Brilliance!

FADE IN:

EXT. PLEASANT NEIGHBORHOOD – AUTUMN – MIDDAY

[TRACK 1: “BRILLIANCE! – OPENING”]

(underscore, instrumental)

From the treetops above idyllic homes, the vibrant dying leaves continue their winterward float.

WILLIAM PIKE (13,he/him) and his mother GOLDA (42, she/her) walk from their manicured house to a neighbor’s down the block. WILLIAM’S gait is slightly stuttering, different. GOLDA rings the doorbell.

MARTHA (79, she/her) answers. Elderly, gracious, hints of Latina accent.

GOLDA

Hi Martha.

MARTHA

Golda! Hello. Hi, William.

GOLDA

It’s so nice of you and Gary to take William. Wow it’s been forever since Dennis and I went out on our own!

Bounces on her heels.

We’ll be cruising up north a bit to catch some fall colors.

MARTHA

Nice. It’ll be great to have a young face around here again.

GOLDA

                     (to William)

Have fun. We’ll be back… hmm, I don’t know, around dinnertime or so.

MARTHA

Don’t worry, Golda. Just have a great time.

GOLDA kisses WILLIAM’S head as he goes in.

INT. GARY AND MARTHA’S HOME – FOYER – CONTINUOUS

Classic home interior.

WILLIAM

Um… Would you mind if I play in your attic? I’ve heard… I just heard, um, it was really… Magic. Um… I really… I…

MARTHA

No, of course. Help yourself, William.

WILLIAM heads down the hall.

Whatever you find up there, follow it.

WILLIAM

                     (under his breath)

Follow it? Follow it.

WILLIAM climbs to the second floor. On the right, three steps up is a midget-size door. It moans as he teases it open, stretching spider-webs.

INT. THE ATTIC – CONTINUOUS

Dusty light streams into the vaulted attic randomly piled high with boxes, books, toys, and memorabilia.

WILLIAM energetically scans the room, stooping, reaching. On top of a pile he spots a small wooden crate with a warped, loose top. Undulating beams of light emanate from the gaps. A string wrapped around a tab holds it down. Beyond curious, he eases it open.

Inside is a plaque. A bas relief of a crazed-looking, big-eared toothy man with horns and a chaotic curly head of hair. This is the Ancient Roman mythical creature: FAUN. Half man, half goat.

WILLIAM

                     (softly)

Faun. I read about this.

WILLIAM holds it up to the light. He runs his fingers across the carved face. FAUN winks at him, mouth twitching. WILLIAM leaps back.

WILLIAM

Whoa!

FAUN squeezes his eyes shut, opens them, shakes to wake up.

FAUN

What a nap! It has been many years now.

WILLIAM

I can’t believe this.

WILLIAM rubs his eyes. Opens them wide.

FAUN

Where is Carlo? And Jason?

WILLIAM

Huh? Who? My name is William, but…

FAUN

Oh. Yes. Well, then hang me.

WILLIAM

What for? What the hell did you do?

FAUN

Just hang, hang, hang me! You know; on the wall. So we can get started!

WILLIAM

Started? Started with what?

WILLIAM spots a nail on the wall, feels the loop behind the plaque and hangs it up.

POW! FAUN ejects from the plaque, zipping and hopping around the attic, clattering hooves and bleating, but somehow eerily muted, distant.

FAUN

Good, good, good to be alive, alive, alive!

WILLIAM

Wait, but you’re like… just… mythical.

FAUN’S hooves scrape the floor as he abruptly stops. Clack-clack-clack right up to WILLIAM’S face. Looks deep into his eyes.

FAUN

Yes. You are the one. Most definitely. Let us move, move, move on this!

Two steps back, he looks around. Dashes to the middle of the room.

Come here. Now. Pick up this map.

WILLIAM picks up an old, wrinkly cloth map in a crusty leather binder. Unfolds it. Folds it back up. Unfolds it again. Bounces it in his hands. WILLIAM spreads the map out and presses it to his nose, sniffs deeply.

WILLIAM

Smells like an old car.

On the map is a two-lane in the middle of nowhere.

INT/EXT. 1930s BUICK ROADMASTER

A person in the front passenger seat is holding the map. On the back bench seat a toddler is sleeping. His face is misshapen, eye sockets shrunken. Very different; this is what CARLO looks like.

A normal, healthy preteen sits looking out the window, furrowed brow, intensely studying the landscape. This is what JASON looks like.

INT. THE ATTIC

FAUN is standing near a dusty box by the wall.

FAUN

Here. This.

WILLIAM reaches into the box, delicately picks up an antique wooden coffee grinder. A red silk-screened graphic of a breezy wheat field is printed on each face. He examines every corner and surface. Taps the wood. Turns the handle.

WILLIAM

Hmm… I think I read about this.

—– To be continued —–