Death is to live

Scene 1. City square
Exterior – City square. Summer. Artists draw their pictures. Passers crowd. Sun. Noon. Blue clear sky. Folding chair. Easel. Two-three pictures.
 
THE ARTIST sitting on chair, hunched. He wears old, worn jeans. He draws with pencil on canvas sea, waves, sun, sand. The sunset casts its rays on sea waves, at picture. The Artist draws as the sun sinks into the horizon. The shadow falls at him at the moment. He raises eyes. The young man stands before him in dreadlocks, bright clothes, worn shorts.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(with a nervous smile)
Good day!
 
THE ARTIST
(fishily)
How are you
 
THE DREADLOCK
(smiling)
I heard about you
 
THE ARTIST
(amazedly)
Really?
 
THE DREADLOCK
(smiling)
Yes, much. I heard you talents. It’s true?
 
THE ARTIST
(embarrassed blushes)
…
 
THE DREADLOCK
(smiling)
Of course!
 
He sits down to him on the empty chair.
 
THE DREADLOCK
Draw me!
(smiling)
I will pay you
 
The young man with dark eyes masterfully imperious stare into the eyes of an artist
 
THE ARTIST
(apologetically)
Sure…


The dreadlock stand up. He raises folding stool. He sits in poses before the artist
 
THE DREADLOCK
(slyly smiling)
Let’s see… your talent!
 
The Artist looks embarrassed over the actions of a young man.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(In mock frustration)
What are you? Write me?
 
THE ARTIST
Yes. Just you…
 
THE DREADLOCK
(smiling)
Actor!
 
The artist smiling in reply. He turns to his shabby bag, pulls out a blank canvas. The artist gently smoothes his lap.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(impatiently)
Hurry
(fake smiling)
My time is very expensive




THE ARTIST
(pertly)
How your clothes?
 
THE DREADLOCK
(grin)
Wittily!
(smiling)
Come on
 
The Artist blushes embarrassed by his own jokes. The Artist imposes on canvas on a wooden plank. He takes a pencil. The artist carefully studying the young man. The face a young man seriously. He looks at his dark eyes. The dreadlock has a smile on her face appears slowly. The artist eye something gets in that moment. He rubs eyes.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(frowning)
You right?
 
THE ARTIST
(wiping his eyes with tears)
Yes. Something in my eyes.
 
THE DREADLOCK
Don’t stop
 
The artist looks up in surprise at the young man, his tears stopped. The dreadlock face seriously. His eyes looking through the artist. The artist looks down on the canvas. He begins to draw. The artist quickly draws a line on a sheet of paper. He often looks up at the young man. The dreadlock eyes also looking into the void. The artist hard drives on canvas. He often painted erases. His face is becoming more strained. He frowns when raises eyes on a young guy. Pictures fails. Nipped the sheet of paper is torn. The artist surprise separates the right hand of the canvas.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(calmly)
What have you?
The Artist raises his eyes to dreadlocks, he looks away.
 
THE ARTIST
(in fear)
Canvas torn
 
The Dreadlock turns his head towards him. His cheekbones are compressed, face the same calm.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(crossly)
Don’t waste my time
 
He stands up, takes a chair and sits down to the artist. Artist embarrassment shows him a failed job.
 
THE ARTIST
(anxiously)
Now I’ll get another canvas…
 
THE DREADLOCK
(laughing)
That’s funny!
(smiling)
What's this?
 
He pointing to the canvas standing nearby.
 
THE ARTIST
(stammeringly)
My work…
 
THE DREADLOCK
Sea?
 
 
THE ARTIST
Ocean
 
THE DREADLOCK
(rapturously)
Fine! I can look?
THE ARTIST
Yes
 
The artist takes his canvas, puts on his lap. He firmly clutching his fingers in the edge of the plank on which the stretched canvas. The dreadlocks looks at artist.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(smiling)
It was ever?
 
