Winner of the Lent Shorts/Fletcher Players New Screenwriting Prize
A funeral?... Suppose it makes sense to bury her. Couldn’t just leave her lying in the front garden. It’d scare off the postman.
Mother is dead. That is, Mother the Tortoise. Killed in a freak accident this morning, her funeral will be held at the bottom of the garden this afternoon. All it takes for our narrator to make her pet’s burial is to hop on a train and cross town. There is one small problem. She has not left her room in three weeks. Going home may prove difficult.
A comment on anxiety, loneliness and the distance we will go for our reptilian friends, “The Tortoise” tracks a day in the life of a narrator whose battle with the world outside is almost as terrifying as the battle with the voice inside her.