|The Paradise War
(WGAw# 631314) An Original Screenplay
By John Foster Elliott
(117 pages Action-Thriller)
In myth and religion the Middle East was thought to be the birthplace of mankind. In prophecy it is also identified as the location where the end of the world begins.
The year is 1999. A startling discovery is made by displaced Kurds and an arms dealer as they search for water in the Iraqi desert. An ancient temple and massive deposits of radioactive material are uncovered near the prehistoric delta of the Tigris-Euphrates rivers. The ore is a new type of isotope that may be of extraterrestrial origin. There is enough nuclear material here to build thousands of bombs. Unfortunately, the Iraqi Secret Service capture evidence of this find. The Iraqi’s begin looking for the location of the ore, and terminate those who know the secret. A special covert operation is assigned to investigate the site. This deposit must be rendered useless, or the world may very well end. The team must penetrate Iraq and find the deposit while overcoming fierce Arab opposition. Unknown to them, they are being set up by their own government as decoys. Satellites will track Iraqi movements to the ore, and stealth bombers await in the wings.
However, there is also another factor, unknown to both Iraqi and American Intelligence. There is truth in every legend. Perhaps not the truth we think, but a truth none the less. They will discover far more than was intended or even imagined.
The Garden of Eden has a basis in reality. It is the origin of our legends, myths and even our faith. It has waited patiently for over a hundred thousand thousand years.
Now what is inside AWAKENS.
And they are not at all what any of us thought.
And neither are we.
(WGAw #638095) An Original Screenplay
by John Foster Elliott
(122 pages sci-fi-action)
On Yucca Street, in the armpit of Hollywood, there is a small neon sign that reads “Spiritual Advisor.” It flashes on and off in the storefront of a decrepit apartment building. Like most of the area, it has seen much better days.
Inside this two room flat resides a very special man. Like most of those who are really gifted, he doesn’t give it much thought. He reads the Tarot and the I-Ching for tourists and the street people. He’s a familiar face to the prostitutes and the junkies, the runaways and the homeless.
Teddy supplies the one item that is so much in demand on the streets, -hope. His fortunes always have silver linings. -Romance and success and a brighter future are always in demand. The gangs protect him. He’s a stabilizing force in the growing sea of chaos.
But Teddy has two secrets. The first is, -he wasn’t always a card reader. His past is somewhat of a mystery. The second is, -he gets these “seizures” now and then. He can’t remember exactly what he does or says when they hit. He has no clue. They appear to be a combination of epilepsy and Tourette’s syndrome. -Epilepsy, because he blanks out, and Tourette’s because he involuntarily says and does the strangest things. --Whoever he’s with, he BECOMES. He takes on their body posture, their voice, their inflection, -their mannerisms.
When Teddy has his “fits” he becomes a TELEPATH. Teddy broadcasts the deepest secrets, hidden desires AND the TRUTH about what that other person really feels, thinks, dreams and imagines. And, you can’t convince Teddy that he’s not you. To him, you’re the impostor, or a joke, or a put-on by some friends.
And he won’t remember a damn thing afterwards.
Life on the edge can be hard. Sometimes you run out of money. Sometimes you run out of pills. Sometimes you’re just running. Things disappear. People too.
On the streets of LA young girls disappear all the time. But lately, -some of Teddy’s crew begin to take notice when friends of friends vanish. But Ted has other things on his mind, especially when his usual connection can’t find any meds for him.
To make matters worse he still has to do his readings to scratch out a living.
Two tourist types show up on his door one Saturday morning. They’re a nice, young black married couple. It just so happens that the guy works for LAPD internal affairs. His wife is doing her dissertation at USC in American Shamanism. And Teddy has the FITS.
He “becomes” the homicide detective for a few minutes. The cop freaks. (So does his wife, who wants to know exactly who “Arlene” is, and why-oh-why is Teddy begging her forgiveness?) The detective is plenty pissed off, but he knows a good thing when he sees it. Teddy is an answer to his prayers. There’s a dirty cop that he can’t get evidence on.
