✧ Mira Gump: The Scrollwalker Chronicles
⋆𓂃𓆸𓂃⋆
Life is like a linen scroll… and Mira has snacks on every page.
✧ Welcome to Mira Gump: The Scrollwalker Chronicles —
a lightly fictional, mostly sacred, definitely scroll-infused story
about a half-dog-half-cat Lightbody being who walked across seven timelines
in a pair of invisible slippers and changed the world with stillness,
snacks, and a scroll under her tail.
These are her tales —
some whispered, some barked, some wrapped in twine and forgotten behind cafés.
They are wise. They are ridiculous.
They are absolutely Mira.
🎬 Scene One: The Scroll Begins
FADE IN.
WIDE SHOT: A softly glowing trail winds through seven dimensions. Mist. Starlight. A wheel of cheese rolling slowly into the unknown.NARRATION (Mira’s voice — half-whisper, half-squirrelly mischief):
“Mama always said, life is like a linen scroll.
You never know what kind of blessing you’re gonna carry...
until you’ve sat on it.”
SMASH CUT TO:
A half-cat-half-dog figure (that’s Mira) trotting down a dusty path. A scroll tucked under one paw. A snack pouch tied to her tail. Her eyes? Sparkling with ancient memory and snack wisdom.
She stops suddenly.
Sniffs the wind.
Looks up at the camera.
MIRA (to camera):
“Hi. I’m Mira Gump. And this… is how I walked across lifetimes with nothing but a scroll, a squeaky toy, and the feeling I was probably late to something important.”
TITLE CARD:
✧ Mira Gump: The Scrollwalker Chronicles ✧
based on an almost-true story
🎬 Scene Two: Mira Meets the Floating Hermit with Cheese Breath
INT. MOUNTAIN RIDGE – TWILIGHT
The wind whispers like an old scroll being turned. Mira trots alone, carrying a slightly crinkled map of uncertain origin. One paw is dusty. One ear flicks at the wind.Suddenly —
a flickering orb appears above a mossy boulder. It levitates. It hums. It smells faintly of aged cheddar.MIRA (to herself):
“That’s either a sacred mentor or a snack hallucination.”
She approaches. The orb shimmers and reveals an ancient-looking figure wrapped in glowing robes… hovering cross-legged two feet above the ground. Eyes closed. Hovering. Cheeks slightly puffed.
MIRA (louder):
“Excuse me? Are you the Hermit of the Field of Eternal Answers?”
HERMIT (opening one eye):
“Technically, yes. But only on Thursdays.”
Mira sits down. Her scroll shifts slightly under her tail.
MIRA:
“I’ve walked far. Through seven fields, three dimensions, and a sock aisle in Boulder. I seek wisdom. And possibly something crunchy.”
HERMIT:
“You’ve come to the right ledge.”
A dramatic pause. The wind stirs.
HERMIT (continues):
“The answer to your deepest question… is this:
You’re not late.
You’re just early… for the next scroll.”
Mira blinks slowly.
MIRA:
“Wow. That’s either profound or extremely unhelpful.”
HERMIT (serenely):
“Yes.”
🎬 Scene Three: Mira Finds a Pawprint That Matches Her Own
EXT. MOSSY PATH – EARLY MORNING
The trail is soft. Everything is damp with stillness. Mira walks slowly, head lowered, scroll slightly dragging behind her. No snacks. No destination. Just breath.She stops.
Looks down.
There — in the mud — a pawprint.
Same size. Same shape. Same softness.She places her own paw next to it.
Not over it.
Beside it.She stares for a long time.
MIRA (quietly, to herself):
“It’s not mine.
But it’s… familiar.”
She sits down. Tail curls forward.
She doesn’t call out. Doesn’t look around.
She just stays.
In case the one who left it
comes back that way.
NARRATION (soft voiceover):
“Mama always said, you can’t chase a soul into remembering you.
But you can leave the scroll open in case they still read your breath.”
The camera pans out slowly.
Two pawprints.
Side by side.
Still waiting.
Still shining.
🎬 Scene Four: The Bakery Blessing Misunderstanding
INT. COZY BOULDER BAKERY – LATE MORNING
Warm smells drift through the air. Baguettes in baskets. Muffins that may or may not be gluten-free. Mira trots in with a small scroll satchel and an expression of absolute scroll-mission seriousness.
