NEVERLAND by Coy A. Lothrop Coy A. Lothrop shout@coylothrop.com 903-806-9057FADE IN: INT. VACANT ROOM - DAY? NIGHT? A series of interconnected planes where walls meet, traveling into crisp corners, softly lit with diffused light. A lifeless room devoid of furniture and decoration, illuminated only by a light spilling in from a hallway. Coiled up on a hardwood floor, in a fetal position, is DR. CLAYTON COLE, 38, a mess; unshaven, dressed in dark clothing. He convulses here, shuddering with racking sobs, face thrust into his hands, completely overcome with grief. PADE TO: INT. TRAVIS'S BEDROOM - NIGHT A child's bedroom, decorated elaborately with superheroes flying and leaping about a mural of a comic book cityscape, littered with a trove of toys that would make a grandmother blush, plays host to a grand adventure unfolding in the form of a children’s story. The room is silent save for Clayton’s soothing voice; the delivery of a doting father, and tonight, an enchanting storyteller. CLAYTON (0.8.) Certainly Wendy had been dreaming. But Wendy had not been dreaming, as the very next night showed, the night on which the extraordinary adventures of these children may be said to have begun. TRAVIS COLE, 4, wearing his favorite spiderman pajamas, sits on his knees in rapt attention, enthralled, as witnessed in his large brown, unblinking eyes that endlessly scan the illustrations on each opposing page; even now dreaming of his own adventure. Clayton sits close beside Travis, clean-shaven, wearing office attire, his light blue dress shirt made more comfortable by rolling up the sleeves. He massages his right knee as he reads froma ‘Peter Pan’ storybook. CLAYTON She dreamt that Neverland had come too near and that a strange boy had broken through from it. Travis's mouth opens wide in anticipation.TRAVIS Pee-er Pan? stifling a chuckle, Clayton holds up a dramatic finger to give his anxious son pause. CLAYTON She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow she knew at once that he was indeed Peter Pan. Travis hops up and down on his knees with excitement. Smiling, a devious arch to his eyebrow, Clayton, SNAPS the BOOK closed. CLAYTON Bedtime, buddy. Travis drives backward into his bed as if shot by a handgun. TRAVIS Daddy, noocccs. Rubbing his belly, Clayton consoles his son. CLAYTON We'll leave the rest for another night. (theatrical) Now go to sleep, and maybe you too can go to Neverland and have a big adventure all your own. Travis's eyes grow wide again. Without another word, the boy scrambles beneath his bedspread and feigns sleep, belied only by his tiny giggles. Clayton leans in, kisses Travis’s forehead softly and lingers there for a moment taking in his son. CLAYTON I love ya, bud. Travis is too caught up in his sleeping game to respond. Exiting the room, Clayton switches off the lights at the doorway. He’s conscious of the door and positions it slightly ajar to feed the room with an ample nightlight.INT. TRAVIS’S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER Travis, too excited to sleep, tosses and turns, and settles onto his side. Laying in the silence, clearly awake, his eyes search the dark without seeing. A hardwood FLOORBOARD CREAKS 0.8. Travis’s alert eyes snap toward the sound. Rolling, Travis raises, propped on his tiny arms. A DARK FIGURE is there, standing motionless at the foot of his bed. The silhouette is tall; the cut of a man. TRAVIS (0.8.) Daddy? Travis sits up, unafraid. The figure remains perfectly still. DARK FIGURE shhhhhhhbhh. Travis gasps. A widening smile. TRAVIS (whispering) Pee-er Pan!?! INT. HALLWAY — CONTINUOUS A closed door. The GURGLE of a TOILET FLUSHING. Clayton exits the bathroom, and stealing by Travis’s room overhears a hushed conversation. Approaching the gap in the doorway, he eavesdrops. He listens with his eyes, mouth slightly agape, a proud grin spreads across his face. TRAVIS (0.8.) Uh huh... I want to go with you, but my Daddy says I shouldn’t go with trangers. Travis giggles 0.s. TRAVIS (0.S.) (gasps) Oooh. Tank you. (beat) (MORE)TRAVIS (0.8.) (cont'd) (whispers) Okay, let's go. Clayton leans into the breach, his shoulder widening the gap. INT. TRAVIS’S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Travis, out of his covers, sits alone on his knees at the end of his bed. We MIGHT SEE a man-sized shadow