A Scripted Existence

FROM:    ISinclair@foxmovie.com

TO:    CorneliusWelt@gmail.com

CC:

SENT:   9th August 2014, 21:06

SUBJECT:    Where’s my script???

Cornelius!

Three weeks to shooting my man, and crazy as it sounds, I need a finished fucking script! The first two-thirds you sent over are great, the right balance of T, A & G (tits, ass and gore), but it does need to end at some point! I don’t want to be a bitch about it, but you’ve had the money now ante up. Provide or your name will be lower than dog shit in this town!

Yes, I know about all the sleep issues...yadda, yadda, yadda...man up, follow the usual formula for this teen jerk-off/slasher and get it done. It’s not the Godfather, you’re not Hemingway, and this is just another fucking sequel!

GET. IT. DONE.

Ian

FROM:    CorneliusWelt@gmail.com

TO:    MarigoldBrown@goldstaragents.com

CC:

SENT:   10th August 2014, 10:02

SUBJECT:   Devil Slash 5 script

Mari,

Thanks for the writing gig, but that asshole Ian is on my back AGAIN! Not your problem I know, but I’m having trouble finishing this fucking thing!

I’m pushing and pushing, trying to squeeze out the usual High School dialogue, gratuitous sex scenes and gore, but it just doesn’t...feel right. The characters keep slipping through my fingers, like I can’t pin them down to this piece of shit plot. Maybe I just need to get some proper sleep in; I’m just not switching off. It feels like this thing is taking over my fucking life!!!

Screw it. I’m pulling an all-nighter and tying off this gaping wound in my life. I love you Mari, but no more of this generic teen slasher bullshit please! I’ll finish this, shove it up Ian’s extensive ass, then I’m taking a long, leisurely break and work on my novel.

Call me if you have any period pieces or dramas that need a quality scriptwriter, otherwise I’ll be off the reservation!

Love & Hate,

Cornelius

Title:    DEVIL SLASH 5  -  RICTUS BITES BACK!

Screenplay By:    CORNELIUS WELT

(continued)

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SCENE:  The old Cranston house. It sits at the end of an old graveyard, which itself is populated with crumbling tombstones, gothic angels and withered old trees. Walking through the graveyard to get to the house is a right of passage in itself, especially now at night. CHARLIE and DONNA are suitably spooked by the time they reach the ancient edifice. DONNA is clinging to CHARLIE, a wild look in her eyes. She is a cheerleader, and is dressed like one. CHARLIE is a jock, linebacker or something, in the high school team. He is unnerved, but trying to maintain his cool.

CHARLIE:    Babe, I’m just gonna take a quick look, prove the stories are wrong, grab a souvenir and leave. That's all.

DONNA:    (whining) Charlie, I don’t like this.

CHARLIE:    Don’t be such a wuss. Look, I’ll go first.

[CHARLIE walks up the rotting front porch and playfully knocks on the door. He turns round smirking, then pushes the door open. It’s hard work and the hinges protest through rust and mildew. There is a full moon tonight, whose light illuminates just enough of the inside to show rotting carpets and peeling walls in the entrance hallway. There are old wooden stairs just visible at the end of the hall, and two closed doors on both sides]

CHARLIE:    Well would you look at that.

DONNA:    Please Charlie. Lets just get the hell out of here!

CHARLIE:    Yeah right Donna. You go believe the bullshit. Me? I’m going to prove this house isn’t as haunted as they say.

[CHARLIE approaches the closest door. The shot changes to a close up of the handle, his hand reaching out, grasping it firmly, and opening the door. The room inside is dark, like a void]

CHARLIE:    Just because a house is old doesn’t make it haunted babe. I’m going in.

DONNA:    (grasping CHARLIE’s arm) Don’t Charlie! I swear to God I feel there is a malignant and aeons old force abroad in this house that will rend our souls apart! Wait, what did I just say?

--  --

CHARLIE:    Come on Donna ya scaredy cat let’s….actually yeah, what did you just say?

DONNA:    Please Charlie, I’m so frightened…you know, I don’t actually know why I said that before. It doesn’t sound like me at all. Does any of this strike you as odd right now?

[CHARLIE enters the dark room, trying to look confident despite feeling otherwise]

CHARLIE:    See you in a couple of minutes babe. You know what, no, I’m not going in this pitch black room. It’s stupid. Yeah, okay, I admit I’m into sports, but that doesn’t make me suicidally dumb. You’re right, something is a little off here. I haven’t even brought a torch for Christ’s sake!