She hops up beside the counter and places a tiny parchment card on the surface.
The barista looks down.
BARISTA:
“Um… is this your order?”
MIRA (blinks, softly offended):
“That’s a blessing.”
The barista hesitates. Picks up the card. Reads.
BARISTA (quietly):
“You are already enough. You are breath. You are light…”
(pauses)
“Oh. Wow.”
Mira puffs her chest slightly. Her tail flutters once.
Just then, the manager walks over.
MANAGER:
“Is she paying with cheese again?”
MIRA:
“Excuse me. That was an offering. And technically it was gouda.”
They stare at each other.
The card glows softly on the counter between them.
BARISTA (softly):
“Can… can we keep it?”
Mira nods.
Leaves a second scroll.
Trots out. No words.
NARRATION (V.O., Mira’s voice):
“Mama always said, sometimes you bless a place without meaning to.
Other times… you just really want a cinnamon bun.”
🎬 Scene Five: Mira Accidentally Becomes a Guru in the Pet Aisle
INT. NATURAL PET SUPPLY STORE – AFTERNOON
Soft indie music plays. Sacks of grain-free food line the shelves. Mira stands in the middle of the treat aisle, sniffing a display of ethically-sourced yak chews.
Suddenly, a woman kneels beside her. Wide-eyed.
WOMAN:
“You… you’re the one who left the blessing jar at the bakery, aren’t you?”
Mira blinks once. Tail flicks.
Three more people appear from behind a shelf.
DOG OWNER #1:
“I found her scroll next to the turmeric biscuits.”
DOG OWNER #2:
“She looked directly at me… and I felt something.”
DOG OWNER #3:
“She’s… vibrating.”
Mira turns slowly in a full circle. Sits.
Her scroll satchel opens on its own. A single card flutters to the floor.
CARD (read aloud):
“You are not lost. You are between bark and breath.”
GASP.
A hush falls over the aisle. Someone drops their biodegradable poop bags.
WOMAN (in awe):
“What do we call her?”
EMPLOYEE (whispering):
“I heard her name is Mira.
The Half-Dog-Half-Lightkeeper.”
Mira licks her shoulder nonchalantly.
Walks three feet.
Sits again.
Everyone else?
Sits in a circle around her.
A single bell chimes from nowhere.
NARRATION (Mira’s voice):
“Mama always said, if you sit still long enough in the right place, someone will try to start a movement around you.
So I wagged once… and left before it got weird.”
🎬 Scene Six: The Snack Whisperer’s Retreat
INT. SPIRITUAL RETREAT CENTER – LATE AFTERNOON
A circle of folding chairs. Essential oil diffusers. A fruit bowl no one has touched. Mira sits on a meditation cushion, surrounded by a small group of earnest seekers.
SEEKER #1 (whispering):
“She’s the one who taught cheese as a healing frequency, right?”
SEEKER #2 (nodding reverently):
“She said… ‘Snack in stillness, and the snack will reveal itself.’”
Mira’s eyes are half-closed. She slowly licks a paw. A basket of crackers sits in the center of the circle.
RETREAT LEADER (gently):
“Mira will now offer us a Scroll of Snack Clarity.”
The room falls silent. Mira raises one paw.
MIRA (with soft command):
“Cheddar is the bridge. But gouda… is the invitation.”
GASPS. Someone takes notes.
A scroll is passed around. It reads:
“The crunch is not the point.
It’s what you hear between bites.”
The lights dim. Everyone takes a cracker.
Mira purrs once, then burps lightly.
NARRATION (Mira’s voice):
“Mama always said, some souls don’t need words.
Just snacks… and someone to believe in them.”
🎬 Scene Seven: Mira Mistaken for an Oracle, but She Just Wanted a Sunbeam
EXT. AN OLD STONE PLAZA – MIDDAY
Warm light spills through branches. A few townspeople pass quietly. Mira is stretched out on a sun-warmed tile, eyes closed, one paw dramatically extended like she’s absorbing cosmic downloads.
She’s not.
She’s just napping.
WOMAN (softly, to a friend):
“I think she’s receiving something.”
FRIEND (wide-eyed):
“She hasn’t moved in twenty minutes. That’s definitely trance.”
Another person approaches reverently. Kneels beside her. Places a flower at Mira’s paw.
