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The Desert (Screenplay first act) Part 2 of 2 (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
Continued from: http://writingforums.com/showthread.php?t=78238


Where is this son of a dog?!

Shots tear through the soil beneath his feet. He stumbles back, dropping his gun over the escarpment.

The two bandits parallel to the escarpment run to the edge quickly, searching for Felix’s whereabouts.

Felix snatches up the dropped revolver and fires rapidly at the two bandit farther down the escarpment. He hits one in he hand, blowing off trigger finger and sending him screaming away from edge. He hits the other in the arms.

The remaining bandits (only two of which still armed and able to shoot properly) Run back to their horses.
Felix emerges from the gully on his horse. The bandits take off on horseback.

Felix slices across the frame bouncing wildly atop a galloping horse.
One of the two armed bandit flings a .22 rifle out from under his coat, bringing the sites to Felix direction.

Felix fires rounds from an immaculate colt six shooter in retaliation.
The bandit with the rifle attempts to performs a stylish reload trick but fails as the gun slips from his fingers and is lost in the desert sand.
His partner notices.


You jack ass! I told you to stop trying that tricky shit!
Felix fires the last of the rounds from the six shooter and then stuffs it back in his holster.

He reaches back and removes a short rifle from his saddle bags. He aims as steadily as one can, thumping around the top of the saddle at fifty miles an hour.


I’ll get him!

Bandit #4 brings a large revolver out of its holster and allows his horse to fall to the back of the pack.
Felix fired from his rifle.

The bullet graces the side of bandit #2. He yelps.
Felix fires a few more shots.

The bandit pulls it together and, slumped across the saddle, nearly falling off the horse trying to peer backwards, fires a shot.

The shot hits Felix’s horse in the chest causing the horse to buck, sending Felix to the ground.

Bandit #4

Yes! Take that you bastard...

Felix’s horse trots for a few yards and then collapses, wheezing painfully into the sand.

Felix scurries along the sand. Grabbing his rifle he fires as the bandits fade into the distance. Felix tries to run over a small sand mound, but stumbles and falls to a kneel.


(near tears)
Jesus Christ, no! You fucking sons of bitches! I’ll carve out your hearts out!



Felix’s boots have been kicked off, his jacket is rolled and tied around his waist. His hat has collected sand all around the brim. Sweat pours from his forehead, trickling along the sides of his neck and onto his chest, dampening his shirt. He is near defeat.


(to himself)
Don’t fucking stop. Just keep your feet moving. Don’t let these bastards win. Do NOT let these bastards win. Come on you motherfucker, move!

Felix’s steps become more violent. His slow walk turns to a fast one. Then this fast walk to a slow jog. He drops his coat. His hat falls off. He is running. He unbuckles his gun belt. He moves faster and faster kicking sand up behind him. He is crying. He sprints harder and harder, his body is moving as fast as it can. Tears drip along his face, twisted and contorted in pain and despair. He continues to run.
He continues on as if making a mad dash for salvation.
He flies over a sand dune and stumbles down the other side.
He lies on his belly, breathing heavily into the sand.

For a split second, we catch a glimpse of his dying horse, in the same position.

He is now in a full blown weep. He attempts to pick himself up but fails. He crawls along, in no attempt to get anywhere, only to prove to himself he can still move.


Death. The simple solution. It’s always there. You can always escape. The sun. The heat. The pain and regret. I’m here in this desert because I was going to kill six men. Remove their hearts. I’m a monster. I’m a demon. Die. Just fucking die you worthless sack of shit just die. Give up, escape it all. Life ends in the desert. End it. End it now.

He goes limp. He brings his legs close to his chest. He tucks his head into his knees. He stays like this for a moment.
Then as he brings his head up, he sees something.
A patch of cacti. They are stout and small, each with a small pink flower on top.

Felix crawls along on his hands and feet over to the cactus and examines them boyishly.

He gets up and staggers lifelessly, grabbing his sides. He jogs back to where he dropped his possessions.

He rummages through his bag, past the Indian head dress and grabs a large buck knife

He then returns to the cactus with the same crippled run.

He squats down and begins plucking the thorns in a hurry. Poking his finger and drawing blood multiple times.


Yes... yes. Oh god yes...



The cactus is dethorned. Felix begins to slide it up and liquids pour out onto his hands. He licks them up, and quickly devours the entire cactus.

He then moves to the next.



Felix once again devours one of the small cacti.

He stands pulls the others from the ground. He places them all in a heap and carries them back to his leather bag.

He throws them to the grounds and they scuttle along the sand slightly. He opens his sack and finds there is no room.

He stares at the bag for a moment.

He pulls the head dress out and places it on his head. The cacti fit perfectly.

He throws the bag on his back and continues onward...


this is nitpicky, but spellcheck almost always does wonders. Other than that, I understand you want to write a screenplay but this is fairly poor :/ It reminds me of old B- Westerns, where the main character's gun is always sparkly, the bad guys always miss, and the good guy fires at any angle from 1 mile away and hits his mark. Granted, that's kind of the stereotype of the Western genre, but there's a good way to do that, and a bad way. This is not even to the level of John Wayne :/ ...he was kinda cool, but the movies were not always the best.