Beloved Page #3

SETHE:

Just got a few more things to do, then

I'll start supper.

Sethe exits.

EXT. 124 BLUESTONE RD. - LATE DAY.

Denver is playing in the front yard by herself.

Sethe is pumping water into a bucket for clothes washing. A

gentle breeze carries a LEAF into the bucket. Sethe sees it

floating atop the water for a moment, then picks it up.

C.U. of SETHE as the image triggers a feeling - and the

feeling a memory - from long ago.

Sethe looks around her and finds she is no longer standing in

the barren field of 124...but rather-

MEMORY;

EXT. SWEET HOME - LATE DAY.

A stunning vista of the plantation SWEET HOME - sun beating

down on groves and rows of gorgeous sycamores for as far as

the eye can see. Sethe's figure dwarfed by the majestic

landscape.

Sethe looks frightened. Her breathing grows shallow. She

hears something;

THE SOUND OF A WAGON'S WHEELS - rolling over a road, growing

louder, coming towards her

INTERCUT;

C.U. OF A WAGON WHEEL MOVING RAPIDLY ON A ROAD. CAMERA PANS

UP TO THE MAN DRIVING THE WAGON - A STERN WHITE MAN WEARING A

DISTINCTIVE HAT...

SETHE TURNS away from the sycamores towards the road to see;

END OF MEMORY;

EXT. 124 BLUESTONE - LATE DAY.

A MAN driving a horse and wagon with two children in the

back, coming up Bluestone Road. He wears no hat.

Sethe breathes easily. She looks around her -the reality of

124's barren field has returned. The memory of Sweet Home's

sycamores have vanished.

Denver is playing near the road. As the wagon nears 124,

Denver looks up and smiles. The Man whips the horse hard so

as to ride past the house faster. The children stare at

Denver and 124, with horror and curiosity.

The stares of the children destroy Denver's smile. She

watches them go, then turns to hide her upset and sees her

mother watching her.

Sethe looks to Denver with empathy and impotence: wanting to

ease her daughter's pain and knowing full well she cannot.

Hurt and angry, Denver runs past Sethe, towards the woods.

EXT. WOODS - LATE DAY.

Denver runs with a purpose, knowing exactly where she is

going.

She reaches FIVE BOXWOOD BUSHES planted in a ring. The tall

bushes stretch toward each other four feet off the ground,

forming a round, emerald room in the center, seven feet high,

with walls fifty inches thick of murmuring leaves.

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