Demeanor

Untitled Short Film

SCENE ONE

INT. MARSHALL’S ROOM — STORMY NIGHT

MARSHALL sits on his bed. He looks out the window, then begins talking to the camera.

MARSHALL

Man’s demeanor walks with his surroundings hand-in-hand. On a day of his bliss the sun may shine upon him with its intensity and warmth direct. It is to wonder, however, if he glows for the sun or the sun glows for him. Whichever may be, man also finds dread when the elements chain him to his chamber and rap against his window for asylum.

He reaches over and closes his curtains.

MARSHALL

Upon such an evening man has little choice but reflection as I am drawn to now. I am sentenced to dwell here for the same reason the weather changes: his rib. In my time I have known many, but only a few left their will where my habit truly lies: the Instigator, the Tortured Ally, and the Casualty. It has occurred to me that if I may compartmentalize and subjectify them in such a way so must they to me. My role to each I can only speculate, but I am assured that whatever monicker I am in their minds I no longer don. Each has a tale, an entry and exit through my narrow world that indeed left me anew at the end of each. Every incarnation I shed is immortalized in the resolute and often unflattering ink trail that spans years.

He picks up a notebook.

MARSHALL

After these women and these writings I am still no better at predicting how temperate tomorrow may be. All I know is that the storm still shakes my door, but now I may sleep through and dream of the sun.

He puts the notebook down and lies down in bed. He turns out the light.

SCENE TWO

INT. MARSHALL’S ROOM — MORNING

MARSHALL sleeps in bed. His phone begins to ring. He picks up the phone and answers groggily.

MARSHALL
Why on a day of school’s reprieve do you wake me at such an hour, Caulfield?

CAULFIELD (on the phone)

Locked in my home I grow restless. I hoped that you and your car may relieve me of that burden.

MARSHALL

Who else would accompany us?

MARSHALL sits up in bed, stretching, and opens the curtain. It is bright.

CAULFIELD (on the phone)

Eros, before he goes with Olivia.

MARSHALL

I will pick you up soon, it seems a shame to dwindle inside on such a gorgeous day.

MARSHALL hangs up the phone. He addresses the camera.

MARSHALL

Let us hope Caulfield’s humor should dress to match.

SCENE THREE

EXT. MARSHALL’S HOUSE — DAY

MARSHALL is making his way to his car and still addressing the camera.

MARSHALL

Do not be mistaken, a more loyal or trustworthy friend than Caulfield is one you will not find. But he often finds himself in low spirits.

He gets into the car and begins looking at the camera in the rear-view mirror.

MARSHALL

He views his own promise in only two dimensions: The recluse to romance remains secluded. The kind that women do not lust for are doubtful a kind which they will love.

MARSHALL starts the car and pulls out of the driveway.

SCENE THREE

EXT. CAULFIELD’S HOUSE — DAY

MARSHALL pulls up in his car as CAULFIELD exits the house and gets in the car.

CAULFIELD
Any woman who admits a desire which I myself cannot fathom almost immediately turns her back, as if my thoughts have become hers.

MARSHALL (to the camera)

He lives in a near-constant panic.

CAULFIELD cont.

Perhaps scorn is the burden. If only it was not in me to hold a grudge, yet resentment echoes long after its roar.

MARSHALL

Let its call die out; wounded pride only prolongs rage’s slow boil.

CAULFIELD

To let go is prescribed, but in a crossroads with no clear destinations man tends to press on without turning.

MARSHALL

Then press on we shall. Is Eros ready for us?

CAULFIELD

He has had notice, but with him there is no telling.

MARSHALL

Then we best try our luck I suppose.

MARSHALL starts the car and begins driving.

MARSHALL

I advise you not to engage Eros with your troubles, he meets Olivia not three hours from now.

CAULFIELD

I will attempt restraint but I am in the throws of stroke of emotion, the kinds of which may only seldom plague the human heart for fear of overburden.

MARSHALL

Such fits I am well used to, Caulfield, believe me. But I conceal them and entrap them in the night as they belong; do not push that overburden on to others. Now here comes our man.

MARSHALL stops the car and EROS steps in the back seat.

MARSHALL

Good morning, Eros.

EROS

So it is, dear Marshall. To a bliss this morn I am partial. I feel the love for kings and the love that continues to ring long after its giver has gone.

MARSHALL (to the camera)

Eros’ resolution to rhyme is not one that he will quickly denounce.

CAULFIELD rolls his eyes.

MARSHALL (to the camera)

Though Caulfield harbors enough hatred of it for the both of them.

EROS

And what plagues dear Caulfield on such a fine day?

CAULFIELD

Desolation.

MARSHALL

He inflates the destruction.

CAULFIELD

I most certainly do not.