died.
He sat there for an hour, until the great snow bull
died--taking one last rasping breath, his huge body
convulsing in a last shudder. Death was a spirit
stallion appearing suddenly. The slain pair rose to
their feet & galloped after the swirling darkness.
Buck rose slowly, his face now an expressionless
mask. He propped up the shiny cold-barreled
Sharps at the albino’s head, unbuckled his sawed
off and finished killing the others. He would have to
set up a camp, then begin the skinning of the pelts.
He would need to build a travois to haul them all on.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN