Scriptwriting One: Scene Writing: Passive Park

It’s a warm summer night sitting at my usual table in the park. The sun is starting to come down and a light evening breeze is beginning to pick up. Sitting at the table the breeze brings the ashy smell from my cigarette to my nose. The three other seats at the table are filled with my close friends. They are all laughing and joking with each other. Long conversations of past humorous stories, opinions on religion, society and popular culture will all be talked about as we sit here till the wee hours of the morning.

Traffic is slow and only a few cars go by. Each passing car driver stares directly at our table as if unknown thing is drawing their attention towards us. The majority of vehicles being limousines and I swear I’ve seen the same one go around the square of the park at least ten times now.

As I look to my right I see the sun going down across the river and a bright orange and pink tint hitting the tips of Mount Washington. Only a few clouds linger in the sky. Behind me, are strangers walking through the park. Some are familiar faces I’ve seen on campus or at Shannon Hall. Some wave and say hi because they know my friends, others walk past by themselves, MP3 players blasting, tuning out reality, while some walk past in groups yelling and laughing loudly and carrying on like third graders at recess.

While the night lurks on, the breeze becomes heavier and it starts to get chilly. Sweatshirts and jackets that were thrown on the table now have found the bodies they belong on. The metal seats we’ve been sitting on for hours become uncomfortable and cold. The orange and pink highlight on Mount Washington has disappeared and the only remaining lights come from cars and streetlights. If look directly up you just might be able to see a few stars in a blanket of black. Pleasant conversation and laughter still surround the table while we are bathed in an aroma of cigarettes.

As time continues to pass on, the city unwinds itself and goes into sleep mode. I look at my cell and see that it reads 3:41 AM. The only people walking through the park now are either drunk or homeless. An old homeless man comes up to us asks if he can bum a cigarette and I hand him one of mine. He thanks me and walks on his way. It’s pretty chilly now and we are all shaking and huddling our bodies together to try to get warm. Only every so often we see a car go by. We get up from the table to venture to the warmth of our beds to join in with the rest of Pittsburgh in sleep.