All language subtitles for Writers.Retreat.2015.WEBRip.x264-ION10

♪ One fine day, my
love did write ♪

♪ Before the passing
of her light ♪

♪ A book for me, a
wondrous sight ♪

♪ The words, they
were a true delight ♪

♪ It told a tale
that came to be ♪

♪ Of an island on the sea ♪

♪ Where she said
she'd wait for me ♪

♪ Underneath the
spreading tree ♪

♪ By the water near the shore ♪

♪ There she'd take
my hand in hers ♪

♪ And we would read
her honeyed words ♪

♪ And closer grow with
each page turned ♪

♪ But love can be a
fleeting friend ♪

♪ And so our story came to end ♪

♪ The blackened clouds,
they did portend ♪

♪ And so we found
ourselves condemned ♪

Are you ready?

- Yes.

- Hi.

- Hi. And what's your name?

- Can you please
make it out to...

It's so sad.

It's like everyone can
see it, but her...

but only when it's too late.

- Hi. Annabel?

Can you hear me?

- Just. Where the hell are you?

- The middle of bloody nowhere.

I'm on my way to
teach a new course.

- Christ. Don't give
anyone my details.

I'm still getting emails

from that last nutter
you sent my way.

They're all psychopaths,

and none of them can write
to save their lives.

- I thought he had something.

- Anyway, I had Derek
Payne on the phone,

and he wants to confirm

that you're ready for
next week's deadline.

- Annabel, I...

- Zandra, this is
the third time.

- I know.

- How much have you
got left to do?

- I just...

I just can't seem to find...

- Christ, it's the au pair.

I've gotta go.

If he cancels the contract,

you've only got
yourself to blame.

- What is it with
your lot and books?

- My lot?

I'm sure we're all the same.

- What's that?

Something to say, have you?

- What the hell?

- Look what happens.

- Well, don't blame me.

You weren't watching
the bloody road.

- I'm afraid, with
or without her,

we shall have to begin.

- Okay, right.
Everyone, let's start.

- Uh, Steve's not here.

- Can't wait for him either.

Um, right.

Uh, are you okay?

- I'm sorry. I just don't like
being away from the kids.

That's all.

- Oh, don't worry.
You're amongst friends.

W.G.

- Thank you, Alisdair.

And thank you all for
coming to Kilton Island.

As you already will have seen,

the island itself presents a
uniquely inspiring location.

You, however, will be
marooned here by the tide

that surrounds the island but
for a few hours each day.

It is hoped that this and
other conditions here

will create an atmosphere
of fertile isolation.

To wit, one, you will
have no Internet access.

Two, we receive no
mobile service.

Three, there is a telephone
line in the office,

but I insist it is only
used in cases of emergency.

However, there is a telephone
by the rear stairs.

I encourage you to
use this opportunity

to look inside and
find the truth.

That's ridiculous.

- I must be off.

Wishing you all a good night.

- Let me get the door for you.

- Well, thank you, young man.

- Uh, that was W.G.

- What a character.

- That's one word for her.

Well, okay,

let's focus just a bit longer.

Uh, I'm guessing it
feels pretty weird

to be trapped on an island,

about to bare your souls
to complete strangers.

- I'm bricking it.

- I have to say I'm...
I'm a bit scared, too.

- Ah, it's entirely natural.

This week's all about grappling

with powerful,
unexpected emotions.

Right. Um, let's get
to know each other.

Um, you've got five minutes

to interview another
member of the group

before introducing them
to the rest of us.

- Henry writes serial
killer thrillers.

He says the genre isn't afraid

to confront the dark
side of humanity.

- Sounds really deep.

This is Jo. She's
from Manchester,

but we won't hold
that against her.

- This is Daisy. Uh, she spends
most of her time traveling,

getting ideas for her blog and
for her jewelry business.

- Uh, this is Trië,
who's from Sweden,

which is somewhere
I've never been to,

but it sounds totally amazing,
and I would really love to go.

