EXT’ DAY.

TWO EYES, WIDE OPEN, UNBLINKING.
A MOUTH, SLIGHTLY OPEN, SHOWING TEETH WHICH ARE CLENCHED. THE FACE OF AYOUNG GIRL, HILDE, FROZEN AS IF IN DEATH WITH THAT BORED, SULLEN EXPRESSION THE YOUNG DO SO WELL. .
LYING ON A MOSSY BANK, HILDE’S BLONDE HAIR FANS OUT BENEATH HER HEAD.
BUT SHE IS NOT DEAD, FOR AS WE WATCH SHE BEGINS CHEWING AND, AS SHE DOES, WE OCASSIONALLY GLIMPSE THE MOVEMENT OF A SHOULDER ABOVE HER.
THE SHOULDER MOVES RYTHMICALLY AND HILDE CHEWS TO THE SAME RHYTHM.
OCCASSIONALLY WE HEAR A GRUNT AND HILDE’S EYES BLINK AT EACH GRUNT.
THE RHYTHM OF THE SHOULDER SPEEDS UP, AS DOES HILDE’S CHEWING.
AS THE GRUNTS BECOME MORE RAPID, MORE FREQUENT, HILDE BLOWS A HUGE GUM BUBBLE.




THE FACE OF YOUNG MAN.
IRWIN LIKE HILDE, IS BLOND. UNLIKE HILDE, HIS EXPRESSION IS FAR FROM BORED.
FRAMED BY A CANOPY OF LEAVES WITH GLIMPSES OF BLUE SKY, IRWIN’S EYES ARE CLOSED, HIS MOUTH PURSED IN ECSTASY.

HILDE’S GUM BUBBLE BURSTS.
WE PULL OUT (NO PUN INTENDED.) TO SHOW HILDE LYING UNDER IRWIN, WHO IS NOW STILL, WITH ARMS EXTENDED LIKE A POSTULANT BEFORE AN ALTAR.
WE PULL OUT FURTHER, TO SHOW THEM BENEATH A HUGE TREE WHOSE ROOTS BURST FROM THE GROUND AND ACROSS THE MOSSY BANK.
AND STILL FURTHER UNTIL OUR VIEW IS OBSCURED BY A BUSH.
WE HEAR A SOUND, THE HISS OF BREATH INHALED; EXHALING IN A GROWL, AS WHATEVER IS WATCHING PARTS THE OBSCURING BUSH.

HILDE STANDS UP. SHE BRUSHES LEAVES FROM HER HAIR AND TWIGGY THINGS FROM INSIDE HER BLOUSE.
HILDE LOOKS DOWN AT IRWIN.
IRWIN IS LYING ON HIS BACK SNORING.
HILDE PRODS IRWIN WITH HER FOOT.
IRWIN TURNS, HIS BREECHES UNDONE.
HILDE TAKES FROM BENEATH HIM A LEATHER WINE FLASK.
HILDE SHAKES THE FLASK AND HOLDS IT ABOVE IRWIN.
A SINGLE DROP FALLS ON IRWIN’S CHEEK, RUNS ACROSS HIS FACE.
HILDE.
Irwin, you’re such a guts. That wine was for Nanna, and you’ve drunk it all.
IRWIN SMACKS HIS LIPS AND SMILES.
HILDE MAKES TO HIT IRWIN WITH THE FLASK. SHAKING HER HEAD, SHE PUTS THE FLASK IN A BASKET AND PICKS UP THE RED CLOAK THEY HAD BEEN LYING ON.
SHAKING THE CLOAK CLEAN OF MOSS, TWIGS AND LEAVES, SHE THROWS IT ACROSS ONE SHOULDER, ADJUSTS THE HOOD AROUND HER HEAD AND TIES THE CORD BENEATH HER CHIN.
IRWIN SNORES.
HILDE PUTS THE BASKET ON THE CROOK OF HER ARM.
WITHOUT A BACKWARD GLANCE, SHE LEAVES THE PLACE WHERE SHE AND IRWIN HAD LAIN.
BENEATH THAT PLACE IS A PATH.
WITH THE SUN ON HER FACE, HILDE FOLLOWS THE PATH, WHISTLING TO HERSELF A MERRY, LITTLE TUNE AS SHE DOES.
AGAIN THAT BUSH OBSCURES OUR VIEW AND AGAIN WE HEAR THAT OMINOUS HISSING SOUND FROM BEHIND IT, AS HILDE’S MERRY, LITTLE TUNE FADES AGAINST THE RUMBLE OF THUNDER AND DROPS OF RAIN BEGIN TO FALL FROM THE LEAVES WITH THE SOUND OF TINKLING CRYSTALS ON THE FACE OF THE STILL SLEEPING IRWIN, WHO FARTS.



