The Doctor’s Orders – Comic Script Draft 1
The following is just a rough script of how I would think this story would begin. Things are still subject to change... but it's a start. These are my OCs I've had bouncing around in my head for the past 5 years now. Writing is faster for me than drawing, but make no mistake, I do plan on a webcomic eventually. I just don't have any experience in making one. So, please be patient with me.
This story has mature themes, viewer discretion is advised.
The Doctor’s Orders – Comic Script Draft 1
Opening scene with panning views of Victorian Britain, 1880s, panning further over Black Country and over into London. Billowing coal smoke, crows flying, caws, dead songbirds, the ground is dirty, dark, and dank. The sun is either early rising or setting. Big Ben bongs loudly, the sounds of carriages and horses, towns people; sick, coughing, and milling about.
Many masked figures in dark clothing can be seen, some in old fashioned cloaks, some in more “modern” three-piece suits, frock coats, etc. But all the masks are alike. Plague Doctors. Some field doctors can be seen treating and speaking with some patients on the road, the streets, outside their homes, even in the gutters. Some are simply walking along the streets of London to go about their day, or their duties. The large and imposing shape of the official academy and association of doctors pans into view. The market is bustling, folk of all kinds are busy, buying food, trading, salesman, and the sick. Rats scurry underfoot and dank alleyways show a glimmer of life hidden in their darkest shadows. The poor are poor, and the rich get richer. Well-to-do men and women of Britain are well dressed and groomed, some wear their own masks, some more luxurious than others.
[Enter the main character of our story]: Dr. B. Jimothy Doktor, age: 20-something, male, 6’7”, chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, fair complexion, broad shoulders, skinny body, lanky, yet intimidating, sporting proper posture and pace. An unusual character, for his somewhat average appearance (the exception being his above average height).
Stepping onto the busy cobblestone streets of Victorian London, year 188X, is a tall slim young man. Very tall. Towering over most people. The crowds part around him automatically, some look startled, some frightened, but most looks are of distain. The young man passes through, carrying his doctor bag, unbothered. His dark frock coat billows gently behind him as his lanky form walks by the street stalls and busy businesses. His dark brown leather plague mask, long and pointed, paired with copper goggles scan the entrances of a few buildings ‘til he reaches his assumed destination. He looks well dressed. Not necessarily sticking out, albeit his height.
Turning into a discreet looking business building, the old painted door jingles with a bell and in the midst of entering, a small common-wealth child bumps into his legs, not looking where they were going, dropping a small toy, some sort of plush animal. Interrupted, the doctor looks down at the child, confused but not bothered. If they could see his calm smile behind the mask, perhaps it would alleviate some of the on-lookers apprehension.
[Jimothy]: “Oh dear”- the doctor bends down, kneeling, to gently pick up the soiled toy from the filthy ground, patting off some dirt. –“Did you drop this...?” Speaking softly to the wide-eyed child.
[Child]: nods, hands clutched together.
[Jimothy]: “Here”- he reaches into a small pack at his side and pulls out a small sprig of lavender, placing it upon the little stuffed animal- “Take this with you. I do apologise; I probably don’t smell too great... this should help with the bad smell.” Speaking politely to the child, voice calm and lowered in volume.
[Child]: takes offered toy back and notices small sprig of lavender. A small smile spreads across the child’s cheeks as their toy is returned. A subtle look of misunderstanding or confusion.
[Child]: “You don’t smell bad, though?”
The doctor raises their eyebrows at this, taken aback slightly by the innocent child’s remark. Perhaps they were mistaken.
Suddenly, the hand of a disgruntled parent snatches the toy away, the small herb being thrown to the ground in the process, drawing the young doctor’s immediate attention. The child looks to their parent, the mother, innocent eyes wide again. But trusting in this sudden turn.
[Child’s mother]: “Harriet! Don’t just take things from strangers!”- Only has her disapproving eyes, defensive, on Jimothy, their other hand pulling the child back away from him. As if he were a danger.
[Jimothy]: “Ah!”- before he can get a word out, the mothers foot treads on the lavender; stepping on it without thinking and not caring to look, ruining it with the mud of the street. His eyes flash with disappointment and frustration, although briefly. Seemingly used to this treatment.
[Child’s mother]: –“Especially from this one...” she hisses in a lower voice, her eyes narrow at him. “Off you pop, then! C’mon!” She ushers her child out the door, it jingles as the parent and child exit swiftly, the child punctuating their exit with a distant, “-But mum!”. Her eyes glaring daggers as they scoot by the doctor and into the busy street outside once again.
Jimothy, sighing, shakes his head to himself, stands back up and steps into the shop. Brushes off his clothes a bit, straightening things out to their proper place. His official Royal Association of Doctor’s badge, brass, glimmers in the light of the gas lamps. His eyes darken behind his copper and brass goggles, the lenses showing his disappointment briefly.
Some eyes are trained on him. Mistrust, whispers, some avoid eye-contact all together. Out of sight out of mind.
Approaching the counter of lined customers, walking past, Jimothy makes his way to a door at the rear of the business, slipping through the door, ducking a little to do so.
Entering a small back room of an apothecary. The light is darker, only the indirect hue through the paned window, candlelight giving a dim glow in a shadowed corner. The doctor reaches a room where there’s a small bed and an ill victim of the plague at rest. Their body is small, a young girl. Long hair, pale, asleep. A parent stands nearby, giving them space, a rag close to their mouth. Their expression that of worry, concern.