- This is Rosy.

Uh, she admits she
hasn't any experience,

but she hopes she can be the next J.K.
Rowling.

- This is Nigel. Nigel
used to be in the Army

and served in the Falklands
before a career in recruitment.

- The boot won't open.

- This is Phil.

Uh, Phil calls
himself a modernist.

I've no idea what that is,

but he seems like a clever chap.

- Fucking coon.

- What did you say?

What did you say?

- Think you're better than folk
just 'cause you read books?

- Hey. Everything all right?

- Yeah, and it's private.

- Come on, mate. Leave out.

I'm sure whatever it is,

it don't really matter at the
end of the day, does it?

- Thanks.

- No worries.

- I'm really looking
forward to it now.

- I-I'd like to know

what commitment we're
making to artistic quality.

- We'll encourage you to take
yourself seriously as writers.

- Exactly. I didn't come
here to indulge bad writing.

Henry writes thrillers.

What are we gonna
learn from clichés?

- Sorry. That's
utterly pretentious.

- Says the guy who
writes slasher porn.

- Okay, that's... that's enough.

We're all entitled
to our opinions,

but we have to respect
one another's.

Okay, that will do. See
you tomorrow at 9:30.

And obviously Zed may hopefully
have turned up by then.

- Uh, thanks.

- No worries. I'm Steve.

- Oh.

- You doing the course, then?

- Uh, sort of. I'm Zandra.

- Zandra.

Oh, Zandra.

Fuck, yeah. I get it.

- Shouldn't you be
with the others?

- What? The meet and greet? Nah.

I don't fancy it.

Anyway, long as
you're all right.

- Nice of you to turn up.

- Christ.

You almost scared
the life out of me.

- Sorry. I didn't
mean to disturb you.

- Oh, it's all right.

You got me.

I'm Jo.

- Zandra.

Please, don't let me interrupt.

- Oh, no, you're all right.

Be a bit weird reading
it with you there.

I like it, though.
It's just it...

It's so sad.

- How do you mean?

- I mean, I've only
just started it,

but take the main character.

It's like everyone
can see it, but her.

- See what?

- That she's gonna let
herself fall for Joseph,

but only when it's too late.

I've never thought
of it like that.

- Oh, I'm not saying
it's obvious.

I mean, she's interesting,

because she can't see what's
right under her nose.

- What about you?
What do you write?

- Nothing. Well, one thing.

My friend read it and made
me apply for a place.

- Almost sounds like you
came here by accident.

- Well, I'm surprised I got a place.
I applied so late.

Still, I-I'm glad I'm here.

- Well, good night, then.

- Night.

- Hello?

Oh, my God! Ahh!

- You all right?

Ah, fuck.

- How the hell did it get there?

- Come on. Let's find a spade.

I'll sort it for you.

- I got up just
before 7:00 to write.

Henry was already up.

I figured he'd gone for a walk.

- Well, his bag's still here
and most of his clothes,

so he can't have left.

- Okay, let's go
back to the others.

- Alisdair, we have
to look for him.

- No, we don't.

You know what it's
like at these things.

People get weird. Goes
with the territory.

The lad's probably gone
for a whiskey or a wank.

Either way, he'll be
back by dinnertime.

- Alisdair, we're
looking for him.

- You think something's
happened to him?

- What, Prince Harry?

Nah.

Probably took one look at us
lot and threw in the towel.

Can't say I blame him.

You want a swig?

- Yeah, go on.

- Yes, that's right.

Well, of course I understand.

Thank you for your
time, Officer.

I'm afraid they cannot commit
to any action for three days.

- Three days?

He could have drowned.

- He could simply have strolled

over the causeway
before the dawn tide.

- Without his jacket?

- Oh, jacket's incidental.

It's simply a case of
first-night nerves.

I'm sure you've seen
similar before.

But what do we tell the others?

- We simply tell them
the gentleman has left.