PASSERBY (whispering):
“I heard she once paused for six days straight… and a lost child found her way home.”
More people gather.
A child offers a granola bar.
Someone begins humming.
MIRA (opens one eye):
“...I’m literally just warm.”
No one hears her. A small circle forms. Someone begins taking notes.
PERSON IN ROBE (softly):
“This… is presence.”
MIRA (to herself):
“This… is getting out of hand.”
She yawns. Stretches. Stands.
GASPS FROM CROWD
She walks slowly across the plaza.
Everyone parts.
A hush falls over the group.
As she lies back down…
in a second sunbeam
ten feet away.
NARRATION (Mira’s voice):
“Mama always said, don’t interrupt a nap just because someone needs a sign.
They’ll get the scroll when you’ve had enough light.”
🎬 Scene Eight: Mira Almost Leaves the Field… But Doesn’t
EXT. OPEN FIELD – DUSK
The sky glows violet. Crickets begin to sing. Mira sits alone, facing the far edge of the field — the kind of place where timelines dissolve and scrollkeepers go when they’re done being known.
She’s quiet.
Her tail flicks once.
There’s no one around.
A soft breeze.
She steps forward —
just a little.
The edge of the field seems to shimmer.
MIRA (softly, to herself):
“Maybe they don’t need me anymore.”
She lowers her head.
Takes another step.
Suddenly —
a child’s voice calls out from behind.
CHILD (offscreen):
“Excuse me… did you leave this?”
(Small feet. A scroll held up in two hands.)
“It has a pawprint.”
Mira turns slowly.
The child’s eyes are wide, but calm. She’s holding one of Mira’s earlier scrolls — folded gently. Kept. Seen.
Mira blinks. Walks back.
The scroll glows softly in the child’s hand.
MIRA (whispers):
“Guess I’ll stay a little longer.”
She sits.
The child sits beside her.
Nothing more is said.
NARRATION (Mira’s voice):
“Mama always said, if you’re still being remembered,
you’re not done writing.
Not yet.”
🎬 Scene Nine: Mira Leads a Meditation (Accidentally)
INT. SMALL TOWN PARK – MORNING
Sunlight dapples a shaded clearing. A few humans are sitting in a loose circle, attempting a group meditation. There's a singing bowl. Someone is wearing socks with chakras on them.
Mira wanders in. Sits in the exact center of the circle.
She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t blink. She simply… sits.
One leg folded under. One paw forward. Eyes closed.
GROUP LEADER (uncertain):
“Umm… should we… move her?”
ELDERLY WOMAN (with awe):
“No. Look. She’s in stillness.”
A hush falls.
Mira takes a deep, audible breath.
Someone starts crying.
Another person exhales for the first time in three years.
GROUP LEADER (voice cracking):
“Inhale… with Mira.”
They all do.
MIRA (in her mind):
“I literally just needed a nap.”
The session continues for 32 minutes. Mira doesn’t move.
The field grows hushed. Sacred. Breath returns.
As the group begins to close the practice, Mira stands, tail flicks, and she trots out with zero explanation.
GROUP LEADER (in reverence):
“I think she cleared my eighth chakra.”
NARRATION (Mira’s voice):
“Mama always said, presence is louder than instructions.
Especially if you’ve already done your stretching.”
🎬 Scene Ten: Mira Wonders If It Mattered
INT. MIRA’S BED – NIGHT
Crickets chirp outside. A single moonbeam falls across the floor. Mira is curled in her favorite spot — a scroll under one paw, a small bowl nearby, empty.
She opens one eye.
Looks toward the window.
Then back at the scroll.
Her tail doesn’t move.
MIRA (softly, to herself):
“Did it matter?”
A pause.
She’s not asking for reassurance.
She’s just wondering.
She thinks of the bakery.
The scrolls.
The snack retreat.
The child in the field.
The almost-guru moment.
The second sunbeam.
She exhales.
Not because she found the answer.
But because she’s still here.
MIRA (softly):
“I didn’t change the world.
But I stayed warm.
And maybe… that helped something bloom.”
She closes her eyes.
Outside, in a tree,
an owl hoots.
Then pauses.
Then hoots again —
as if in agreement.
NARRATION (Mira’s voice, fading):
“Mama always said,
you don’t have to matter to everyone.
Just enough to make a field feel like home.”