English Advanced: Mod C creative piece

[puppylover123]

Hi, This is a mod C creative task which has to be based on Nam Le's Father and Child. I have focused on the theme of abandonment predominately, but would just appreciate feedback to make it 20/20 worthy. If you could get back to me as soon as possible that would be great, as this is only my draft and I need to make sure I finalise it soon.

Thanks so much!

Here's the piece below:

Hundreds of flying bats dominate the opening scene. Their wings fluttering and flapping wildly. The speakers projecting their eerie high-pitched sounds around the room. My body turning heavy, the velvet coat of my seat gently pressing against my skin, securing my body in its warmth. A support on each side confined me to that space, in that moment. People trampling over my feet, grounding me in that spot even more than I wanted to be, as panic set in the room with people scrambling to claim the remaining seats for the movie premiere directed by Anna Scott. Popcorn being airborne, a murmuring crowd now cheered loudly – my body trembling uncontrollably with trepidation. I feel heavy with a burden to gain approval. A familiar masculine, monotonous tone narrates the opening scene. The lens of the camera guiding the audience’s eyes in unison in a sort of Point of View, tunnelling our vision. As scotch was still coursing through my veins from a hard night’s work, drowning out the narrator’s tone, my eyes were blindly following the director’s point of view. With hesitation, reaching in and snatching the crumpled mess from my pocket, using the only light available from the screen to illuminate the coffee-stained sheets – I whispered the next line to myself. In unison with the narrator in the opening scene – our voices were in harmony once again.

…

Sunday was his writing day. A famous literary genius. Often expressing his motto, ‘Create your forever-something’. Locked away in his lair often through the night, crafting his alternate universe, an escape from reality. Emerging from his cave only to greet the coffee machine – giving mum and I a subtle grin, exposing his stained pearly whites – as well as a big thumbs up. He always directed me into his lair, where a lonely desk in the centre of the room was surrounded by an abundance of equipment – light meters, tripods, clapperboards, multiple DSLR’s, storyboards and copious amounts of pen and paper. The sheets were filled with  typed fragmented sentences, and freshly hand-written annotations with the ink still wet to the touch. The single strip of opaque glass bricks parallel to the roofline, was the only diffused light entering his cave. The artificial light of the desk lamp illuminated his dishevelled appearance – tattered clothing, uncombed hair and unshaven. The air reeked of hard work - the smell of technology whirring, a floor full of pencil sharpening’s, the tip of his pencil condemning the page with thoughts and ideas. The alcohol on his breath was nothing short of unusual, the recurring bleached patches on the carpet – liquid leaking from his desk drawer revealed his dependable friend, his source of concealment – the very essence of his being. Scene after scene, take upon take – 30 minutes of every Sunday for 15 years we met again. A bleak welcome – the discipline of his emotions kept his lips pursed tightly shut, except when greeting his actor –

“Hi Anna. I want you to act really distressed in this scene”, he said as his glassy eyes reflected my submissive figure.
“That’s unusual Dad. I’ve read your scripts and they aren’t usually this dark”, I said as I consoled his trembling voice.

Locking my eyes firmly on the freshly annotated fragments, my eyes straining trying to piece together the mess on the page.  The little colour in his eyes began to fade, his pupils constricting to reveal the bloodshot edges.  I subconsciously kept my gaze in his lens - his control. Surprisingly, his grip on the script loosened, revealing his secret –

‘SURRENDER’
                          Directed by Frederick Scott Anna Scott.

Anna Scott appointed Director – no thank you! Confused and hesitant, yet excited to no longer have to face the frame of the camera against my face again. I was no longer a bunch of pixels he greeted every week.

A week later, before our usual 30 minute Sunday meeting, his absence felt heavy. A sense of unease passed over me – no typing of his script, no callout to begin work. I was mesmerised - empty bottles of alcohol strewn around the floor – large pools of fresh alcohol absorbed into the carpet. His scripts and handwritten notes crumpled and scattered across the desk –– weighted down by his video camera still rolling - 15 years’ worth of clips. Half-done documents, the light meter still running, desk lamp switched on – a sense of unfinished business.

Now I felt really alone.  I didn’t think he would go this far. But I now knew that his wish was for me to piece together the fragments and fulfil his duty.  Knowing December 15th was the big day, my mind whirred with ideas. As I indulged in substances from his desk drawer, I felt out of control but in unison with his creative power. I slammed down the bottle. The typed words came easily. I had to come up with an opening scene. One that ‘screamed Dad’ –

Opening Scene
At midnight. Hundreds of flying bats. Eerie high-pitched sounds. Their wings fluttering and flapping wildly. 

The deadline was imminent. Every click and clack of the keyboard was a new idea for the movie. The strength of scotch and the bittery sweet taste of caffeine were my fuel to create my forever-something in honour of Frederick Scott, my father. My tired and blood-shot eyes struggled to stay awake. It was the full moon of course – the climax to my effort.

…

December 15th rolled around. Head pounding. Groggy. A sense of anxiety. How can I, Anna Scott – an amateur writer and director, compete with the shadow of a household name, movie mogul and litterateur; the late great Frederick Scott. Nevertheless, my eighth coffee of the morning – wasted, as I succumbed to the adrenaline, spilling it all over the completed script. FRENETIC. I rushed to the big screen just in time – somewhat hesitant to be amongst ‘dad’s crowd’, yet glad that we could share this moment together since he left me. I no longer felt alone.

I made it.