That's all they need to know,

your colleague included.

I encourage you not
to scare the horses,

not least when they've paid
so much to be stabled.

If our guests should
leave under a cloud,

I will be obliged to
refund their fees.

This would make it
impossible to pay your own.

- W.G. has called the police.

They've said that there's
no reason to be alarmed.

- But where has he gone?

- We don't know, but I'm sure

he will have reappeared
by lunchtime.

Why don't we move on?

- We're to jump straight in
with an exercise based on plot.

We want you to write
about your character

as they reach a pivotal moment
in their journey through life

and confront the
world around them.

- Tell the truth of that moment.

If you're open to
the possibilities,

you might be surprised
by what comes out.

- You have 20 minutes.

- Okay, if you could
stop writing.

Steve, why don't you start?

- Right.

Okay.

The Arsenal boy comes at him,

so Danny smacks him
and puts him down.

The quiz machine is smashed,

and the glass crunches
under Danny's feet

as he leans in and whispers,
"Do not fuck with the Yids."

Danny stands up as
the pub kicks off.

"Yiddos!" Danny screams.

Then the pub door opens.

Like a Western, in Cheryl walks.

They look at each other knowing
they both want each other,

and a month later,
they're married.

- Okay.

Uh, Alisdair, what
did you think?

- I thought it was visceral,

but, uh, we also
have to ask if...

the work alienates the
audience too much.

Uh, what about you, Rosy?

- Uh, okay.

As the sun shone,

Tegan, Tia, and Tyler
Turtle were excited.

Mommy was taking
them to the zoo.

- Fuck's sake.

- Tyler Turtle asked if they
had turtles at the zoo.

"Yes," Mommy replied,
"so we better make sure

we don't get mixed up
and trapped there."

That's all I did.

Is that all right?

- Um, let's open it
up to the group.

Anyone got something
to say, or...

Z, what about you?

- Okay. I'm, uh...

not sure it's as pivotal a
moment as it could have been.

Perhaps if it focused
on the moment

one of the, uh...

little turtles
actually came to harm.

- That would be awful.

- Terrible.

- Um, moving on to Daisy.

Um, Daisy, what have
you got for us?

- Voluptuous ferns caressed her
as she pushed into the jungle.

As animal mating cries pulsed,

she remembered Oliver's
cruel rejection,

which had inspired her
to go on this adventure.

Sensual rhythms met her ears.

She spied a clearing
in the distance

where natives swelled in
a mad orgy of darkness.

- That was amazing.
- Uh, yes, uh, very emotive,

and there were a few
expositional lines,

but sensual power
really carried it.

- Thank you.

- Trië.

- I did not write.

- Um, okay.

Uh, Phil.

- You're up.

- This piece is called "Oeuvre."

Aristotle, who lived
before the gun,

plays Beckett at chess
in the midday sun.

The furious Greek stormed
on with his queen.

McGuffin, red herring,
stop being obscene.

It's then that Samuel
grabs Chekhov's gun.

"Bang," he says, and
the Greek is done.

- A very challenging
passage, Phil.

- You what?

- I didn't understand
a word of that.

- Well, I thought it was
impressive, high-stakes writing.

Yeah, well done.

- Um, okay, Nigel, you're up.

- Yeah.

- Right.

This is an extract

from my series of novels
about the Korean War.

Now they emerged from the smoke,

a line of KPA infantrymen.

Spencer had already issued
the order to fix bayonets.

His men now countercharged and
butchered their yellow enemy

at close quarters
with bloodied steel.

- Let's hear from the group.

- I didn't understand
who was who.

- I thought it was very violent.

- Made me feel violent.

- But did you like it?

- Okay. Uh, I guess
i-it's time for lunch.

Jo, we'll start
with you next time.

- That's okay. I
didn't write much.

- What do you mean I
can't come and stay?

I am their mother.

I've told you I've put
all that in the past.

This afternoon, we
are digging deep

into our characters'
inner feelings.

