Paradox Musical Screenplay and Five Songs
I am crafting a Musical using the text from my book Paradox and AI Music Generator.
Jenny Marie Hatch
Three more songs were recently added to the show, a final fifth song that is sung by Abby, Sherrie, and Sherri's Mother titled Mothering is my favorite!
PDF of this screenplay is HERE.
Cast of Characters
Abby
Her Father
Her Mother
Gram, Her Grandmother
Courtney
Carla, Abby’s Nanny
Jeff
Various Soccer Player Friends
Sherrie
Henry
Joe
Sherrie’s Mother
Sherrie’s Father
Sherrie’s Baby Brother
Monica
Monica’s Baby Matthew
4 Year old Matthew
4 Year old Joseph
Mel’s Mother
Nurse
Various Dancers rehearsing The Nutcracker Suite
Scene
Pleasanton California
The Present
A Novel by Jenny Hatch for Young Adults.
This book is dedicated to all of the health warriors who have been murdered simply because they were trying to tell the truth about vaccines.
C 2017 Longmont, Colorado
All Rights Reserved The Natural Family Company Books
Scene One
ABIGAIL’S FLIGHT
FADE IN:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
sterile, pastel-green room, like a 1960s hospital set, cluttered with MIT MITTREDGE US Girl doll décor. The doll itself sits primly on a shelf, overseeing the space. ABIGAIL JONES, 13, determined but anxious, kneels by her bed, slipping her hand under the pillow.
She pulls out a wrinkled PACKAGE INSERT, titled “Post Marketing Experience.”
CLOSE ON:
The paper lists symptoms: Blood and lymphatic system disorders. Respiratory, thoracic, and mediastinal disorders. Gastrointestinal disorders. General disorders: Asthenia, chills, death...Abigail’s eyes lock on “death.”
She exhales sharply, resolve hardening. She stands, grabs a small SUITCASE, and resumes packing.
FLASHBACK -
INT. LIVING ROOM -
NIGHT (PREVIOUS NIGHT)MOTHER (40s, tense, well-meaning), paces, voice sharp.
MOTHER
Abigail, you’ll die if you leave California! You hear me? Die!
ABIGAIL (sitting, defiant)
(muttering to herself)
I know I’m right.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT (PRESENT)
Abigail zips her suitcase, her mind drifting.
FLASHBACK -
EXT. BOULDER CREEK, COLORADO -
DAY (SUMMER)
A vibrant BOULDER SKY, impossibly blue. The FLATIRONS loom, mist-shrouded, like a floating castle. Abigail, barefoot, kicks her feet in the cold creek.
GRAM (60s, warm, wise) sits beside her, reading from a similar PACKAGE INSERT.
GRAM
...Respiratory disorders, gastrointestinal issues... death. This HPV vaccine isn’t safe, Abigail.
Abigail listens, wide-eyed. Her thoughts race.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Susan, bedridden at eleven after the shots. Mel, star soccer player, dead in her sleep a week after hers. Samantha... still walking, but loopy, like she’s possessed. No one can stand her now.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
(PRESENT)Abigail pulls on her socks, muttering to herself.
ABIGAIL
Not me. Heck no, not me too.
MOTHER (O.S., shouting from downstairs)
Abigail Adams Jones! We’ll miss your plane if you don’t get in the car now!
Abigail glances at the Mit Mittredge doll, its perfect coif mocking her. She grimaces, recalling a memory.
FLASHBACK -
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - DAY
(MONTHS EARLIER)
Abigail stands in the newly decorated room, nose wrinkled at the paint fumes. Mother beams, hopeful.
ABIGAIL
Mom, the paint and carpet smell are giving me a headache. You expect me to sleep here?
MOTHER (hurt)
I was trying to make you happy. You loved Mit when I gave her to you on your eighth birthday. I thought you’d love the décor.
Abigail forces a smile, hiding her frustration.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
(PRESENT)Abigail takes a final look at the room, her eyes lingering on the doll. She shuts the door slowly, a wave of peace washing over her.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Gram. Freedom.
EXT. OAKLAND AIRPORT - DAWN
plane takes off, soaring into the sky.
INT. PLANE CABIN - DAWN
Abigail sits by the window, staring out as the ground fades away. Her face is calm but resolute.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
This last year... everything led me here. To this day.
FADE OUT.
Notes: The screenplay format emphasizes Abigail’s emotional journey and the contrast between her oppressive home life and the freedom she associates with her grandmother.
Flashbacks are used to convey key memories (her mother’s warning, the Boulder Creek scene, and the room décor argument) while keeping the pacing tight.
Visuals like the pastel-green room and the Boulder landscape are highlighted to underscore Abigail’s feelings of entrapment versus freedom.
The dialogue is kept minimal, as in the original, with voiceovers capturing Abigail’s inner thoughts and motivations.
Scene Two
CHAPTER TWO: FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND
FADE IN:
INT. SCHOOL BUS - DAY
raucous atmosphere. The 7TH GRADE GIRLS’ SOCCER TEAM, sweaty and triumphant, belts out “Sweet Caroline” at the top of their lungs.
The bus vibrates with energy after a 3-2 win.
ABIGAIL Adams JONES (12, intense, emotional) sits near the back, grinning despite herself.
COURTNEY (12, tough, with a bruised, red cheek from the game’s dogpile) holds an icepack, laughing with the others.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
We’d just crushed our top rival. Mel was sick all week, but Courtney’s last-minute header sealed it. We were unstoppable.
Suddenly, Abigail’s phone BUZZES.
She glances at it, her smile fading. She answers, pressing the phone to her ear, straining to hear over the singing.
ABIGAIL (shouting)
Mel? Melanie is dead?
The words hit like a shockwave. Her face drains. The singing falters as girls notice her distress.
ABIGAIL (screaming)
Shut up! Will you all just shut up!
The bus goes quiet. COURTNEY leans over, concerned, still clutching her icepack.
COURTNEY
Abs? What’s wrong?
ABIGAIL (stammering)
It’s Mel.
She frantically opens her FACEBOOK APP. A post from Mel’s cousin, Jen, loads:
“My cousin Melanie died in her sleep about five minutes ago.”
A photo of MEL (12, vibrant, soccer star) smiles back, hauntingly alive.
CLOSE ON: The phone screen. The team leans in, gasps rippling through the bus. A few girls start to cry, their sobs breaking the silence.
EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT - DAY
The bus pulls up. Parents wait, faces somber—they’ve heard. The girls exit quietly, no trace of their earlier joy.
Abigail, eyes red, scans for her ride.
CARLA (30s, kind, the nanny) waves her and Courtney over.
INT. CARLA’S CAR - DAY
Abigail and Courtney sit in the back, shell-shocked. Carla glances at them in the rearview mirror as she drives.
CARLA
Ab, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?
Abigail stares out the window, tears streaming. Her voice is barely a whisper.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
My best friend just died, and she wants me to talk? I can’t even see through these tears.
A beat.
The numbness shifts, and she finds her voice.
ABIGAIL
Does my mom know?
CARLA
I don’t think so. It just happened. She’s still on the train to Pleasanton.
ABIGAIL (to Courtney)
Do you think our moms will care if we go to Mel’s house?
COURTNEY
Nah, they won’t mind.
CARLA
Alright, let’s go.
EXT. MELANIE’S HOUSE - DAY
Carla’s car pulls into the driveway of a familiar suburban home. Abigail and Courtney have shot hoops here countless times with Mel and her brothers.
Other cars arrive—word is spreading fast.
Abigail leaps out, sprinting to the front door.
Through the window, she sees JEFFREY (15, Mel’s older brother, stoic but shaken) standing in the living room, staring out. Their eyes meet. He’s been waiting for her.
INT.MELANIE’S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Abigail bursts in, throwing herself into Jeffrey’s arms. They cling to each other, trembling, tears flowing.
ABIGAIL (choked)
Where’s your mom?
JEFFREY
Upstairs. Talking to a policeman.
ABIGAIL (hesitant)
What... what happened?
JEFFREY (voice breaking)
We’re not sure. She was sick all week, you knew that. I got home from school, felt this... sickly feeling. Like I knew something was wrong. Mom was yelling when I walked in. She told me to call 911—Mel wasn’t breathing. I called, but... I think she was already gone.
Abigail’s eyes widen, fear mixing with grief. She sways, unsteady.
EXT. MELANIE’S HOUSE - DAY
Through the window, MEL’S FATHER (40s, furious, devastated) storms across the lawn, his face a mask of rage and pain.
INT. MELANIE’S LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Abigail catches sight of him. The weight of the moment crashes over her. Her knees buckle. Jeffrey catches her as she faints, her body limp in his arms.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the raw emotion of Abigail’s shock and grief, using the bus scene’s chaotic energy to contrast the sudden silence of tragedy.