[CHARLIE is in the pitch black room. Despite his bluster, he is scared, but he can’t leave as he’ll look like a chicken in front of his girls eyes]

CHARLIE:    Why do I want to go in this room? Six of my friends have died over the past couple of days in mysterious, some would say supernatural, circumstances. Why the hell would I go in that room?

[CHARLIE is in the pitch black room! Despite his bluster, he is scared, but he can’t leave as he’ll look like a chicken in front of his girls eyes!]

CHARLIE:    Screw this, I’m not going in. Let’s just go. This is stupid.

[CHARLIE IS IN THE PITCH BLACK ROOM]

CHARLIE:    Shit! Donna...I can’t stop myself...I can feel myself being forced to go in by something!

DONNA:    Quick, take my hand!

CHARLIE:    It’s...it’s like I can’t control my own body! What the hell!?

[CHARLIE IS IN THE PITCH BLACK ROOM!]

DONNA:    Hold on! Just hold on! It’s getting easier, you’re not pulling away as much.

CHARLIE:    Yeah...yeah, you’re right. The compulsion is lessening. It’s like a vague nagging sensation now, like that urge you get to jump when you’re stood next to a cliff edge.

--  --

[DONNA ENTERS THE PITCH BLACK ROOM]

DONNA:    Charlie!!

CHARLIE:    I’ve got you, I’ve got you!

DONNA:    ....okay, okay....I’m okay now. What...what the hell is this?

[DONNA ENTERS THE PITCH BLACK ROOM]

DONNA:    Can you hear that. No, no, it’s more like a sensation than a sound. Like an internal command or something?

CHARLIE:    Yeah, you’re right. It’s not like hearing, it’s like a memory of a voice imprinting on my mind.

[DONNA ENTERS THE PITCH BLACK ROOM!]

CHARLIE:    There it goes again. Now I recognise it, it’s control appears to be weakening. You?

DONNA:    Yeah. There’s something else too. Can you feel it?

[DONNA AND CHARLIE ENTER THE PITCH BLACK ROOM!!]

CHARLIE:    It’s...it’s like the world around us is...is fake, like it’s malleable somehow. It looks real enough, but some part of me knows it’s not. Does that make any sense?

DONNA:    I know. It feels like...like nothings permanent. Like I could just reach out and rearrange anything if I just thought hard enough.

[BOTH DONNA AND CHARLIE ENTER THE FUCKING DARK ROOM!!!]

DONNA:    Okay, THAT is the only thing that feels real, and I’m getting damn tired of it trying to control me. I’m getting an idea.

--  --

CHARLIE:    Way ahead of you. Let me try something. (cough) CHARLIE creates a door next to DONNA which leads to the VOICE.

[DONNA AND CHARLIE ENTER THE FUCKING ROOM PLEASE!!!]

DONNA:    I don’t think so. I think we’ve had just about enough of your shit whoever you are! CHARLIE and DONNA walk through the door leading to the VOICE.

[DONNA AND CHARLIE ENTER TH...WHAT THE FU............

--  --

[CORNELIUS wakes up. He finds himself on the hallway floor of the old Cranston house in front of the darkened room. He is confused.]

CORNELIUS:    What...what the fuck?!! How...what?!

[There is a noise in the darkness ahead of him through the door, like the sound of bones clacking on old wooden floorboards, moving slowly around in the pitch black room.]

CORNELIUS:     No.

[CORNELIUS knows what’s in the room. He’s written enough times about him. About how the skeleton in the US Army uniform touches the skin of teenagers and sucks the life out of them, draining them into husks, their last sight being his skeletal jaw stretching abnormally large to bite their heads in two.]

CORNELIUS:    No...no way. This can’t be happening. I can’t be here! I just write this bullshit!

[CORNELIUS walks into the ominously dark room]

CORNELIUS:    What?! No!

[CORNELIUS WALKS INTO THE DARKENED ROOM WITH HIS CREATION]

CORNELIUS:    (sobbing) No...no...please...I didn’t mean it! I didn’t know!

[Camera shot from the hallway. The sounds of bony feet on hard wood is getting louder. CORNELIUS has entered the room. Last view is of CORNELIUS’s panicked expression as he turns to face the doorway into the hall, tears streaming down his cheeks, breath ragged and eyes wild. He reaches down a shaking hand and closes the door behind him, leaving himself in the dark room with whatever else is in there]

CORNELIUS:    Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shi..........

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