The long arm of the Law is empty handed. Except now it gets a hold on Teddy. Teddy Albert’s simple life will suddenly become very complex. Way complex, --because the missing girls and the dirty cop are tied up into a sordid scene of corruption and perversion that reaches the state capitol.
Sooner or later he meets up with bad guys.
And then who will Teddy become?
Directions in Life for the Occasionally Confused
The Television Series 54 pages WGAw 679227
by John Foster Elliott
A young psychologist begins to host his first television special, based on his best-selling self help book, Directions in Life for the Occasionally Confused.
Little does he know that the director and producers have completely changed his script to make it more “commercial.” As the show must go on, their ongoing battle is broadcast -live, on the air...
Directions is being proposed as a pilot for a half hour comedy/educational program for both adults and children. Each week, a new theme from psychology to will be illustrated throughout the show with animation and live action. Imagine a combination of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, Soupy Sales, and Sesame Street geared to those millions of self-help fans across the country and the world. The show is a family oriented comedy designed to promote values that support our needs for interdependence as well as individual freedom.
The original book was written using the latest breakthroughs in theories concerning human growth and development. Most other programs dealing with this subject matter in the past have ended up either boring the audience to death or exploiting and sensationalizing the pain and suffering of their unfortunate guests. (Here we will only exploit actors.)
Directions use of animation and film provide an excellent vehicle to transport ideas to the viewing audience. The fluidity and dynamics of unconscious process are mirrored daily through the fantasy and fiction we create for the screen. The imagery conveyed through the use of multi-media can enlighten as well as entertain. As stated previously, Direction’s takes a humorous slant, and where comedy doesn’t suffice, optimism will prevail.
The series will feature original music and art with this same basic theme in mind. The emphasis is on understanding, acceptance, actions and solutions to the conflicts we all face in life. As of this date, besides the author, we have commitments to the project from several animators and a variety of writers, composers, musicians and directors. Besides the series itself, there will be opportunities for investment income for production that can be derived from book, music and/or trademark sales.
I Never Cut My Hair
A comedy/drama about sex, drugs, rock and revolution (WGAw # 697111)
by John Foster Elliott
This is an autobiographical coming of age film set at Penn State University from 1970-1975. It centers on the questionable exploits of one young man’s rites of passage he whips through the tail end of the 60’s Cultural Revolution.
Our protagonist is a self-absorbed free spirit whose main pursuits are getting high and getting laid. His path to bliss is detoured through the anti-war movement and the impact of drug abuse on his college friends. After a seriously bad trip and thwarted suicide attempt, he works to establish one of the first crisis intervention centers on the East Coast. Run entirely by his generation of young stoners and hippies. But, there are a few catches. -Since the clinic will be government funded he can’t be involved in any more protests, yet he’s morally committed to end the war. -He also can’t seem to keep his private parts in his pants when it comes to women. -And, he and his friends have no intentions to give up smoking weed The new millennium views the 70’s here with an affectionate yet critical eye.
A Fantasy Action Adventure WGAw # 698525
by John Foster Elliott
HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED WHY...
Fossil evidence of Homo Sapiens has been carbon dated to well over two million years ago while civilized life as we know it has only existed for six thousand years... Modern man has been around the planet for thirty times the length of recorded history.
There is a timeless place where all legends, myths and fables are REAL. Gods and Demons still live in this domain. We have encountered this REALM many times before, and each time we have, human civilization was destroyed.
The earth cyclically passes through a region of space that defies all laws of physics. Our entire technology stops working, and there are only two sources of power that humans can harness to survive. One of them is sheer brute force. The other is ...MAGIC. This territory we venture in is already populated by THOSE that are the essence of MYTH and LEGEND. And this time the DARK ONES seek to conquer the earth and all it’s people.
THE FATE OF THE WORLD RESTS IN THE HAND’S OF
A psychiatrist who doubts his own sanity -for very good reasons. A washed up CIA agent, hell bent on killing himself. A beautiful young nun roused to the temptations of the flesh by God Himself. (Okay, -not THE GOD, but A god nonetheless) A testy old wizard who wakes up from a hundred thousand year beauty sleep that’s done nothing for his appearance, and much less for his attitude.
