Credit_ J.C

Act 1. A simple way of life

Ext. Farming village – Evening 

Green hills of quiet and serene segmented rice paddies rest artfully against snowy peaks and high valley walls. 

VISAGO (VOICE OVER)

This world is a cruel place, but it does not always seem so cruel. 

A Lean and handsome man rests comfortably against his pitched rake. His bearded face is shaded by a wide brim straw hat. It sits comfortably over his long matted hair. He is at peace and Looks out at the field. A young woman and several children play amongst the cold mountain spring pools. Firefly’s and exotic amphibians move lazily about to avoid being crushed by the childrens’ games. 

VISAGO (CONT’D)

No, sometimes it can seem so very pleasant.

Other towns folk go about their daily lives. The sun is settling into evening and nearby a communal cook fire seems to welcome them. A large mountain goat cooks on a rotisserie.

VISAGO (CONT’D)

This is the worlds’ cruelest trick of all. 

The young farmer sees an older man walking nearby the children. They wave, they smile.

VISAGO (CONT’D)

Only when the innocent have pause, 

The older man stops walking for a moment, unexpectedly exhausted. The young women playfully bounds over to offer assistance. He’s grateful and catches his breath with a long drink of the cool mountain water.

VISAGO (CONT’D)

A moment to breathe the air,

The sun shines overhead spilling light into the pool. A 12 foot centipede lays silently. Its jaws lock around the old man’s neck. The women screams as the beast leans back on its hind legs; the man’s body flailing about. Crunch, a headless corpse falls to the ground.

VISAGO (CONT’D)

To feel the sun on their bodies.

The young farmer runs out, the sharp edge of his pitched tool pointed forward like a spear. The beast repositions to strike the screaming Women. Lunging, its jaws lock around the farmers’ outstretched poll arm.

VISAGO (CONT’D)

Hear a promise of a future.

With ease the beast lifts the man from his feat. White knuckles gripped tightly around the rake, the farmer looks the arthropod in its compound crystalline eyes. Crunch, bent steel and splintered wood turn to ash in the man’s hands. The centipedes’ barbed stinger impales midfall.

VISAGO (CONT’D)

That the cruelty this world inflicts 

The farmer does not die. Black oil wells up in his veins. It spills out his sinuses and leaks from his fingernails. The once man begins to stand of his own volition. Eyes dripping black with toxic ink he looks to the village with sightless eyes. 

VISAGO (CONT’D)

Is truly beautiful. 

Other screams echo out in the village. More centipedes have overrun the cook fire. One of the children, some distance away, looks on in disbelief. An unfamiliar sight in a brave new world.

VISAGO (CONT’D)

That is its way