EXt. sky. Night
In a vast sky, a peak of hilltop rests just above the cloud line.
A solitary tree is settled at the top of the hill.
Wind socks are positioned up the hill toward the summit, the closer they get to the top the less they are effected by the wind.
Narrator
Along the path, to the top of the hill, there is a tree that stands dead still.
EXT. HILLTOP. NIGHT
The surface is dry and lifeless, deep cracks in the soil join with one another to form a patch work in the ground.
NARRATOR
In this place, The suns rays never show, The rain never falls, And you'll never see snow.
The tree blooms from the fractured ground, A pair of birds are perched on a branch.
The moon light sheds a slight glint on the leaves.
Narrator
On this hill, The wind never gusts, Yet against all the odds The tree grows for it must.
What light the tree had is quickly removed by a large shadow. The birds freeze,
The dominant figure leans forward out of the shadow and screams.
The birds scatter, and a small branch breaks.
The monster is a head taller then the tree with dark beady eyes and a ferocious mouth.
The monster paces around the tree and scans for any other intruders.
Wind socks far down the hill begin to blow.
The monster doesn't notice.
His anger slowly subsides and a sadness engulfs his face as he approaches the tree.
When he turns back toward the tree another wind sock begins to blow.
NARRATOR
If you look close at night You will see a beast trying; He works tirelessly To keep the tree thriving.
The monster inspects the tree and finds the broken branch.
As he holds the tiny branch in his monstrous hands a tear begins to well in his eye.
NARRATOR
A tear from his eye.
His tear falls onto a leaf and trickles off.
NARRATOR
Some breeze from his lips.
The air leaves his lips and the tree trembles slightly
NARRATOR
And beams of light from his finger tips.
The tips of his fingers glow and shed warm light over the tree.
The lights in his fingers go out, and he falls to his knees, broken branch in hand.
Another wind sock blows.
He delicately places the broken branch in a crack, then tears a piece of his body off and fills the hole.
As he covers the hole with the part of himself, the all the wind socks near the peak of the hill drop and become inert.
NARRATOR
The tree is his light, The tree is his treasure That's why he protects The tree from the weather.
EXt. hillside. night
The monster slumps on the side of the hill just above the level of the wind.
NARRATOR
He cannot trust his tree to stand the pain, of the natural world and its Light, wind and rain.
The monster is motionless.
The wind creeps gradually up the hill setting in motion one wind sock at a time.
The monster is startled when the wind reaches his level.
Aggravated, he runs to to protect the tree.
EXT. HILLTOP. NIGHT
The monster stands proud at the foot of the tree and unleashes a screech, then pounds his fists into the soil.
The wind overwhelms the tree.
narrator
To keep the tree safe, and away from the spoil, he sacrifices himself, To build the soil.
On all fores the monster pounds the soil and vigorously wrenches parts of himself off, then plunges them into the ground.
The wind continues to roar toward the tree. The monster tires and collapses to the ground.
NARRATOR
This tree to him, is more than you see, this tree to him is a lost memory.
The wind picks up, and the tree begins to break.
NARRATOR
The memory of love, and the memory of life in this tree, is the memory of his wife.
One by one the branches whip off into the distance.
The monsters face drops, and reaches out to grab the base of the tree.
Moments too late, he feels the tree get ripped from his finger tips.
The tree hurtles off the hill.
The monster howls then caves to his knees. CUT TO BACK:
Ext. hilltop. night
Total black out, the sounds of a rain and thunder fill the screen.
lighting flashes; the monster stands alone in the rain.
The storm becomes distant, and is replaced with a faint bird chirp.
EXt. hilltop. day
Fade in:
The warm sun blankets the hill to reveal the patch work ground has begun to repair, and grass has started to return to the hilltop, the monster is hunched over where his tree once stood.
He falls to the ground.
A small bump in the ground grabs his attention.
NARRATOR
Most memories come at a cost.
The bump breaks and a seedling sprouts out, unfolding into a small tree.
NARRATOR
but some memories are never quite lost.
(end)
this is the 3 Draft.. and currently what is in the script.
this is not a script yet.... this poem will be the narration for the animation.
In a vast sky, a peak of hilltop rests just above the cloud line.
A solitary tree is settled at the top of the hill.
Wind socks are positioned up the hill toward the summit, the closer they get to the top the less they are effected by the wind.
Narrator
Along the path, to the top of the hill, there is a tree that stands dead still.
EXT. HILLTOP. NIGHT
The surface is dry and lifeless, deep cracks in the soil join with one another to form a patch work in the ground.
NARRATOR
In this place, The suns rays never show, The rain never falls, And you'll never see snow.
The tree blooms from the fractured ground, A pair of birds are perched on a branch.
The moon light sheds a slight glint on the leaves.
Narrator
On this hill, The wind never gusts, Yet against all the odds The tree grows for it must.
What light the tree had is quickly removed by a large shadow. The birds freeze,
The dominant figure leans forward out of the shadow and screams.
