Digital Ischemia

10/06/2012

Dissociative

Filed under: What You Wish For-S — Teepwriter @ 14:50

EXT. RURAL TOWN STREET – DAY

Polly trips along, swinging a shopping bag, stifling a huge smirk.  Will steps into her path, quizzical.  She bounces to a halt.

POLLY
Hey!  Dad was asking for you!

WILL
Oh?  How’s his deer-proofing?

POLLY
No idea.  Why are you here?

WILL
Study day.

POLLY
Studying what exactly, neighbourhood sociology?

WILL
Ha.  You’re quite enough to study.  What are you up to?

Polly glances down at her bag, momentarily inarticulate.

POLLY
Just enjoying the pleasures of simple things.

WILL
Most unlikely.

Polly’s face clouds.

POLLY
Oh, I have to scoot.  See you!

Polly legs it toward the hill track.  Will ponders.

INT. BENACHAR HOUSE HALL – DAY

Polly rushes in, drops her bag, checks the clock: 4:45, relaxes, exhales.

EXT. BENACHAR HILL TRACK – 1863, DAY

Polly hugs a long wool skirt over her knees, basking in sunshine, gazing at the barn.  A book flaps in grass near her.  Without moving her gaze she reaches for it.

Harry holds a barn door in place.  Innes attaches hinges.

EXT. BENACHAR COTTAGE – 2013, EVENING – ESTABLISHING

INT. BENACHAR COTTAGE KITCHEN – EVENING

Galley-style, tidied by suspending everything from wall hooks.  Polly ducks along, grabs two glasses.

POLLY
Where?

DAD (O.S.)
Fridge.

Polly peels open the fridge, peers in.  She ruffles her hair, dislodges a bit of grass, smirks.

SFX: clonks of fence posts outside.

Polly jerks to the window, flits her eyes.  Dad saunters in.  She refocuses, grabs a bottle from the fridge.

POLLY
Who’s that?

DAD
Will’s going at my deer fence.

POLLY
Oh!

Polly flushes, covers by pouring cordial.

DAD
Handy boy, your Will.

POLLY
Yeh, Vanessa must be thrilled.

Polly gets a grip on herself, reaches for a third glass.

POLLY (CONT’D)
Never mind him, when was this built?

Polly gestures around.  Dad sips, glances up.

DAD
Nineteen something… Oh four?  The third Laird decided he wanted his workers living on site for the winter.

POLLY
Harsh?

DAD
No’ really; generous for they days.  I’ll hunt out the bumf.

Dad wanders away.  Polly squints out the window.  Will slides up behind her in his socks.

WILL
Hello.

POLLY
(gasping)
Oh, hey!

Polly jolts herself, pours cordial into the third glass.

WILL
Do you know where he keeps his shed key?

Polly is blank.  Will rummages in a nearby drawer, in triumph pulls out a hefty key by its loop of twine.

WILL (CONT’D)
It has to be.  Thank you.

Polly is discomfited.  Will takes a drink.

WILL (CONT’D)
Still off in your other world, eh?  I believe you have a man!

Polly splutters a nervous laugh.  Will is dismayed.

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