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- “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” †
- Francesca Ayers & Samuel Scully
- Screenplay by Matt Butler
We’re in a suburban bedroom. Pale cream walls are hidden behind a tapestry of things and people seen and done. This room is almost a living thing. It breathes.
And then she notices the Outside.
Suburbia is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there is an ocean of green, unkempt grass, interrupted by the occasional outcrop of splintered concrete. There is no sound save for the wind. It’s as if the whole world is holding its breath.
She notices the BOY standing in the middle of this ocean,
his back to her. He’s shirtless. Covered in tattoos.
CLAIRE
Oi!
CLAIRE
You real?
TATTOOED BOY
...Are you?
He strides towards her with enormous, gangly steps.You real?
TATTOOED BOY
...Are you?
CLAIRE
Oh yeah. Look.
CLAIRE
Want a tattoo?
CLAIRE
Stick and poke party. You just missed it. There’s a bit of ink left if you want it. Looks like you’ve got some
room on your back.
TATTOOED BOY
Do I get to choose?
Do I get to choose?
She pulls a twenty sided die from her bra and hands it to him. He rolls it. It dances across the windowsill. Fourteen.
She runs her finger down a piece of paper taped to her wall- twelve... thirteen... fourteen.
CLAIRE
Heh. Good one.
Heh. Good one.
TATTOOED BOY
Do I get to see?
Do I get to see?
CLAIRE
(With a smirk)
...turn around.
(With a smirk)
...turn around.
He does, sitting on the windowsill, facing that emerald ocean. She dips the needle and gets to work. He winces.
TATTOOED BOY
It stings.
It stings.
CLAIRE
Aw, big baby.
Aw, big baby.
She continues for a beat.
CLAIRE
I’m Claire.
TATTOOED BOY
I know who you are.
(Off her look)
You told me.
I’m Claire.
TATTOOED BOY
I know who you are.
(Off her look)
You told me.
He gestures to her bedroom. The specificity of it.
CLAIRE
You’ve been peering through my window? Good.
I like to keep em open.
TATTOOED BOY
You’re an exhibitionist.
You’ve been peering through my window? Good.
I like to keep em open.
TATTOOED BOY
You’re an exhibitionist.
CLAIRE (Playfully)
I am what I am. Who are you?
TATTOOED BOY
Who do you think I am?
She thinks long and hard. He could be anybody.
CLAIRE
...You remind me of a boy I once knew.
TATTOOED BOY
Tell me about him.
...You remind me of a boy I once knew.
TATTOOED BOY
Tell me about him.
She snorts. No way. Until she sees him peering over his shoulder, gently gazing at her with a look asking “Please”.
CLAIRE
But it’s all true....You’re not going to believe me.
When I was like fifteen, I lived in this Place in the country.
Sort of Place where people would stand around thinking about making a decision. The whole Place was this big held breath. Except for the Bush. The Bush was different.
I was... I was really goth back then. Told myself I was way too cool to skip stones or run around or whatever... So instead, I spent all day hanging out in this massive hollow Totara. Thing about this Totara, it had a window. Must have been there when the thing first sprouted cause it was literally in the side of the tree, like a knot that decided to take a more comfortable shape. It had glass, curtains, a little latch that locked from the inside, everything. I painted it black and filled the tree with balloons and blankets and other things that made it mine. Spent a whole summer in that tree, smoking shitty cigarettes and reading Virginia Woolf.
Sort of Place where people would stand around thinking about making a decision. The whole Place was this big held breath. Except for the Bush. The Bush was different.
I was... I was really goth back then. Told myself I was way too cool to skip stones or run around or whatever... So instead, I spent all day hanging out in this massive hollow Totara. Thing about this Totara, it had a window. Must have been there when the thing first sprouted cause it was literally in the side of the tree, like a knot that decided to take a more comfortable shape. It had glass, curtains, a little latch that locked from the inside, everything. I painted it black and filled the tree with balloons and blankets and other things that made it mine. Spent a whole summer in that tree, smoking shitty cigarettes and reading Virginia Woolf.
CLAIRE
Course, the only other people who hang out in the Bush all summer are kids, so word started to get around that there was a Witch living in a tree. Every now and again they’d throw rocks at my window or try to peek inside and I’d chase em away, warning I’d curse them with my magic or whatever. It was fun. One day, there was this Boy. Like, maybe eleven. He knocked on my window, no kid in the Place was ever polite enough to knock, and asked if the Bush Witch would tell him his future. I asked why, and he told me that the Place was a carnivore. That it ate little boys and was going to eat him too. Unless I could prove different.
TATTOOED BOY
What did you do?
CLAIRE
...what do you think?
What did you do?
CLAIRE
...what do you think?
The Window framed her in a perfect rectangle. She looked just like a tarot card.
“Will I ever be in love?” the Boy stammered.
The Witch smirked.
“When you’re in love, you’ll want to keep his picture in your pocket. But a photo is just chemicals, mixed, flattened and sliced. Your love would never fit”.
“...Will I ever be a man?”
The Witches brow furrowed. This was tougher.
“...You will grow a beard, purchase cigarettes, lose the lottery, crash your car, kiss someone who does not love you and vote. You will never stop growing. Last question kid”
The Boy’s heart had never beat so fast. He could feel it thumping in his eyes.
“...Am I going to be OK?”
The Witch’s smirk melted. She let her cigarette burn down to her fingertips.
“You will see a pale rider. The day you do will be the last day of your life. Or the first. Which one will be up to you”
She crushed the butt between thumb and forefinger. Paper and plant dissolved to dust.
“That’s all I got kid”
She drew the curtains.
CLAIRE
That night, I dreamt about him. We were back in the bush. He was him, but he was all these other boys as well. He was five and seventeen and twelve and twenty three and he was wearing these boxing gloves that he couldn’t lift off the ground. I could hear his shoulders tearing from their sockets. And then...
On the other side of a tiny wire fence, up came this white horse. Like porcelain. Imagine, pale white, and all that green. The Horse didn’t have a rider. She was staring at the Boy. He stared back.
TATTOOED BOY
What did he do?
CLAIRE
I don’t know. I woke up. Done.
That night, I dreamt about him. We were back in the bush. He was him, but he was all these other boys as well. He was five and seventeen and twelve and twenty three and he was wearing these boxing gloves that he couldn’t lift off the ground. I could hear his shoulders tearing from their sockets. And then...
On the other side of a tiny wire fence, up came this white horse. Like porcelain. Imagine, pale white, and all that green. The Horse didn’t have a rider. She was staring at the Boy. He stared back.
TATTOOED BOY
What did he do?
CLAIRE
I don’t know. I woke up. Done.
The tattoo’s finished. A bloodshot eye in between his shoulder-blades. She takes a photo on her phone and hands it to him. He looks at it and she looks at him.
CLAIRE
You don’t believe me.
You don’t believe me.
He flexes his shoulder blades. The tattoo bleeds a little. He stretches it as far as he can.
CLAIRE
It’s true.
It’s true.
He slides off the windowsill and turns to face her. They share a long, quiet look...
TATTOOED BOY
Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. You’re the one telling the story.
Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. You’re the one telling the story.
He wades into the green. She watches him go until he’s gone.
- † The title On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous comes from Ocean Vuong’s novel of the same name published in 2019.
Francesca Ayers Bio
Samuel Scully Bio
Matt Butler Bio