`
WEBSITE: www.SarahJennyDesig...
LOCATION: The trees
RECORDS: 209
LATEST RECORD: 2 days ago
JOINED: 05-25-2007
LOCATION: The trees
RECORDS: 209
LATEST RECORD: 2 days ago
JOINED: 05-25-2007
Pickle Blossom's Featured RECords
Peach cans and a crawl space...
and YES - the sirens were actually going by outside when we filmed the *dead* scene. LOL Kismet!
Music by: lava_tornado - The Weather Yet To Come
WHITECHAPEL GIRLS
By Sarah Jenny
INT. VICTORIAN TAILOR SHOP
Seamstress has big magnifying goggles, which make her eyes appear HUGE as she looks up from a colorful work.
She flips the goggles out to the side, recognizes the woman at the door and covers the work hastily.
She speaks with a cockney accent, barely understandable.
SEAMSTRESS
Oy! It’s the Mrs. then, is it?
Oh no, oh no, Mrs has to go!
The Mr. said, he did, the Mr. said!
Mrs. can’t see it! Go!
The seamstress waves her arms, shocking the young wife into retreat.
SEAMSTRESS
Go! Go! Go! Mr. said! Go!
INT. VICTORIAN KITCHEN AND DINING AREAS -- EVENING
Jane is the perfect Victorian wife. She daydreams of her husband and what surprise awaits her from the seamstress shop.
Her daydream is broken as she hears her husband come through the door. She smiles and rushes to meet him.
He is hiding a box, with the Seamstress’ mark on it, in the entryway closet. She tries to peer over his shoulder.
HUSBAND
Go on, then, give me room, woman.
She steps back, tentative, then walks back to the kitchen, where she chops vegetables. There is an empty look in her eyes.
HUSBAND (O.S.)
Wife. Here, wife.
She goes to the sitting room, where her husband is reading a newspaper.
She sits next to him.
He does not look at her.
JANE
Supper will be ready in an hour.
She scoots closer to him.
JANE (CONT'D)
So I was wondering.
She lowers her head.
He turns the page of the paper.
HUSBAND
Wondering what, Jane? Speak your peace or return to the kitchen.
She sits up straight and takes a deep breath.
JANE
I was wondering if I may have my kiss 'hello.'
He sighs and leans toward her.
She is prepared for a proper kiss on the mouth, but he dodges her lips and pecks her on the cheek.
Disappointment hangs on her face, drawing her features down. She steels her backbone and stands.
JANE (CONT'D)
Very well, thank you. I will ring the bell when supper is ready.
HUSBAND
Yes, well make certain there is no trace of skin this time. You know I cannot abide the texture of skin.
JANE
Yes, husband. I will do my very best.
She walks out of the room.
INT. VICTO5IAN KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
She is standing in the kitchen taking the skin off of a whole chicken.
She is quite skillful at her task. She slits from the loin cavity up to the neck, then from sternum out each wing and leg.
The skin slides off easily.
After removing the skin, she puts the chicken in a pot of boiling water, to which she adds some salt, and potatoes.
She glances at the dog, Bear, a giant black lab.
She slices the skin and tosses it in a frying pan.
She sits down on the floor as she hand feeds the skin to the dog as the chicken cooks.
She kisses the dog and strokes his fur.
JANE
Oh my sweet little Bear. My domesticated beast. So gentle… as long as you get what you need. But were you relegated to the streets, my sweet friend, you would undoubtedly kill to fulfill those needs, would you not? Of course you would my gentle beast. It is your true nature to take what you need… How I envy you as I starve here.
EXT. OLD ISSAQUAH MASKED AS WHITECHAPEL STREETS -- LATER
She is following her husband down unnervingly empty streets.
He goes into a whorehouse.
The world falls away from her reality as she sees where he has gone.
The buildings lining the filthy streets become 2-dimensional (cardboard paintings) as her focus rests solely on him.
People far from Jane are merely shadows, black silhouettes (cardboard extras) against the flattened world in which they dwell. They are faceless, featureless Shadowpeople.
The people between Jane and the Shadowpeople are more distinct. They are eggshell and sepia toned. They're clothing and features are partially discernable. But they are merely statues, decorations on the street.
The only other living people in her world at that moment is the whore in the room with her husband. She watches through the window.
The husband gives the whore a beautiful corset.
She puts it on.
They begin to kiss.
Jane clings to the side of the building, pressing her body against the wall as if she might feel some of the warmth inside.
She cannot stand it any longer. She walks out to a fountain and gazes into the water, at the reflection of her face, seeing only plainness unworthy of affection.
She looks up at the statue.
The statue has her face.
The statue makes a Maori warrior face, startling Jane from her contemplation.
