Rosette the infinit univ.., p.1
Rosette (The Infinit Universe™ Book 1), page 1
part #1 of The Infinit Universe Series
Title Page
Copyright
Copyright © 2021 Infinit.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission, except for the use of brief quotations within critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, businesses, and incidents portrayed in this novel are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
TheInfinit.com
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Screenplay Reading Guide
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Reflection
Next in Series
Shop
About The Author
Books in this Series
TheInfinit.com
Foreword
Screenplay Reading Guide
INT. DULL CLASSROOM - DAY
The annoying flicker of overdue fluorescents punctuates an aura of neglect, draped over a half-empty classroom. Empty desks line in rows, almost perfectly synchronized with ceiling tiles. Some collected in congregate socializations, some scattered as if shoved away from some class-wide exodus. This; is the DULL CLASSROOM.
BRKGM! The door flings open, as the subtle tip-tap of polished Sunday shoes dominates the now focused tension in the room. The AUTHOR has entered.
AUTHOR
(to himself)
Got some early birds in here...
He hangs his head, a little embarrassed at his tardiness. Sets a briefcase on the front desk.
CHKWZK-WZCH. He goes to writing on the board. Drawing figures, what looks like acronyms, or perhaps abbreviations, across the dry erase. It’s hard to tell, for the violence of his scribbling.
AUTHOR
Some of you might’ve taken this course before, so just treat this as a refresher.
He continues writing, scrambling across the board like he’s in a time trial. Filling it with foreign letter combinations.
Students all over groan and whisper at the sight of the scribbling. Whether it’s due to the foreign lettering, the chicken scratch of his handwriting, or both, it’s hard to tell. Sighs pepper across the room as some drop their heads into folded arms, exhaling one last confession of defeat. This could be a long one.
The Author stops his scribbling. Whips around, only to be met with a company, already fatigued by their discouragement.
He sniffs to himself. Squints his eyes a few seconds to roll them privately. He’s used to this kind of response.
AUTHOR
(to himself)
...Let’s get this over with.
He turns to grab his binder. Then,
A student catches his eye. He stops. They’re unlike the others; not whispering, groaning, nor do they even look daunted by the board before them. They’re just sitting there, hands folded like in the elementary school days, with an oddly expectant grin glowing upon their face. This; is the READER.
The Author raises an eyebrow. Points his marker.
AUTHOR
Well, looks like one of us is excited.
The Reader blushes. Unfolds their hands.
AUTHOR
Taken this class before?
READER
No, sir. Just wanted to understand what I’m reading...
AUTHOR
Well, ya come to the right place! And please, call me Dan.
The Reader’s eyes glint as they nod affirmatively. This is gonna be a good class.
The Author swings his marker to the other end of the classroom. Points it at a student, face buried in his folded arms.
AUTHOR
And how ‘bout you?
STUDENT
(muffled)
...It was an elective.
The Author smirks to himself. He’s in his element.
AUTHOR
Let’s not waste any more time, shall we?
He points to the far end of the whiteboard.
ON WHITEBOARD
INT./EXT.
DAY/NIGHT
CONTINUOUS/LATER
AUTHOR
So, I’m reading a screenplay and I see one of these—
SLAP. He points to the figure: INT./EXT.
AUTHOR
Anyone know what it means?
...Absolutely no hands go up.
AUTHOR
It’s part of what’s called a Scene Heading. Tells us whether what’s happening is going on inside—
PLAP! He slaps his marker on the lettering: INT.
AUTHOR
...Or outside.
He rolls his marker a few inches over to the next figure: EXT.
A chorus of “Ohs” echoes about the room. Heads, once lazily propped by elbows and arms, begin lifting all over the place…
The Author’s eyes gleam sarcastically.
AUTHOR
Day, night, we don’t really have to go over. I think we all have common sense.
A smattering of chuckles pepper about the livening class. He slides his marker over.
AUTHOR
Continuity!
TAP! Taps his marker next to the figure: CONTINUOUS/LATER.
AUTHOR
If I want my readers to know that there is no interval of time between two scenes, I write “Continuous”.
A hand goes up.
AUTHOR
Yes!
STUDENT TWO
So, if...like in this screenplay I’m reading, the scene starts inside...then it goes outside, but it says “Continuous”. Does that mean—
AUTHOR
—The flow of time is uninterrupted as we switch scenes? Yes.
The classroom goes quiet. Fascinated, confused, or both.
AUTHOR
...Any more questions?
Silence.
AUTHOR
Great!