INT. COTTAGE.
A LARGE ROOM.
THE UPPER WALLS ROUGHLY PLASTERED AND LIME WASHED, THE BOTTOM WALLS COVERED WITH A DADO OF PANELLED WOOD. AGAINST ONE WALL IS A SIDEBOARD WHOSE SHELVES ARE FILLED WITH PLATES, GLASSES, AND BOWLS.
ON ANOTHER WALL IS A FIREPLACE WITH A MANTLE ON WHICH SITS A SOFTLY TICKING PENDULUM CLOCK FLANKED BY TWO PORCELAIN STAFFORDSHIRE SPANIELS, SURROUNDED BY OLIOGRAPHS OF GRIM FACED WOMEN AND BEARDED MEN GLARING FROM THE IMPRISONMENT OF THEIR FRAMES. IN THE FIREPLACE IS AN AGA COOKING RANGE. IN THE MIDDLE THE ROOM A LARGE TABLE WITH A LAMP ON A CHAIN ABOVE AND CHAIRS AROUND.
NANNA LIES IN HER BED BENEATH MOUNTAINS AND VALLEYS OF EIDERDOWN QUILT. BY HER BED IS A TABLE OVERFLOWING WITH POTIONS, PILLBOXES AND THOSE RUBBER TUBES AND PUMPS USED BY THE SEVERELY CONSTIPATED.
NANNA IS OLD. HER SKIN IS TRANSLUCENT, WRINKLED, SILKEN. HER PALE BLUE EYES HAVE A CRUST AROUND THEM AND THAT MILKY CAST OF ONE AFFLICTED BY BLINDNESS.
LIGHTNING CRACKS AS DROPS OF WATER FALL ON THE OLD WOMAN.
A STREAM OF WATER RUNS DOWN THE LIME WASHED WALLS BEHIND HER. WALLS STAINED BYTHE BLOOD RED RUST MARKS WHERE AN IVORY CHRIST HANGS FROM AN ELABORATE, IRON CRUCIFICE ABOVE HER BED.
BENEATH NANNA’S TREMBLING, TWIG THIN FINGERS IS A HUGE, BLACK BIBLE.
NANNA TURNS SIGHTLESS EYES TO A KNOCK ON THE DOOR AND OPENS THE BIBLE.
THERE IS ANOTHER KNOCK.
NANNA RUNS HER FINGERS ACROSS THE BRAILLE NUBS AND MUTTERS PRAYERS.

EXT. COTTAGE. DAY.
HILDE PUSHES ON A LOCKED DOOR.
SHE LOOKS AROUND HER AT TREES, BRANCHES LASHED BY STORM.
SHE FUMBLES IN HER BASKET, WHILE THE WIND BILLOWS HER CLOAK, BLOWS HER HAIR IN HER EYES.
HARRIED BY WIND AND RAIN, SHE BANGS ON THE DOOR AND KICKS IT. AS SHE DOES, GREY FEATHERS SWIRL AROUND HER FEET LIKE SNOWFLAKES AND WE NOTICE THAT THE DOOR PANELS ARE DEEPLY GROOVED WITH SCRATCH MARKS.
HILDE.
Nanna?
NANNA.
Who is it?
HILDE.
Hilde.
NANNA.
Hilde who?

HILDE.
Oh, Nanna. How many Hildes do you know?
SHE AT LAST FINDS A KEYAMONG THE PARCELS AND THINGS IN HER BASKET, PUTS THE KEY IN THE LOCK, OPENS THE DOOR.
__________________________________________________________

INT.COTTAGE.
NANNA.
Hilde, is that you?
HILDE. SILLOUETTED BEFORE THE OPEN DOOR.
Who did you think it was, Nanna?
THE WIND BILLOWS HER CLOAK, BLOWS THE FEATHERS INTO THE ROOM. LEAVING THE DOOR AJAR, SHE ENTERS, PUTS HER BASKET ON THE TABLE, TAKES OFF HER CLOAK, PUTS IT OVER A CHAIR, AND UNPACKS HER BASKET.
NANNA.
Thank God. I thought it was him again.
HILDE.
Who?
NANNA.
A bloody wolf.
SOME FEATHERS BLOW AROUND NANNA’S BED.
He was around here last night.
THE FEATHERS LAND ON HER BIBLE AND GET UNDER HER FINGERS AS SHE READS.
Shut the door, for God’s sake.
SHE BRUSHES THE FEATHERS AWAY.
And I think he got one of the geese.
____________________________________________________________

