Behind the Curtain: A look at the first draft of Episode 2's first scene

Hey everyone, Syon here. A couple months ago, we gave you a sneak peek of Episode 3’s opening scene. Today, we have something similar, but different. I want to give you all a glimpse of the original opening scene from National Park Girls - Episode 2: Happy Trails. 

This is the original draft of the scene and it’s extremely different from what ended up in the finished product. One of the big reasons we cut it is that the symbolism and messaging was confused. Ultimately, we ended up keeping with a similar concept, but reeling it in to be a flashback that elaborates on Eve’s past and character development. 

Since this was a draft, the prose might not be perfect. But I hope you enjoy it anyway!

***

“Trees!” 

“A slew of them! Sequoias, Douglas-firs, and Cottonwoods! All propped up in the middle of a rustling field, standing tall and mighty, their branches lifted to the sky in zealous praise.” 

“Chunks of their bark split open, strings of pulpy fiber stretching with it like saliva from a yawning mouth. Other trees are hollow, and when they open their mouths families of nesting birds and squirrels peek out from inside.” 

“The trees sing praise music. It’s pretty neat.” 

Tree Choir “{i}Glory, glory, hallelujah! From the mountains, to the prairies, this land was made for you and me!{/i}”

“They sing as if they had all been carved into rows of pews long ago, and have spent the long years since then listening to the congregation. Week in and week out. Listening to them belt out their hymns until they reached angelic mastery.” 

“When they’re done, I whistle and holler. Applauding until my hands are sore.” 

“A common Hazel bush dances around my feet, wagging its leaves and barking in approval.” 

“Good shrub.” 

“In the thick of the musical forest, a giant sequoia, as postorous and straight as a cross, heaves a high so heavy its leaves shake off and float to the ground.” 

Sequoia Tree “Can the peanut gallery {i}please{/i} keep their reception to themselves?”

“A single leaf lands peacefully on my head. I grab it, twirling it between my fingers. Too embarrassed to answer. Too ashamed to stay quiet.”

Shrub “{i}Yap! Yap! Yap!{/i} 

“Shrung leaps between me and the Sequoia, planting himself down like a sentry.” 

“Good shrub.” 

Eve “I-I’m very sorry if I offended! It’s just that you and your songs are gorgeous, and this was the only way I could think to let you know…” 

Sequoia Tree “Well maybe you should {i}think{/i} a little harder next time.” 

Eve “I am so sorry.” 

Shrub “{i}Yap! Yap!{/i}

Sequoia Tree “I mean, {i}really?{/i} Applauding instead of letting us continue to sing?” 

Eve “Sincerest apologies.” 

Shrub “{i}Yap! Yap!{/i}” 

Sequoia Tree “If you really cared about our singing, you would just stay away and let us practice in peace instead of interrupting.” 

Eve “I hope to one day be worthy.” 

Shrub {i}Yap! Yap!{/i} 

“The sequoia continues its assault on the remnants of my tattered dignity. A layer of cloud veils the very tip-top of the trees, a height so great I could never attempt to reach it.” 

“As my devotion to the song is questioned (as it very well should be, since my uselessness is only compounded by the fact that I, myself, cannot sing), a chipper Douglas-fir drags itself across the field, leaving a trail of trunk-shaped mud etched behind it.” 

“Its branches and leaves are scattered across it like an uneven Christmas tree -- too strong in the front, too fat in the back. It’s amazing it keeps its balance, especially while moving so fast. But its pine scent is strong and fresh, which means it must be a very happy tree.” 

“I’m glad for this happy tree.” 

Douglas-fir “Aww, quit trying to rattle her cage. It’s rad that dollface likes our song! I worked crazy hard on it, but no one ever says anything.” 

Douglas-fir “It’s like I’m chopped liver or something…” 

“The Douglas-fir goes from hopping around like a flea to bending over in pained sorrow.” 

“It is no longer a happy tree.” 

Eve “Ooh! To write a song like that, you must be a very talented tree!” 

“The Douglas-fir spruces right up.” 

Douglas-fir “Ya think so?” 

Sequoia Tree “You’re {i}okay,{/i} I guess.” 