Jane returns to the window of the whorehouse.
When it is done, she sees her husband give his affection, the affection Jane so desperately craves, to a whore as he is dressing to leave the whorehouse.
She hides when he leaves.
The whore retakes her post in the otherwise empty alley.
Jane approaches the whore, on the side street, once Jack has gone.
Jane looks the whore up and down. Her lips are pursed tightly.
She does not make eye contact with the whore.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Help you with something?
Jane still does not make eye contact. She stares at the corset.
JANE
You are like a flower, (Jane’s hands form a distant silhouette of the whore) blossoming, (her hand hovers near the whore’s face and lips) in the fervor of the sudden spring.
Jane smoothes the front of her own clothing.
JANE
This is what he bought me to wear.
Realization dawns on the prostitute.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Well, it's lovely. Very fine stitching.
Jane looks her in the eyes, no bullshit.
JANE
It's a stormcloud. And this...
Jane fondles the corset.
JANE
This is a blossom that spreads to him after his long day in the rain… But then, what is a flower without the rain. The rain determines the flower’s fate.
The whore pushes Jane's hands off the corset.
Jane pulls the chicken knife from her pocket and stares at it as she speaks.
JANE
Do you know what I have to do with this knife everyday? He tells me he hates skin, you see… But not yours. He devours your skin.
Jane cuts the lacing from the corset and removes it from the whore.
She tucks it away in her skirt pocket as she holds her gaze and her knife on the whore.
JANE
They're mine, you know. I've earned them.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
What's yours?
The whore backs against the wall.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Look honey, whatever it is you say is yours, I'll gladly give it. Just put that blade away is all.
Jane lowers the knife and makes intense eye contact.
JANE
You think you can give them... You can't give my husband's kisses to me.
The whore's eyes widen as she realizes, then narrow as she plans.
She pouts her lips and softens her demeanor.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Take them. They're right here, on my lips.
The whore moves in and Jane reluctantly kisses her.
Close-in on lips, above jawline, and she gets lost for a second, then becomes enraged, makes a sudden movement and both women open their eyes WIDE.
Their lips part. Blood spills from both their mouths.
Pull back to reveal Jane holding her chicken knife, up to the hilt, through victims' throat with blade inside her mouth.
The whore falls to the ground. Jane falls with her, slowing her descent with a hand behind her neck.
Jane yanks the blade back and forth in horror, trying to dislodge it.
She stares at the whore as she dies, then at the corpse.
She opens the whore’s chemise and strokes the skin of her abdomen.
JANE
He hates skin... Do you hear me, whore, he HATES skin. So why did he tempt to taste yours? Delicate little flower, fertile with my husband’s seed. Rightfully mine by any decree. But where has he put my bounty?
Jane lifts the skirt of the dead whore and looks, knife still in hand.
She sees the layers of tulle under the whores skirt and bewilderment strikes her.
She lifts the edge of her skirt and sees the exact same layers of tulle under her own skirt.
Both women have the exact same thing under their skirts.
Her eyes flash madly.
She thrusts the knife between the legs beneath the skirt. Blood spreads as if fed by a hose.
JANE (CONT'D)
Hates skin. But not yours. So lets have a see what's so special here.
She is sawing upward just as she did when skinning the chicken.
She reaches the bellybutton and stops cold.
She puts the knife in her pocket.
She stands up.
She looks left, then right, then behind, letting her head fall back. They are alone.
JANE (CONT'D)
MURDER!!!!!!
A whore comes running out. Her mouth is slack.
She goes to Jane and offers comfort, wiping the blood from Jane’s face and hands.
KINDLY WHORE
What happened?
Jane looks dazed.
JANE
I… I don’t know.
KINDLY WHOrE
My God! It’s the ripper! The same one who killed those other girls, isn’t it?
JANE
Yes. The same.
She backs up out of the alley, then disappears as the crowd moves in.
The shadows turn their heads to watch her as she flees.
The statues eyes follow her judgmentally.
She vanishes around a corner.
The shadows take over the screen.
INT. VICTORIAN HOME – Early morning
Jane, still dressed in her grey and black chemise and corset from sleeping, delivers the morning paper to her husband on a tray.
JANE
Husband, dear. It is time to wake up.
She sets the tray next to him on the bed.
She smiles, then exits.
He reads the headline: JACK THE RIPPER STRIKES WHITECHAPEL GIRLS AGAIN!!!
He recognizes the woman in the photo. Though her body is horribly mutilated, her face is in tact.
He picks up the newspaper.
A look of horror crosses his face.
The dead whore’s corset, which he gave her the night before, sits on the tray beneath the paper.
