Winter's Tale Page #4

Heh. Light as a feather.

Good night, Peter Lake.

Good night, little Willa.

My father says you

saved all our lives.

He's overstating things. It was

just him and the furnace man's.

And yours.

Yeah, mine too, I suppose.

Thursday is New Year's Eve.

I'd like to go dancing.

You take great risk

coming to me for this.

You owe me, angel.

And this is me calling

in my marker.

You know I cannot

directly intervene.

Relax, flyboy.

It just makes the heart

beat a little faster.

Someone would have to be real excited

to experience any deleterious effects.

You know the rules.

Debts must be paid.

And then ours is settled.

Then we're square. Yes, indeed.

You're a good man yourself.

Well done.

I've been wondering.

With all these trying to go up...

and you come down.

Was it worth it, becoming human?

Or was it an impulse buy?

You must miss the wings, right?

Oh, come on. You must.

You look good in that suit.

You...

are impossibly beautiful.

So are you.

Stop it.

Or I'll melt all the

snow I'm standing on.

Give me a chance and you'll

melt all the snow in the world.

Come on.

My mother always said that it was bigger

on the inside than it was on the outside.

- Shall we?

- Yes.

You're late.

I'm sorry.

If you don't make love to me now,

no one ever will.

Well, that's exactly

what I'll do, then.

Places.

What, love?

Places we've been.

What do you mean?

Beverly?

Beverly?

Beverly?

Beverly.

Bev.

No, no, no.

No. Beverly.

Baby.

This isn't right.

This isn't right.

Beverly. Beverly. Beverly!

Don't leave me.

Please don't go.

I'm sorry.

They spotted him. Otter did.

Peter Lake, I mean. He's back.

Where?

He was at a graveyard in Queens

burying some girl...

then went back to Grand Central

for his horse.

Do they still have him?

Well, that's just the thing.

They can't lose him.

- They're just walking.

- Just walking?

Let's go for a little

walk ourselves.

With little Peter Lake.

Shh.

It's all right, horse.

I know they're coming for us.

A fight will do us good.

You failed.

You couldn't save her.

Your beloved red-haired girl.

Ha, ha. Was she gonna be

somebody important?

The president? The pope?

The great-grandmother

of the first man on Mars?

Or was it something simpler?

That she was capable of great love?

The kind of love that makes

the world all warm and light.

And gives the others hope.

The kind of love that

tilts the scales.

Well, it doesn't matter.

She's dead.

Cold. Dead.

And already in the ground.

Quit me?

You don't quit me, boy.

I've been blackening souls...

and crushing miracles

for longer than I can remember.

Do you ever ask yourself why the

universe goes to all this trouble...

to help you fulfill your destiny

and then throws me in your path?

Maybe it's because God is just as

bloodthirsty as the rest of us.

Maybe he doesn't like

eternal benevolence and light.

Maybe he just likes a good fight.

I have no idea what you're talking about.

But I'll tell you one thing:

It's a shame your daddy didn't do a better

job on your neck with that soda bottle.

Is that right, little Peter Lake?

Well, let's see

what we're gonna do with you.

Come on. Move! Move it!

Stop right there!

- Come on, Pete!

- How are you, lads?

- Skin that white dog alive.

- No!

Bring in the net!

- Get him!

- I want you to go.

Horse, go!

Hold, boys.

Horse!

Horse.

Go.

Go.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Well, well, well.

Hey, pal.

You looking for someone

in particular?

I...

I don't know.

I can't remember.

I can't remember anything.

When true love is lost...

life can bleed of all meaning.

We are left blank.

But the possibility

of destiny remains.

What we are meant for

may yet be discovered.

And once in a very long while...

that journey to find our destiny

may defeat even time itself.

Who are you?

Pete, here's your change.

I smashed into you.

You did. Are you all right?

Am I light or heavy?

Light as a feather.

I'm Abby. What's your name?

I don't know.

Everybody knows their name.

Not me.

You're silly.

Look. There's a star.

Even the stars have names.

- What?

- The stars.

I just can't remember them.

Castor.

Abby.

Nice to meet you.

Sorry.

That son of a b*tch.

He can't still be alive.

- Romeo, find this man.

- Cesar.

Romeo was my grandfather.

Cesar...

drop everything else.

Find this man.

Boss, this is like a

hundred years old.

Do I, uh, strike you as a

man who wouldn't know that?

No, sir. I didn't...

I'm sorry, sir. I didn't...

Remember I told you how I

killed your grandfather?

Sorry, sir.

Find that man.

Find him.

We may have killed

the wrong redhead.

Isaac Penn, please.

The woman out front

said he was back here.

This is the Isaac

Penn Reading Room.

Yeah, I mean, I'd like to

speak with him if I could.

Be a neat trick.

Peon's been dead 90 years.

Heh. There's a theater on Hudson Street

called the Theater of the Coheeries.

Could you, uh, tell me if you have

any information on it, please?

Isaac Penn donated it.

Nope. I see it here...

but the information on it hasn't

been cataloged from the microfiche.

Okay, might I see them, please?

These micro fish.

Sure. Two forms of ID, fill this

out, two-week approval period...

and you can search to

your heart's delight.

Can I just...? I mean...

I'm sorry, I can't help you.

There's so many

regulations these days.

- Hi, I'm Virginia Gamely.

- Hi, Peter Lake.

- Hi.

- Hi.

Do I know you from somewhere?

I don't think so, no. No.

Although I can't be sure.

I've had no memory...

- ...for as long as I can remember.

- Oh.

Maybe there was once a blow on the

head, although I can't find a scar.

And the whole world has seemed like a deep

fog that's just now beginning to lift.

Although not fast

enough for my liking.

I've become convinced...

that if I could just learn

what this Coheeries is...

it may help jog my memory.

But now they're telling me I

have to wait two weeks...

and I have to have two forms of ID that I

don't have just to even get back there.

But I have a growing suspicion that I may

be able to get what I need faster...

as soon as everybody

goes home for the night.

If only I knew what a

micro fish looked like.

You know, places like this have

all sorts of security systems.

Well, somehow I find

myself undaunted.

Well, you're in luck. I work here,

so I don't need any approvals.

Isn't that right, Jack?

Reporters come and go as

they please, Ms. Gamely.

- There you go.

- I appreciate the help.

I wasn't having any luck anyway.

What were you looking for?

A cure for cancer, I suppose.

So...

this should go...

here.

And...

Aw.

Wait a sec.

Let me see.

Thought you didn't even

know what microfiche were.

I just got a knack with machines.

Try it now.

Well, that's not a theater.

Damn. Guess it's mislabeled.

Coheeries isn't a theater.

It's a town.

Oh.

That's old man Penn.

She played Brahms.

Beverly.

Her name was...

Her name was Beverly.

That's...

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes