Posted By admin on April 19, 2009
Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop.
LEWIS CARROLL
The man froze, like a deer in headlights.
Or in this case, a lot of headlights. He stood, stock still, in the center of Madison Street, cars screeching to a stop to avoid hitting him. His clothes were antiquated and formal, but they also looked unworn. An old fashioned tweed suit, including vest, all buttoned tightly. A gold chain from his belt loop to his pocket brought to mind a pocket watch and a classic bowler hat sat atop his head.
His expression was one of utter terror.
Susan Pelagrin, who had seen the cars screeching and skidding from the window of the book shop where she had been looking for a gift, bolted outside when she saw the cause of the near accident. She rushed to the man’s side and tried to lead him back to the relative safety of the sidewalk.
It was a hard sell, but gradually she managed to calm him down enough to get him out of the middle of the road and over to a nearby bench. The cars, after some angry honking and gesturing, resumed their respective journeys.
“Are you all right?” She asked the man, but he remained silent. “I’m Dr. Pelagrin, I’m a psychiatrist. Well, a student psychiatrist, at any rate. I can help you.”
The man turned toward her and met her eyes for the first time. Susan was an attractive young woman, but he didn’t notice. He saw nothing but her deep blue, almost hypnotic eyes. “Help me?” he whispered. “Help me recover from madness? Are you a student of Sigmund’s?”
“Freud? In a way, I suppose.”
“Such a nice man, Sigmund, but I think some of his theories are rather daft, don’t you?”
Susan phrased her next question carefully. “You speak as if you know him.”
“I do, young lady. We’ve supped together on many an occasion. He was a great help to my younger brother. He had a bit of a cocaine problem.”
Susan took a deep breath. Don’t shatter the illusion, she thought. Not yet. “I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your name, sir.”
The man held himself up straight, said, “Thomas Jeremy Bantham, at your service,” then actually took off his hat and bowed before her.
“Well, Mr. Bantham, you’ve obviously suffered quite a shock of some kind. Perhaps we should go somewhere where we can get you checked out, make sure you’re okay.”
Bantham shook his head. “I am far from okay, young lady. I believe I have gone utterly mad. Could you perhaps escort me to Bedlam?”
This is the beginning of a much larger piece that will be serialized here as time and inclination permits. Each new installment will have it’s own entry, but you can always read the entirety of the piece as it exists at that time by clicking on the tab at the top that reads “A Life - In And Out of Time”.
Category: A Life - In And Out of Time, Me, Words, Writing |
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Adapting a novel to film is a tricky business. You have to distill a story designed for another medium into its essence, then translate that essence into a visual story, all without betraying the story, or more important, the spirit of the story. Bringing a series character to life presents even more challenges. You have to be true not just to the original novel, but to the spirit of all the books.