THE ARTIST
No. But I will go there… Soon… This is the dream of my life
 
THE DREADLOCK
(rapturously)
It's fine! Need to see it is something!
(softly)
The hot sand between your toes, nice warm skin. High waves in a powerful burst of lapping on the shore, covering meters of sand. Running back into the sea, they reserve the frayed millions of shells from the ocean depths.
(louder)
The sun burns your skin!
(softly)
In the shadow of palm trees can be a long time to watch the vast horizon. He is so far away that it seems to float billions of miles.
(voluptuously)
And what sort of night… Pacific Breeze creeps on the warm body, bringing the sounds of hungry birds. Stars… Oh, the stars! Millions of burning suns looked down on you from above.
(almost in the whisper)
It would be desirable that the time stopped and never started his move…
 
THE ARTIST
(rapturously)
You love! Like me!
THE DREADLOCK
(laughing apologetically)
I will not hide
 
The Dreadlock embarrassment shivered at the word love.
 
THE ARTIST
When you were there?
 
The Artist hunched, sitting on a chair, his fingers clutching the pictures, he looks at the dreadlocks.
 
THE DREADLOCK
Never
 
THE ARTIST
(surprised)
How did you manage it so to speak?
 
THE DREADLOCK
My heart bits in unison with his surf
 
THE ARTIST
(fading)
Wonderful
 
THE DREADLOCK
I will be there soon
 
The dreadlocks says, turning away.
 
THE ARTIST
(Excitedly)
When?
 
His a fingers firmly dug into the canvas.
 




THE DREADLOCK
(smiling mischievously)
Today
 
The dreadlock says, turning to him.
THE ARTIST
So soon?!
 
THE DREADLOCK
Yes… I have a plane at night
 
THE ARTIST
I’m happy for you…
 
Pause in the dialog. The artist, in silence, looking at his pictures on his lap.
 
THE ARTIST
(angrily)
I’ll be there soon, too…
 
THE DREADLOCK
(bellowed)
 
THE ARTIST
(angrily)
You doubt?
 
The artist raises his eyes from the picture of the young man
 
THE DREADLOCK
(dejectedly)
No. But when?
 
The dreadlock looks at the picture. The artist turn his head in the direction of gaze of the young man. His face is sad. The artist looks down at his lap, where it is «ocean», again. His fingers relaxed. 
 
THE DREADLOCK
I understand... I just love. The infinite horizon. In the blue sky. I want to put my fingers in the burning sand. In love with the bottomless depths of the ocean. There certainly lies something mysterious, so amazing and beautiful that I go to the depths.
(smiling)
I'll be the first to know it… The first person to see what is out there for the mystery at the bottom. Many would have given it…
 
THE DREADLOCK over’s
All!
 
The Artist’s eyes spellbound.
 
THE ARTIST
(spellbound)
Yes…
 
The artist turns his head to the side where the dreadlocks sitting. The young man is not on the chair.
 
THE ARTIST
(in fear)
Heck!
Dimming in the screen.
 
Light screen.
 
Scene 2. Town Square. A little bit later.
Exterior - Town Square, Summer. People walk in area. Blue clear sky. Folding chair. Easel. Two-three pictures.
 
The artist sitting on a chair on his knees holding a damaged canvas. Nipped paper reels everywhere. The artist takes a pencil in his hand and trying to draw from memory the dreadlocks. He brings one or the other of his image. But each of them blurs again and again taken to portray. He can not recall the image of a young man. He draws differently clothes, face, dreadlocks every new time. He nervously leads eraser on paper. He throws the canvas on the ground, in a rage. He was frightened looks up and greets passersby disparaging glance. The artist stands up and raises thrown them on canvas. He sits on a chair and looks at canvas. In his hand a pencil. His hand smooth accurate movement begins to drive a pencil on paper. He faster and faster outputting the image on the canvas. The artist amazed at what he sees, the hand itself displays an image on the artist host. Work fascinates the artist, that excitement, he cries out joyfully. He looks up at the crowd, again catching someone's eyes on myself. The artist smiles. He stands up from his chair and puts his job on a par with others. It is very different from his earlier paintings. He was standing with a pencil in his hand and looked at her, for a long time. He calligraphy displays the word "Master".
 