retreating from the widening spread of hallway light. Clayton’s expression is one of playful bewilderment as he eyes the darkened room. CLAYTON Who you talking to, buddy? ‘TRAVIS Pee-er Pan! CLAYTON Awesome. Tell him I said, grow up! TRAVIS (frustrated) Ican‘t. He gone. You scared him away. CLAYTON Of course I did. Hey. I love ya. Get some sleep. He points a playful finger at his son and looks down it. Backing out slowly, still pointing, he retreats into the hall. in. He Travis lies back down and pulls his covers up to hi: waits anxiously for Peter Pan’s magical return. cur To: INT. DINING ROOM - DAW A cozy breakfast nook surrounded by tall, plantation shuttered windows that glow with a warm, morning light. Clayton and Travis sit side by side at a circular oak table eating frosted Pop-tarts. Travis smacks away, breaking the rectangular pastry into crumbling, gooey chunks and selectively sampling the messiest bits.Clayton observes, an amused look on his face. Curiosity overcomes him. CLAYTON So. Peter Pan, huh? Must of been an exciting night? Travis raises his eyebrows in an expression of enthusiasm and nods his head emphatically. TRAVIS He was real nice. He gave me a watermelon sucker CLAYTON Your favorite, that’s awesome, buddy... is he still dressing in green tights? I’ve told him it wasn't a good look for him. Clayton playfully pops a broken corner of Pop-tart into his mouth. Travis casually shakes his head ‘No’ and attempts to pop his own oozing fragment which sticks to his finger. CLAYTON Whaaat? How'd he look? Honestly curious about what his son may have dreamt up, Clayton lays down on his arms on the tabletop, placing his face near to Travis’s, giving the small boy his full, excited attention. TRAVIS He looked like a man. Big. Like you, Daddy. Clayton’s grin falters. His eyes squint. CLAYTON A man? Travis nods fingers stic! ently, chewing another bite, looking at his g together. CLAYTON And what did Peter Pan the Man look like? Travis shrugs.TRAVIS I don’t know. It was dark, He ran away. Clayton’s brow furrows and he stares into Travis’s face. CLAYTON Travis. Where did he go? Travis looks back chewing and smac! into his fathers eyes, smiling between ng ‘TRAVIS Neverland. They sit and stare at each other for a beat. Clayton opens his mouth wide and shows Travis his chewed breakfast. CLAYTON Blaaahh! Travis cracks up, slapping the table. cur To: EXT, SCHOOL DROPOPF - DAY A black SUV pulls into the circular drive of a pre-school drop-off access. A YOUNG WOMAN, dressed in bright clothing, approaches the passenger side door. A sign nearby reads, “HUGS & KISSES HERE. SAY GOOD BYE.” Children run about, headed to classes, laughing and shouting in the b.g. INT. suv - coNTINUOUS Clayton puts the SUV in park and shifts to face Travis who dressed in a school uniform, ready for a day of pre-school. CLAYTON Alright. Have a good day, buddy. Travis smiles, leans in and kisses Clayton’s cheek. Travis pulls away and snatches up his superhero backpack. The young, female attendant opens the passenger-side door.YOUNG WOMAN Good morning, Travis. Dr. Cole. How's the knee? CLAYTON Good morning. Much better, thanks for asking. It’s the last time I/1l play racquetball for awhile, I tell ya that. They share a laugh CLAYTON (to Travis) Love ya, bud. EXT, SCHOOL DROPOFF - CONTINUOUS Travis is guided away by the hand, waving over his shoulder. cur To: INT. INSTITUTE FOR ADVANCED STUDY - CORRIDOR - DAY A long, bleak hall of stark white walls, recessed xenon lighting, and closed glass doors. Silence. Through a hermetically sealed glass door, labeled “INSTITUTE OF ADVANCED STUDY / QUANTUM MECHANICS LAB C”, Clayton, garbed in a white lab coat and latex gloves, works meticulously over an odd device that rests squarely in the center of black, vubberized mat on a stainless steel lab table. Speaking experiment. to a lapel microphone, Clayton notates the CLAYTON Dr. Clayton Cole, notating event for Dr. Milton Knight. Proceeding. Clayton turns and toggles a switch on a control panel that in turn activates a red light within a translucent button beneath a hinged, acrylic shield. Lifting the shield and depressing the lit button with a gloved finger, the light converts to green. The ARRAY on the worktable HUMS with invisible energy. Clayton maneuvers toward the device cautiously, giving it his full respect.