The Sandman (Vertigo) Page #7

EXT. BART STATION - DAY

Commuters exit the BART station. Rose and Paul pause, pull

skateboards from their bags. They ride expertly downhill,

winding in and out of the pedestrians.

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO HILLS - DAY

Skateboards in hand, Rose and Paul trudge up a steep hill.

PAUL:

I really wasn't looking for, uh, you

know. I was just ... I've been blocked

for so long, and you listen so easy.

(beat)

I was afraid that I'd, I don't know,

seduced you --

Rose laughs. Paul looks hurt.

ROSE:

I'm a grown woman, Paul ... and the whole

tormented artist thing is not nearly as

attractive as tormented artists think it

is.

(trying to ease his conscience)

Look, this was just one of those things.

One of those bells that occasionally

rings ...

They reach the top of the hill.

PAUL:

A trip to the moon on gossamer wings?

ROSE:

Just one of those things.

She sets her board down, pushes off --

EXT. ROSE'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Brownstones converted into low-cost apartments. The tenants

are young, struggling: students, artists, coffee-house

employees -- sometimes all three at once.

Rose arrives at her entrance, Paul close behind. He looks

uncomfortable. Rose packs her skateboard.

PAUL:

Hey ... let's go have lunch.

25.

ROSE:

I'm sorry -- I've got too much to deal

with in my life right now. Okay?

Paul looks even more uncomfortable.

PAUL:

I was thinking ... just, maybe we should

talk some more?

ROSE:

Paul, no.

PAUL:

Rose --

Rose shoots him a look -- she's had enough. Paul sees it.

PAUL:

Okay. The truth of the matter is, I know

all we're going to be is great friends --

(can't help smiling)

But right now, everybody in your whole

building is up with your roommate putting

together a surprise birthday party for

you, and it's up to me to keep you away

from there for the next two hours.

Rose is completely shocked. She glances toward her apartment.

ROSE:

Really?

PAUL:

Uh-huh. Act surprised, okay?

ROSE:

Okay ...

(back at Paul)

So, um ... pals, then?

Paul regards her ... they smile. An understanding reached.

PAUL:

Pals. For now.

(off her look)

And probably forever. But I just don't

like saying 'never.'

ROSE:

Okay. Deal. After all, no one knows their

own destiny, right?

CLOSE ON:
The parchment PAGE of massive book. In beautiful

illuminated script it reads:

26.

"After all, no one knows their own destiny, right?"

Rose said.

In Destiny's Garden, Destiny closed his

book and went to his gallery.

The huge tome is SHUT. It is chained to the wrist of --

DESTINY. Oldest of the Endless. Tall, wearing a hooded

cassock. We are --

EXT. DESTINY'S GARDEN - TWILIGHT

Destiny moves through his Garden at a measured pace,

assuredly as a blind man in his own familiar home. Perhaps he

is blind, as we do not see his eyes, hidden in shadow.

The garden is all Greek columns, statues and sweeping

archways. Paths that diverge and branch, fork and divide.

Tall hedge mazes immaculately cut --

But Destiny knows his way, walking amid the sounds of

silence. He leaves no footprints. And casts no shadow.

INT. DESTINY'S GARDEN - CITADEL - TWILIGHT

Destiny moves slowly, dwarfed by the high-ceilinged hallway.

Beyond, chambers lead into many rooms and further chambers.

He turns a corner, disappears into SHADOW --

INT. DESTINY'S GARDEN - CITADEL - GALLERY - TWILIGHT

Six portraits hang on the wall, all painted in romantic

style, all the subjects garbed in eighteenth-century fashion.

Destiny stops in front of the first painting -- an ornately-

framed oil portrait of Death, she in an elegant pose. Destiny

speaks, his voice dry as dust:

DESTINY:

Sister. I stand in my Gallery, and I

summon the family to me. It is I, Destiny

of the Endless, who calls you.

(beat)

Come.

Death EMERGES from out of her portrait, into the hallway. She

is her usual sunny self, casually dressed.

DEATH:

Hiya, big brother. What's up?

27.

DESTINY:

I am calling a conclave of the Endless,

Sister. Do you not feel you should be

more appropriately attired?

Death pouts ... then spins, and is suddenly wearing a turn-of-

the-century satin dress, black leather boots, black silk

gloves. The effect is at once wild and elegant.

DEATH:

Satisfied?

Destiny moves to the next portrait. He does not look at her.

DESTINY:

Yes. I am satisfied.

(to the portrait)

Sibling, I stand in my Gallery, and I

call you ...

DESIRE steps out from the portrait. Perfectly symmetrical,

perfectly androgynous features. Her (or his) skin is pale as

smoke, his (or her) eyes tawny and sharp as yellow wine.

Desire smiles in brief flashes, like moonlight glinting from

a knife-edge.

She (or he) is formally dressed: black corset, panties,

garters and stockings. Desire looks around, taking the place

in.

DESIRE:

(to Dream)

I see he hasn't redecorated in the last

three hundred years. So what's the

occasion?

DESPAIR:

Destiny will tell us that in his own

time, Desire. He won't be rushed ...

DESPAIR emerges from her portrait, a heavy woman, naked,

rolls of fat weighting her down. Grey eyes that narrow to

tiny points.

DESIRE:

I see you dressed for the occasion,

Despair.

DEATH:

Shush. Be nice. It's been years since the

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