MMRRRR. He drags the entire whiteboard along a railing within its housing, revealing yet more whiteboards, equally covered with chicken scratch scribblings...
A chorus of moans and groans echo across the room. The Reader shuffles in their seat, thumbs through a neat stack of papers on their desk...an unread screenplay.
A sullen exhalation escapes the Reader’s nostrils...
AUTHOR
Not to worry, almost done here.
(winks)
The Reader stifles a laugh...sensing that was directed at them.
TACK! The Author gestures to another set of terms:
SHOTS
TRANSITIONS
SOUND EFFECTS
AUTHOR
Capitalization counts people...and I’m not just talking ‘bout grammar.
The classroom collectively cranes their heads in thought...
The Author thinks a moment. Scratches his beard. Then,
DENKH! Broad jumps on his front desk—
AUTHOR
Exterior! Wall Street! Day! ... Rico and his friends decided to take a different approach to counter the bad bets they leveraged the day before...it was just at that moment—
He jumps down from the desk, making a show of it—
AUTHOR
BOOM! Something like an atomic explosion sends the once brilliant skyline to smithereens!!
The classroom freezes out of shock. This guy’s stone-cold crazy. The Author drops his arms, defeated.
AUTHOR
(out of breath)
And every—everybody...everybody dies.
Some of the students shake their heads...disapproving.
AUTHOR
Don’t ever read my work.
(turns back to whiteboard)
Listen, we’re gonna capitalize shots—
He circles the word “SHOTS” upon the board.
AUTHOR
Transitions...
...Circles the word “TRANSITIONS”.
AUTHOR
That’s gonna be your “Fade to’s”, “Cut to’s”...and occasionally “Smash to’s”
STUDENT TWO
Smash to?
AUTHOR
It’s like a “Cut to”, but it interrupts the action mid-shot. More emphasis on the cut!
The student slouches in their chair. Sorry they even asked.
AUTHOR
...And my personal favorite, sound effects.
He circles the words “SOUND EFFECTS” an unnecessary number of times. He must really like those.
AUTHOR
I really like those.
The classroom gapes at the whiteboard like deer in the headlights. Only a few of them still seem to actually be engaged. The Reader twiddles their brand-new screenplay upon their desk. Still preoccupied with the wonder of the unknown tales inside...
The Author eyes this. Gnaws his lips.
AUTHOR
Alright, look everybody. It’s 1:30 now. We’re gonna take a ten-minute break so y’all can grab some water—
SKKRR. Seats squeal and shove out the way before the Author can even finish. A roaring chatter explodes from what was dead silence as the class suddenly finds its voice.
The Reader lets out a melancholy sigh...
The Author takes notice. Suppressing the emotional dagger that that
The Reader folds their arms...
The Author turns to face the whiteboard, eyeing his scribblings for no apparent reason, in a space he can call his own...he failed his star pupil.
Demoralized, the Reader lays their head onto the desk. Nestled in the cradle of their arms. It’s all over.
INT. DULL CLASSROOM - TEN MINUTES LATER
The classroom bustles like a cafeteria as students settle back into their seats. Lively chatter peppers across the room, as the once strange students find they have something in common.
...The Reader lays their head upon their desk in that once proud first row. Now a lonely place where only the nerds are sitting.
AUTHOR
Settle...settle!
The chattering calms to a whisper. The Reader raises their head. The Author scratches his neck…
AUTHOR
I know I’ve been a bit long-winded...and some of you are waiting to get out of here...but…
VRRRRR...he drags the whiteboard one last time. The Reader’s eyes...brighten.
AUTHOR
I wanted to show you guys my favorite thing of all...
He unveils the final whiteboard. This time it isn’t scrawled with the ravings of a madman, but instead hosts an enchanting mural, made up of countless little descriptive adjectives...there must be hundreds of them. They align to form the larger text: “CHARACTERS”.
AUTHOR
Characters!
The classroom resonates in awe with the declaration...then,
VRRRR...the Author drags the whiteboard again. Revealing yet more chicken scratch.
AGHH...the room seems to moan in dread. The Author hides his face against the whiteboard, unable to hide a smirk...he’s on the homestretch.
SWACK! He taps his marker upon the board, gesturing to three figures:
DUAL DIALOGUE
OFFSCREEN/VOICEOVER
PARENTHETICAL
AUTHOR
Alright listen up, cus ya need to know these, people!
He hovers his marker over the first one: DUAL DIALOGUE.
AUTHOR
Dual...dialogue. Real simple. It’s used when two characters are talking at once.
