Screenplays/Teleplays/Stories/Poetry

Ricky Hawthorne

Screenplays

 

             POTTERSVILLE

It's Xmas Eve and Ricky, redundant, separated and drunk, crashes his car and ends up in Pottersville, the nightmare town from his favorite film; worse still he's wrecked Clarence the Angel's plan to restore George Bailey to Bedford Falls. Can Ricky make amends and if so will he go back with George? 

A family disturb an ancient evil in The Badlands and have to call on an ancient good for survival; but which is which?

A doomed menage a trois straddles the carnage of WWI France

WOULD LOVE TO MEET

Monica loves to read the anonymous admirers section in her paper on the train every morning until she becomes the apparent object of a stalker's desire and has to use her wits to stay alive.

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Teleplays

A Turn of the Wheel

Jim's gambling days are over until he finds a cell phone that predicts horse-race winners but its forecasts prove to be fatal as well as fortuitous 

Charlie's a success and knows just where he's going until his Satnav contradicts itself and he runs over a fleeing witness to a bank robbery and spends the next 24 hours being interrogated by two imbecilic detectives, falling in love with the witness and being threatened by a cross-dressing contract killer.

Is This Yours?

 
 

Bio

Graduate Warwick University 2002-2006 

Triple Honours: Literature, Theatre and Film

 

Short listed for Bridport Prize in Poetry 2015

 

 

Bridport Prize 2015

Short Listed

Foreign Correspondent

“Look –see, here!” he cried

Beckoning me over like a geography teacher

And gestured with his trigger finger at the side of the mountain

“This” he grinned, “This is the life giver”

 

I peered down quizzically at the damp ground

Pulling sharply at a tuft of grass to see further

But it was tough and resilient, so much so

That I had to tear at it, ripping a fingernail in the process

 

“You see now” my guide spoke with derisory patience

“Yes, yes I do” yet it was only a trickle

Less than a pin prick scar in the sleeping hillside

But it remained unchecked as I forced a thumb over it

 

My guide smiled patronisingly and turned to

Point his silver arm at the valley below

Where the blue snake slithered toward open sea

Then murmured something, unheard, toward the horizon

Meandering away, unhurried,

Down the darkening hill