Scene Three
CHAPTER THREE: SAFETY
FADE IN:
INT. GRAM’S KITCHEN - MORNING cozy, lived-in kitchen in a Chautauqua cottage, filled with warmth and the smell of pancakes. GRAM (68, spry, nurturing) bustles about, packing a lunch.
ABIGAIL JONES (13, relaxed, content) sits at the table, finishing a pancake.
ABIGAIL
Gram, could I have another pancake?
GRAM
Sure, lovey.
Gram slides a hotcake onto Abigail’s plate, her movements practiced and loving.
GRAM (CONT’D)
Got your dance bag packed for after school?
ABIGAIL
Yep. And I finished my Brit Lit report. You ever read Emma by Jane Austen, Gram?
GRAM
Several times, Abby. It’s a slog, but a classic.
ABIGAIL
Emma’s such a busybody. I said so in my report. I had a friend like her in California—always matchmaking. Freaking annoying. Hey, have you heard when Dad’s back from his fishing trip?
GRAM
By the time I pick you up from ballet. He’s packing his cooler with trout, but we’ll see. It’s cold today, so pack an extra layer for PE.
Gram pulls on her rain boots, slow and deliberate. Abigail watches, a warm smile spreading across her face.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
It hit me again—here, with Gram, I’m safe. Healthy. Free.
INT. GRAM’S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Abigail finishes her breakfast as Gram shrugs into her coat.
ABIGAIL
Have you decided who to invite for Thanksgiving? I think Mom might come if you ask.
GRAM
Your dad’s out of sorts about that. We’re waiting to see. She’s still so angry, it might not be a good idea. We’ll have some neighbors, though.
EXT. CHAUTAUQUA COTTAGE - MORNING
A quaint, historic cottage nestled in Boulder’s foothills. The backyard sprawls, coveted by developers. Gram and Abigail climb into Gram’s car. Gram backs out carefully.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
This cottage—Gram’s home for sixty-eight years. Her parents built it. Developers offered millions, but she’s never budged. It’s hers. Mine. Dad’s. Our sanctuary.
INT. GRAM’S CAR - MORNING
Gram drives down a winding road toward Abigail’s school. Abigail flips open her planner, double-checking homework.
ABIGAIL
Gram, tell me again about Dad in eighth grade?
GRAM
(smiling)
Your father was the smartest, nicest, most well-behaved thirteen-year-old I’d ever met. All the girls thought so, too.
Loved his pranks, though—grabbing the choir teacher’s cowbell, dancing around like Will Ferrell in that old SNL skit. His counselor called me constantly about him disrupting class.
Gram chuckles, her eyes distant with memory.
GRAM (CONT’D)
But something changed that year. He faced rejection for being too studious, tried to fit in, but never quite did. He was brilliant—could memorize a poem or the periodic table without trying.
Then he got serious. Set his sights on being valedictorian, like his Gramps. By the end of the semester, no more calls from counselors.
Teachers noticed his focus. He had his nose in a book constantly, only making time for cross-country. Summers, we’d fish at our cabin in Estes, but otherwise, he was all academics.
ABIGAIL
Did he have a girlfriend?
GRAM
Not really. Dated a bit in high school, went to some dances, but mostly he ran, climbed, or skied with Gramps.
ABIGAIL
So you think Dad became a pediatrician because he was so smart?
GRAM
Of course. Perfect ACT, SAT scores. Full-ride scholarships from Stanford to Columbia. He had his pick.
ABIGAIL
When did he meet Mom?
GRAM
(pausing, gently)
Hon, we’re almost at school. Let’s save that story for another day.
ABIGAIL
Sounds good. But it’s wild—after all that school, he just walked away from medicine. No backward glance.
GRAM
(smiling softly)
I made it easy for him. After what happened to you as a baby, he couldn’t stay in it anymore.
They pull up to the school. Abigail unbuckles her seatbelt.
ABIGAIL
The Nutcracker’s this Friday. You haven’t forgotten?
GRAM
I’ll be front row, clapping loudest. Your dad, too. He’s bringing a new “friend.”
Gram winks, a mischievous grin spreading.
ABIGAIL
Have you met her?
GRAM
Not yet, but he sounded excited last night.
ABIGAIL
(grinning)
Hmmm.
EXT. SCHOOL - MORNING
Abigail steps out, dodging puddles as she hurries up the sidewalk to school, her dance bag slung over her shoulder. Gram watches her go, pride in her eyes.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay emphasizes the warmth and safety Abigail feels with Gram, contrasting with the tension of her past in California.
The cottage and Boulder setting are highlighted to reinforce the theme of sanctuary.
Gram’s storytelling about Abigail’s father is woven naturally into the car ride, with Abigail’s reactions showing her curiosity about her family’s history.
The mention of Abigail’s mother and the mysterious “friend” sets up future tension and intrigue.
Scene Four
CHAPTER FOUR
SHERRIE’S HOUSE
FADE IN:
INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - AFTERNOON
bustling middle school hallway.
ABIGAIL JONES (13, settling into her new life) walks toward her locker, her dance bag slung over her shoulder. She sighs with relief as SHERRIE (13, vibrant, curly-haired, a natural magnet) approaches, trailed by a gaggle of BOYS orbiting her like geese.
ABIGAIL (V.O., mocking in her head)
Honk, honk, honkety honk.
SHERRIE
(to the boys, teasing)
Hey, give me some space!
She taps HENRY (14, oblivious) on the shoulder. He doesn’t budge, so she elbows him playfully. He stumbles, grinning.
SHERRIE (to Abigail)
Ready for dress rehearsal?
ABIGAIL
Of course. We’re gonna be the best soldiers on stage. Gram ironed my costume and packed it in tissue paper last night.
Abigail slams her locker shut.
JOE (13, clownish) pretends his hand is caught, yelling in mock pain. He holds his finger to Sherrie’s lips for a “kiss.” She glares, grabs Abigail’s arm, and pulls her down the hall.
ABIGAIL (under her breath)
Any chance you could lose the posse?
SHERRIE
No way. They stalk me everywhere. Ignore ‘em. Now spill—what’d your dad say? Can you come to our cabin this weekend?
ABIGAIL
He said no. Nutcracker’s Friday, and he doesn’t want to drive me around. Also, Gram said he’s bringing a “friend” to the show tonight.
SHERRIE
Friend? Like, female friend?
ABIGAIL
Yup. Gram was all mysterious about it.
SHERRIE
Hmmm. Well, come on. Mom’s got curry in the crockpot. It’ll be perfect by now.
They quicken their pace, the boys jostling for position behind Sherrie.
FLASHBACK -
INT. BALLET STUDIO - DAY
(WEEKS EARLIER)
Abigail, new in town, slips on her leg warmers and ballet shoes. Across the room, Sherrie spins gracefully, curls escaping her bun, giggling as she re-ties her hair. She notices Abigail staring, waves, and strides over.
SHERRIE
You’re new. What’s your name?
ABIGAIL
Abby. Just moved here. Starting eighth grade at Mountain Dusk.
SHERRIE
That’s my school!
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Meeting Sherrie was the biggest score of my life. Instant friends—guys, girls, everyone. She’s the nicest person ever, doesn’t even notice how the boys stop breathing when she walks in.
CUT TO:
EXT. SHERRIE’S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
cozy Boulder home, earthy and welcoming. The girls approach, the boys still trailing but peeling off as they reach the door.
INT. SHERRIE’S KITCHEN - AFTERNOON
The kitchen smells of curry and lavender from a diffuser. Cloth diapers flap on a clothesline visible through the window.
MRS. LAKOTA (30s, warm, a “hippy” homemaker) calls from upstairs.
SHERRIE (shouting)
Mom, we’re home! Can we have some soup before rehearsal?
MRS. LAKOTA (O.S.)
Sure, love! Changing Bobby’s diaper. Rice is in the cooker, naan’s on the stove. Eat up!
The girls dish up steaming curry and naan, settling in the living room. Mrs. Lakota enters, breastfeeding BOBBY in the sling (1, chubby). He yawns, switching sides.
MRS. LAKOTA
How was school?
ABIGAIL
Okay. Turned in my Brit Lit paper. You were right, Mrs. Lakota—Emma’s such a busybody. I cheated, watched the BBC version with Gram last night to see the ending. Couldn’t finish the book. Too long.
MRS. LAKOTA
Hopefully you’ll still get an A. Austen gets relationships. Have you read those Catherine Marshall books I mentioned? Christy and Julie?
ABIGAIL
Not yet. Gram said they were her favorites back in the day. I’ll read them over Christmas break.
