Reel Film Challenge, 2018
Int. Doctor's Office - Day
(speaks methodically with pauses between sentences)
You often refer to stories; elaborate, nostalgic designs of your own making. You speak of your childhood and your life at home. You once described these memories to me like shards of shattered glass. We are yet to truly reach the root of your intense desire to isolate yourself. The root of your fears. Today, I hope we can delve a little deeper. Take me to the source. In your own words if you please.
I wouldn't even know where to start.
Take your time. Before, you mentioned the book. The one you often realise in your distant memories. You spoke about your father and how he would read to you. Tell me about your father.
A laughs with frustration and swings his legs. A new, unsettled look spreads across his face.
I have, I have. I tell you once, I tell you twice, a dozen times. Yet, you sit upon your chair, judging me!
A silence falls. DOCTOR shifts in his seat and stares with interest. A places his feet on the sofa.
I am not here to judge. Only to listen and to provide you with a safe space to express yourself. Everything you say stays strictly between us.
DOCTOR pauses to allow his client to respond. Met with silence he continues.
I know that it is difficult for you to talk about...
It can't be seen, not felt, not heard, not smelt.
Stay with me.
It sits beyond stars, under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after.
Whenever I mention your father you refer to the book.
Life ends, ends laughter... No, kills... kills laughter.
A approves of DOCTORS correct answer.
Feet off the leather, if you would.
A obliges, his expression shifts from sternness to something more sombre.
(head in hands)
Please, help me, Doctor.
It has taken you much time and bravery to make it to my office today. I'm proud of you. However, if you are to ever overcome this weight that sits upon you, to break the shackles of your childhood trauma, you will have to be braver still and return to where the tragedy occurred.
A swings his legs back onto the sofa and scowls.
What has roots that no one sees?
You, me, everyone; our heritage.
Is taller than all the bloody trees.
The paternal figure in your childhood.
Up and up it climbs and yet?
The memory of his father reading him the Hobbit as a child.
It never grows.
The mountain. Where your father died.