Dimming in the screen.
 
Light screen.
 
Scene 3. Town Square. A little bit later.
Exterior - Town Square, Summer. The sun had moved from its highest position. People walk in area. The sky is clear, however, somewhere in the distance a huge cloud creeps.
 
Shot in the sun. Shot slowly descends. Before the scenes of the crowd of passers-by scurrying back and forth. The camera moves through the crowd of passers-by. In the distance one can see the artist. Shot approaching it. He stops a few steps away from him.
 
THE ARROGANT MAN
How are you?
 
Middle aged man. He successful. He wears simple summer raincoat.
 
THE ARTIST
Hello


THE ARROGANT MAN
That you write portraits?
 
He looks up from the canvas. His figure dominates the artist's chair, casting a shadow on him.
 
THE ARTIST
Yes
 
THE ARROGANT MAN
I need a portrait
THE ARTIST
Go-od


THE ARROGANT MAN
I can sit down?


THE ARTIST
(he fidgets in his chair)
Of course


Man sit on chair. He puts the bag beside him. He removes cloak. He sits down. He looks up at the artist and staring him straight in the eye.


THE ARROGANT MAN
(smiling)
You are more insecure, master. I will help you


THE ARTIST
(frowning)
What makes you think that I need help?


THE ARROGANT MAN
I am here for travel, but have heard about you. You are a true talent


THE ARTIST
Why do you call me - the master? Did I give you


THE ARROGANT MAN
(smiling)
Your work is so signed


The artist embarrassed blushes


THE ARROGANT MAN
(smiling)
Do not be shy, my friend. Modesty - a lot of mediocrity. And you… You're a cut above the rest. You will find a great future


His figure is fixed as a rock perched on a chair. He breathing smoothly and gaze penetrating through. The artist takes a blank canvas and pencil.


THE ARTIST
Why do you think so?


THE ARROGANT MAN
I can see your eyes. In their passion. Pain. Stubbornness. You want something passionately


The artist's face tense, his eyebrows raised, his forehead wrinkled. The artist does not stand his gaze. He quickly looks from the men on the canvas and back, inscribing something on canvas. He tries not to meet his eyes, fidgeting in his chair. Muscle man's face relaxed. Look like a dagger, makes nervous.


THE ARROGANT MAN
Money?


THE ARTIST
(sharply, frowning)
No!


The figure of the artist sitting on a chair stoops, quickly bringing on a sheet of paper with a pencil.










THE ARROGANT MAN
(laughs)
I did not want to hurt you
(smiling)
But everyone needs money. I'll pay generously for your work


A man rises from his chair.


THE ARTIST
Did I say "everything!"


THE ARROGANT MAN
(smiling)
But you finished?
THE ARTIST
Yes… Finished


THE ARROGANT MAN
(smiling)
Just in time


Rising from his chair, embarrassing. He holds man canvas. A man inspects the canvas, tilting her head slightly to the side. He picks up his briefcase and light coats. The man hands him a payment.


THE ARROGANT MAN
Goodbye Master


The Artist's eyes are wide open. His face lit up. In his hands a huge pay. He looks up at the passers-by. The man had already vanished into the crowd.
 
Dimming in the screen.
 
Light screen.
 
Scene 4. Town Square. A little bit later.
Exterior - Town Square, Summer. During the afternoon. People walk in area. Huge cloud closer.
 
THE ARTIST
(Happily)
Wonderful day
 
He looks up, smiling. In the sky a huge cloud. The artist sitting in a chair, leaning on his back. He looks down and picks up his canvas with a painted sea. He brings gulls, dexterous rapid movements. His picture is noticeably transformed. Sounds of the surf and the cries of the birds behind the scenes, barely audible. The noise of the surf breaks sharply girl voice.
 
THE AMAZON
Hello!
 
The artist startled by surprise. She is already sitting on a chair.
 
THE AMAZON
(smiling)
I scare you?