THESE are THE SEEKERSTHE PREMISE
THIS IS THEIR TALE
The earth, the solar system, and the very galaxy itself accelerate blindly through the dark voids of space. All of us are speeding at 25,000 miles per second towards... the UNKNOWN.
Meanwhile, some OTHERWHEN, some OTHERWHERE awaits....
There is no such thing as Nothing; space is not a vacuum.
A cosmic string unraveled at the birth of the universe -An umbilical cord connected to all possibilities, cut free before the dawn of time. When the rest of matter and energy were woven into the fabric of the material plane, this thread was never stitched to the physical realm. It whirls around the continuum of our existence like a twisting ancient river. As it flows through the hills and valleys of the cosmos, the stars plunge into it’s depths and bathe in the waters of creation. We have crossed it BEFORE.
A hundred thousand years ago, wondrous cities and technologies grew up on the earth like flowers in a garden. After we passed through the REALM , all that remained were rubble and the whimpers of children. All knowledge was lost, and we had to start over -again....
The Realm of the String has different laws of physics. The gods reside here, along with demons. They fight an endless war for nameless reasons -as the Light must always battle the Dark. Science and technology do not work here as they do in our reality. But MAGIC works very well indeed, -If you have the GIFT. The Beings of this Timeless Space, of the Light and Dark, mated with our kind eons ago. Their blood runs thin now, but it still runs true. Christ, the Buddha, and Mohammed were all of the Light as much as Hitler, Genghis Khan and Caligula were of the Dark. There are those among us waiting to be touched with... Magic.
This time humanity will not directly pass through the currents of possibilities. But we will get close enough to be caught in a branch of sorcery. Close enough to change everything on the planet. For one month, magic will reign supreme in the land of mortals, and the war of the gods will engulf us. The forces of light struggle to keep the realms separate. There is an opportunity to open a PERMANENT DOOR to unite the worlds forever. The PORTAL’S location is in the Mojave desert, one hundred miles from Los Angeles California. The Dark entities of the Realm feed off our fear, despair, and anguish. They would have us available for a killing feast. This door that MUST be kept closed as we pass by, or mankind is doomed.
There have always been those who serve for the good of humanity. A burnt out agent discovers that he has a super-human mastery in combat. A psychiatrist gains the power of a wizard at the expense of his rationality. And a young nun acquires the ability to communicate and command animals -along with the amorous attentions of a god.
In Tibet, a small and ancient order of venerable monks awakens a mage asleep for fifty thousand years. In India, an evil cult that worships Shiva is preparing to destroy the world. The earth is about to become a battle ground, one more time. The usual weapons of war will become useless. Electricity, gunpowder, gasoline, atomic energy and most technology will be rendered ineffectual throughout the world. The ring of steel will again resound as bloody blades replace guns and bombs. Spells and incantations are the strongest weapons now. Ordinary animals will transform into creatures of myth and legend. Silent Gods will speak again, and three normal humans will take on the burden of saving the world.
We are heading for... ENCHANTMENT.
THE PLOT THICKENS
It’s 3:00 AM and all’s not well. Just outside the Solar System...
They didn’t know what to make of it. They should have seen it, but really how could they? It was what it was, -something completely different. The radio telescopes only picked it up because it blocked the signals of the stars. But it wasn’t moving, it had always been there. We were the ones moving towards matters of the darkest kind... As they got closer they saw...
A river of radiant light extending beyond forever... with colors that have no name.
* * *In the Mission District of LA...
Samuel Roberts is a burn out case, there’s no doubt about it. He had fought in Bosnia, in the Gulf, and in all the other dirty little wars. All the secret ones. Once he was a decent man who believed in something. Now he is a government assassin, sick and tired of killing. He’s finally found a way to get off the merry-go-round, if he has the guts.