HILDE BUSIES HERSELF AROUND THE POTS ON THE AGA. TASTING WHAT SHE HAS MADE, SHE POURS SOUP INTO TWO BOWLS AND BRINGS ONE ON A TRAY TO NANNA.
NANNA.
Any wine?
HILDE.
No. I brought some, but the cork must have become loose in my basket. I’ve got your snuff, though.
NANNA REACHES OUT HER HAND.
HILDE.
Have your soup first.

NANNA.
No wine, no snuff. It’ll be no soup next, until they find me lying on my bed a starved skeleton.
HILDE.
You can have snuff after you’ve had your soup. And its time you had the roof rethatched. You’ll drown before you starve.
NANNA.
Don’t have money for thatching.
HILDE.
Do too. You’re the richest woman hereabouts.
NANNA.
No I’m not. I’ve managed to put a little away for a decent burial through not spending money on silly things. What’s left, and this house, will be yours when I’m gone.
HILDE.
A new roof is not silly things. And there won’t be much to leave if it keeps rotting at this rate.
NANNA.
Rubbish. And anyway you wouldn’t want to live here. Take the money I leave you, go to the city and have a good time. There’s no future in this place.
SHE PUSHES AWAY HER TRAY. SOUP DRIBBLES DOWN HER CHIN ON TO THE QUILT. SHE GROPES FOR THE SNUFF. TAKES A HEALTHY PINCH AND SNEEZES LOUDLY AND MESSILY.

HILDE
TAKES UP A CLOTH AND MAKES A FACE AS SHE WIPES NANNA’S CHIN AND THE QUILT.
How much money is there?
NANNA.
That’s my business. When I die, then will it become your business.
HILDE.
STOPS WIPING, THINKS.
NANNA.
You missed a bit.
HILDE LOOKS AT HER NANNA’S SEEMINGLY BLIND EYES AND THE DRIBBLE ON HER CHIN.
NANNA.
You know? That was no ordinary wolf last night.
HILDE.
What do you mean?

NANNA.
It was a werewolf.
HILDE.
How do you know?
NANNA.
While he was growling and scratching at the door I threw some holy water through the keyhole. You should have heard him howl. As if he had swallowed a red hot poker.
HILDE.
I’ll tell father to come with his traps tomorrow.
NANNA.
And silver bullets. You need silver bullets for werewolves.
_____________________________________________________________________

IT IS COMING ON TO DARK WHEN HILDE LEAVES THE COTTAGE, BUT THE RAIN HAS STOPPED. SHE HURRIES THROUGH THE FOREST GLANCING BEHIND HER AT THE GATHERING SHADOWS AND AROUND HER AT THE BRANCHES THAT TOUCH HER SHOULDER AND FRONDS OF BLACKBERRIES THAT ENTWINE THEMSELVES AROUND HER ANKLES.
AT LAST SHE LEAVES THE FOREST PATH AND REACHES THE SEALED ROAD WITH THE WELCOME SIGHT OF HEADLIGHTS FROM PASSING TRAFFIC, AND THE STREETLIGHTS LEADING HER THROUGH THE VILLAGE TO HER HOUSE. SHE RUNS UP THE PATH FUMBLES KEYS, OPENS THE DOOR AND STANDS WITH HER BACK AGAINST IT.
NOW SHE RUSHES THROUGH THE HOUSE LIGHTING LIGHTS, CHECKING THAT ALL THE DOORS AND WINDOWS ARE LOCKED. SHE MAKES UP THE FIRE, TURNS THE RADIO ON LOUD. AND WHEN SHE HAS DONE ALL THAT GOES TO THE KITCHEN, TAKES A LARGE KNIFE AND BEGINS TO CUT UP CARROTS, POTATOES, MEAT AND THINGS FOR DINNER.
AND SHE DOES ALL THIS DICING AND CHOPPING VERY DELIBERATELY, KEEPING FOCUSED ON WHAT SHE IS DOING SO THAT VAIN IMAGAINING DO NOT INTRUDE.
THERE IS A SUDDEN AND LOUD RAPPING AT THE KITCHEN WINDOW AND HILDE SCREAMS WHEN SHE LOOKS UP AND SEES A FACE. SHE HOLDS THE KNIFE BEFORE HER AS A HAND CLUTCHES AND A FINGER POINTS AT HER FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GLASS.
HILDE OPENS THE KITCHEN DOOR.
DAD.
Took you long enough. I’ve been banging on the door for ages.
HILDE.
I’m sorry, dad, I didn’t hear you.