MRS. LAKOTA
Marshall wove such real stories. Christy was based on her mom’s life—makes it special. She burps Bobby gently. The girls nod, finishing their meal.
MRS. LAKOTA (CONT’D)
Can you grab the diapers off the line? That 4:00 p.m. Boulder shower’s coming.
EXT. SHERRIE’S BACKYARD - AFTERNOON
The girls yank cloth diapers off the clothesline, folding them neatly into a basket as dark clouds gather.
ABIGAIL
Why not use disposable diapers for Bobby? Isn’t washing them a ton of work?
SHERRIE
It’s just twice a week. I help when I’m home. My parents are all about the simple life—no bottles, no formula, no plastic diapers.
INT. SHERRIE’S NURSERY - AFTERNOON
The girls carry the basket upstairs. A large FAMILY BED sits beside Bobby’s dresser, no crib in sight. A crocheted diaper stacker with a green frog design hangs nearby.
ABIGAIL
Who sleeps in here?
SHERRIE
Mom nurses Bobby to sleep in the family bed. She and Dad have another bed in their room.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
No crib? Weird, but... comforting. I don’t know why.
SHERRIE
Come on, we’ve got twenty minutes till rehearsal. Gotta change for dress rehearsal.
INT. SHERRIE’S LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Mrs. Lakota straps Bobby into his car seat, humming a tune about dreams and rain. The girls grab their dance bags and pile into the backseat.
EXT. SHERRIE’S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
The car pulls away, heading toward the ballet studio as the first raindrops fall.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the lighthearted yet grounding atmosphere of Abigail’s new life in Boulder, emphasizing her friendship with Sherrie and the warmth of Sherrie’s family.
Visual details, like the cloth diapers, lavender diffuser, and family bed, highlight the earthy, “hippy” vibe of Sherrie’s home, contrasting with Abigail’s past in California.
The flashback to meeting Sherrie establishes their instant connection and her role as Abigail’s anchor in Boulder.
Subtle hints about Abigail’s dad’s “friend” and her mother’s absence keep the story’s tension alive.
Musical Video Montage Scene set to the song Mothering
Mothering sung by Abby, Sherrie, and Sherries Mom
During the montage we see three second clips of scenes depicted in the lyrics of the song. Also scenes of Gram and Abby watching the BBC Emma together, Abby’s Dad fishing with Monica, Sherrie’s Mom chopping vegetables with Bobby in a sling, Abby reading Jane Austen’s Emma, as well as assorted “daily life” clips.
Lyrics
**[Verse 1]**
Down the hallway, Abby’s steps are light,
Sighing soft, the school day fades from sight.
Sherrie flies, a star with curls unbound,
Boys like geese, they honk and swirl around.
“Honkety-honk,” Abby laughs inside her mind,
Friends like these, so rare, so hard to find.
**[Pre-Chorus]**
“Ready for the stage?” Sherrie calls with cheer,
Pushing boys away who linger near.
“Costumes pressed, we’ll shine in soldier’s glow,”
Abby’s heart is warm, her spirit grows.
**[Chorus]**
Mothering, oh, mothering, it’s love in every deed,
Curry in the crock pot, meeting every need.
Diapers on the line, lavender in the air,
In this home, it’s mothering, love woven everywhere.
**[Verse 2]**
Flash back to the studio, where dreams take flight,
Sherrie spins, her laughter pure delight.
“You’re new here, what’s your name?” she sings,
Abby’s world expands on friendship’s wings.
At Mountain Dusk, a circle forms so fast,
Sherrie’s heart, a kindness that will last.
**[Pre-Chorus]**
“Any chance to lose the crowd?” Abby pleads with grin,
“They follow me,” says Sherrie, “like moths to light within.”
Talk of dads and cabins, secrets in the air,
A “friend” at Nutcracker—mystery to share.
**[Chorus]**
Mothering, oh, mothering, it’s love in every deed,
Curry in the crock pot, meeting every need.
Diapers on the line, lavender in the air,
In this home, it’s mothering, love woven everywhere.
**[Bridge]**
Mrs. Lakota sings of rain and dreams,
Musical theater in her soul, it seems.
Bobby in her arms, a life so pure,
Cloth diapers flapping, simple ways endure.
“Why no crib?” Abby asks, her heart feels light,
“Family bed,” says Sherrie, “it just feels right.”
**[Verse 3]**
Soup is warm, the naan is soft and sweet,
Talk of books, where Austen’s wit and Marshall meet.
“Christy’s real,” says Mom, “a mother’s tale retold,”
Stories from the heart, worth more than gold.
Rain’s about to fall, they grab the line in haste,
Fold the love in baskets, no moment goes to waste.
**[Chorus]**
Mothering, oh, mothering, it’s love in every deed,
Curry in the crock pot, meeting every need.
Diapers on the line, lavender in the air,
In this home, it’s mothering, love woven everywhere.
**[Outro]**
Time to go, rehearsal calls, they’re late,
Bobby’s in his car seat, love won’t wait.
Mothering, it lingers, soft and true,
In every step, it carries Abby through.
Mothering, oh, mothering, a song that’s always there,
In Sherrie’s home, it’s love, forever shared.
Scene Five
CHAPTER FIVE: MAMA REACTS TO THE WEDDING
FADE IN:
INT. GRAM’S LIVING ROOM - DAY
(CHRISTMAS DAY)A cozy Chautauqua cottage, decorated with a small, twinkling Christmas tree.
ABIGAIL JONES (13, cautious but composed) sits on a worn couch, holding a phone to her ear. The faint sound of holiday music drifts from the kitchen, where GRAM hums while baking. Abigail takes a deep breath, bracing herself.
ABIGAIL
(on phone)
...Yeah, Mom, Monica’s my stepmom now.
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. MOTHER’S APARTMENT - DAY
sleek, modern California apartment, sterile and orderly.
MOTHER (40s, polished, unraveling) stands by a window, clutching her phone, her face a mix of shock and hurt.
MOTHER
(screaming)
You didn’t tell me he’s married?
She pulls the phone away, wincing at her own outburst. Abigail flinches on her end.
ABIGAIL
We didn’t think you’d care. It was small, Mom—the day after Thanksgiving. Just me, Dad, Gram, and Monica’s brother.
MOTHER
(voice breaking, tearful)
I would’ve liked to have been there.
ABIGAIL
(confused)
At Dad’s wedding? You wanted to go?
MOTHER
(wailing)
Yes! I would’ve liked to know this was happening instead of it all going on behind my back! I don’t know this woman—where she’s from, her family. And now she’s my daughter’s stepmother?
Abigail shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to navigate her mother’s raw emotion.
MOTHER
(calming slightly)
Tell me about her.
ABIGAIL
(casual, testing)
Well... I’ve never seen Dad so happy.
A sharp intake of breath from Mother. She starts crying again. Abigail winces, realizing her mistake.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
That stabbed her right in the heart. What do I say now?
ABIGAIL (CONT’D)
(awkwardly)
Uh, Mom, she’s got a big butt and never brushes her hair.
MOTHER
(stops crying, curious)
Tell me more.
ABIGAIL
(warming up)
She was wild in her 20s. Got arrested once for protesting the government.
MOTHER
(slyly)
Did she go to jail?
ABIGAIL
Yeah, her brother bailed her out. She was accused of assaulting a pharma lobbyist. They set her bail at $200,000!
MOTHER
What did she assault him with?
Abigail hesitates, a mischievous glint in her eye.
ABIGAIL
She made this huge paper-mâché syringe—like, giraffe-sized—and waved it at him as he walked into Congress. She used a fake lightsaber as the needle, you know, the plastic kind that lights up. The guy said she tried to assault him, but she swore it was just a kid’s toy. They made her do three hundred hours of community service!
MOTHER
(dryly)
Hmmm. Sounds like the kind of broad your dad would go for.
A beat.
Mother’s tone shifts, signaling the end of the topic.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
I need to run.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
I didn’t tell her Monica’s the kindest person ever. Funny, the life of the party. Mom didn’t need to hear that.
ABIGAIL
Good talking to you. I’ll call on your birthday.
MOTHER
Hard to believe you’re turning fourteen. Decided on a gift yet?
ABIGAIL
Not yet. I’ll let you know.
MOTHER
You still happy with your dad and Gram?
ABIGAIL
Yeah.
MOTHER
I thought you’d be back by now, ready for the HPV shot, back at school with your friends. Soccer season’s starting soon. You sure you don’t want to come home?
ABIGAIL
(firm)
Then I’d have to get the shot.
MOTHER
It’s not a big deal. Don’t you miss your friends, even a little?