- We want you to investigate the...
the conflicts

and the fears that
rage in all of us.

- And so in life, we
bury these feelings.

- Yeah. What happens
if your character

confesses the guilt
or the desire

that they waste so much
time trying to hide?

- Okay? You got 20 minutes.

Trië, what about you?

- I did not write.

- Is anything the matter?

It'd be nice to hear
something from you.

- I will write
when I have words.

I'm learning, and I'm grateful.

- Okay. Jo, on to you.

- Beth, it's me.

Listen, I'm in the shit,

so I'm leaving this message
to tell you the truth,

which is I nick stuff,
always have done.

Been having
counseling for years.

That's where I go when I
say I've got dance group,

except I've never been
to a dance group.

I'm a klepto.

I steal everything I can.

It was me who nicked your
earrings when we were camping,

and it was me who nicked
your bracelet last week.

And the rest. Sorry.

Now I've done something stupid,

and I've got to disappear,

but please call me if
you still want to talk.

Shit, I just realized you
won't even get this message,

'cause I nicked your phone.

- It's mischievous,
and there's mystery,

but perhaps it's too flippant.

What's beneath the humor?

That's the bit I'm
interested in.

Okay.

Steve, on to you.

- "It's been hard.

I haven't always been
the best of men,

always fucking you off

and going out drinking
with the lads.

I'm sorry for calling
you a cripple,

leaving you on your
own all the time.

I wish I'd never met you,

and I wish I'd
never married you.

- I'm not against vernacular,
but you can take it too far.

- But isn't that why we're here?

- Sure, but, I mean, the
whole point about writing

is that some sort of
alchemy takes place.

- What the fuck does that mean?

Why am I listening
to you, anyway?

You're only here 'cause you
didn't flop enough books

to pay for your next
fucking skiing holiday.

- Steve, that's not fair.

- That's it for this afternoon.

Steve, I want a word.

- Fuck!

- So your writing...

- I finished your book.

- Oh. Right.

And?

- I don't get it.

- What? The ending?

- It was so clean.

It's like everything seemed to
be building toward something,

some kind of statement,
but it was like

you were too afraid to
come out and say it.

Found your dad's book.

Sorry. I want some bigger world.

- "The Book of Price."

- I don't mean to sound rude,
but his book's boring.

I read a few chapters.

It's like listening to
someone who knows it all

and never lets you
get a word in.

And then there's you
writing these worthy books

with your dad looking
over your shoulder.

- Hardly. He's never
even read my work.

- It's all so
serious, so proper.

- Oh, I'm ever so sorry,

but we thought you
might like to know

the plan is to eat
our dinner earlier,

and then we were thinking
of a trip to the pub

before the tide comes in.

- Yes.
- Oh. See you there.

- Oh, is this it?

- Oh, look.
- Yeah.

- Really? That sounds good.

- I'll see you in there.
I've just gotta make a...

phone call.

- Ah, good evening, sir.

- What'll it be?

- Right. What's
everybody having?

My shout.

- Where do you think
Prince Harry got to?

- Henry?

- Bit strange he just
ran off like that.

- Phil said he left some of
his stuff in their room.

I mean, how do we know

that something hasn't
happened to him?

- Yeah, Nigel's right.
He could have drowned,

or he could be
stranded somewhere.

- The police have been called.

They will know the
correct procedure.

- You, um, don't
remember me, do you?

You wrote a report on
a manuscript of mine.

- I did?
- Yeah.

Years ago.

It was called "On
Margate Sands."

You said my work reveled
in arid intellectualism.

- I'm sorry.

Um, I only ever try to be...

helpful.

Well, it was very
painful indeed.

But criticism makes
one a better writer.

- Yes.

Yes, it does.

- Please excuse me.
- Mm-hmm.

- Please excuse me.
- Mm-hmm.

Hello?

Excuse me.

- I'd happily learn
you some manners.

- Will you get out of the way?

