Sure Swing
By
Samuel J Brown
wiseoldsam@hotmail.co.uk
EXT. PARK BENCH. EARLY MORNING.
ERIC (35) aged beyond his years, scruffy in appearance,
layered up with numerous; clothes, coats and blankets.
Plastic carrier bags tied round his socks, snuggled up in
a dirty worn sleeping bag, lying on a dark green park
bench. Stiff intoxicated, asleep.
The sun rises breaking into a crisp new day, fresh buds of
spring poke out of the ground, all around, coming into
life. ERIC stirs as light pours over him. DIANA jogs past.
ERIC drops his bundled legs, swinging his body upwards,
slumping back against the bench. He looks outward before
dropping his gaze. Slumping forward his hand clumsily
fumbles for a bottle of what looks like anti freeze,
clasping it from the cold hard concrete.
Swinging upwards his back cracks on the bench, lifting the
bottle to his lips. Rocking back and forth he swings up
into a stand on the third count, sleeping bag dropping to
his knees. He steps out and stomps along, getting heat
into his legs and feet.
ROBERT COLSON(25) a smartly dressed young professional
whom gives off an air of cool, swiftly walks past, with a
golf bag swung over his shoulder, wearing a single white
golf glove on his left hand.
EXT. ROAD CROSSING. MORNING.
A suburban road lined with cars, crossing platforms jut
out with black and white striped bollards. ROBERT walks up
to the crossing, the focus shifts from the road he’s about
to cross, to his gloved hand. We see his full profile,
taking a cool stance. He crosses the road following a cars
passing.
EXT. DRIVING RANGE. AFTERNOON.
A 20 bay driving range, green AstroTurf lines the floor,
fluorescent lit from overhead, each separated by red
barriers. Distance marker boards stretch up the range.
ROBERT places down his golf bag and bucket of balls,
selects a wood, before putting it behind his shoulder
blades, swinging left to right, as a warm up exercise.
Operating as a true professional, working efficiently up
through the irons into the drivers. Focused on his target,
driven to excellence.
ROBERT’S focus starts to go off, throwing off his game, at
first he thinks it’s the club, so changes for another, but
his game drastically deteriorates. As time slows he swings
and misses the ball. Everything becomes highly textured.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 2.
The ball disappears from the T in front of his eyes, a
double take. An intense headache overwhelms him. He drops
to one knee clutching his head, staying upright with the
grip on his club, knocking the ball from the T.
The club falls, dropping his hand, he feels the AstroTurf
ground, dragging his finger tips over the rough texture.
INT. OPTICIANS. DAY.
ROBERT enters a small 3 meter long windowless boxed room,
filled with optical equipment and a chair. A mirror is
hung on the wall, with a computer screen sat opposite.
DIANA (24) an attractive optometrist dressed in clinical
whites wearing glasses, with golden brown hair, greets
ROBERT in a friendly manner.
DIANA
Hi ther... oh (startled), it’s
ROBERT isn’t it?
ROBERT
Ah hello! yes... DIANA, hmm, I
did not expect to see you here.
Mind you always were the clever
one.
DIANA
ROBERT how are you? what are you
doing these days?
ROBERT
oh, I’ve taken a year out,
chancing my arm on the stock
exchange
DIANA
Huh that’s interesting, good for
you
DIANA
So, how can we help you today?
Take a seat.
Letters, abstract shapes and colours are flashed up on a
computer screen, reflected in a mirror, different filters
are placed in front of ROBERT’s view. The letters dip in
and out of focus as ROBERT struggles to see.
DIANA (V/O)
Read the letters on the chart
ROBERT
A D Y errr...
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
3.
DIANA (V/O)
A or B, A or B, A or B...
ROBERT is placed in front of a field of view test; a white
bowl with a red dot in the middle, with small green dots
of light. A button is placed in his hand.
DIANA (V/O)
This test will determine your
field of view, press the button
when you see a green light.
The lights flash up, ROBERT only presses the button when
they are near the center.
EXT. PITCH AND PUT. YELLOW UMBRELLA.
Holding a bright yellow umbrella, ROBERT sits under a
large oak tree overlooking the green. It is raining
everything is dull and gray washed. He looks miserable,
full of complete despair.
DIANA (V/O)
(muffled picking out key words)
Robert... I’m sorry to say we
suspect you have fairly advanced
glaucoma. Basically the increased
pressure in your eyes has created
irreversible damage to the optic
nerve, you may or may not have
noticed a decrease in peripheral
vision over the past few months
or even years, this can also
cause severe headaches.
Unfortunately it is quite advance
and is now effecting your central
vision. At this stage it can be
quite rapid and you may loose
sight within a matter of days. In
terms of treatment... it is best
caught in the early days, at this
stage it is hard to say if we can
save what sight remains. The
damage done is irreversible.
do you have any questions?
Robert?
INT. ROBERT’S HOUSE. HALL. NIGHT.
The hallway is dark and warm, with dark smoked oak
laminate flooring. Yellow miniature daffodils sit on top
of a white painted wooden radiator cover. Modern refined
tastes with a sense of luxury.
Everything is highly sensory. ROBERT softly grips the door
handle, silently entering his home, removes his shoes,
tucking them neatly under a wooden cabinet. His golf bag
lies propped up against the wall.
He withdraws a large brown envelope before throwing his
coat over the banister, wrapping itself round as sound
becomes muffled.
He gingerly walks to the door of the living room, silent.