ABIGAIL
Yeah, I miss them. Especially Courtney. But I’ve got Sherrie here. We dance together, remember? I’m really into dance now.
MOTHER
Right. Okay, let me know what you want for your birthday. I’ll order it off Amazon.
ABIGAIL
Okay, Mom. I love you.
MOTHER
Love you too, Abs.
The line clicks off. Abigail lowers the phone, staring at it, a mix of relief and unease on her face. She glances toward the kitchen, where Gram’s humming grows louder.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the emotional tension between Abigail and her mother, highlighting Mother’s unexpected vulnerability and Abigail’s careful navigation of the conversation.
The intercut format emphasizes the contrast between the cozy, warm setting of Gram’s cottage and the sterile, emotional distance of Mother’s apartment.
Abigail’s internal monologue adds depth, revealing her choice to withhold Monica’s positive traits to spare her mother’s feelings.
The conversation about the HPV shot and Abigail’s new life in Boulder reinforces her resolve to stay, tying back to earlier chapters.
Scene Six
CHAPTER SIX: BIG BROTHER JOSIAH
FADE IN:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - MORNING
ABIGAIL JONES (14, groggy) wakes in her cozy Chautauqua cottage bedroom, rubbing her temples. A faint headache throbs from too many cinnamon rolls at last night’s Valentine’s party.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Too much sugar at the Lakotas’ last night. Worth it, though.
FLASHBACK - INT. SHERRIE’S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT (PREVIOUS NIGHT)
A warm, lively Valentine’s party at Sherrie’s house. No catering or orchestras—just friends, laughter, and babies.
SHERRIE’S DAD (40s, jovial) holds court, telling a story. ABIGAIL, DAD (40s, reserved), and MONICA (30s, vibrant, pregnant) listen, alongside SHERRIE and MRS. LAKOTA. BOBBY (1, crawling) giggles as Monica scoops him up, singing softly.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
My old life? Catered parties, loud bands, fake smiles. This was different. Real. Babies everywhere. Monica couldn’t stop playing with Bobby.
SHERRIE’S DAD
(grinning)
So there I was, making breakfast, when Sherrie waltzes in saying Mom’s in labor. I drop the pan of potatoes—splat!—and sprint upstairs. We’d done couples yoga that morning, starving, but nope, baby first. Sherrie grabbed blankets, diapers, a pan for the placenta. I was a mess, paralyzed.
He laughs, the room hanging on his words.
SHERRIE’S DAD (CONT’D)
Then she yells the baby’s crowning. This... peace washes over me. Love, like I’d never felt. I caught Bobby in one big gush, and Sherrie helped me hand him to his mama, standing by the bed.
DAD
(incredulous)
You had the baby at home? Alone?
SONG - Homebirth sung by Abbys Father
MRS. LAKOTA
(winking at her husband)
Planned family birth. With Sherrie, we had midwives, doulas, everyone—too much. For Bobby, just us.
DAD
(muttering)
Never heard of such a thing.
CUT TO:
INT. DAD’S CAR - NIGHT
(POST-PARTY)
Abigail, Dad, and Monica drive home through Boulder’s quiet streets. Abigail, in the backseat, presses her dad.
ABIGAIL
(earlier, pre-party, in car)
Monica, felt the baby kick yet?
MONICA
Not yet, just a few weeks along. Soon, you’ll feel your little brother or sister.
Dad stays silent, gripping the wheel. Abigail notices.
ABIGAIL
Dad, how do you feel about being a father again?
DAD
(quietly)
Terrified.
ABIGAIL
But you’re a pediatrician. You know how this works.
The car pulls up to Sherrie’s house before he can respond. The door opens, cutting off the moment.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. DAD’S CAR - NIGHT
(POST-PARTY)
Abigail leans forward, determined.
ABIGAIL
Dad, why are you so nervous about the baby?
DAD
(evasive)
I have my reasons.
ABIGAIL
No, tell me. I’m fourteen now. I know you and Mom have been hiding something my whole life. What is it?
Dad hesitates, eyes glistening. Monica touches his shoulder gently.
DAD
(voice breaking)
You had an older brother.
Abigail freezes, stunned. Dad starts to weep, a rare display of emotion.
ABIGAIL
I have a brother?
DAD
(sobbing)
No. Yes. He... died a few days after he was born.
Abigail twists her hair into a knot, processing.
ABIGAIL
Now it makes sense. I found a box in the attic once—a baby blanket, a stuffed animal. Mom caught me, told me to mind my own business. When I asked if it was mine, she cried and sent me to my room.
DAD
(quietly)
His name was Josiah. Perfect. Healthy. Eight pounds, born after a six-hour labor. Your mom had a C-section—fetal distress. She nearly died from bleeding afterward. I stayed with Josiah in the nursery, marveling at how big he was.
ABIGAIL
(nervous)
How did he die?
DAD
(angry, pained)
Damn vaccines.
Abigail’s head spins. She grips the seat.
ABIGAIL
What?
DAD
Your mother insisted he get all his shots at birth. I wanted to wait, give them one by one to see how he’d handle them. But she was a pharma rep—she knew drugs, wouldn’t listen. I think it was the Hep B that did him in.
He pounds the steering wheel, voice rising.
DAD (CONT’D)
She just wouldn’t listen!
Monica squeezes his shoulder, calming him. Abigail stares out the window, the weight of the revelation settling in.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Josiah. My big brother. The mystery of my family, finally out.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the emotional weight of Abigail uncovering her family’s secret, balancing the lighthearted party scene with the heavy revelation in the car.
The flashback to the party contrasts the warmth and connection of Sherrie’s family with Abigail’s memories of her mother’s superficial, catered events.
Visual cues, like Dad’s tears and the steering wheel pound, emphasize his raw emotion, while Abigail’s hair-twisting shows her processing.
The vaccine revelation ties back to Abigail’s earlier fears about the HPV shot, deepening the story’s themes.
Scene Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN: CONFRONTATION
FADE IN:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - MORNING
Sunshine spills across ABIGAIL JONES’s (14, determined but nervous) face as she wakes in her cozy Chautauqua cottage bedroom.
Outside,
MONICA (30s, pregnant, radiant) sings softly while weeding her herb garden, gently rubbing her tummy. Abigail smiles, pulling on clothes for a picnic with Sherrie and Bobby.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Today’s gonna be perfect—picnic at Chautauqua Park, swings, slides, Bobby giggling. Life’s good here.
GRAM (O.S., from downstairs)
Abby, your mom’s on the phone!
Abigail freezes. A wave of cold fear washes over her. She steadies herself, jaw set.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
I have to do this. Confront her. It’s been building for months.
This musical montage should include the contrasting three second scenes of Abby’s parents at Josiah’s funeral, a surgical childbirth, her parent’s argument over vaccines, Abby on the phone while remembering finding Josiah’s box in the attic and her Mom’s anger. Etc.
SONG Mom don't hang up sung by Abigail (This song should be used over and over for intros and outros as well as the opening of the movie and credits. It is literally Abby's theme song. All other times it is used in the movie it should be simply instrumental, no voice.)
INT. GRAM’S LIVING ROOM -
MOMENTS LATER
Abigail descends the stairs, approaching an old-fashioned rotary phone with a cord tethered to the wall. She picks up the receiver, hands trembling, and takes a deep breath.
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. MOTHER’S APARTMENT - MORNING
A sterile, modern California apartment.
MOTHER (40s, polished, unaware of what’s coming) sits with her phone, a hopeful smile.
MOTHER
Hi, Abigail. How are things?
ABIGAIL
(steadying her voice)
I’m doing well. We’ve been busy gardening, and Dad’s fishing in the mountains today. I helped Monica make sourdough bread.
MOTHER
How nice. I was hoping you’d come visit me this summer. I have a couple weeks off. We could have a great time—maybe visit my parents in Michigan, spend a few days in the UP at Mackinac Island.
Abigail pauses, memories flickering—riding horses, water skiing at her grandparents’ Bloomfield Hills estate.
ABIGAIL
Are we having a family reunion, or just us? It’s been so long since I saw my cousins.
MOTHER
Just us, I think. My sister’s taking her kids on a European cruise, and Dad’s too old to travel now.
A tense beat.
Abigail grips the phone tighter, heart pounding.
ABIGAIL
Mom, I have something to ask, but I’m not sure how to say it.
MOTHER
Just say it, Abigail. We’ve never had secrets between us.
Abigail takes a deep breath, her voice shaking but resolute.
ABIGAIL
Why didn’t you tell me I had a brother? An older brother named Josiah? Who died just after his birth? And who was probably killed by the vaccines you insisted he get?
A sharp gasp from Mother. A soft, choked cry escapes her. Silence. Then, a quiet CLICK as she hangs up.
