Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. THE RUNNER SCREENPLAY by BRIAN R. LUNDIN (ebook reader wifi .txt) 📖
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COMMANDING VOICE
Here is some water.
We see a man hold a glass while Jerome drank and swallowed the pills. Jerome looked up at the short, chubby, barrel-chested man who was still wearing the black ski mask and recognized him as the man whom Ted had hit. He had a head of black course hair, cut in a crew cut and was wearing a green suit, blue cotton shirt and a loud green tie. Three other men were in the room. One was a big man with big arms and big hands, the another man was tall, dark skinned, and wiry with a long neck and a head too small for his body, the other man, was fat with pale-skin and a gleaming baldhead.
JEROME
Thank you.
COMMANDING VOICE
I am going to call your brother Troy so you can speak to him, ok?
JEROME
Ok.
Jerome observed the man as he dialed the telephone.
COMMANDING VOICE
Troy, listen carefully, we have Jerome and we want $25,000 dollars. Do not call the police or anyone else if you want to see your big brother again. I will let you speak to him and you will be contacted later and told where to drop the money have the money by noon tomorrow.
The man placed the phone to Jerome’s ear.
JEROME
Hello Troy.
TROY
You ok?
JEROME
I am ok, little headache that’s all.
The voice removed the phone.
COMMANDING VOICE
0k. Troy we’ll contact you.
TROY
I’ll be waiting.
We see Troy swallowing hard, cleared his throat self-consciously and wipes his mouth.
COMMANDING VOICE
( (hanging up the phone)
Ok Jerome, just sit tight, if you need anything, like go to the bathroom, just let my man here know,” nodding towards the big man who was finger-combing his hair.
We see the man with the commanding voice stalked out the room and Jerome heard the door close and lock. The physically imposing big man with brutal features and broad shoulders crouched behind a lopsided table. The man walked around the table threatenly a thin brown cigar dangled from his twisted mouth beneath a weather-beaten fan that circulated the hot stuffy air.
BIG MAN
You think you hot shit, don’t you Nigga?
JEROME
Fuck you up the ass!
We see the two men laughing sitting at a table. The fat man shook as he laughed and the chair legs creaked under his weight. The big man looked around the room and smiled at his two companions.
BIG MAN (MOCKINGLY)
Fuck me up the ass huh, the boss said not to kill this uppity Nigga yet, but he didn’t say anything about not teaching him to respect white folks.
Jerome coldly studied the formidably brute looking man who stood over six feet five and looked like he weighted over 250 pounds had watery-dark eyes and a ruddy, pockmarked complexion causing his fat face to look as if chipped out of granite. He had curly mingling black and gray hair cut in a military style. His bushy black eyebrows extended in heavy lines from temple to temple. He had a grey goatee and flashing false teeth with clicking dentures and a loud voice. His face was cold and showed contempt.
BIG MAN (SUCKING HIS TEETH)
Fuck me in the ass, huh?
We see the big man bending over so that his face and his garlic breathe was inches away from Jerome his jaw muscles rippling in hate and anger. The tall, wiry man got up from the table, walked over to Jerome, tightened the rope around his wrist and punched him two times in the face, breaking his nose. Blood splattered from his nose and mouth as he spit blood and a tooth in the man’s face.
TALL, WIRY MAN
(smacking Jerome in the face)
Motherfucka!
We see Jerome trying to avoid the blows. He attempted to reposition his arms from their tied cramped position behind the back of the card table chair. Jerome watched as the tall wiry man wiped his face with a dirty towel and went back to the table. The squat man poured the big man a glass of Chianti from the wine bottle on the table and after placing his glass of wine on the table, walked over to Jerome, and punched him in his left eye, which immediately began to swell Jerome fell on the dirty floor. The two men sat down at the table breathing heavily and the big man smiling started to pour them another glass of the wine.
BIG MAN
My turn.
We see the big man get up from the table and walk towards Jerome, he wrapping a dirty white towel around his right fist and began smacking the towel into his other hand’s palm, emitting a muted but terrifying sound. Jerome watch with blurred, tunnel vision as the big man approached, smacking his left palm with his right fist.
BIG MAN
(smacks Jerome in the) face.
You guys are out of sha…………
We see the overhead florescent lights began to pop and fizzle go out, the room became totally dark. A cold wind, that felt like an Arctic gale gusted across the room. We hear a deep growl as the big man and his two companions pulled their weapons and looked around the pitch-black room, another growl, deeper and closer than the last.