Raising his arm, his hand hovers over the door handle,
with a build up of drama and purpose, emotion overwhelms.
Pulling down on the handle he enters, becoming submerged
in darkness. He crumbles. Shallow irregular breaths are
heard, fear overwhelms.
INT. ROBERT’S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.
The light switch flicks on. The living room is cosy and
inviting, with dark leather sofas and designer textured
wallpaper. A small understated TV sits in the corner.
ROBERT walks over to a half filled glass of water and pops
in a pill which slowly erupts, throwing particles upwards.
He sits down, sliding the eye test results from the
envelope. Looking down at them, the optometrist’s voice
returns.
DIANA (V/O)
Severe headaches (beat). Loss of
vision (beat). Irreversible
damage.
He scrunches his face as a headache develops, the
optometrists eyes flash up on screen.
DIANA (V/O)(WHISPERS)
Robert. Robert.
Pushing his palms into his eyes, sliding the pressure
round to his temples. He stands. Walking over to the
window, resting his weight on the sill, he looks at his
reflection in the darkness. Heavy panicked breaths are
heard.
Sliding the curtain shut, he turns to drink the fizzing
liquid. Picking up a bottle of eye drops, he lies on the
floor, looking up at an ornate chandelier.
4.
He splashes two drops into each eye. Distorting his vision
he blinks, lying there motionless, staring up with a far
away expression.
EXT. ROBERT’S HOUSE. HALL. NIGHT.
Shallow focus surrounds the golf clubs, sitting in the
warm darkened hall, paying attention to the textures of
the lines on the club heads.
The yellow miniature daffodils sit in a similar
composition, contained in a pot, with long stems, and
bright flowery heads. Textured.
EXT. PARK BENCH. AFTERNOON.
ROBERT walks the path golf clubs on his back, glancing at
ERIC as he walks past, faltering, ERIC’S face flashes up
on screen in monochrome, then his eyes. Switching back,
ROBERT scrunches his eyes and gives his head a little
shake, keeping his pace.
EXT. PITCH AND PUT.
An unkempt pitch and put with overgrown grass, uneven
greens and unflagged holes. 6 coloured cups are lined in a
row on the green. With 6 golf balls lined up opposite on
T’s.
ROBERT attempts to chip each ball into a cup, but his
vision plays tricks on him, balls and cups disappear, his
focusing becomes blurry, resulting in every ball missing
the cups.
Frustrated he puts the club back in the bag, heaving it
over his shoulder, and walks off.
EXT. PARK BENCH. EVENING.
Walking back the way ROBERT came he spots ERIC in his
usual spot, as he comes up to him ROBERT’S headache
intensifies, ERIC’S eyes flash up, ROBERT drops to his
knees clutching his head. A monochrome sequence ensues.
ROBERT carefully selects a golf club, sliding out from the
bag, gripping it with two hands, resting it on his
shoulder. He walks over to ERIC and cracks him over the
head with it.
Smiling he slides the bloody club down to it’s head in his
hand. He gouges out ERIC’S eye, as ERIC wriggles, writhes
and screams.
(CONTINUED)
5.
CONTINUED: 6.
He drops the golf club, and goes to eat the eyeball,
leaving the club lying on the ground covered with thick
red blood.
ROBERT returns to reality, snapping back to colour, on his
knees, he heaves, bringing up his stomachs contents,
before fainting.
EXT. PARK BENCH. MORNING. 2 DAYS LATER.
ROBERT and ERIC sit next to each other on the bench,
casually exchanging a few words. ROBERT looks roughed up,
loosing his usual clean style.
ROBERT
How long have you been out here
Eric?
ERIC
nea bout 10 year, lost sight bout
5 year, nerer look back since.
Mind drink did t me.
ROBERT
How do you not get cold?
ERIC
ah layer up wi t ganzy’s, eeor
I’m not nesh.
ROBERT looks totally puzzled, when a tennis ball bounces
off the path and strikes him in the chest with a loud
thud, rolling into his lap. Very little sight remains, a
hazy light, fear of the unpronounced hit, heavy breaths.
Fumbling for the tennis ball, ROBERT grasps at it, running
his thumb over it’s circumference, feeling the soft
texture. Raising the ball to his ear, he listens to the
sound it makes. A look of thought.
DIANA runs up to the bench.
DIANA
I am so sorry, we were just...
ERIC
No har-done flower
DIANA
Robert? I didn’t see you there...
it’s Diana
ROBERT
(laughs)
This is the second time this
week, are you following me?
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 7.
ROBERT holds forward the yellow tennis ball, DIANA takes
it and throws it back.
DIANA
(shouting)
I’ll join you later.
(to ROBERT)
Walk with me
DIANA offers out her arm to ROBERT who smiles, gets up and
awkwardly reaches out for it.
ROBERT
My pleasure
(to ERIC)
Thank-you Eric
EXT. PITCH AND PUTT.
From blackness, the faint sound of beeping fills the air,
the sound of a tongue clicking soon follows, the image
clicks on. ROBERT is back to his air of cool, smartly
dressed, wearing shades.
There is a sensor attached to his club which beeps when
over the T. A line of 4 balls are T’d up, with a line of 3
coloured cups, he chips the first three, each making a
loud clunk, he slides the 3 iron back in the bag,
selecting a 7.
He measures the club up to the beeping T, swings, chipping
the ball to the green, it rolls over to the hole and,
drops.
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