DAD.
No wonder, with that bloody music blaring.
HILDE.
Have you lost your key again?
DAD.
No, smart arse. I didn’t lose my key again. The doors were bolted. What are you doing that has to be done behind bolted doors? Have you someone in here?
HILDE.
Yeah, I’ve the Vienna boy’s choir in the pantry.
DAD LOOKING TOWARDS A CUPBOARD.
You’d better not have.
HILDE.
And some Penrith Panthers.
DAD STRIDES TO THE CUPBOARD AND THROWS IT OPEN. HILDE LOOKS UP TO THE CEILING,SIGHS AND BLOWS A BUBBLE.

DAD AND HILDE ARE SEATED AT TABLE. HILDE IS EATING,DAD IS SITTING HALF TURNED FROM THE TABLE. HE IS READING A NEWSPAPER.
HILDE.
Dinner’s getting cold.
DAD.
Don’t want it.
HILDE.
What’s wrong with it?
DAD
Nothing.
HILDE.
Well, then?
DAD.
Can’t eat.
HILDE.
Why?
DAD.
Gotta an ulcer, or an abscess, or something in my mouth. Can’t chew.
HILDE.
Better see a dentist then.
DAD GRUNTS, TURNS THE PAGE. HILDE GATHERS UP THE PLATES AND TAKES THEM TO THE SINK. SHE STACKS THEM AND GAZES OUT OF THE WINDOW TO WHERE A HUGE MOON IS SHINING.


HILDE.
Nanna says there’s a wolf, or something been after the geese. Reckons she lost one last night. Wants you to come around with your traps. And a gun. Reckons it’s a werewolf. Wants you to bring some silver bullets as well. Dad?
HILDE TURNS AROUND. THE TABLE IS EMPTY THE PAPER LYING NEATLY FOLDED WHERE DAD HAD BEEN SITTING.
SHE MAKES UP THE FIRE, SITS BEFORE IT AND GAZES INTO THE FLAMES.
NANNA.
That’s my business. When I die, then will it become your business. When I die, when I die, when I die.

DAY.
Hilde is making breakfast and turns as Dad comes into the room.
HILDE.
Where did you get to last night?
DAD.
Down the pub.
HILDE.
How’s the mouth?

DAD.
Had a couple of rums-good as gold now.
HILDE.
Nanna said…
DAD.
Yeah, you told me last night. I heard you.
HILDE.
Could’ve answered.
DAD.
When you take her lunch today tell her I’ll be around noon with the traps.
HILDE.
And silver bullets.
DAD.
Silver bullets. There are no wolves here, and no such things as werewolves.
HILDE.
Nanna said silver bullets and I’m not going up there till whatever it is is caught.
DAD.
You will go. You will take her lunch. You will take her wine, and make sure the cork is secure so that it doesn’t spill.
HE LEAVES, AND HILDE STANDS BY THE SINK WONDERING.

INT.GARDEN SHED.
HILDE RATS AROUND UNTIL SHE FINDS A HAND RAKE.
SHE PUTS THE RAKE IN A BENCH VICE AND TIGHTENS IT.
NOW SHE TAKES A RASP FILE FROM ITS PLACE ON THE SHADOW BOARD RACK.
AFTER LOOKING AROUND HER, SHE BEGINS TO SHARPEN THE RAKE’S TEETH.
SHE TESTS THEM WITH HER FINGER… THE TEETH ARE SHARP, DRAW BLOOD.
HILDE LICKS THE BLOOD FROM HER FINGER, AND PUTS THE RAKE IN HER BASKET.

EXT. DAY. FRONT DOOR. NANNA’S COTTAGE.
HILDE.
Nanna?
NANNA.
Hilde?
HILDE AGAIN FUMBLES HER KEY IN THE LOCK. THE DOOR PANELS, WE NOTICE, ARE MORE SCRATCHED THAN PREVIOUSLY.