- What's going on?

Everyone's waiting
for you inside.

- So, Nigel, you were
in the Falklands?

- That's right. Three Para.

- Did you do any fighting?

- I did my duty.

San Carlos, Longdon, Stanley,

the whole shooting match.

- Respect, Nige.

- Oh, we were talking
about Henry.

- And?

- I mean, don't you think
we should do something?

I mean, it's gone dark,
and he's still not back.

- Look, if he's not back
by tomorrow morning,

I'll call the police,
make them do something.

- Time to drink up!

- I promise.

Tour of the island, Nige?

- Not much further now.

Nightcap, ladies?

- No, thank you.

- Come on.

♪ The night is young ♪

You all right?

- Put your hand out.

Hold still. You'll spill.

Now...

sorry about earlier.

Wasn't fair.

- It's okay.

You weren't being malicious.

- Shouldn't be telling
you what to do.

It's not right.

Needed that.

Both of us.

- What was that?

- There's someone out there.
- Hey.

- Who's there?

- Oh, watch your step.
- Here we are.

Henry!

Henry!

- These are my angels.

This is Tegan, that's Tara,
and that's little Tyler.

- It's like your turtles.

- Yeah, that's right.

I named the turtles after them.

So what about you? Do
you have any children?

- No, I do not.

If you'll excuse me, I'm
going for my walk now.

- So how many times you
read that book then, Phil?

- I've lost count.

- Ooh, must be good.

Do you think I'd like it?

- I don't think so.

- Really? What's it about?

- It's about a princely outsider

who violently disdains
bourgeois societal norms.

- Right.

No, it doesn't sound very good.

I think I might give it a miss.

- I'm gonna go and
do some writing.

- Phil.

- Oh, hi, Jo.

- Alisdair's looking for you.

He said he wanted to
discuss your writing.

- Uh...

- He's down the wall.

- I'll see what he wants.

Thanks.

- Christ.

- What were you doing
in Phil's room?

- Um...

- What?
- I...

- Look, I'll tell you later, I
promise, after the workshop.

- I...

- Jo?

- Talk to you later.

- Okay, people, uh, this
is our final session

before Guy Glover arrives to,
uh, talk about publishing.

- In the meantime, we're going
to do some more writing.

- Last time, we wrote
about our characters

confessing to hidden feelings.

- Now we want you to show your
characters acting on them.

- She suddenly felt
exposed, insecure, unsure.

He rose and turned toward
her, handsome and suave.

He passed, his breath
on her breast.

She knew it was him.

- On his return to the right,

Spencer had become
lost in the command...

- cold, Heaven, Hell.

Terror harrowed her
little by little,

below death caught,

catch, catching, cut.

- Okay. And lastly, Steve.

- I drive like it's a dream,

thoughts flying
this way and that,

guilt, loathing, relief,

each turning taking me
closer to that chair,

the wheels on it
like a sick joke,

cause it ain't
moving us nowhere.

I think of her Mum being dead,

her dad being dead, her
sister being a bitch.

As for me, I think on
the room I just left,

teenage hooker looking
at the ceiling

while I drilled her...

just looking, waiting
for it to be over.

Then there's me, fucking all
that hate out of me into her,

just shuffling into my
jeans, and walking out,

after this, deciding
I won't be back.

And both of us
knowing that I will.

- I thought it was very moving.

- Me, too.

What about you?

What did you think?

- Um, I-I thought it was

a very skillfully
invented slice of guilt.

- What do you mean, invented?

Yeah, you heard.

You look down on me
'cause I'm rough?

You lot play at the truth.

Well, there it is.

There's my truth.

- Zandra.

Z, you looked stressed.

- It's okay.

I just had the workshop from hell.
That's all.

- Shall we go in?

- Nice journey?

- So what are you looking for?

- Honesty.

It doesn't matter if you
write vampire erotica,

chick lit, or schizoid neolism.

Do it honestly, and
we have a chance.