BIG MAN
What’s the hell! What the fuck is that?
WIRY MAN
(crying out in a trembling voice)
Oh my God!
The wiry man sees a shadow, or blur that resembled a fast moving animal. The big man is rubbing his eyes, trying to adjust them to the darkness, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, when he put his hands there he feel the blood and soft tissue oozing out of the wound. His eyes now accustomed to the dark looked down and he saw his intestines spilling out onto the dirty floor. He tried to scream, but there was no sound from his ripped out throat. As he fall to the floor he see the blur again, moving swiftly towards the table where his two companions were sitting, he hear the wine bottle and the glasses crashing to the floor and the loud, terrifying screams of his companions, and then there was silence. Jerome’s eyes becoming accustomed to the dark see what looked like two big cat, quickly moving around the room, he see the wiry man, his headless body still sitting at the table, Jerome did not see his head. The squat man head had dropped on his chest as he sat in the chair at the table. There were no visible wounds, but his eyes and mouth were wide open and his eyes glazed in death. His face was a dull purple and contorted in fear. Jerome heard another growl, but the bounds around his wrists prevented him turning his head in the direction of the sound. Suddenly, he felt icy cold fingers releasing the ropes and helping him out of the chair. Through his swollen eyes, he saw the beautiful MADAME BOURNEIS and MARQUE, Madame Bourneis embraced him as they helped him to stand, they slowly walked over to the big man, who was gasping for air, holding his stomach, his eyes wide opened, and there was a surprised look on his face. The rank smell of death filled the room as Jerome looked down disgustedly into his face and eyes, and experienced a tremendous moment of satisfaction as he watched the light of life going out. Marque and Madame Bourneis helped Jerome as they walked out the warehouse and got into a black Lincoln limousine. Marque sat behind the wheel and as they drove away from the warehouse there was a loud explosion. Jerome looked out the rear window of the car and saw the warehouse engulfed in a blaze of fire and smoke he turned his head and smiled.
JEROME
(sitting in the back seat of the limo)
What happened back there?
MADAME BOURNEIS
(holding a strange smelling towel to his face with red dust)
What do you think happened?
JEROME
Fuck if I know, after the lights went out all I could see was what looked like a big cat or something, I heard what I thought was a growl, I don’t know if it was a man or what.
MADAME BOURNEIS
You are a good man Jerome, that’s why I came from Louisiana to help and protect you. You try to help the people by giving them an honest gamble and an honest job so they can feed and clothe their families. You are kind hearted and always try to find the good in people but you will learn that not people are good some people are evil and will try to take advantage of you but as long as you do the right thing I will be with you and you will be protected.
Madame Bourneis caressed Jerome’s forehead and his body went limp his head resting on her ample bosom and before long he was snoring. Madame Bourneis lowered the partition that separating the driver from the occupants in the rear seat of the long black limousine, and gently rubbed Jerome’s head with two razor sharp claws as she let out a quiet snarl. Marque who was driving smiled, as he looked in the rear view mirror into the rear seat and saw the Diablesse. Marque parked the limo in Jerome’s garage at his Hyde Park mansion and Madame Bourneis and Marque helped him into the house, Jerome’s wife, mother and his two brothers met them. Joan rushed to her husband and began kissing him, Jerome flinched, thinking about the bruises to his face, but there was no pain. He slowly ran his hand over his face and gently touched his nose that he knew was broke, but it too was all right.
TROY
I was waiting for the call, what happened?
JEROME
The hell I know but whatever he or it was, it saved my ass.
MADAME BOURNEIS
You’re safe now, Jerome, get some rest and we will talk later.
Madame Bourneis and Marque walks out the door.
JEROME
I need a hot shower and some sleep we’ll talk in the morning.
In the bathroom Jerome examined his face in the mirror; there were no marks or bruises. “Who or what is this woman, Jerome said quietly into the mirror,” before going to bed and thinking about Madame Bourneis.
FLASHBACK:
Jerome McLemore and his wife, Joan, in New Orleans for the Mardi Gras. A friend of Jerome’s that worked with him as a Pullman Porter and thought he was a mailman made an appointment for him with Madame Bourneis who lived in Algiers, a suburb of New Orleans, to have his fortune read. At 8:30 that evening the air was gloomy, even the stark, bare trees seemed to be gasping for light and life. The house looked old, but well kept and when Jerome approached the door and prepared to knock on the ringer, the door slowly opened.
MARQUE DEGRUEN
Welcome Mr. McLemore, my name is Marque Degruen.