Douglas-fir “Bummer…” 

“The pine needles on the Douglas-fir wither to a fragile brown.” 

“I need to do something. I must protect this tree.” 

Eve “Better than okay! I wish everybody liked your songs! They probably would, if they just listened…” 

“Oh. Now I’m the sad tree.” 

Douglas-fir “Aww shucks…” 

“It shakes its branches. The needles shake too, fading back to an earthy green. Pretty, but not as lush as before.” 

Douglas-fir “Just hearing someone say that really razzes my berries!” 

Cottonwood “D-Douglas-firs don’t grow berries, though. Not to be mean… But you can pretend! That’s fun, I think.” 

“One of the Cottonwoods glide over, skating just above the ground as to not unearth the field like the Douglas-fir did.” 

“Smaller and squatter than the other trees, it has a hard time measuring up. But it’s beautiful in other ways, with specks of golden sunlight glowing through its autumn leaves, with an average and well-adjusted family of blue birds in nearly every branch.”

“Shrub perks up. He trots over to the Cottonwood and snuggles up against its bark.” 

Cottonwood “But I think the song is good, too! As long as it makes you happy, you should make more. That way we can sing more…” 

“The Douglas-fir spats the top of the Cottonwood with one of its naked branches. The resting birds flap away, flying from the Douglas-fir’s shade and into the yellow sky’s hazy smog.”

Douglas-fir “Thanks, cutie. That means a lot. The croonin gets me groovin, too. But it don’t mean nothin if nobody jives to it.” 

“Needles fall from the Douglas-fir as it sighs, strewing around its trunk in piles.” 

Douglas-fir “I wish more people would jive to us…” 

Sequoia “Why? It’s not like they understand why we sing to begin with.” 

“The sequoia’s words inger in the pine-scented air, the wind howling through everyone’s branches like some frigid omen.” 

“As I stare at the grass (being in a constant fluctuating state of varying degrees of sadness basically requires that I look down dejectedly), I notice a single strand begin to shake.” 

“At first, I think it’s the wind, then another strand spasms. Then another. The entire field ripples with dancing grass.” 

“The ground trembles beneath us, convulsing with a gutteral burp that rattles the earth’s crust.” 

Shrub “{i}Yap! Yap! Yap!{/i}”

“Shrub snarls and growls. We shift our gaze to the horizon. And peeking over that far away hill, leading the charger with a glimmering axe, is a giant.” 

“A giant lumberjack.” 

“Tacky suspenders stretch down to their waist, holding up that ancient lumberjack flannel.” 

“They lead an army of plaid behind them. A battalion of overgrown lumberjacks, each wielding an axe or saw. Marching towards us. Coming to cut us down.” 

“They sing in unison, too. But this isn’t angelic mastery, with years of patient growth. These lumberjacks sing off-key. {i}Off-key, God! Off-key!{/i}” 

“Harmonization doesn’t even exist to these monsters. They sing over each other. One begins a verse. The other is in the middle of the song. Another is beginning the verse again. It’s formless white noise. Chaos.” 

Lumberjack “{i}I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THE RAILROAD ALL THE LIVELONG DAY! I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THE RAILROAD TO PASS THE TIME AWAY!{/i}”

Cottonwood “Lord have mercy on us.” 

Sequoia Tree “So it’s finally here, huh?”

“They speak in hushed, sobering whispers.” 

Douglas “OH! Are they friends?” 

“Except for the Douglas-fir, who speaks in a slurred, excited yell.” 

Eve “No… No… This isn’t our friend. It’s… It’s {i}Industry!{/i}"

Shrub “{i}Grrrrrrrrrrrr…{/i}

Lumberjack Army “{i}I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THE RAILROAD ALL THE LIVELONG DAY! I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THE RAILROAD TO PASS THE TIME AWAY!{/i}”

“Their singing is off, but they march together like a militarized machine.” 

Cottonwood “Does that mean we have to find a new home?” 

“The Cottonwood projects its meek voice, straining their tiny cry over the lumberjacks’ chanting.” 

Sequoia Tree “We’ll be back soon. They won’t last for long.” 