Okay, who else has a question?

- Yeah. Is it true

publishers are less brave
than they used to be?

- What do you mean by brave?

- That you value money over art.

- You're being naïve.

Some books make money. Some don't.
It doesn't matter.

I can balance one
against the other.

Okay, let's continue this
discussion after dinner.

- Daisy? May I have a second?

I, um... I loved your story.

I think that I, um...

have something that
you should read.

If you come back to my cabin...

It's just I've got
this book that it...

- Okay.
- Really reminds me of your...

Michael... Please
leave a message.

- I know you're there, Michael.

Bet you stood next to the phone

deciding whether to pick it up,

but it don't matter,

'cause you can't
ignore me anymore,

'cause I'm coming back.
Do you hear me?

I'm coming back to get my kids,

and you will never
see them again.

Cab service.

- I need a taxi from
Kilton Island immediately.

- We'll have to go now...

- I don't care about that.

- When can you be ready?
- Now!

- Inspiring speech.

- Who cares?

They're all talentless idiots.

- That's not fair.

- I only came to see you.

- Guy, that can't
ever happen again.

- Why not?

- Guy.

Oh, Jo.

Jo, wait!

Rosy.

- Henry?

- Help me, please.

- Henry?

Henry?

- Rosy, help me.

- Henry?

Henry?

Henry?

Henry?

- Hey.

- What is it?

Alisdair.

Zandra, is that you?

Can I help?

Can I help?

- Jo! Jo, wait, please!

Christ! Guy, that was...

- Guy...
- What's happened?

Are you hurt?

- It's Guy, not...

- No. No.

- Where is Guy?

- In the workshop room.

He... Someone...

He's been killed!

- What's all the noise about?

- She says Guy's been killed.

- Wait.
- Fuck.

- I left him. We just...

When I came back, he
was just lying there.

- We need to check this.

- I'm not going out there.

- How do we know it wasn't you?

- What?

- Oh, you sick fuck!

I saw what's on your camera!

- What are you going on about?

- I saw what's on your camera!

- You went through
my private things.

- Henry had been
missing for days.

I looked around their room.

- You thought I killed Henry?

You're a sick fucking bitch!

- I'm sick? He's got pictures

of car accidents on his
camera, dead fucking bodies!

- Is this true?

- I don't have to
answer your fucking...

- Is this true?

- I don't have to
answer your fucking...

- We've got to find Jo.

- Well, and the others,
Alisdair and Daisy, Nigel.

- No, no, no, no. I'm not
going fucking anywhere.

- You can stay here and die,
you little fucking nut.

- Fuck off, you stupid ape!

TRIë: Stop it. No, no, no.

- Are you two finished?
- TRIë: No.

- We need to make
contact with the police

and get off the island.

- We're not going anywhere.

The tides are out for hours.

- We find the others, and
we get off the island.

- What the fuck was that?

Nothing.

- Come on, then.
Call the police.

- Let's go.

Where's Phil?

Phil.

- Phil!
- Shh.

- Phil, is that you?

Oh, God.

- Oh, for fuck's sake.

- Oh, my God.

- What's that?

What the fuck is that?

- It's Nigel's stick.

- It's covered in blood.

- Oh, no.

- What do we do now?

- Stay calm.

- What do we do now?

What was that?

Damn.

- It was the bloody cat.

Ohh.

Christ.

- Fuck! You scared the
fuckin' life out of me!

- What's going on? The
lights aren't working.

- Thank God you're okay.
- Someone's killed Guy, Nigel.

- You're joking.

- No, we're not.

- What's going on?
- It's true.

And now Phil's missing.

- Come on.

- We'll go this way.

- Shh, shh, shh, shh.

- So you found his body
in the workshop room?

- Yes, after...

I came to speak to you.

- We cannot stay here.

- Jo, wait!

Oh, no. Ohh.

No.

Come on.

- Jo, where are you?

Jo!

You all right?

- No.

