New Original Unproduced Screenplays
THE PIXIE DETECTIVE OPENER
EXT. ABANDONED SHIPYARD - DAY
Broken down boats of various size and makes sway up to the water's edge, rocking against the reeds at the edge of the bay's channel.
Overgrown shrubs and reeds sprout up, dotting the football field size yard.
Old dilapidated warehouses sit lopsided on a badly aging boardwalk type DOCK.
Small box like SHACK once used as an office, stands in front of the warehouses to the edge of the dock. Reeds shoot up tall enough to reach and partially hide the shack's front entrance.
In the distance, beyond the six-foot-high barbed wire topped, chain link fence surrounding the shipyard, a small RANCHER sits alone in the wide open meadowland.
INT. SHACK - CONTINUOUS
Two men sit talking at a wood table. One of the men, the BOSS (40s) sloppy, heavy set, stubble faced man, chumps on a stubby cigar.
The other man, TIGGY (30s) skinny, scrubby face, looks intimidated by the Boss, wears unkept, filthy clothes.
The two men play a game of cards and garble about something that can't quite be understood and filters down to,
EXT. BENEATH DOCK, UNDER SHACK - CONTINUOUS
A little pixie girl, CAITLYN (7) wears shorts and summer shirt, listens to the men in the shack.
Caitlyn clutches a Sherlock Holmes size detectives magnifying glass and wears a Sherlock Holmes hat that nearly covers her head.
A large sleek black cat sits alongside Caitlyn. The cat watches Caitlyn with curious amusement.
The male voices from above filter down under the dock.
Hey Boss. When those Asian girls going to get here?
Soon Tiggy. Just hold your pants. You get any skinnier, I'll have to tie them up with a rope.
How much we getting for them girls this time.
Caitlyn looks through her magnifying glass up at the rafters of the dock. The cat meows.
Quiet MISS BLACKY.
The voices stop dead from above.
What was that Boss?
Chair legs scrapping over wood, CREAKS down below.
Caitlyn scurries to the opposite end of the dock. MISS BLACKY trots close to her heels.
EXT. RANCHER - EVENING
The rancher, previously seen from the shipyard, sits on wide open grassland. To the north side, the shipyard's warehouses look dwarfed sitting behind the tall reeds.
To the west side, tall reeds nearly block the wide bay's channel flowing around from the shipyard.
Caitlyn sits on concrete steps leading to the front door of the rancher. She eyes Miss Blacky through her big magnifying glass.
INT. RANCHER, KITCHEN - NIGHT
The interior, much like the exterior, is a well-kept lower middle class household. Miss Blacky munches on nuggets in a quart size bowl on the kitchen floor under the table.
Caitlyn slurps up noodle soup from another quart size bowl on the kitchen table in front of her with a spoon.
A slender woman, JUNE (30s) leans over the kitchen sink, washing dishes as the warm summer breeze gently tosses her bangs. She wears a plain, but well-kept blouse.
Caitlyn pings the spoon in her empty bowl and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She grabs her bowl and carries it over to her mother.
June takes the bowl and places it in the murky, soapy water. Caitlyn stares at June curiously.
Mommy. I heard some men talking about Asian girls.
Where was this Caitlyn?
At the shipyard.
June's smile turns to a frown.
I told you to stay away from that place. It's dangerous.
It's not dangerous. I got Miss Blacky with me. I get lots of practice there.
You're not a detective young lady.
I can be someday. Girls can be anything they want. That's what daddy use to tell me.
That's fine. There's a lot of detective work you can do close to the house.
No shipyard. Do I make myself clear?
Miss Blacky watches intensely.
INT. CAITLYN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Caitlyn flops on her bed.
Miss Blacky watches her from the wall near a window.
Caitlyn stares at the opposite wall. Her head propped with her hands.
Why couldn't you stand up for me Miss Blacky?
Miss Blacky stands upright like a human. She props one paw against the wall, and crosses one foot over the other.
Now look here Pixie.
Caitlyn jerks her head around. She freezes when her eyes catch sight of...