“The Sequoia twists around, and although it has no eyes, I can tell it’s staring at me. Then, I’m frozen. Just for a second. Long enough to notice the broken off bark and deep cuts dug deep into the Sequoia’s wood. My embarrassment and shame come back. It weighs me down, and it’s heavy. 

“And I wonder, {i}will I ever move again?{/i}” 

“The coming destruction yanks me back into action. Their singing is closer than ever, and it reverberates in my chest.” 

“The Sequoia’s roots unearth themselves. Dirt spills off them as the first root whips into the air then slams back onto the ground. Every root does the same. The Sequoia crawls across the field like a fleeing spider.” 

“The Cottonwood escapes too. It flaps its branches, building up a fierce gust of wind beneath it, until it launches itself off the ground. Its roots dangle below it as it floats in the air, bobbing up and down like a fat bumblebee struggling to fly.” 

Eve “Wait! Aren’t you going to stay and fight? Don’t you care?!”

“But it’s too late. The remaining trees follow suit, half of entire congregation sprinting into the distance, thee other half retreating into the sky.”  

“They rush past me.” 

Eve “H-Hold on! Come ba--” 

“The sprinting trees shove me.”

Eve “Agh!”

“Their branches dig into my skin.” 

“Tearing into my clothes.” 

“Tossing me to the ground.” 

“Any trees slow (or just unlucky) enough get swallowed up by the swarm of lumberjacks.”

“They trample across the field, gleefully chopping down trees with single, effortless swings.” 

Eve “No…” 

“I reach out, powerless to stop the slaughter. Their agonizing screams fade away as they plummet to the ground. Gallons of sap spill from the split open wood. The grass soaks it up.” 

“Shrub is the last line of defense, still growling as he steps up to the task.” 

“But all I can do is watch. All I can allow myself to do is watch.” 

“I’m useless. My yells and screams, they mean nothing. And useless protest may as well be silence.” 

“Sprawled out on the field, I turn my head and gaze at the thin strands of grass. Some tickle my nose. Brush against my cheek. I listen to the singing, followed by the cracking of wood, then finally screams. Sighing, I let my limp body melt into the grass, to be taken back into the dirt.” 

“It’s really not so bad.” 

Douglas-fir “Howdy-O, friends! Nice to meetcha!” 

“I peel my head off the ground. The Douglas-fir stands ahead of me, welcoming the lumberjacks with friendly waves.”

Eve “What are you doing? Get out of here! It’s not safe!”

“I’m ignored. Once again, just as useful as silence.” 

Douglas-fir “That song you cats are singin is pretty swingin! If ya stick around we can sing toget--”

“The lumberjacks match forward with no pause, their chanting circling around us. The Douglas-fir is chopped in half.”

“The collapsing tree blots out the light.” And as its shadow blankets me, and the wind rushes behind it, I think again...”

“{i}It’s really not so bad.{/i}

#Dream Sequence Ends Here 

“I shoot up in bed. Sweat sticks to my pajamas. Breath trickles into my suffocated lungs as I gasp for desperate air. A pair of arms wrap around my chest like constrictive rope.” 

“With a few grunts, I wiggle onto my side.”

“My cheek rolls into a shallow pool of drool as I’m confronted with Yellowstone’s murmuring face and buffalo-print pajamas.”

Yellowstone “That’s smarts… but now I can sing twice as well… fries and shakes…” 

“Snuggling up to me, she squeezes me tighter. I think I would have preferred getting crushed by the tree.”

‘I should put in a request for a door.”

“Yellowstone gives an unconscious grunt, then snores into the checkered fabric of shirt.”

“With a lock.” 

“I fall back onto my pillow. The faded morning light glitters through the window, anchoring me to a reality where trees don’t flies and the closest thing lumberjack armies are lumber unions.” 

“The mini volcano protruding from Yellowstone’s head puffs out light dots of smoke, matching the rhythm of her breath.” 

“Well, {i}mostly{/i} anchors me to reality.” 

“I stare at the stuffed and padded ceiling, counting the wooden beams that run across it. There are nightmares, and then there are whatever that was.” 

Eve “That’s it. I’m switching to decaf before bed.”