Abigail stands frozen, the receiver still in her hand, the dial tone humming. Her face is a mix of fear, anger, and relief.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
I did it. I said it. But... she couldn’t face it.
She slowly hangs up the phone, staring at the wall, the weight of the moment settling over her.
EXT. GRAM’S BACKYARD - CONTINUOUS
Through the window, Monica continues singing, oblivious, tending her herbs. The sun shines brightly, but Abigail’s world feels darker.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the emotional intensity of Abigail’s confrontation with her mother, emphasizing her fear and resolve.
The intercut format highlights the contrast between Abigail’s warm, grounded life in Boulder and her mother’s distant, polished world in California.
Visual details, like the old-fashioned phone and Monica’s serene gardening, underscore the tension between Abigail’s safe present and her painful past.
The abrupt hang-up and Abigail’s internal monologue convey the unresolved conflict, setting up future developments.
Scene Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT:
YOU WERE MY DREAM
FADE IN:
EXT. GRAM’S BACKYARD - DAY
The August sun beats down on ABIGAIL JONES (14, sweaty, thoughtful) and her DAD (40s, earthy, reflective) as they kneel in a sprawling vegetable garden, picking zucchinis and yellow squash. The air hums with cicadas.
Gram’s Chautauqua cottage looms in the background, cozy and timeless.
ABIGAIL
(grumbling)
I’m so sick of squash. I don’t know how much more I can take.
DAD
(chuckling)
Gram warned me we planted too many seeds. Figured we’d freeze some, make zucchini bread, share with neighbors.
ABIGAIL
I’d kill for a cheeseburger on Pearl Street Mall.
DAD
(smiling)
You know Monica’s all about “living off the land” in summer. My fish, her bread, Gram’s salads—we eat what we grow.
Abigail yanks a massive zucchini from under huge green leaves, nearly toppling over. It’s as big as a small dog.
ABIGAIL
This thing’s a monster. Doorstop material?
DAD
(laughing)
Funny. Kick it apart for the compost heap. If Gram sees that, she’ll faint.
Abigail pauses, wiping sweat from her brow. She takes a deep breath, her tone shifting.
ABIGAIL
Dad, did you ever talk to Mom about Josiah’s death?
DAD
(softly)
You tried talking to her about it, didn’t you?
ABIGAIL
Yeah, at the start of summer. She hung up on me.
Dad clears his throat, eyes distant, as he picks another squash.
DAD
Josiah was born our first year in medical school. Unplanned. We wanted to wait—finish my residency, get a house, build my practice.
ABIGAIL
(wiping dirt on her jeans)
So it was a long time before I was born? You had him in your early 20s?
DAD
Yeah, I was 22. Your mom was just starting as a drug rep. She’d done athletic training in college, so health-conscious. The drug company job was a godsend—got us through school. We thought we’d have the healthiest babies ever.
Abigail gulps, her voice quieter.
ABIGAIL
Why’d you wait so long to have me?
DAD
(looking at her, oddly)
We didn’t wait. We tried for years. House, jobs, desire—all ready. But you wouldn’t come. We were about to adopt when your mom found out she was pregnant with you.
Abigail’s eyes flash with a glint of anger.
ABIGAIL
Why didn’t you tell me about Josiah?
DAD
(softly, pained)
We didn’t want to spoil the happiness we felt with you. Dwelling on the past felt wrong when all our dreams were coming true.
Abigail’s expression softens, her heart melting.
ABIGAIL
I was your dream?
DAD
(smiling warmly)
Constantly. Every sick kid in the ER, every time I pictured growing old, I saw myself as a father, a grandfather. Growing oversized veggies, composting in the sun.
Abigail giggles, the tension breaking. Dad pulls aside another set of huge leaves, revealing an even bigger squash.
DAD (CONT’D)
(grinning)
Now this one we won’t smash alone. Monica’d never forgive me if we left her out.
Abigail laughs, grabbing the squash with him. They share a moment of connection, the garden glowing under the summer sun.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the heartfelt father-daughter moment, balancing Abigail’s lingering questions about Josiah with the warmth of her new life in Boulder.
The garden setting emphasizes the “living off the land” theme, contrasting with Abigail’s past in California and grounding her in her new family dynamic.
Visual details, like the oversized zucchini and Abigail wiping dirt on her jeans, add texture to the scene.
The revelation about Josiah ties back to earlier chapters, deepening Abigail’s understanding of her family’s pain and her own significance.
Scene Nine
CHAPTER NINE:
MATTHEW DECIDES TO JOIN THE FAMILY
FADE IN:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - MORNING
Rain pelts the roof of the Chautauqua cottage. ABIGAIL JONES (14, alert) bolts upright in bed, startled by a low moaning sound. Her heart races.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Is Monica okay?
She leaps out of bed and hurries down the hall.
INT. DAD AND MONICA’S BEDROOM -
CONTINUOUS
Abigail pauses outside the door, hearing muffled voices. She knocks gently.
ABIGAIL
(softly)
Monica? You alright?
(O.S., calm but focused)
She’s doing great. One more push, and I think he’ll be here.
A grunt, then a faint BABY’S CRY pierces the air. Abigail’s eyes widen—she knows her brother is born.
ABIGAIL
(excited)
Dad, can I do anything to help?
DAD (O.S.)
Sure, love. Make Monica a cup of raspberry leaf tea—extra honey.
INT. GRAM’S KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER
Abigail rushes downstairs.
GRAM (68, steady) is already at the stove, preparing breakfast.
The kettle whistles as Abigail sets it on.
ABIGAIL
Gram, did you know the baby’s here?
GRAM
(smiling)
Heard Monica in the shower last night. Haven’t seen him yet. Wanna go meet him together?
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
It’s like a dream. Just last night, I felt him kick in Monica’s belly while we sang for Gram’s birthday.
INT. DAD AND MONICA’S BEDROOM -
MOMENTS LATER
Abigail and Gram enter, carrying tea and a breakfast tray.
MONICA (30s, glowing despite exhaustion) sits propped up in bed.
DAD (40s, awestruck) cradles a newborn boy against his bare chest, gazing into his eyes.
The room feels sacred.
MONICA
(laughing softly)
I could eat several large pizzas by myself.
She wraps her arms around Abigail and Gram in a warm hug. Abigail reaches out, touching the baby’s head.
ABIGAIL
He’s really a boy?
DAD
(grinning)
Yup. Already peed on me twice.
He eases onto the bed, the baby nestled on his chest. Gram sets the tray down.
GRAM
You two eat up. We’ll be back for quiet time with this bundle of joy.
She gently tugs Abigail’s hand.
ABIGAIL
(protesting)
Why can’t I stay?
GRAM
(softly)
A baby needs to bond with his parents first. Then us.
They head downstairs, Abigail glancing back wistfully.
FADE OUT.
Scene Ten
CHAPTER TEN:
WILL YOU TALK TO ME?
INT. GRAM’S LIVING ROOM - DAY
(TWO MONTHS LATER)
Abigail sits on the couch, clutching Gram’s old-fashioned rotary phone, its cord dangling. She dials, her face tense but resolute.
ABIGAIL
(into phone)
Mom, we need to talk. Please don’t hang up.
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. MOTHER’S APARTMENT - DAY
sterile California apartment.
MOTHER (40s, guarded) answers, her voice cautious.
MOTHER
Hello?
long pause.
Abigail steadies herself.
ABIGAIL
Will you talk to me?
MOTHER
(hesitant)
Okay. But only if you don’t mention your brother again.
ABIGAIL
(firm)
Mom, he’s what I need to talk about.
MOTHER
(tense)
What do you need?
ABIGAIL
(clears throat)
I need to tell you about Matthew.
MOTHER
(confused, hopeful)
A boy? A boyfriend? Tell me about him!
ABIGAIL
He’s a boy, but not a boyfriend. He’s my brother.
MOTHER
(off-balance)
What?
ABIGAIL
Monica gave birth two months ago. A baby boy. We tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t answer. Thanksgiving’s coming, and we want you to visit. Will you come?
Silence stretches. Abigail waits, twisting the phone cord.
MOTHER
(flatly)
I’ll have to think about it.
A familiar CLICK.
The line goes dead. Abigail lowers the phone, staring at it, her face a mix of frustration and hope.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
She hung up again. But I said it. I told her about Matthew.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
Chapter Nine captures the intimate and joyful reality of Matthew’s home birth, emphasizing the family’s closeness and Abigail’s awe. Visuals like the baby’s cry and Dad’s bare-chested bonding ground the scene in raw emotion.
Chapter Ten maintains the tension of Abigail’s strained relationship with her mother, with the phone call’s abrupt end echoing their earlier confrontation.
