STOKER by ged Poulke 01/18/10 PRODUCE! SCOTT FREE, INC. 614N. LA PEER DRIVE WEST HOLLYWOOD, CA 90069 PHONE: 310-360-2250CLOSE OW a epider. Byes. Fange. Round hairy back puleing with life. Cleaning itself at the center of its web, its small body is a blur of hideous industry. The image is grotesque, hypnotic, awesone. Nature at its deadliest and most efficient. WE WIDEN OUT, revealing our Little friend is someplace dark and tight, ah ideal spot for going about your business undisturbed Until the web begins to shake. Violently. The spider is startled, (So are we.) Music. Someone's playing the piano, a piece @ la Gnossienne No. 4 by Erik Satie. It's haunting, even passion (as it is now). a played with more precision than The spider sets off to investigate, moving rapidly over a series of ridges and planes. Tt comes to a smocth lacquered surface, starts to descend. Ae we watch it wind its way down one of the piano’s front legs, we_1ealize we've been lurking beneath the instrument the entize tine The music continues ag the apider quietly touches down on the hardwood floor, begins crawling stealthity toward the pedalse. CLOSE ON & shoe. The black and white saddle kind, the kind a young girl might wear, moving up and down on the’ gleaming braes pedals. ‘The spider comes closer. Closer. The shoe moving wp and down, up and down... And just as we're sure this repulsive creature is about to skitter up that shoe and sink its teeth into tender skin, the shoe casually pivots toward the spider, crushes it underfoot. End of epide: WE PAN UP from the shoe.o1/ie/10 2 Meet INDIA STOKER, eighteen years old. and with no more than a glance at the thing on the floor that used to be alive, this unusually cool customer goes back to her recital. ChOSE OW India. Not an easy face to describe. Not that it’s without beauty (it isn’t), not that it’s without character (it isn’t), but it’s 4 face that gives nothing away. You can’t talk about the view with the shade pulled down. WE WIDEN OUT, taking in the scene. pressed in a sweater set and skirt (black), hair pulled back in a ribben (also black), India sits at a black baby grand in the room her mother refers to as “the parlor.” Chippendale chairs, Georgian tables, Louis XVI commodes. A long way fron Pottery Barn. Back straight, fingering correct, India’s pale hands float easily over the keys as April sunshine filters throngh the big picture window behind her. Outside, gray-green woods and fields etretch to the horizon and beyond. Bverything before ua - girl, piano, parlor - feels well- tended and appointed. Tasteful. and timeless. Could be 2009 or 1959. Could be color, cowld be black and wnite. Could go either way. one thing ve do know: the masic is gorgeous. Too bad India’s on auto-pilot. she’s a human player-piano, deaf to its undercurrents of longing and loss. Might 4s well be “Frére- Jacques.” As the piece crawls to a close a woman appears, stopping just short in the doorway. ‘This is BVELYN “EVIE” STOKPR, on the other side of forty but still full of juice, still ripe for the picking (if only someone would). Not a hair's out of place ie a Lit + 80 she discreetly (she hopes) pots a hand on the wall to steady herselt. Like her daughter, Rvie is dressed head-to-toe in black (French, expensive). Unlike her daughter, she is garnished with diamonds.