[Enter Tobias J. Pearl, Jimothy’s official assigned Custodian] Age: 50-something, 5’6”, sturdy appearance, gruff, greying short brown hair, sideburns that connect to a mustache and an unkept stubbly beard. Rather portly, the build of a shipyard worker. Wears basic trousers and pressed shirt that’s not buttoned all the way up, and a blue vest with a brass pocket watch in the side pocket. His eyes are perpetually tired, grey-green, heavy brows usually in a scowl, but not of anger. A bit of a jaded personality.
He taps his foot as Jimothy enters, looking up finally noticing the doctor’s entrance. His eyes looking up from his pocket watch.
[Tobias]: “Finally! Jimbo, what took you so long? Your legs not long enough to walk any faster?” he chides half-heartedly.
[Jimothy]: “Oh come off it... I got here when I could! You’re always naggin’ me like you’re me mom. I got here, didn’t I?” Jimothy raising his hands and shrugging, his gloved fingers spreading exaggeratedly.
[Tobias]: juts a thumb into the room with the sick young girl, “They been waitin’ for ya’. C’mon. We’re on the clock.”
[Jimothy]: “Yeah, yeah... and grass is green by the way.” Is his snarky reply, walking ahead in a leisurely manner. Turns to the left to enter the room where said plague victim is.
Tobias lets him enter first, eyes lidded and unamused but also unaffected. He’s used to this.
Jimothy enters with Tobias in tow. Tobias closes door behind them.
[Jimothy]: Walking up to the bed, places his doctor bag down gently, to not disturb the girl’s sleep. “How’s she been? Any changes?” He asks the parent, voice softer, as he kneels down to the bed and begins opening his bag for needed supplies and into his frock coat. One of which being his doctor staff. The black lacquered rod topped with the patented and easily recognisable hourglass with wings.
The parent, an obviously worried father, steps forward a little and lowers his handkerchief to speak,
[Worried father]: “Nothing as of late. She’s been lethargic, nights sweats...”-
[Jimothy]: “I asked for changes, not a recap...” Jimothy interrupts, monotone, not even passing a glance to the parent. Going through the motions of initial vital checks.
[Tobias]: -“Jimmy.”, he sternly rebukes. He stands between the parent and the doctor. He turns his head to the worried father, “Sorry ‘bout him- he’s just focusin’ on the important things. It’s how he likes to work. He don’t mean nothin’ by it.” Tobias apologizes for Jimothy once again this week.
[Worried father]: Taken aback, “I should hope so... I don’t pay doctor’s who don’t have proper bedside manner. My child is-!”
[Jimothy]: “-progressing.” Interrupts again, but lighthearted. Drawing the attention of both the father and Tobias. “She’s doing better, but she must rest. There’s still a few pustules on her arms, but they’re much smaller than before.” He stands, replacing the blankets over her freshly rebandaged arms.
[Worried father]: Small gasp, chuckle, “Good news! Oh, bless!” he sighs in relief. The father approaches the doctor.
Tobias eyes them, but stays quiet.
[Jimothy]: Holds up a few containers, a small glass bottle and jar of herbal ointment and elixir. “Give her a teaspoon of this every morning, and follow up on her dressings with this as needed. She’ll need plenty of fluids. If she cares not for the medicine, she can take it with a spoonful of honey. If she’s coughing, pour a few drops of the elixir in some water and have her drink it three to five times a day until it subsides. It should keeps symptoms down. It’s also important to bathe her daily, still. Keeping the things she comes into contact with as clean as possible, we don’t want any cross contamination to you, the rest of your family, or anyone else. Keeping your donnies washed will help with the spread.” As he raddles off the orders, Tobias smirks to himself a little.
[Jimothy]: “Don’t worry. She’ll do fine.” He concludes softly, glancing to the little girl in the bed, resting soundly. The parent takes the medication.
[Worried father]: “Of course...”- he glances to his daughter, then back to the doctor- “Thank you. Truly. You’ve helped us immensely and made far more progress than any other doctor we’ve had in the past.” He looks back to Tobias, “I admit, I was... apprehensive when they assigned you two to our district”- He looks back to the young doctor- “But, I just wanted to say how appreciative we are that you still value the old ways. Not many of those these days. All these new ‘elixirs’ and ‘snake oil’ concoctions are just about money. Not about what works.” Jimothy continues packing his bag away as the father speaks between the pair. “You truly are miracle workers!” The parent expresses their gratitude, smiling and eyes shining genuinely.
Jimothy is quiet, pausing and not looking at anyone.
[Tobias]: “I wouldn’t call it a miracle, but it’s work alright. We’re just happy the little thing is coming along. Right, Jimbo?”
[Jimothy]: “... Yes... of course.” He remains distant and reserved.
[Tobias]: “Ah, welp, we best be off! Got a few more patients to get to. Ready, doctor?” Tobias smiles warmly and waltzes past Jimothy to the door once again. Having taken the small payment from the father and handing it to Jimothy. Who pockets it silently.
[Jimothy]: Packed up, grabs his doctor bag and follows suit. “Yes, take care. We’ll be back again for a follow up in the next couple weeks.” He makes his way out the door. Tobias waves goodbye and they leave the premises.
The sky is brighter, people are out and about, giving them space as the pair walk. Carriages trot by here and there.
[Tobias]: “Poor thing... she’s far too young...” He rubs the back of his neck as they walk down the cobble street.
[Jimothy]: “There ain’t nothin’ to stop it, Tobias. It’ll take their lives eventually. All I can do is alleviate symptoms.”
[Tobias]: “You think that girl’s gonna die?”
[Jimothy]: “She will. Give ‘er a few months at most.”
[Tobias]: Sighs, saddened by the truth. “Yeah... I knew that.” He pockets his hands, walking close behind Jimothy.
They walk in silence. The view panning up above them overlooking the vast newly developing city of London, the rows and rows of chimneys and smoke rising.
[Title Screen/Panel]: The Doctor’s Orders
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