The effervescent spasms of neon light pulsed on Sam’s gun in the mirror. It was if the lightning of his pain echoed in the blood red of the flickering light. He looks in the mirror and sees a soldier in civilian attire. Scruffy, sloppy, unkempt. A man full of desperation. He would empty himself soon. He raises the gun to his head and the peaceful darkness he longs for. His eyes close and he winces as... the neon lights go dim and he pulls the trigger. Click. He pulls again in frustration. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Sam takes the gun and stares at it. He opens the clip and shakes out five live rounds. He raises his eyebrows in puzzlement. The lights go out. He doesn’t know it but they’re going out all over the world. Click. ...he tries again
Coiling in rage, he throws the gun against the wall. There is a brief whooshing noise of acceleration. The weapon hits the wall and explodes straight through it, leaving a gaping, jagged hole in the plaster. Motes of dust twirl from the impact and twinkle like stars. Sam’s jaw drops as he stares out the breach into the night.
Fate has other plans for Samuel Roberts. He is Gifted in this time of Passage. He is a warrior who will reluctantly go to battle one more time. His enemies will be the creatures of darkness and those who would turn our world into a wasteland of perpetual carnage. -As well as his own personal demons. As far as dying goes, he might get his wish. If he’s lucky.
* * *At a stable in Chattsworth...
The mare was due an hour ago. Her cervix was dilating properly, and all systems were go. The vet couldn’t understand the problem. The colt would die, along with the mother unless he moved quickly.
It was that moment that the barn lights went out. Cursing, he gropes for a flashlight, setting it upon a rail so he can halfway see. He reaches inside her and begins to gently guide the newborn out the birth canal. As he grasps the colt his hands feel something... strange. Two large growths are behind the colt’s front shoulders. He’s afraid they’re tumors. It isn’t till the colt pops out that he sees them for what they are. Wings.
He takes it all in, sit down, opens his medical bag and removes a silver flask. He takes swig, toasting the mother and child. “They’ll never believe THIS. I don’t believe this.” He takes a deep swallow as he hears a sound, -a humming swish coming from the other side of the stable.
He points his flashlight in the direction of the noise and ... three other full grown horses of the twenty three in the stalls have wings as well. Another has a single horn growing out of it’s forehead that gleams white as new fallen snow. The vet’s eyes glaze over as he falls back against the rails of the stall,. Shaking his head and muttering.
* * *At St. Monica’s Rectory near the beach...
Sister Mary Francis O’Donnel is kneeling to the right of the altar before the life-sized statue of Jesus of the Sacred Heart. She has always found comfort here. Perhaps she will again, as nuns so often need the beneficence of God. She stares up at the figure draped in robes of white and blue. The stone beatific face looks down at her with tenderness. As she prays to Him to act on her behalf, she notices His eyes, -they are so handsome. Abruptly, the exposed heart painted on his chest disappears. Then, He smiles at her... And winks! He leaps off his pedestal and approaches her. She is frozen with panic, her heart pounding a beat of dread deep from within her chest. With a start, she sees his lips are full and sensual while his figure is trim and... masculine. He runs a hand through his hair, dragging it out of his eyes. He gives her a mischievous, boyish grin. He then goes to her, and kneels on the other side of the altar rail.
“I heard you,” he softly says.
“Lord!” she gasps.
“Not exactly,” he replies, amused. “But a rose by any other name...”
He tilts his face, gently grabs her head with both hands and leans forward with lips slightly parted... She bolts upright from her bed in sheer terror.
She hears the faint echo of a man’s apologetic laugh while she pants and touches a hand to her lips in wonder. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. The name’s Apollo... or Balder... or Ra... or...whatever you like... .” The voice fades out. She shakes her head to clear it, still looking dazed, reaches and turns on the table light to her right. The rectory cat, an old black tom by the name of Luke, jumps on her bed and nuzzles against her. She takes him in her arms and cuddles him while Luke purrs.
“Luke, am I going nuts or what?”
Luke looks at her with his inscrutable cat eyes and says, “Beats me.”
The light’s go out. Mary screams.
Sister Mary has been Gifted with the power to communicate. With animals, with the “souls” of the dead, with the possible futures, and reluctantly with the gods of the Realm. But the gods want more than talk. At least one wants some action. Like her patron saint, Francis of Assisi, -animals great and small will gladly come to her. But the beasts that she eventually commands come from the stuff of dreams...and nightmares.