STUDENT THREE
Can it be used when a character is interjecting someone? Like for example if you have two...
AUTHOR
Only when that character is talking over the first one.
The student leers.
AUTHOR
...See what I did there?
SWACK! He slaps the next one: OFFSCREEN/VOICEOVER
AUTHOR
When a character is speaking, but they’re not on screen, say behind a closed door, the writer will place an “(O.S.)” by their character name for that line of dialogue. Same for voiceovers.
He writes out the examples:
(O.S.), (V.O.)
AUTHOR
We good so far?
Deer in the headlights.
AUTHOR
And now for perhaps the most undervalued screenwriting device of them all...
He shuffles through his desk. Rummages through his briefcase. BRUFLGK!
He yanks out a worn paperback, holding it up to the sky...
AUTHOR
(accomplished)
...Parentheticals.
STUDENT TWO
Parenthe-who now?
AUTHOR
Parentheticals! Oh, come on, don’t tell me I’ve gotta take it from square one.
He flips the book open.
AUTHOR
(hopeful)
But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
Classmates all over writhe in their seats. He’s doing Shakespeare.
AUTHOR
(tender)
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun...parentheticals allow a writer to describe the tone of dialogue,
(clears throat)
or describe minor action within a block of dialogue. Any questions?
They all gaze blankly...
FLAP. He slaps the book closed.
AUTHOR
Class dismissed.
RUMMA-MMAA...the class rumbles with students, backpacks, and sliding chairs. They’re finally free.
A herd of students stampede towards the door, rushing past the front row, where the Reader sits, head down, buried in a book...
AUTHOR
...What’cha got there?
The Reader glares up at their teacher. Jaded by his antics.
READER
...The reason I had to take this class.
AUTHOR
(extends hand)
Here, let’s see it.
The Reader hands him the book. He flips through it. Scans his way to the back. It lists his name, as The Author.
The Author inhales, taken aback.
READER
I signed up for this stupid class...because I wanted to read your work.
The Author’s eyes drift from the pages, still in disbelief...studying the marvel of a student sitting before him. His Reader.
AUTHOR
Betcha don’t wanna read it anymore, huh...
READER
...No, actually I just folded my arms and read it with my head down the whole time.
The Author’s eyebrows raise...
AUTHOR
...Ah.
READER
Most of that stuff’s common sense, ya know?
He sighs, exhausted...
AUTHOR
...Some folks don’t know that.
The Reader packs their things away. Takes their book back. Heads to the door. A long class, finally over.
AUTHOR
Hey,
The Reader looks.
AUTHOR
...How’d you like the class?
The Reader eyes him, a solemn weight descending between them both.
READER
...I'm gonna read my book now.
Chapter One
BLACK SCREEN. The dark ether of infinity lies just beyond, painting a fearfully accurate portrait of the vast unknown. What sounds like the bitter howling of thousands of creatures in agony, echoes across the blackness. A certain sorrow hangs aloft, between each and every individual scream...they’re people.
CHRGKLK! Radio static fuzzes in and out; news chatter. Chaos in the streets.
BOOAMMMM...muffled explosions and crumbling rock THUNDER from somewhere beyond...a woman screams for her baby boy.
The wailing of endless sirens escalates into a dissonant roar, as the cries of countless souls collectively rise to a climactic and earsplitting shrill...the once mysterious void has become an inescapable torrent of noise.
The volume alone...is horrifying.
CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM – DAYBREAK
A soft kiss is landed upon a rugged face from a pair of female lips. Two pairs of eyes meet as their fingers intertwine, scattering the dazzling reflections of a brace of wedding rings; a husband and wife lie atop one another in bed, painted in the radiance of sunrise.
A golden crucifix dangles from her neck. Multicolor flecks of light glint from the many prisms of its sparkling diamonds...she’s beautiful.
Another kiss. She walks her fingers up his cheekbone...plays with his nose.
He smiles.
She giggles. Picks his nose—
SNORT...they both laugh.
…As the nightmarish screams of a crumbling universe rise again to its peak…
INT. CRYOTUBE
A PAIR OF EYES OPEN.
Bloodshot and swollen.
...Silence.
InfinitPresents
AFilmBy
XAVIER’S the type of man who wouldn’t think twice before running into a burning building if it was for the right cause...but like most people, still has his days where that can be a challenge. A middle-aged guy—we’ll say mid 40’s, but still “cool” (or at least his version of it). As a natural leader, he tends to shoulder too much too often, but we’ll get to that. He awakes from a long, heavy slumber, standing inside of a narrow capsule.