The rotary phone and Mother’s sterile apartment contrast the warmth of Boulder.
Abigail’s internal monologue in Chapter Ten underscores her persistence despite her mother’s resistance, tying back to her growth in confronting family secrets.
The two chapters are presented as distinct scenes, reflecting their separate narrative arcs while maintaining continuity.
Scene 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
LIFE ON THE MOUNTAIN
FADE IN:
EXT. CHAUTAUQUA PARK - DAY
The vibrant Chautauqua Park buzzes with autumn energy.
SHERRIE (17, lively) stands at the base of a slide built into the mountainside, arms outstretched, waiting for BOBBY (5, giggling) to zoom into her embrace.
Nearby, ABIGAIL JONES (17, carefree) races up the stairs with MATTY (4, energetic), planning to slide down together.
DAD (O.S., calling)
Sherrie, Abby, boys—time to go!
Abigail and Sherrie exchange a playful groan but herd the boys toward the parking lot.
EXT. CHAUTAUQUA PARKING LOT -
MOMENTS LATER
DAD (40s, practical) leans against a van on the circular drive. Abigail and Sherrie jog up, Matty and Bobby in tow.
DAD
Sorry to cut it short, but the boys have soccer practice, and you two have hours of prep for Homecoming.
ABIGAIL
(rolling her eyes)
Dad, you’re impossible. We need, like, minutes to get dressed before our dates pick us up.
Dad chuckles, buckling Matty and Bobby into their car seats as the girls climb in.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Homecoming’s gonna be epic—dinner at Flagstaff Restaurant, then the dance at Boulder’s best hotel. My first real date. Dresses picked, hair planned. I’m buzzing.
INT. GRAM’S LIVING ROOM - DAY
The van pulls into the Chautauqua cottage driveway.
MONICA (30s, glowing) stands, cradling BABY CARRIE (6 months) in a sling. She waves as the group spills out.
MONICA
Thought I’d have to hunt you down. Boys, hurry—shin guards, cleats, soccer’s in ten minutes!
INT. GRAM’S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Sherrie beelines for the kitchen, where GRAM (70s, spry) bottles her famous salsa. Sherrie grabs a muffin from a basket.
SHERRIE
Gram, can I snag a couple muffins?
GRAM
Sure.
Sherrie munches, turning to Abigail.
SHERRIE
Get ready here or my place? Our dates are picking us up at six in an Uber Select for Flagstaff.
ABIGAIL
My bathroom’s better. Meet at your house at five?
SHERRIE
Sounds good.
She grabs another muffin and bikes off.
Abigail’s phone BUZZES with an unfamiliar number. She hesitates, then answers.
ABIGAIL
Hello?
MOTHER (O.S., nervous)
Abigail
ABIGAIL
(stunned)
Mom? How’d you get my number?
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. MOTHER’S APARTMENT - DAY
sterile California apartment.
MOTHER (40s, tense) clutches her phone, pacing.
MOTHER
I called your Gram. She gave it to me.
ABIGAIL
How long’s it been since we talked?
MOTHER
Four years, darling. You called when your brother was two months old. He’s... four now?
ABIGAIL
Yeah. And Monica had a girl last spring. Carrie.
MOTHER
(surprised)
Oh, I didn’t know.
Her voice grows louder, then falters. A pause.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
Abby, I want to talk about your brother Josiah. And explain some things.
ABIGAIL
(guarded)
Okay, Mom. What do you want to say?
Mother takes a deep breath.
MOTHER
When Josiah was born, it was the happiest day of my life. Perfect family, perfect jobs. We worked so hard in college, got into top medical schools. I supported your dad while he studied. We dreamed of a coastal California practice, healing people.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
She’s actually talking about him. After all this time.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
Your dad didn’t want to vaccinate Josiah those first months. He’d been fighting with his mother—she got him reading stuff online. I thought it was nonsense, none of her business. He shouldn’t waste time on that instead of studying.
ABIGAIL
(interrupting)
But Mom, that stuff’s true. Melanie died after the HPV shot—
MOTHER
(ignoring her)
I knew what was right. He was my baby. I wasn’t letting some hippie mother-in-law in Boulder tell me how to raise him. When the pediatrician offered the Hep B shot, I said, “Certainly.” I also had him circumcised. Your dad was livid—we hadn’t decided, and he was at class, couldn’t stay long. After a few days, we went home. I started healing from my surgery.
ABIGAIL
(softly)
Mom, what did he look like?
A gulp from Mother, her voice breaking.
MOTHER
He was perfect.
A sudden CLICK. The line goes dead. Abigail stares at the phone, her face a mix of shock and sorrow.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Perfect. Then gone. And she’s gone again.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the vibrant, family-oriented life Abigail has built in Boulder, contrasted with the sudden, heavy reconnection with her mother.
The Chautauqua Park scene and Homecoming preparations ground the story in Abigail’s joyful present, while the phone call pulls her back to unresolved family pain.
Visuals, like Sherrie catching Bobby and Gram bottling salsa, emphasize the warmth of Abigail’s new life, while Mother’s sterile apartment underscores her emotional distance.
The abrupt hang-up echoes earlier calls, reinforcing Mother’s inability to fully confront Josiah’s death.
Scene 12
CHAPTER TWELVE:
CHRISTMAS
FADE IN:
INT. ABIGAIL’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
(3 A.M.) Rain pelts the roof of the Chautauqua cottage.
MATTHEW (5, bursting with excitement) storms into ABIGAIL JONES’s (17, exhausted) bedroom, leaping onto her bed.
MATTHEW
(yelling)
Abby! Let’s see what Santa put in our stockings!
Abigail groans, pulling the covers over her head.
ABIGAIL
Ug, Matty, I’m so tired. Don’t you get what it takes to play Clara in The Nutcracker? I need sleep!
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
The show closed last night—Christmas Eve. Cast party ran late. I’m free for a week before school, but I’m wrecked.
DAD (O.S., from his bedroom)
Matty! Get in here now. I said we’d wait till five to wake everyone. It’s only three!
MATTHEW
(pleading)
I know, Dad, but I couldn’t wait! Did Santa get me the snowboard I wanted?
DAD (O.S.)
Maybe. But you’re waiting till five.
MATTHEW
(pouting)
Aw, Dad, please... can we go down now?
A beat.
Matthew’s chubby, pleading face glows in the dim light.
DAD (O.S., relenting)
Alright, everyone up and at ’em. We’ve got presents to open.
MATTHEW
(screaming)
Weeeeeee!
He charges back into Abigail’s room, yanking at her blanket.
MATTHEW
Get up now!
Abigail sighs, her toes aching, back kinked from dancing. She slips on her robe, a faint smile forming.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Christmas through Matty’s five-year-old eyes? More fun than anything. I’ll suck it up.
INT. GRAM’S LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
The family gathers around a twinkling Christmas tree.
MONICA (30s, serene) cradles CARRIE (1, asleep) in a sling. DAD (40s, amused) hands Matthew a stocking.
GRAM (70s, beaming) watches from the couch.
MONICA
(whispering)
Carrie woke at two to nurse, just fell back asleep when Matty came bounding in.
Matthew rips into his stocking, squealing. Abigail joins in, her exhaustion fading in the glow of his joy.
INT. GRAM’S LIVING ROOM - LATER THAT DAY
The room is strewn with wrapping paper. Abigail’s phone BUZZES. She sees her MOTHER’s number and hesitates, memories of their last call flashing—her mother’s abrupt hang-up.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
We’re having so much fun—caroling with neighbors later. But Mom, alone in California... I can’t ignore her.
She answers, bracing herself.
INTERCUT WITH:INT. MOTHER’S APARTMENT - DAY
dim, sterile California apartment.
MOTHER (40s, frail, voice slurred) sits alone, clutching her phone.
ABIGAIL
Mom? Is that you? I hoped you’d come to The Nutcracker last night. Did you get the tickets we sent?
MOTHER
(slurring, pausing oddly)
They arrived. I thought about flying out to see you star... but I couldn’t.
ABIGAIL
(worried)
Mom, what’s wrong?
Mother falls silent, her breathing uneven.
MOTHER
I’ve been ill. Feeling better today, though. Wanted to talk.
Do you realize it’s been over five years since I’ve seen you?
ABIGAIL
(softly)
Yeah. A long time.
MOTHER
(voice breaking)
Abby, I’m dying. Doctors say I could go any time. Could you... come visit me?
Abigail’s heart skips. She grips the phone, eyes welling up.
ABIGAIL
Yes, I’ll come. Hang on, Mom. I’ll be there in a few hours.