No.

- Be quiet.

- Be quiet.

- Wakey, wakey.

- I hope there's a moment
before the pain kicks in

when it's all blissfully calm.

- Hello, love.

- Hello, Mother.

- Make sure you tidy
up after yourself.

- Yes, Mother.

- You poor sick fuck.

- Careful, Steven.

Do you know what threatens

to take the shine
off of all of this?

I liked you.

- Yeah.

I've definitely gone off you.

Let the girls go.

- Oh, Steven. You think
that all of this

is the action of
some random madness.

Of course you do.

Not one of you...

- was capable of
seeing my truth,

my purpose, my power,

not even our humble teacher.

Imagine the interest in
the survivor's story.

The smoke from your
charred corpses

will raise me up
to higher things.

Steven...

do you see this?

- What the fuck?

- Oh, I like this one.

- Fuck you.

- Why, Steven, you seem to
have taken a bit of a knock.

Let's put something
on that for you.

Forgive me.

- Oh, Steven, my dear, dear boy.

Don't be so foolish.

- I think we'll save you
for later, shall we?

- Let the girls go.

- What about you?

- Not yet.

My time will come...

and when it does,

I will distract him.

You must...

Trië.

She comes on a writing course,

but does no writing.

You coward.

- Mm.

- You okay?

- So why are you here?

- Use it to cut the rope.

- I'm sorry.

- You want to know? Okay.

I will tell you.

My daughter died two months ago.

It was in an auto accident.

Her car caught fire.

She burned to death.

I thought there might be a
way for writing to heal me.

Maybe I'd held...

the girl I'd protected and lost

reduced to dust.

- There's nothing
you can do to me.

I'm dead already,

and anything you do is
as harmless as rain.

- I see.

You sick coward.

- How's the pity now?

What's that?

Sorry. I can't hear you.

- "As harmless as
rain," you said?

- We've got to get
out of here now.

Jo.

Jo. Jo.

Jo, we're gonna get out of here.

- Which way?

- Just keep going!

- Stop! Stop.

- Why?
- Here. Here.

- What?
- I've got to...

- Steve, no!

Come on, then!

- Come on, you spaz.

Come on! Come on.

- No, I can't. I can't. My leg.

- Come on.

- No, I can't!
- Come on.

- I can't.

- Come on.

- Oh, no. No.

No.

- That's right!

Poor, talentless imbecile
with a God complex

kills defenseless girl.

How many, Nigel?

How many has it been?

How many third-rate novels?

How many rejection letters?

How many wasted hours?

You're convinced
you're a genius,

just like every other poor sot

who thinks they got
a book in them,

but the truth is you're
a failure on the page,

and you're so stupid,
you can't even see it!

- As he crushed her
windpipe with his thumbs,

she realized the trap had been
set from the very beginning.

She was nothing more than bait,

a worm dying on a hook.

- For the love of God,
won't you ever die?

No. No. No. No.

No. No.

Please, please!

Please, please, please.

No! No!

No.

Yes. Um, sorry.

What did you say your name was?

- ♪ One fine day,
my love did write ♪

♪ Before the passing
of her light ♪

♪ A book for me, a
wondrous sight ♪

♪ The words, they
were a true delight ♪

♪ It told a tale
that came to be ♪

♪ Of an island on the sea ♪

♪ Where she said
she'd wait for me ♪

♪ Underneath the
spreading tree ♪

♪ By the water near the shore ♪

♪ There she'd take
my hand in hers ♪

♪ And we would read
her honeyed words ♪

♪ And closer grow with
each page turned ♪

♪ But love can be a
fleeting friend ♪

♪ And so our story came to end ♪

♪ The blackened clouds,
they did portend ♪

♪ And so we found
ourselves condemned ♪

♪ We cut the shoe
to fit the foot ♪

♪ The blood did flow
down through the brook ♪

♪ The waters, my true
love they took ♪

♪ And all I have
now is the book ♪