The birds scatter, and a small branch breaks.
The monster is a head taller then the tree with dark beady eyes and a ferocious mouth.
The monster paces around the tree and scans for any other intruders.
Wind socks far down the hill begin to blow.
The monster doesn't notice.
His anger slowly subsides and a sadness engulfs his face as he approaches the tree.
When he turns back toward the tree another wind sock begins to blow.
NARRATOR
If you look close at night You will see a beast trying; He works tirelessly To keep the tree thriving.
The monster inspects the tree and finds the broken branch.
As he holds the tiny branch in his monstrous hands a tear begins to well in his eye.
NARRATOR
A tear from his eye.
His tear falls onto a leaf and trickles off.
NARRATOR
Some breeze from his lips.
The air leaves his lips and the tree trembles slightly
NARRATOR
And beams of light from his finger tips.
The tips of his fingers glow and shed warm light over the tree.
The lights in his fingers go out, and he falls to his knees, broken branch in hand.
Another wind sock blows.
He delicately places the broken branch in a crack, then tears a piece of his body off and fills the hole.
As he covers the hole with the part of himself, the all the wind socks near the peak of the hill drop and become inert.
NARRATOR
The tree is his light, The tree is his treasure That's why he protects The tree from the weather.
EXt. hillside. night
The monster slumps on the side of the hill just above the level of the wind.
NARRATOR
He cannot trust his tree to stand the pain, of the natural world and its Light, wind and rain.
The monster is motionless.
The wind creeps gradually up the hill setting in motion one wind sock at a time.
The monster is startled when the wind reaches his level.
Aggravated, he runs to to protect the tree.
EXT. HILLTOP. NIGHT
The monster stands proud at the foot of the tree and unleashes a screech, then pounds his fists into the soil.
The wind overwhelms the tree.
narrator
To keep the tree safe, and away from the spoil, he sacrifices himself, To build the soil.
On all fores the monster pounds the soil and vigorously wrenches parts of himself off, then plunges them into the ground.
The wind continues to roar toward the tree. The monster tires and collapses to the ground.
NARRATOR
This tree to him, is more than you see, this tree to him is a lost memory.
The wind picks up, and the tree begins to break.
NARRATOR
The memory of love, and the memory of life in this tree, is the memory of his wife.
One by one the branches whip off into the distance.
The monsters face drops, and reaches out to grab the base of the tree.
Moments too late, he feels the tree get ripped from his finger tips.
The tree hurtles off the hill.
The monster howls then caves to his knees. CUT TO BACK:
Ext. hilltop. night
Total black out, the sounds of a rain and thunder fill the screen.
lighting flashes; the monster stands alone in the rain.
The storm becomes distant, and is replaced with a faint bird chirp.
EXt. hilltop. day
Fade in:
The warm sun blankets the hill to reveal the patch work ground has begun to repair, and grass has started to return to the hilltop, the monster is hunched over where his tree once stood.
He falls to the ground.
A small bump in the ground grabs his attention.
NARRATOR
Most memories come at a cost.
The bump breaks and a seedling sprouts out, unfolding into a small tree.
NARRATOR
but some memories are never quite lost.
(end)
this is the 3 Draft.. and currently what is in the script.
One Tree
Along the path, to the top of the hill
There is a tree that stands dead still
In this place
The suns rays never show
The rain never falls,
And you’ll never see snow
On this hill,
The wind never gusts
Yet against all the odds
The tree grows for it must
If you look close at night
You will see a beast trying,
He works tirelessly
To keep the tree thriving
A tear from his eye,
Some breeze from his lips,
And beams of light from his fingertips.
The tree is his light,
The tree is his treasure
That’s why he protects
The tree from the weather
He cannot trust it
To stand the pain
Of the natural worlds
Light, wind and rain
So to keep the tree safe
And away from the spoil
He sacrifices himself,
To build the soil.
This tree to him
Is more then you see
This tree to him
Is a lost memory.
The memory of love,
And the memory of life
In this tree,
Is the memory of his wife.
Most memories
Come at a cost
But some memories
Are never quite lost.
this is not a script yet.... this poem will be the narration for the animation.
it is a 3 draft, and will be revised.
One Tree
Along the path, to the top of the hill
There is a tree that stands dead still
In this place
The suns rays never show
The rain never falls,
And you’ll never see snow
On this hill,
The wind never gusts
Yet against all the odds
The tree grows for it must
If you look close at night
You will see a beast trying,
He works tirelessly
To keep the tree thriving
A tear from his eye,
Some breeze from his lips,
And beams of light from his fingertips.
The tree is his light,
The tree is his treasure
That’s why he protects
The tree from the weather
He cannot trust it
To stand the pain
Of the natural worlds
Light, wind and rain
So to keep the tree safe
And away from the spoil
He sacrifices himself,
To build the soil.
This tree to him
Is more then you see
This tree to him
Is a lost memory.
The memory of love,
And the memory of life
In this tree,
Is the memory of his wife.