END
By Sarah Jenny
INT. VICTORIAN TAILOR SHOP
Seamstress has big magnifying goggles, which make her eyes appear HUGE as she looks up from a colorful work.
She flips the goggles out to the side, recognizes the woman at the door and covers the work hastily.
She speaks with a cockney accent, barely understandable.
SEAMSTRESS
Oy! It’s the Mrs. then, is it?
Oh no, oh no, Mrs has to go!
The Mr. said, he did, the Mr. said!
Mrs. can’t see it! Go!
The seamstress waves her arms, shocking the young wife into retreat.
SEAMSTRESS
Go! Go! Go! Mr. said! Go!
INT. VICTORIAN KITCHEN AND DINING AREAS -- EVENING
Jane is the perfect Victorian wife. She daydreams of her husband and what surprise awaits her from the seamstress shop.
Her daydream is broken as she hears her husband come through the door. She smiles and rushes to meet him.
He is hiding a box, with the Seamstress’ mark on it, in the entryway closet. She tries to peer over his shoulder.
HUSBAND
Go on, then, give me room, woman.
She steps back, tentative, then walks back to the kitchen, where she chops vegetables. There is an empty look in her eyes.
HUSBAND (O.S.)
Wife. Here, wife.
She goes to the sitting room, where her husband is reading a newspaper.
She sits next to him.
He does not look at her.
JANE
Supper will be ready in an hour.
She scoots closer to him.
JANE (CONT'D)
So I was wondering.
She lowers her head.
He turns the page of the paper.
HUSBAND
Wondering what, Jane? Speak your peace or return to the kitchen.
She sits up straight and takes a deep breath.
JANE
I was wondering if I may have my kiss 'hello.'
He sighs and leans toward her.
She is prepared for a proper kiss on the mouth, but he dodges her lips and pecks her on the cheek.
Disappointment hangs on her face, drawing her features down. She steels her backbone and stands.
JANE (CONT'D)
Very well, thank you. I will ring the bell when supper is ready.
HUSBAND
Yes, well make certain there is no trace of skin this time. You know I cannot abide the texture of skin.
JANE
Yes, husband. I will do my very best.
She walks out of the room.
INT. VICTO5IAN KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
She is standing in the kitchen taking the skin off of a whole chicken.
She is quite skillful at her task. She slits from the loin cavity up to the neck, then from sternum out each wing and leg.
The skin slides off easily.
After removing the skin, she puts the chicken in a pot of boiling water, to which she adds some salt, and potatoes.
She glances at the dog, Bear, a giant black lab.
She slices the skin and tosses it in a frying pan.
She sits down on the floor as she hand feeds the skin to the dog as the chicken cooks.
She kisses the dog and strokes his fur.
JANE
Oh my sweet little Bear. My domesticated beast. So gentle… as long as you get what you need. But were you relegated to the streets, my sweet friend, you would undoubtedly kill to fulfill those needs, would you not? Of course you would my gentle beast. It is your true nature to take what you need… How I envy you as I starve here.
EXT. OLD ISSAQUAH MASKED AS WHITECHAPEL STREETS -- LATER
She is following her husband down unnervingly empty streets.
He goes into a whorehouse.
The world falls away from her reality as she sees where he has gone.
The buildings lining the filthy streets become 2-dimensional (cardboard paintings) as her focus rests solely on him.
People far from Jane are merely shadows, black silhouettes (cardboard extras) against the flattened world in which they dwell. They are faceless, featureless Shadowpeople.
The people between Jane and the Shadowpeople are more distinct. They are eggshell and sepia toned. They're clothing and features are partially discernable. But they are merely statues, decorations on the street.
The only other living people in her world at that moment is the whore in the room with her husband. She watches through the window.
The husband gives the whore a beautiful corset.
She puts it on.
They begin to kiss.
Jane clings to the side of the building, pressing her body against the wall as if she might feel some of the warmth inside.
She cannot stand it any longer. She walks out to a fountain and gazes into the water, at the reflection of her face, seeing only plainness unworthy of affection.
She looks up at the statue.
The statue has her face.
The statue makes a Maori warrior face, startling Jane from her contemplation.
Jane returns to the window of the whorehouse.
When it is done, she sees her husband give his affection, the affection Jane so desperately craves, to a whore as he is dressing to leave the whorehouse.
She hides when he leaves.
The whore retakes her post in the otherwise empty alley.
Jane approaches the whore, on the side street, once Jack has gone.
Jane looks the whore up and down. Her lips are pursed tightly.
She does not make eye contact with the whore.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Help you with something?
Jane still does not make eye contact. She stares at the corset.