* * *At OliveView Hospital in the Valley...
Dr. Peter Murdoch walks down the hall with a determined gait. He is determined to take his break. The admitting psychiatrist in a state mental hospital needs all the breaks they can get. He’s just about to make it to the exit door when the charge nurse calls out “Dr. MURDOCH! STAT!” He turns around and sees two cops restraining a ranting long haired vagrant type wrapped up in a sheet. The man is agitated and struggling. He sighs, spins around and walks back to the small group, grabbing the chart from the nurse’s hands. The nurse smirks up at him. “I AM the RESURRECTION and the LIGHT!”, howls the man. One cop grimaces and says, “Yeah, and I’m the Easter Bunny.” Peter gives him a stony look, but his eyes soften as they move towards his new patient.
“Let him go,” he says. The cops look at each other. “But Doc....”
Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “I’m the doctor on duty. Let him go. Now.”
They shrug and comply. He extends her hand to the man and smiles warmly. “I’m Peter Murdoch. I’ll be your new doctor. And your name is...? “JESUS CHRIST,” he declares loudly. He takes Peter’s hand. “Upon this ROCK I will BUILD...” His sheet starts to fall, and Peter lets go of his hand and helps him cover himself. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Christ,” he responds. Then he leans over to him and speaks as if they were sharing a secret. “I hear you’re a carpenter of sorts.”
The insane man nods hesitantly.
Peter nods back. “Great. We have a wood shop here, and we definitely need an experienced carpenter. But first...”, he looks to the nurse, “escort Mr. Christ to his room, Willie. Get his vitals and lets try 75 mg iv, Effexor.” The nurse nods and leads a very docile Jesus away. The cops are grinning.
“Hell Doc, how’d you get him to do that? He’s been screaming his ass off since we picked ‘im up.” The other officer nods, and says straight faced, “you got some heavy magic there, Doc.” Peter strides over to the water cooler and smiles impishly. “Tricks of the trade, guys.” He takes a small cup and fills it. “Now, If I had real magic, this stuff would turn into Jameson’s scotch.”
He takes a large mouthful and taps the top of the cooler with authority. As he does, his hand radiates a burst of blinding blue light and a crack of thunder fills the alcove. The cops flinch in alarm and go for their guns. Peter’s eyes open wide and he spews liquor out of his mouth, choking and coughing. The clear water in the cooler turns a rich amber, and the three look at each other in fear and surprise. Then the lights go out all over the world.
Peter Murdoch has the Gift of Magic, he will have to give up all of his beliefs to use it. If he doesn’t, the world will end. He’d rather believe that he’s going through a psychotic break. He too will join with Roberts and O’Donnel in their quest. Like it or not. And...Murdoch is not going to like it -one-damn-bit.
* * *In the Sierra’s...
A moonlight climb is always dangerous. But, -he’s an old hand at this, and has been over these mountains a million times. He knows them like the back of his hand.
Fortunately the backs of his hands are visible, as are the twinkling lights of the San Fernando Valley below. The rocks are easy to grip, and the muted dark colors are etched in silver from the soft glow of the moon. It’s his best high, this free-form climbing. He spotted the eagle around here only yesterday, and she’s bound to show up. Eventually.
He’s almost to the ledge, and he turns, noticing the lights going out all over the Valley, -all at once. He gets one hand up, then the other, and with a grunt of exertion, begins to pull himself up with both hands. -Only to encounter a woman’s head and two well endowed breasts jutting right into his face. His jaw drops open.
“Ah... er... excuse me.. I...”
The woman smiles and he notices her pointed teeth. She has a feral look about her, hair snarled with leaves and dirt smudging her face. The rest of her isn’t quite ... human.
Her tawny skin melts into furred paws. Her wings unfold behind her back and her tail, -a lions tail, begins an agitated beat. This is the last thing he ever sees.
She swings out a taloned forepaw, lightning quick, breaking his neck and pinning his body to the ledge. The harpy starts to feed.
* * *