Today, in 1725, the legendary 18th century adventurer Giacomo Casanova was born. His memoirs, written in his declining years, serve as a fascinating first-hand account of European life during the age of Enlightenment, and give a glimpse into the mind of one of its most remarkable men. Inspired by his escapades, I've started work on a screenplay which tells the tale of a modern-day authoress who meets the ghost of Giacomo, and he whisks her back to 18th century Venice, where comedy ensues. To whet your appetites and celebrate this gentleman's natal day, I present a snippet of my piece rendered as prose (I avoided using the real dialogue so there wouldn't be any copyright issue to contend with later). Enjoy!
The night of the rehearsal dinner, I sat in my bedroom, flipping through a copy of Shakespeare's plays which I'd brought (the English major's comfort food). From the room next door, I heard Mom.
"Honey, should I add a few more feathers, or are these enough?"
"Probably not," came Dad's reply. "No use in giving yourself a headache."
"But it's an 18th century party!"
"I wouldn't do it, if I were you."
She's going to go full-on Marie Antoinette anyway, I mused. I patted my simple bun, pleased with a strategically nested small clump of pink rosebuds which matched my satin gown; understated elegance, as always.
Just as I turned the page (Beatrice was eavesdropping on Hero and Ursula talking about her), I felt a hand lightly tap my shoulder. Startled, I glanced up into the face of a man in full 18th-century attire, powered hair and all. His dark eyes stared into mine; he smiled kindly. Wow, he's hot, I thought, before he spoke, turning my world totally inside out.
He greeted me, I introduced myself and asked his name, and then he said he was Casanova. The actual guy. It was incredibly bizarre; I tried to be courteous, excused myself, and managed to dash into my parents' room.
It had to be a bad piece of salami - or maybe memories of Will were getting to me. Or jet lag. Whatever, I wasn't about to let any of this weirdness ruin the evening ahead.
No comments:
Post a Comment