JANE
You are like a flower, (Jane’s hands form a distant silhouette of the whore) blossoming, (her hand hovers near the whore’s face and lips) in the fervor of the sudden spring.
Jane smoothes the front of her own clothing.
JANE
This is what he bought me to wear.
Realization dawns on the prostitute.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Well, it's lovely. Very fine stitching.
Jane looks her in the eyes, no bullshit.
JANE
It's a stormcloud. And this...
Jane fondles the corset.
JANE
This is a blossom that spreads to him after his long day in the rain… But then, what is a flower without the rain. The rain determines the flower’s fate.
The whore pushes Jane's hands off the corset.
Jane pulls the chicken knife from her pocket and stares at it as she speaks.
JANE
Do you know what I have to do with this knife everyday? He tells me he hates skin, you see… But not yours. He devours your skin.
Jane cuts the lacing from the corset and removes it from the whore.
She tucks it away in her skirt pocket as she holds her gaze and her knife on the whore.
JANE
They're mine, you know. I've earned them.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
What's yours?
The whore backs against the wall.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Look honey, whatever it is you say is yours, I'll gladly give it. Just put that blade away is all.
Jane lowers the knife and makes intense eye contact.
JANE
You think you can give them... You can't give my husband's kisses to me.
The whore's eyes widen as she realizes, then narrow as she plans.
She pouts her lips and softens her demeanor.
VICTORIAN VICTIM 1
Take them. They're right here, on my lips.
The whore moves in and Jane reluctantly kisses her.
Close-in on lips, above jawline, and she gets lost for a second, then becomes enraged, makes a sudden movement and both women open their eyes WIDE.
Their lips part. Blood spills from both their mouths.
Pull back to reveal Jane holding her chicken knife, up to the hilt, through victims' throat with blade inside her mouth.
The whore falls to the ground. Jane falls with her, slowing her descent with a hand behind her neck.
Jane yanks the blade back and forth in horror, trying to dislodge it.
She stares at the whore as she dies, then at the corpse.
She opens the whore’s chemise and strokes the skin of her abdomen.
JANE
He hates skin... Do you hear me, whore, he HATES skin. So why did he tempt to taste yours? Delicate little flower, fertile with my husband’s seed. Rightfully mine by any decree. But where has he put my bounty?
Jane lifts the skirt of the dead whore and looks, knife still in hand.
She sees the layers of tulle under the whores skirt and bewilderment strikes her.
She lifts the edge of her skirt and sees the exact same layers of tulle under her own skirt.
Both women have the exact same thing under their skirts.
Her eyes flash madly.
She thrusts the knife between the legs beneath the skirt. Blood spreads as if fed by a hose.
JANE (CONT'D)
Hates skin. But not yours. So lets have a see what's so special here.
She is sawing upward just as she did when skinning the chicken.
She reaches the bellybutton and stops cold.
She puts the knife in her pocket.
She stands up.
She looks left, then right, then behind, letting her head fall back. They are alone.
JANE (CONT'D)
MURDER!!!!!!
A whore comes running out. Her mouth is slack.
She goes to Jane and offers comfort, wiping the blood from Jane’s face and hands.
KINDLY WHORE
What happened?
Jane looks dazed.
JANE
I… I don’t know.
KINDLY WHOrE
My God! It’s the ripper! The same one who killed those other girls, isn’t it?
JANE
Yes. The same.
She backs up out of the alley, then disappears as the crowd moves in.
The shadows turn their heads to watch her as she flees.
The statues eyes follow her judgmentally.
She vanishes around a corner.
The shadows take over the screen.
INT. VICTORIAN HOME – Early morning
Jane, still dressed in her grey and black chemise and corset from sleeping, delivers the morning paper to her husband on a tray.
JANE
Husband, dear. It is time to wake up.
She sets the tray next to him on the bed.
She smiles, then exits.
He reads the headline: JACK THE RIPPER STRIKES WHITECHAPEL GIRLS AGAIN!!!
He recognizes the woman in the photo. Though her body is horribly mutilated, her face is in tact.
He picks up the newspaper.
A look of horror crosses his face.
The dead whore’s corset, which he gave her the night before, sits on the tray beneath the paper.
END
Ok. Zis is zee final design READY TO GO! I believe SarahAlyse here in Seattle is up to be the first dancer. Lizzie, I know you had a schedule and I apologize for messing that up. Truth is, I took some extra time because i was not satisfied ... read more
Someone (possibly listed below) has enlisted me to manifest this physically and there will be something awesome happening with it. Heehee.
Subtlety is not my strong point. ;^)
But this is: www.SarahJennyDesigns.com
Check back in results...
Subtlety is not my strong point. ;^)
But this is: www.SarahJennyDesigns.com
Check back in results...