Her proud posture says about the origin of the high, almost imperceptibly lifted his chin, his face the color pink and gray marble. She is delightful. In her eyes the storm and courage! Her sensual, but incomplete lip underlined red matte lipstick.
 
THE ARTIST
(surprise)
No, really ?!
(smiling)
Is that a little
 
THE AMAZON
(smiling)
You are a warrior, a warrior should not be afraid.


THE ARTIST
(surprise)
Warrior??


THE AMAZON
You still do not know it. But you're a warrior. I immediately understood it.
(smiling)
A special spirit. I have a deal for you. I need a portrait. And about you is legendary


THE ARTIST
(smiling)
You are not the first one who said it to me


THE AMAZON
(smiling)
And not the last
The artist puts the canvas on his lap. He looks up at her. The artist displays her slender, with long beautiful fingers, hands on the canvas. They are graceful in her lap.


THE AMAZON
(She nods at the picture at his feet)
Sea?


THE ARTIST
(smiling)
Ocean


THE AMAZON
(enthusiastically)
Perfectly!
(smiling)
Are you dreaming to go?


THE ARTIST
Yes. I want to be on the bank. Insert your fingers in the hot sand. Feel the taste of the ocean in your mouth. Swim away to the horizon. At night on the boat to watch the stars. Hear the sound of waves lapping on my boat. Learn all the secrets of the ocean depths…


THE AMAZON
(smiling mischievously)
And swim with the sharks…


THE ARTIST
(enthusiastically)
Yes! And forever live on the ocean


THE AMAZON
You are a fearless warrior! I knew that I was not mistaken in you. I have never mistaken in people


The artist embarrassed blushes




THE AMAZON
This is true!
(smiling)
We are different. Courageous! Bold. With shining eyes. With the recklessness of the heart.
(showing his hand to the crowd)
Look at them. They're spinning in his wheel night and day. Their lives are predictable and boring. All their life they spend in the bustle. The sharing out of common crumbs. Game: “Who is the greatest hide in its burrow”. And the result? - Death! They did not understand life. We did not find true love. Did you know that only in danger of growing bonds of friendship and the only fear we feel is really love life?


The artist continues to draw her


THE ARTIST
No


THE AMAZON
This is true.
(smiling mischievously)
Believe me I know what I'm saying. Another thing you are. You are free
(Inspiration)
Fighter! You are the leader! Inspirer. You courageously follow their dreams. You crave a taste of life as it is felt only in danger. I am the same as you


On her right arm a tattoo of a knifes. The artist focuses on this part. He stopped looking at her hand.
 
THE AMAZON
(wary)
What's wrong?
 
THE ARTIST
(nervously)
No…
(Tightened, continuing to look at her tattoo)
All is well
 
The artist rises from his chair, and she gets up. He hands her a canvas. The Amazon delighted and smiles broadly. Her eyes light up. Payment is very high, which it transmits to him. The Artist embarrassment bent over the body.


THE AMAZON
(Laughs)
You deserve it!
 
She turns and walks away. He looks after her. The crowd parted skipping it. The artist's face is intense. She disappears into the crowd.
 
Dimming in the screen.
 
Light screen.
 




Scene 5. Town Square. Later.
Exterior - Town Square, Summer. People are a little less. The sun is already far exceeded the highest point of his position. A cloud covered half the sky. Folding chairs. Easel.
 
The artist displays whitecaps on the waves. The surf louder than before, behind the scenes. The artist raises his head upward jerk. Eyes narrowed from sunlight, lips stretched into a smile. On his face an expression of serene happiness. Half of the sky hid the black cloud. He lowers his head. Before him a young lady. Girl with curly hair and a squint in his eyes looking into the frame. Her face is alive and well, devouring gaze. Snide smile froze on her lips. The artist amazed. Pause continues.
 
THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(smiling)
Greetings!


THE ARTIST
(smiling)
Good afternoon


 THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(sitting on the chair)
Do I know you!


Young people pass by and smile with vulgar examine the girl.
 
THE ARTIST
(surprised)
True?


