I've started to write out the script for the story - here's where I have got to so far:
INT. LIBRARY - EVENING
At the top of an old wooden ladder that is leaning against a dusty bookshelf THE LIBRARIAN is selecting books from off of the shelf, studying them briefly and then dropping them to the floor for him to collect later. The THUD of the book hitting the floor does not faze him and with boredom he carries on with his chore of selecting books from the shelf. He does this three times in total.
Cut to a close up of the librarians’ legs walking slowly across the screen whilst idly dragging an unfortunate open book by the corner of its cover across the floor, its pages falling helplessly with gravity as it is pulled along.
Cut to the librarian sat at a gnarled desk in an old high backed arm chair. He is reviewing the books he has selected off of the shelf in a careless fashion. (Sigh) Impatiently he starts to throw the books over his shoulder as if he can find no joy whatsoever in their pages. He holds his head miserably in his hands.
He shuffles in his chair, eyes glassed over, bored with his task and no longer caring, gazing off into the distance. He soon falls asleep, arm dropping down the side of a chair still loosely holding the book he was clutching.
The book comes to life…
At the top of an old wooden ladder that is leaning against a dusty bookshelf THE LIBRARIAN is selecting books from off of the shelf, studying them briefly and then dropping them to the floor for him to collect later. The THUD of the book hitting the floor does not faze him and with boredom he carries on with his chore of selecting books from the shelf. He does this three times in total.
Cut to a close up of the librarians’ legs walking slowly across the screen whilst idly dragging an unfortunate open book by the corner of its cover across the floor, its pages falling helplessly with gravity as it is pulled along.
Cut to the librarian sat at a gnarled desk in an old high backed arm chair. He is reviewing the books he has selected off of the shelf in a careless fashion. (Sigh) Impatiently he starts to throw the books over his shoulder as if he can find no joy whatsoever in their pages. He holds his head miserably in his hands.
He shuffles in his chair, eyes glassed over, bored with his task and no longer caring, gazing off into the distance. He soon falls asleep, arm dropping down the side of a chair still loosely holding the book he was clutching.
The book comes to life…
RSS Feed