Mother’s soft sobs echo through the line. Abigail stands frozen, the festive chaos around her fading into the background.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Five years, and now this. I have to go.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the contrast between the joyful, chaotic Christmas morning and the sudden, heavy revelation of Mother’s illness.
Visuals, like Matthew’s stocking frenzy and Carrie asleep in Monica’s sling, ground the scene in family warmth, while the phone call shifts to stark emotional urgency.
Abigail’s internal monologue reflects her conflict—balancing her new life’s joy with her mother’s distant, troubled world.The abrupt shift to Mother’s illness sets up a dramatic turning point, tying back to their strained history.
Scene Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: I WILL GO WITH HER
FADE IN:
INT. GRAM’S KITCHEN - DAY
(CHRISTMAS DAY)
The cozy Chautauqua cottage kitchen is littered with Christmas morning remnants—wrapping paper, mugs of cocoa. ABIGAIL JONES (17, determined but shaken) stands by the counter, clutching her phone after her mother’s devastating call.
DAD (40s, protective, agitated) paces, his face a storm of worry.
DAD
(firmly)
No, I won’t allow it. You’re not flying to California alone.
Abigail’s eyes flash with defiance, but her voice trembles.
ABIGAIL
Dad, you can’t come. Mom’s sick—she says she only has a few days left. She wants me there when she... goes. If you come, it’ll upset her.
DAD
(storming toward the stairs)
Did she say what’s wrong? Maybe the doctors are wrong. Maybe she’s not that bad.
ABIGAIL
(voice cracking)
She sounded terrible on the phone. She’s really sick.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
How am I gonna manage him if he insists on coming?
GRAM (70s, calm, resolute) steps forward from the doorway, where she’s been quietly listening.
GRAM
I will go with her.
Abigail and Dad freeze, turning to Gram. Her steady gaze settles the room. Dad exhales, tension easing slightly.
DAD
(nodding)
Alright. I’ll book the flights and drive you to the airport.
Gram gives Abigail a reassuring nod and heads to her room.
INT. GRAM’S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Gram pulls a suitcase from under her bed, her movements deliberate. She begins packing, folding clothes with care.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Gram’s the answer. Always has been.
INT. GRAM’S KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER Abigail stands alone, staring out the window at the snowy Boulder landscape. Her face is a mix of fear, resolve, and love.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Mom’s dying. I have to go. With Gram by my side, I can face this.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the emotional intensity of the family’s quick decision-making, highlighting Abigail’s resolve, Dad’s protectiveness, and Gram’s stabilizing presence.
The kitchen setting, with Christmas remnants, grounds the scene in the holiday context while emphasizing the abrupt shift to crisis.
Abigail’s internal monologue underscores her anxiety about facing her mother’s illness and her relief at Gram’s support.
The brief scene in Gram’s bedroom adds a visual of her quiet strength, reinforcing her role as Abigail’s anchor.
Scene Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: JOSIAH SHOWS UP
FADE IN:
INT. HOSPICE FACILITY - HALLWAY - DAY
sterile, quiet hallway in a California hospice.
ABIGAIL JONES (17, somber, resolute) and GRAM (70s, steady) stand with a DOCTOR (50s, compassionate but clinical), who briefs them on Abigail’s mother’s condition.
DOCTOR
Breast cancer, stage four. It’s metastasized to her brain and liver. She’s near death, but you can go in and talk to her. Please don’t upset her—she’s been hallucinating, keeps mentioning Josiah. Do you know who that is?
ABIGAIL
(absentmindedly)
My brother. He died before I was born.
Abigail’s voice is distant as she processes. She and Gram exchange a glance, then head toward the hospice suite.
INT. MOTHER’S HOSPICE SUITE - CONTINUOUS
dim room, heavy with the weight of finality.
MOTHER (40s, frail, bald, face marred by sores) lies in a hospital bed, her breathing shallow.
MELANIE’S MOM (40s, kind but weary) sits by her side, startled as Abigail and Gram enter.
MELANIE’S MOM
Hi, Abby. How are you doing?
ABIGAIL
(softly, approaching the bed)
I’m okay. How about you?
Abigail’s eyes lock on her mother, stunned by her gaunt, wasted appearance. She struggles to reconcile the sight.
MELANIE’S MOM
I heard how sick your mom was and wanted to visit. Didn’t know you were coming.
ABIGAIL
(voice trembling)
Can she talk? Can she hear us?
Abigail gently takes her mother’s hand, raising it to her lips, her touch tender.
MELANIE’S MOM
I think so. We were just reminiscing about you and Mel—little, obsessed with soccer and basketball. Fun times.
She offers a sad smile, then steps out, giving Abigail and Gram privacy.
INT. MOTHER’S HOSPICE SUITE - MOMENTS LATER
Abigail leans close to her mother, Gram standing supportively behind her.
ABIGAIL
(softly)
Mom, can you hear me?
Mother’s eyes flutter, unfocused. A faint, raspy breath escapes her. Abigail’s voice cracks with emotion.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
She’s slipping away. But I need her to know I’m here.
Suddenly, music swells softly—a haunting, imagined duet begins, “You Forgive Me?”, sung by Abigail and her mother in Abigail’s mind. Their voices intertwine, a blend of longing and reconciliation.
SONG You Forgive Me
ABIGAIL (singing, softly)
Can you forgive me, for the years we lost?
For the words unspoken, and the lines we crossed?
MOTHER (singing, faintly, in Abigail’s imagination)
Can you forgive me, for the choices I made?
For the pain I caused you, and the price I paid?
Their voices harmonize, a cathartic release of grief and love. Abigail’s tears fall as she holds her mother’s hand tighter, Gram’s hand resting on her shoulder.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Josiah’s here, somehow. In her hallucinations, in this moment. We’re all together.
The song fades. Mother’s breathing slows, her face peaceful. Abigail and Gram sit vigil, the room bathed in soft light.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: JOSIAH BEYOND THE VEIL
FADE IN:
INT. MOTHER’S HOSPICE SUITE - DAY
The dim hospice room is bathed in soft, pale light filtering through a window.
MOTHER (40s, frail, bald, sores on her face) lies in a hospital bed, her breathing shallow but her eyes suddenly bright.
ABIGAIL JONES (17, tearful, resolute) sits by her side, holding her hand. GRAM (70s, steady, comforting) stands close, her presence grounding.
The air feels heavy, sacred.
MOTHER
(whispering, gazing across the room)
Yes, darling, I’m so glad you came.
Mother pauses, her eyes fixed on an empty corner. A faint smile forms.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
Josiah? Did you come for me? Are you... going to help me into heaven?
Abigail glances at the corner, seeing nothing. Her brow furrows, confused.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
Who’s she talking to? There’s no one there.
ABIGAIL
(softly)
Mama, Daddy, do you know Josiah?
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
My grandparents—gone years ago, back when I moved in with Dad. Is she really seeing them... with Josiah?
Mother’s voice grows clear and forceful, cutting through her frailty.
MOTHER
Abby, I need you to know... I understand why you left me. Why you had to go.
Abigail leans closer, gripping her mother’s hand, tears welling.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
When you were a baby, I insisted on all your vaccines. But your father—he begged we space them out, watch how you handled them. One awful day, you got the MMR shot. By the time we got home, you were burning with fever, screaming all night.
Abigail’s eyes widen, a flood of buried memories stirring.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
Your father was terrified. We called Gram, desperate. She told us to give you flaxseed oil baths, massage, formula with flax oil. After a few hours, you stopped screaming. You were better.
Mother’s voice cracks, guilt seeping through.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
After that, your dad changed. Angry I kept working, hired a nanny. Angry I didn’t breastfeed. Angry you reacted so badly to the shot. And he hated me because I refused to talk about Josiah—how he died. I insisted we never tell you about him.
Abigail’s tears spill over. She squeezes her mother’s hand.
ABIGAIL
(choked)
Shhh, Mom, don’t talk. None of that matters anymore. We’re here. We love you.
Gram reaches over, wrapping an arm around Abigail, pulling her into a hug. They cling to each other, united in grief.
MOTHER
(whispering, eyes on the corner)
Josiah? You came for me? You... want me? You forgive me? Mama? Dad?
Her voice softens, barely audible. Her face transforms—worry and fear melt away, replaced by a radiant glow. She gasps one final, shuddering breath, then falls still. Her hand goes limp in Abigail’s.
Abigail stares, sobbing quietly. Gram’s eyes glisten, but she remains strong.
During the Josiah beyond the Veil music montage we see three second scenes capturing Gram as a lonely grandmother cut off from her grandson first by ideological differences with her daughter in law and then by death. We witness her helplessness, her grief. Contrasting these scenes of Gram we see Abby’s parents during Josiah’s pregnancy, overjoyed, and busy with work and medical school.