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(nodding, but without taking his eyes off him)
Yes.
(smiling)
I know that you are the master.
(smiling mischievously)
They say you have no equal
 
THE ARTIST
(intrigued)
Who says?
 
THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(smiling)
Your opponents. Talent always envy.
 
The artist turned his eyes away and meets a look with another artist.
 
THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(smiling)
And you're a genius


THE ARTIST
(frowning)
You overstate
 
THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(smiling broadly)
Believe me as a woman. I always versed in men.
(smiling, squinting eyes strongly)
Geniuses are my weakness


The artist shyly looks away, blushing.


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
You paint my portrait?


THE ARTIST
(blushing)
Good


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(loud)
Wonderful!


A couple of young guys and girl stop outside, watching the young attractive girl. The artist, all red with embarrassment, puts on his lap canvas, fearing to meet her gaze.


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
Say you learned from the artist?


The artist finally looked at her eyes.


THE ARTIST
No.
(looks away)
I studied myself


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
Are you sure, you genius!


THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE CROWD
(whistling)
That's a girl!


She gave him a disapproving look arrogant.
 
THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(smiling broadly)
I have to tolerate them


THE ARTIST
(blushing)
…


The artist continues to paint the girl. Her wide smile is charming. Her dark face with heat in his eyes. Captivates the eye, devouring victims. Curly locks. It seems a bit helpless and suffering.


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
Tell me why you are running a street artist? Have you enough? I think you do not belong here


THE ARTIST
I never thought about it before




THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE CROWD
(smiling)
How is it even there your statue? Why do you still painting?


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(rough)
Can not you see that we are talking? You distract the master


THE ARTIST
(smiling)
Everything is fine


THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE CROWD
(turning his head to the master)
Masters?


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(smiling, looking at the master)
Genius


THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE CROWD
Wow!
(smiling)
I can look, master?


THE ARTIST
Yes


The young man is sent to the master. He walks behind him.


THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE CROWD
(admiration)
Wow!
(girl)
I thought you were exaggerating.
(his companions)
Guys, look!


THE ARTIST
The work is not finished yet
THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(laughs)
What did I say?
(embarrassed smile)
I have a weakness for geniuses


THE ARTIST
(blushing, looking at her)
…


Comrades young man approvingly whistles over the work of the artist.


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
(admiration)
It's so wonderful…


The artist examines your work.


THE ARTIST
(blushing)
Maybe…


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
(enthusiastically)
It's true! I do not remember the last time I saw something like that! I am an art critic. I know whereof I speak. Why are you still working here yet?


THE ARTIST
(looking at the girl succubus)
I have already said my guest.
(look at the girl in the crowd)
I have in mind was not a lot to think about yourself


The artist continues to draw a girl.


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
(to the girl succubus, smiling)
I am so lucky that my scatterbrain be seen.
(to the artist)
Be sure to type me tomorrow! We agree with you about the exhibition


THE ARTIST
I have a trip tomorrow…


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
Everything aside! You're famous! Believe me


THE GIRL-SUCCUBUS
(smiling)
My friend, do not give up! Your talent needs people


THE ARTIST
(blushing)
Well ... I think


THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE CROWD
And to think there is nothing! You really genius
 
The artist inspects all of its newly fans.


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
Exactly! Genius! I just love you. If you do all the work such that you will become the idol of not less


THE ARTIST
(chuckling shyly)
Good good. Just let me finally give…


The girl-succubus disappeared


THE ARTIST
(wondering)
Work…
THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE CROWD
Where did your friend?




THE ARTIST
I do not know…
 
Dimming in the screen.
 
Light screen.
 
Scene 6. Town Square. Evening.
Exterior - Evening town square, summer. Crowds of passers-by. Light lanterns. Cloud almost completely hide the sky.
 
The artist talk with the girl continued.


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
Sell me your work! Tomorrow I'll show it to his superior, and we agree on your exhibition


THE ARTIST
(smiling)
Good. Once my guest escaped. Take!


THE DREADLOCK
(smiling)
Hi!