The young man has a French accent handsome with eyes as black as the
COMMANDING VOICE
Here is some water.
We see a man hold a glass while Jerome drank and swallowed the pills. Jerome looked up at the short, chubby, barrel-chested man who was still wearing the black ski mask and recognized him as the man whom Ted had hit. He had a head of black course hair, cut in a crew cut and was wearing a green suit, blue cotton shirt and a loud green tie. Three other men were in the room. One was a big man with big arms and big hands, the another man was tall, dark skinned, and wiry with a long neck and a head too small for his body, the other man, was fat with pale-skin and a gleaming baldhead.
JEROME
Thank you.
COMMANDING VOICE
I am going to call your brother Troy so you can speak to him, ok?
JEROME
Ok.
Jerome observed the man as he dialed the telephone.
COMMANDING VOICE
Troy, listen carefully, we have Jerome and we want $25,000 dollars. Do not call the police or anyone else if you want to see your big brother again. I will let you speak to him and you will be contacted later and told where to drop the money have the money by noon tomorrow.
The man placed the phone to Jerome’s ear.
JEROME
Hello Troy.
TROY
You ok?
JEROME
I am ok, little headache that’s all.
The voice removed the phone.
COMMANDING VOICE
0k. Troy we’ll contact you.
TROY
I’ll be waiting.
We see Troy swallowing hard, cleared his throat self-consciously and wipes his mouth.
COMMANDING VOICE
( (hanging up the phone)
Ok Jerome, just sit tight, if you need anything, like go to the bathroom, just let my man here know,” nodding towards the big man who was finger-combing his hair.
We see the man with the commanding voice stalked out the room and Jerome heard the door close and lock. The physically imposing big man with brutal features and broad shoulders crouched behind a lopsided table. The man walked around the table threatenly a thin brown cigar dangled from his twisted mouth beneath a weather-beaten fan that circulated the hot stuffy air.
BIG MAN
You think you hot shit, don’t you Nigga?
JEROME
Fuck you up the ass!
We see the two men laughing sitting at a table. The fat man shook as he laughed and the chair legs creaked under his weight. The big man looked around the room and smiled at his two companions.
BIG MAN (MOCKINGLY)
Fuck me up the ass huh, the boss said not to kill this uppity Nigga yet, but he didn’t say anything about not teaching him to respect white folks.
Jerome coldly studied the formidably brute looking man who stood over six feet five and looked like he weighted over 250 pounds had watery-dark eyes and a ruddy, pockmarked complexion causing his fat face to look as if chipped out of granite. He had curly mingling black and gray hair cut in a military style. His bushy black eyebrows extended in heavy lines from temple to temple. He had a grey goatee and flashing false teeth with clicking dentures and a loud voice. His face was cold and showed contempt.
BIG MAN (SUCKING HIS TEETH)
Fuck me in the ass, huh?
We see the big man bending over so that his face and his garlic breathe was inches away from Jerome his jaw muscles rippling in hate and anger. The tall, wiry man got up from the table, walked over to Jerome, tightened the rope around his wrist and punched him two times in the face, breaking his nose. Blood splattered from his nose and mouth as he spit blood and a tooth in the man’s face.
TALL, WIRY MAN
(smacking Jerome in the face)
Motherfucka!
We see Jerome trying to avoid the blows. He attempted to reposition his arms from their tied cramped position behind the back of the card table chair. Jerome watched as the tall wiry man wiped his face with a dirty towel and went back to the table. The squat man poured the big man a glass of Chianti from the wine bottle on the table and after placing his glass of wine on the table, walked over to Jerome, and punched him in his left eye, which immediately began to swell Jerome fell on the dirty floor. The two men sat down at the table breathing heavily and the big man smiling started to pour them another glass of the wine.
BIG MAN
My turn.
We see the big man get up from the table and walk towards Jerome, he wrapping a dirty white towel around his right fist and began smacking the towel into his other hand’s palm, emitting a muted but terrifying sound. Jerome watch with blurred, tunnel vision as the big man approached, smacking his left palm with his right fist.
BIG MAN
(smacks Jerome in the) face.
You guys are out of sha…………
We see the overhead florescent lights began to pop and fizzle go out, the room became totally dark. A cold wind, that felt like an Arctic gale gusted across the room. We hear a deep growl as the big man and his two companions pulled their weapons and looked around the pitch-black room, another growl, deeper and closer than the last.
BIG MAN
What’s the hell! What the fuck is that?
