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Sally Sells Seashells, Sees Someone Strangled (Short)
by Gerald Young (gyoung1977@gmail.com)

Rated: PG-13   Genre: Film Noir   User Review: **1/2
Sally saw something she shouldn't have.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.



SALLY (25) is "womaning" her hand-made crafts stand. The
beach is clean, pristine, blisteringly hot, and busy. The
birds mimic a magnificent concerto. Sally grabs a big pair
of black binoculars that bedeck her luscious left shoulder.
She raises them to eye level. WE ARE NOW HER EYES. Wild
waves wreck havoc while a spotless sunset hovers above.
Sally slowly swings around. Everything goes blurry. We
suddenly see SAM (33), a Caucasian; strong, sleek, and
smooth in demeanor.
I guess that's the quickest way to
get into the consumer's mind.
Sally straightens up.
Oh, sorry. Hi!
Hi! So, what should I buy an eight
year old girl?
You shouldn't buy an eight year
old girl at all. I don't sell them
because it's illegal.
You're witty. I like that. Let me
rephrase. What should I buy my
eight year old daughter? What do
you think she'd like?
Well, I sell a lot of these right
Sally points down to a collection of items that she has made
from seashells and various other items found around the
shore. A belt full of seashells and multifarious trinkets
stands out amongst the rest. It is considerably the largest
item and there's an ominous glow surrounding it.


You made all of these yourself?
They look really nice.
Yes, and thank you.
Let me see that one.
Sam points down to the belt. Sally nervously fumbles while
trying to hand it to him. It makes a loud clank.
Oops. So, just shopping for your
daughter and not your wife? I've
got a BOGO special going.
Sam quizzically stares at Sally.
Sorry. I saw the ring.
Well, I'm actually trying to
soften the blow of telling my
little Samantha Sue that her mom
and I won't be together anymore.
Going through a divorce is one of
the roughest things ever. It gets
to you.
      (from the heart)
I'm genuinely sorry to hear that.
Things like that bum me. No matter
how hard it has to be on the
adults, but the children involved;
those poor kids.
Definitely. Say, I'm sorry if I
brought you down. I guess I'll
take this belt.
It's alright. I'm fine.
You certainly are, but nobody
likes a bragger.


Sally blushes. He hands her a twenty dollar bill. She
reaches to get the ten bucks in change that is owed.
No, that's alright. I admire your
whimsicality and entrepreneurship.
Please, keep it. By the way, I'm
Sam Snithering.
He reaches out to shake her hand. She returns the gesture.
Sally Snodgrass. Sorry once again.
I wish you luck. Have a
good...have a...have a day.
Sam nods at her to acknowledge the awkwardness.
The sun has set. Sally peers back into her binoculars. Once
again, we become her eyes. A condominium is shown. We
become fixated on silhouettes of a couple obviously in an
argumentative smack down with one another.
Sam is seen shouting at his ravishing, red-headed wife,
SUSAN (28).
You're not the one that came home
and saw the one they love being
treated like a community
Fleshlight by four different guys!
What I really liked was how your
vagina was like the U.N. You had
the African landscaper, the
Hispanic butler, the somehow
heterosexual Caucasian guy that
does your nails, and the Asian
plumber. It's a great moment in
racial relations knowing that your
vagina doesn't discriminate.
Actually, it does, ass-clown-hat!
It hasn't let you and your little
friend into its Country Club in
five months.


Ass-clown-hat? You gotta pick one
and commit to it. Then again,
picking just one thing and being
loyal isn't in your nature.
Just get out! Get out! Get out of
MY condo!
YOUR condo? YOUR condo? You think
that this is YOUR condo?
Get out, Sam! Get out of MY damn
Sam grabs the clanking, clunking belt of trinkets that he
had bought for his daughter. He makes a raw, decisive move
towards her. She's beyond caught off guard. He quickly
brings her down and asphyxiates her with it. SHE DIES! A set
of young, innocent eyes glowingly peer from underneath a
Sally anguishes in absolute astonishment. Her face is
showing that the earlier transaction is still fresh in her
mind. She knows that it was Sam who killed the woman with
the very "weapon" that she had supplied. She is emotionally
raped and a lot, and I mean A LOT scared.
Sally is back to "womaning" her stand. She's significantly
still in shock and painfully pensive. She focuses her eyes
on Sam, who is a mere fifteen feet away. Her face overtly
emits acknowledgment that she knows what happened. Sam's
face confirms this. A POLICE OFFICER (40) walks by. He is a
larger, black gentleman that has a notable limp.
Excuse me, sir! Sir!
                       POLICE OFFICER
Yes, ma'am? What's wrong?


This man. This...this...this
An adamant Sam abruptly approaches the stand and pulls out a
miniature sized hand gun. He blatantly blasts the beat-cop
below the belt, causing him to sloppily spill to the sandy
shore. Sam intently eyes Sally with a murderous mug.
If you know what's good for you,
you'll keep your trap shut and
head towards that big, red truck.
Sally is gagged. Sam is driving. Gun is pointed.
Chance circumstance. You know what
that means?
Sam VIOLENTLY pistol whips her. She's out.
Sam is manning his boat. An unconscious Sally lays on the
It means that I was at the right
place at the right time. You? Not
so lucky.
A startled Sam speedily spins around and shockingly sees his
daughter SAMANTHA (8). She motions the minuscule, meager gun
he killed the officer with at him.
Samantha! Put that down!


Daddy, why did you make mommy go
to Heaven like you did with our
Samantha Sue! Put that down right
You sent mommy to live with God.
Why daddy, why?
Your mother is...
You made Buster move to Heaven,
too. I don't wanna miss mommy like
that. You took them away. I wanna
be with them.
Samantha turns the gun towards herself. The noise from the
blast brings Sally to consciousness. Sam sees this, but
can't react because he is frozen. Sally slowly comes to her
senses and sees a gun laying next to the lifeless child. She
quickly grabs it and points it at Sam.
Sam is handcuffed in the defendant's chair. Sally sits near
the prosecution. An earnest, elderly Asian JUDGE (55)
presides with a gavel in his hand.
...The jury has spoken. There is
simply not enough evid...
                       SAMANTHA (OS)
A commotion quickly conquers the quondam quite quiet
courtroom. The judge heartily hammers his gavel. A heavily
bandaged, wheel chair ridden Samantha is at the entrance to
the court floor.
Order! Order! Order!


Silence successfully stamps out the stentorian.
He killed mommy! I seened it!
Sam's demeanor and jaw drastically drop. The courtroom
The beauty from the initial scene returns. The birds are
making music like a million Mozart's. The waves are back.
The sun is hovering over them. Sally, ten years later, is
"womaning" her shop.
Could you please hand me that
The ten years later version of Samantha reaches to grab it.
Sally's stand has the same layout that it did 10 years
prior. There's one noticeable empty spot, though.


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From Alexander Ramirez Date 1/10/2011 **1/2
I'll give you some credit, because I appreciated how wild the story was. Also, you have decent diction, which goes a long way in making your work readable. But your ending came rather abruptly and made little sense. You need to expand on that, especially considering this is a short. You need to cut down on the flowery prose considerably. You're writing a screenplay, not a novel. Stick to "writing what you see" and leave it at that; those blocks of direction are entirely too thick. And, for the love of God, give the similes a break! They're distracting. Stop trying to be clever, and just communicate your story as succintly as possible. Good luck with the rewrite.

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