INT. NANNA’S COTTAGE.
NANNA.
Thank God. I haven’t slept a wink the whole night.
HILDE.
I’ve brought your lunch.
NANNA.
Did you bring holy water? I’m out. That thing was around again last night. Nearly had the door in and took the last of the geese.
HILDE.
I brought some wine. The cork was tight. Its all there. SHE TAKES THE FLASK FROM THE BASKET AND SHAKES IT.
Nanna.
Bugger the wine. We’ve no time for a drink.
HILDE.
And Dad’ll be around noon.
NANNA.
Will he? Well you can get my things from the robe, for I won’t spend another minute here till that thing is dead.
HILDE PUTS HER BASKET ON THE TABLE. SHE TAKES OFF HER CLOAK AND FOLDS IT OVER A CHAIR.

NANNA.
Get me my woollen skirt, the green one, and my heavy coat.
HILDE UNDOES THE STRINGS OF HER BLOUSE AND SLIPS OUT OF HER SKIRT.
NANNA.
And the shoes I bought for my man’s funeral and only wore that one time.
HILDE TAKES OFF HER OWN SHOES AND LAYS THEM BY THE HEARTH.
NOW NAKED, SHE REACHES INTO HER BASKET AND TAKES OUT THE SHARPENED RAKE.
NANNA.
And stockings-stockings I can’t go out without stockings. The white Lisle.
HILDE RAISES THE RAKE AND GOES TOWARDS THE BED.
NANNA.
What’s keeping you? Do you hear me? Get me ready.
NANNA RAISES HERSELF AND HOLDS OUT HER HANDS IN SUPPLICATION.
It is you, Hilde?
SHE LOOKS AROUND HER, BEWILDERED, AFRAID.
HILDE DRAGS THE OLD WOMAN FROM HER BED.
IN A MONTAGE OF STOP FRAME, SHE PULLS THE RAKE ACROSS NANNA’S FACE, WHICH IS FROZEN IN A SILENT SCREAM LIKE BACON’S POPE TRYPTYCH.
NOW HILDE DRAGS THE RAKE DOWN NANNA’S BODY AS SHE IMAGINES A WOLF WOULD.
WHEN HILDE HAS FINISHED HER SLAUGHTER, SHE IS COVERED IN BLOOD.
SMEARING THE BLOOD ACROSS HERSELF, HILDE LICKS IT FROM HER FINGERS.
LOOKING DOWN AT WHAT SHE HAS DONE, SHE GIVES A LITTLE SHRUG OF HER SHOULDERS, BENDS DOWN, TAKES THE STILL TWITCHING BODY BY THE HEELS AND DRAGS IT ACROSS THE FLOOR.

EXT.
BLOOD SMEARS THE WATTLE AS HILDE DRAGS HER KILL ALONG A PATH.
SHE COMES TO A POOL FED BY A BUBBLING SPRING.
THERE, SHE DRAPES NANNA’S BODY ACROSS A FALLEN TREE, RE-ARRANGING THE LIMBS AS IF DISCARDED BY SOME BEAST OF PREY WHO HAS ENJOYED ITS FILL OF IT.
RAISING HER HEAD, HILDE HOWLS LIKE A WOLF.
STANDING IN THE POOL, HILDE HUMS A MERRY LITTLE TUNE AS SHE WASHES HER BODY CLEAN OF BLOOD, AND HER MIND OF THE TERRIBLE THING SHE HAS DONE.
THE POOL IS FRINGED BY BUSHES.
THERE IS A RUSTLING IN THE BUSHES.
WE HEAR A LOW GROWL AS THE BUSHES PART.
HILDE TURNS, LOOKS TOWARDS THEM.
THE BUSHES PART FURTHER.
THE EXPRESSION ON HILDE’S FACE FREEZES.
ROUGH HANDS, WRISTS COVERED IN HAIR, PULL THE BUSHES WIDER APART.
HILDE’S EYES WIDEN.
THE PARTED BUSHES REVEAL DAD’S FACE.
DAD’S EYES ARE WIDER THAN HILDE’S. HIS MOUTH OPENS SHOWING WICKEDLY SHARP INCISORS.
DAD’S GROWL BECOMES A ROAR.
DAD TEARS THE BUSHES APART AND LEAPS.
HILDE SCREAMS.
THE SCREAM ENDS ABRUPTLY AS WE CUT TO RED AND UP TITLES AGAINST IT.
ENDS.
NOTE.
FOR BACKGROUND MUSIC I WOULD SUGGEST, STRAVINSKY’S ‘RITES OF SPRING’. THERE IS A QUALITY ABOUT THE ORCHESTRALPIECE-PRIMAL, MENACING- THAT, IF EDITED JUDICIOUSLY, WOULD GO VERY WELL WITH THE VISUALS.
© NED MCCANN. 2005. 15 CHURCH STREET. BALMAIN. N.S.W. 2041.