WIRY MAN
(crying out in a trembling voice)
Oh my God!
The wiry man sees a shadow, or blur that resembled a fast moving animal. The big man is rubbing his eyes, trying to adjust them to the darkness, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, when he put his hands there he feel the blood and soft tissue oozing out of the wound. His eyes now accustomed to the dark looked down and he saw his intestines spilling out onto the dirty floor. He tried to scream, but there was no sound from his ripped out throat. As he fall to the floor he see the blur again, moving swiftly towards the table where his two companions were sitting, he hear the wine bottle and the glasses crashing to the floor and the loud, terrifying screams of his companions, and then there was silence. Jerome’s eyes becoming accustomed to the dark see what looked like two big cat, quickly moving around the room, he see the wiry man, his headless body still sitting at the table, Jerome did not see his head. The squat man head had dropped on his chest as he sat in the chair at the table. There were no visible wounds, but his eyes and mouth were wide open and his eyes glazed in death. His face was a dull purple and contorted in fear. Jerome heard another growl, but the bounds around his wrists prevented him turning his head in the direction of the sound. Suddenly, he felt icy cold fingers releasing the ropes and helping him out of the chair. Through his swollen eyes, he saw the beautiful MADAME BOURNEIS and MARQUE, Madame Bourneis embraced him as they helped him to stand, they slowly walked over to the big man, who was gasping for air, holding his stomach, his eyes wide opened, and there was a surprised look on his face. The rank smell of death filled the room as Jerome looked down disgustedly into his face and eyes, and experienced a tremendous moment of satisfaction as he watched the light of life going out. Marque and Madame Bourneis helped Jerome as they walked out the warehouse and got into a black Lincoln limousine. Marque sat behind the wheel and as they drove away from the warehouse there was a loud explosion. Jerome looked out the rear window of the car and saw the warehouse engulfed in a blaze of fire and smoke he turned his head and smiled.
JEROME
(sitting in the back seat of the limo)
What happened back there?
MADAME BOURNEIS
(holding a strange smelling towel to his face with red dust)
What do you think happened?
JEROME
Fuck if I know, after the lights went out all I could see was what looked like a big cat or something, I heard what I thought was a growl, I don’t know if it was a man or what.
MADAME BOURNEIS
You are a good man Jerome, that’s why I came from Louisiana to help and protect you. You try to help the people by giving them an honest gamble and an honest job so they can feed and clothe their families. You are kind hearted and always try to find the good in people but you will learn that not people are good some people are evil and will try to take advantage of you but as long as you do the right thing I will be with you and you will be protected.
Madame Bourneis caressed Jerome’s forehead and his body went limp his head resting on her ample bosom and before long he was snoring. Madame Bourneis lowered the partition that separating the driver from the occupants in the rear seat of the long black limousine, and gently rubbed Jerome’s head with two razor sharp claws as she let out a quiet snarl. Marque who was driving smiled, as he looked in the rear view mirror into the rear seat and saw the Diablesse. Marque parked the limo in Jerome’s garage at his Hyde Park mansion and Madame Bourneis and Marque helped him into the house, Jerome’s wife, mother and his two brothers met them. Joan rushed to her husband and began kissing him, Jerome flinched, thinking about the bruises to his face, but there was no pain. He slowly ran his hand over his face and gently touched his nose that he knew was broke, but it too was all right.
TROY
I was waiting for the call, what happened?
JEROME
The hell I know but whatever he or it was, it saved my ass.
MADAME BOURNEIS
You’re safe now, Jerome, get some rest and we will talk later.
Madame Bourneis and Marque walks out the door.
JEROME
I need a hot shower and some sleep we’ll talk in the morning.
In the bathroom Jerome examined his face in the mirror; there were no marks or bruises. “Who or what is this woman, Jerome said quietly into the mirror,” before going to bed and thinking about Madame Bourneis.
FLASHBACK:
Jerome McLemore and his wife, Joan, in New Orleans for the Mardi Gras. A friend of Jerome’s that worked with him as a Pullman Porter and thought he was a mailman made an appointment for him with Madame Bourneis who lived in Algiers, a suburb of New Orleans, to have his fortune read. At 8:30 that evening the air was gloomy, even the stark, bare trees seemed to be gasping for light and life. The house looked old, but well kept and when Jerome approached the door and prepared to knock on the ringer, the door slowly opened.
MARQUE DEGRUEN
Welcome Mr. McLemore, my name is Marque Degruen.
The young man has a French accent handsome with eyes as black as the
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