THE ARTIST
(dumbfounded)
You?!
 
THE DREADLOCK
(laughing sarcastically)
It’s me
 
THE ARTIST
(surprised)
How do you disappeared so suddenly?
THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling)
I'm a busy man. How is your job?
 
THE ARTIST
Today, just something. My art has attracted the attention of critics. And I will have their own exhibition
 
THE DREADLOCK
(surprised)
What do you mean?!!?
 
THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
(to the dreadlocks)
It's true!




THE ARTIST
(smiling)
Once you're gone. In me as if awakened genius!


THE DREADLOCK
(Sly smile)
I bring good luck


The girl takes a picture of the crowd, paying the master. Young people from her entourage, forgiven all and go. She remains.
 
THE DREADLOCK
(smiling)
Do me a favor for an old friend
 
THE ARTIST
What?
 
THE DREADLOCK
Draw a picture


THE ARTIST
Ок
THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
Master, allowing you to watch your work?
 
THE ARTIST
(to the girl)
Of course
(to the dreadlocks)
Sit down
 
THE DREADLOCKS
No. Not me. My girlfriend
 
THE ARTIST
Who is she?


The Artist turns his head to the side. He sees the blonde girl. Her image clear and clean. Hair white as a sheet. Her eyes like fallen snow in January in the moonlight. Her face bright as the moonlight. The artist does not separate from her sight. Her face was made blush.


THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling)
That's agreed


She looks at the clear eyes of the master. In the eyes of the master of fright with delight.
 
THE ARTIST
Yes…
 
He sits down in his chair, never taking his eyes off her. His hand trembles on the canvas.
 
Behind the scenes: "What's wrong with me?"
 
He raises the fear of eyes on her. She turns her eyes. The artist's expression frightened and sad. His eyebrows raised. He looks at her. She looks away. Her expression is so sad how delicious. Her slender thin hands are crossed on his knees. Her knees are leaning against each other. The artist shuddering gets to work. He holds her hair pencil on canvas. He stresses aloof glance. He smiles widely, all perfectly portraying it. The artist's forehead tense and sweaty. He with a pencil brings her gentle hands. Girl’s expression tightly as if lifeless. The artist completed the work and looks at the canvas with happy eyes. The artist rises, looking at a canvas and smiling. She turns her head. He approaches her. She looks up at him, sitting. She takes his work. The dreadlock appears behind her. The dreadlocks stands near the master with a girl-art critic.


THE DREADLOCKS
(enthusiastically)
Excellent!


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
(inspiration)
Master, you are just amazing…


The artist, without taking his eyes from the canvas, stands. He takes a few steps toward the girl. Dredasty maliciously smiling at him in the back. She continues to sit on a chair. She looks up at him. An artist with a sublime expression gives in her arms canvas. She takes it in his hands. She quickly looks around the canvas. She looks up at the artist. Her face condescending smile. She gets up and gives him back to the canvas. With a smile on his face disappeared. The artist takes the canvas in his hands. He looks at the picture. His face fear. The picture looks awful ridiculous.
 
THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling wickedly)
Never mind. See you later…
 
The artist accompanies their eyes. They dissolve into the crowd.


Dimming in the screen.
 
Light screen.
 
Scene 7. Loss.
Exterior - Town Square. Late evening. Burning lights. The few passers-by. A cloud covered the sky. Backpack. Folding chair. Pictures.


Girl critic stands behind the artist. The artist unfolds, his expression puzzled and frightened. He looks at her.


THE ARTIST
(stuttering)
You…  You…  Call?


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
(hiding her eyes)
I'll call you…
THE ARTIST
(frightened her missing hand)
Are you sure you call?