SONG Josiah beyond the Veil
GRAM
(softly, singing)
Josiah beyond the veil, you’ve come to guide her home...
Through the shadows, through the pain, you’ve never walked alone...Gram’s voice, tender and haunting, fills the room as a duet with an unseen presence, a melody of love and release.
Abigail bows her head, tears streaming, as the song carries them through the moment of loss.
ABIGAIL (V.O.)
She’s gone. But she saw him. Josiah. Forgiven. At peace.
The room glows faintly, as if touched by something beyond. Gram’s song fades, leaving silence.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the profound, emotional climax of Mother’s death and her reconciliation with Josiah’s memory, blending the real and the spiritual.
The hospice room’s dim, sacred atmosphere contrasts with Mother’s glowing transformation, emphasizing the spiritual element of the Veil being thin and seeing her angelic parents and son.
The duet, “Josiah Beyond the Veil”, interprets the passage’s closing line as Gram’s song, a cathartic release tying together the family’s pain and forgiveness.
Visuals, like Mother’s glowing face and Gram’s comforting hug, ground the scene in tenderness and loss.
Abigail’s internal monologue reflects her processing of her mother’s confession and death, tying back to the vaccine-related trauma and family secrets from earlier chapters.
The screenplay captures the heavy, emotional weight of Abigail confronting her mother’s imminent death, with the surprise appearance of Melanie’s mom adding a nostalgic layer.
The hospice setting is stark, emphasizing Mother’s frail condition and contrasting with Abigail’s vibrant life in Boulder.
The imagined duet, “You Forgive Me?”, is a creative interpretation of the passage’s closing line, serving as a symbolic reconciliation between Abigail and her mother, tying in Josiah’s lingering presence.
Visuals, like Abigail kissing her mother’s hand and Gram’s supportive touch, ground the scene in tenderness amidst grief.
The mention of Josiah by the doctor and Mother’s seeing beyond the veil weave the family’s past tragedy into the present, deepening the emotional stakes.
Scene Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: FUNERAL
FADE IN:
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
quiet California cemetery, gray clouds hanging low.
ABIGAIL JONES (17, somber but composed) stands beside a fresh grave, clutching a bouquet of white roses. She gently places them on the dirt mound over her mother’s casket.
DAD (40s, reflective, burdened) stands nearby, with MONICA (30s, supportive) holding MATTHEW (5) and CARRIE (1) close. Mourners linger in the background, their voices soft.
ABIGAIL
(voice warm)
I’m so glad you, Monica, and the kids came for the funeral, Dad.
She steps forward, hugging him tightly. He returns the embrace, his face heavy with regret.
DAD
I wish we’d known. We could’ve done more to ease her final weeks. But your mom—she was so private, never wanted to burden anyone. I knew she wouldn’t want us meddling in her health.
He looks glum, staring at the grave, lost in thought.
ABIGAIL
(softly)
Do you think Josiah and Mom’s parents were really in that room when she died? Like, is he still... alive somewhere? Could we meet him someday?
Her voice trembles, her body shaking as she imagines an older brother. Dad pulls her close, his arm steadying her.
DAD
(quietly)
I don’t know much about spiritual things, Abby. But it’s nice to think of my oldest son and daughter together.
He snuggles her tighter, a wistful smile breaking through. Abigail hesitates, then asks her final question, her voice small.
ABIGAIL
Dad, why did you leave Mom? Why’d you stop being a doctor? Why’d you run away from us... from me? I needed you.
Dad’s face tightens, guilt washing over him. He takes a deep breath.
DAD
I know. I was cowardly, selfish. I’ll always regret leaving you and your mother.
He pauses, eyes distant, reliving a painful memory.
DAD (CONT’D)
One awful day in the ER, a newborn boy was brought in, not breathing, turning blue. I was the doctor on call. I tried everything, but nothing in my training could save him. He was gone. His parents were stunned—he’d had shots that morning, developed a fever, then stopped breathing during a nap.
Abigail’s eyes widen, the weight of his words sinking in.
DAD (CONT’D)
I walked out of that hospital, out of my life, away from you, your mother, and the terror of what I’d been part of for years. I vowed never again to do anything against my better judgment.
He looks at her, his voice softening.
DAD (CONT’D)
I came home to my parents, tried to reconcile it all. Then you showed up. I met Monica. I realized I was getting a second chance at life.
He cups her face gently, eyes earnest.
DAD (CONT’D)
I love you, Abby. I’ll always be there for you, Matthew, and Carrie. Monica and I want to keep you safe, give you a healthy, happy life.
Abigail’s eyes glisten with tears. She leans into him.
ABIGAIL
I love you too, Dad.
They hold each other, the grave before them a silent testament to loss and healing. Monica watches, smiling softly, as Matthew tugs at her hand, pointing at a bird overhead.
Song This Sacred Space
Final music montage depicts Abigail at various milestones of maturity, HS Graduation, CU University Ballet performance, CU Graduation, Marriage, Children, Mothering a large healthy family in Grams cottage.
Gardening.
Fishing.
Running the Bolder Boulder.
Final scene is a family photo of everyone at Chautauqua Park.
Lyrics for In This Sacred Space
ABIGAIL:
I stand at the edge of tomorrow,
A heart full of dreams yet to climb.
The world calls my name with a promise,
I’m ready to carve out my time.
With every step, I’m growing stronger,
The path ahead sparkles and shines.
Through seasons of life, I’ll keep running,
This heart of mine, forever mine.
Through the seasons of my life, I’ll grow,
From the roots of my heart, love will flow.
Every milestone, every dream I chase,
I’ll find my home in this sacred space.
The stage is my canvas, I’m flying,
Each leap is a story I tell.
The music, it carries my spirit,
In motion, my soul feels so well.
From Boulder’s embrace, I am learning,
To dance through the joys and the strife.
With every turn, I’m still becoming,
The woman who shapes her own life.
Through the seasons of my life, I’ll grow,
From the roots of my heart, love will flow.
Every milestone, every dream I chase,
I’ll find my home in this sacred space.
A cap and a gown, then a vow I swear,
A ring on my hand, and a love so rare.
A child in my arms, then another, then more,
Each moment’s a gift I could never ignore.
In Gram’s old cottage, we laugh and we play,
The garden blooms bright at the end of the day.
I plant every seed with a prayer,
Watch life take its root in the ground.
The river reflects all my dreaming,
Each cast brings the peace I have found.
The Boulder race calls, and I’m running,
My heart beats with joy as I soar.
Through laughter and love, I’m still growing,
Each day opens one brand-new door.
Through the seasons of my life, I’ll grow,
From the roots of my heart, love will flow.
Every milestone, every dream I chase,
I’ll find my home in this sacred space.
In Chautauqua’s arms, we will stand as one,
A family bound ‘neath the wide open sun.
This is my home, this is my heart,
Forever my seasons, my life’s work of art.
FADE OUT.
Notes:
The screenplay captures the emotional weight of the funeral, balancing Abigail’s grief with her deepening bond with her father and their shared reckoning with the past.
The cemetery setting, with its gray clouds and white roses, underscores the somber mood while highlighting moments of connection.
Dad’s confession about leaving medicine ties back to the vaccine-related trauma (Josiah’s death, the ER infant), reinforcing the story’s themes of regret and redemption.
Visuals, like the hug and Monica with the kids, ground the scene in family unity amidst loss.Abigail’s question about Josiah’s spiritual presence adds a layer of hope and mystery, left unanswered but poignant.
Afterword by Jenny Hatch
The quiet vaccine war has been murdering innocents since the early part of the 20th century as naïve citizens around the world have rolled up their sleeves and allowed conspiring men to ruin their lives and their health.
We are now well into the 21 st century and it is time for a new generation of truth seekers to rise up and demand accountability for the damage that has been wrought on the families of the earth.
This book was written for adolescents because they know every time a friend goes insane or drops dead after a shot or a sibling melts down into autism, the quiet war has taken another life and squashed it flat.
I challenge anyone who has read this book to join the Vaccine Liberation Army and begin now to educate yourself and your friends. Stand up, speak out, refuse the shots, and work at the local and national level for the policy changes in the laws that will set all of us free and hold the drug companies accountable for their many lies and the broken lives that have resulted.
Jenny Hatch
Longmont, Colorado 2017
All of my books revolve around teaching families self-reliance with their parenting. Home birth, Cooking with whole foods, Breastfeeding, Healing with herbal remedies, and taking personal responsibility for our own health is the constant theme of my writings both at my blog, The Natural Family Blog and in my books which are located on Amazon.
Thanks for stopping by,
In Good Health!
Jen
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