Illusion

“ILLUSION”

by 

Kristoffer Kindh

FADE IN:

INT. DINING ROOM - DAY 

Deberov is sitting by himself at the clean table, the plates and  wine glasses are neatly set on each place at the eight chairs. He is dressed in a well made black suit with accompanied white shirt underneath. A real gentleman

.

DEBEROV

An Illusion, that is all they said. That is all they wanted it to be.

He gently picks up a bottle that stands on the table, he looks at the label yet does not take much care to it. He pours the liquid into a glass on the table, it is a dark red, presumable wine.  

DEBEROV

That is all I wished it to be. 

The glass fills up and he stops. He gently puts the bottle back on the table and lifts up his glass, now filled with red wine. He holds it under him, letting the aroma fill his nostrils.

DEBEROV

Yet as with all things, change is inevitable. 

He lifts the glass and carefully puts it to his lips, take a quick sip and then lowers the glass once again. 

DEBEROV

Change is the one consisting thing in the world, the one thing that we can always count on.

He puts the glass on the table and stands himself up. He pulls up a neatly put together tissue from his pocket, he folds it out. He rubs his face with it.

CLOSE UP 

as the tissue rubs his face, the tissue is getting progressively dirty. He stops and removes it from his face. Now his hair is twirled at all direction, not the neatly combed he had before. Traces of dirt is covering his face and ZOOMING OUT, his gentleman look is non existent. Raggedy clothes consisting of a brown jacket with blue dirty jeans. Resembles the appearance of a bum more than anything.

DEBEROV

Change is the one thing we always fear, even if we hope it to be an illusion.

His glass is now just a dirty plastic cup and the table is a few boards nailed together, the wine bottle is a plastic water bottle containing some murky water. The room has lost all its previous characteristics. A room for a shanty town. Deberov puts the napkin back into his pocket and walks to a nearby window, hold together with duct tape and strings, no glass is present. He stands there and looks out. He PANS his view over the landscape. 

EXT. WASTELAND - DAY

Torn asunder, everything that is visible is either destroyed or decayed. A wasteland of dust and echoes of its former self. Buildings that have crumbled, shops and cars empty from their last masters.

DEBEROV

But the government said: it’s all an illusion. Even when the world crashed down around us it was all an illusion.

INT. SHANTY ROOM - DAY

He smiles ironically and shakes his head, he moves his arm back and pick something from his belt under the jacket, he fiddles with it but manages to get it out. It is a pistol, an old sort, six shooter western style. A kind of weapon Dirty Harry would choose. He clicks it open and looks down the chamber. Fully loaded.

DEBEROV

Let’s change the illusion.

He clicks the rounds into a firing-ready position with a snap with his hand.

FADE OUT:

THE END

Author's Note

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