THE GIRL-ART CRITIC
(nervously)
Yes. I will call you. Excuse me, I need to run…


The girl pulls his hand and runs away. The artist trembling. He looks around in fright. The artists' circle of something alive, talking and laughing loudly. The artist found them look. He turns away in shame. The artist collects his belongings. He puts a backpack on a chair, he rummages in it. In his eyes the tears. He fumbling in his backpack, sometimes. His movements are becoming nervous. He was almost a head climbs into a backpack. He gets up to his full height. The artist’s facial expression becomes nervous and anxious. He grabs a backpack, shakes him to the ground contents. He collect items scattered on the knees. His hands were shaking. His money is not among the belongings. He raises startled eyes in the crowd, desperately.
 




THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling)
How do you? Hey


The artist frightened, turns his head to the side.


THE ARTIST
(horrified)
You?!?!?


THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling)
Something happened?


THE ARTIST
(angrily)
It's all you!


THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling)
What are you talking about?


The artist sharply rises.


THE ARTIST
(shouting)
Bastard!


The artist rushes into a fight with the dreadlocks. Several times has that face. The dreadlocks barely covers his face.


THE DREADLOCKS
(in fear)
What are you doing, you idiot!?!?!


The artist once again hit the dreadlocks.


THE ARTIST
(shouting)
It's all because of you!




THE DREADLOCKS
(horrified)
Stop it, you moron! I just wanted to help…


THE ARTIST
(shouting)
You took my everything


THE DREADLOCKS
(shouting)
The first time I see you!


The artist furiously swings and hits it on the chin. He falls unconscious and hits his head against the stone pavement. From the back of his head bleeding. The artist in horror takes a few steps back. He looks around. In a panic, the artist easel enough and runs away, hiding in the crowd.


Dimming in the screen.
 
Light screen.
 
Scene 8. wandering master.
Exterior - Pavement. Late evening. Burning lights. The few passers-by.


Hunched artist, with a desperate look on his face wanders along the sidewalk. His eyes stared at the ground.


THE GHOST DREADLOCKS overs
(crying)
For what?


Rare passers are going to meet. He looks up in fright.


THE GHOST DREADLOCKS
(shouting)
The first time I see you


On the face of the artist's pain.


THE GHOST DREADLOCKS
(angrily)
See you soon…


The artist terrified pressed against the wall. He closes his eyes.


THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling)
Do you as a friend?


The artist opens his eyes in fear.


THE ARTIST
(horrified)
You are alive?!


THE DREADLOCKS
(smiling)
I barely caught up with you


THE ARTIST
(dumbfounded)
Are you okay?!


THE DREADLOCKS
(scratches his head, smiling)
How to say


THE ARTIST
(enthusiastically)
Thank God! I decided that killed you


The artist rushes to embrace him.


THE ARTIST
Forgive me! I think today has seen a demon. He was like you


THE DREADLOCKS
(laughing)
Oh, then it is understandable why you lashed out at me!


THE ARTIST
(happily)
I'm so glad you're alive!


THE DREADLOCKS
(quiet)
Who said that I am alive?


The artist removes the person from his shoulder. Dreadlocks face deathly white. The artist pushes him in horror. The dreadlocks laughs. The artist takes off running away.


THE DREADLOCKS overs
(laughing)
Run! I am now with you until the end!
Screen dimming his smile vanishing.
 
Screen light
 
Scene 9. Bridge.
Exterior - Bridge. Late evening. Dark. Not a single person.
 
The artist moving along the pavement, stooping. He stopped a half a step, still staring at his feet. He makes a half turn and goes to the fence on the bridge. The artist approaching the fence. The sky is overcast. The black water creeps slowly under the bridge. He makes a few steps back from the fence. He leans sideways, slowly taking off the shoulder and putting an easel next to him. Around the artist's the silence and no soul. The intense smile flashed across his face. He takes a step toward the fence from a sharp blow wind in the back. He makes another step himself already. In his hand the latest work on canvas. His hand releasing the canvas. The wind picks up it and nailed to the fence. It's picked up by the wind shoots up, slipping through it. The canvas falls on the black surface of the river. It's retiring away downstream. On the bridge there is none. On the sidewalk easel stands. Pleasure boat floats at the bottom. On board a few people pick up on legs artist. Overboard paint on the last work of the artist blurred water.

Screen blackout.
The End.