Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

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  • Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

    Here's the list of entries for this year's fun V'Day contest:

    Blackfoot
    The text :-)
    Be Mine
    The Letter
    Them Good Old Days
    It's A Date
    Second Entry
    Dark Valentine
    Shuriken of Love
    Girl Next Door

    You know how it works, you read the entries (making a note or two while you do this might help) and pick your 1st, 2nd and 3rd top choices.

    Please PM or email me your picks in the format:

    1st - title
    2nd - title
    3rd - title

    Let's aim for voting by next Sunday night, that's the 28th. (Though if all entrants send their votes before then, I'll maybe add up the votes and post the results earlier.)

    You don't need to be in the contest to vote, all DDP members are welcome to participate.

    The suggested theme was "Dark Valentine's" but this wasn't obligatory or anything, just saying don't expect to find something dark in every entry.

    While PDFs give an easy lowest common denominator, Things Can Go Wrong as the pdf-to-text software extracts the text for posting, I've edited obvious blips but if you spot any errors then let me know and I'll correct ASAP. Readers, if you find wonky format errors then assume admin is to blame, not the writer.

    If you don't like the code boxes then try selecting Thread Tools then Show Printable Version.

    For posterity's sake, the discussion thread is here and the results thread is here.
    Last edited by dpaterso; 02-29-2016, 01:42 AM.

  • #2
    Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

    Code:
    [b]Blackfoot[/b]
    
    EXT. POTATO FARMS - DAY
    
    A sea of green extends to the horizon interrupted only by a
    harvesting machine that pulls up potatoes. A container truck
    RUMBLES into view dropping loose tubers. We follow it onto
    the highway past a SIGN:
    
    Welcome to Blackfoot, Idaho "Potato Capital of the World"
    
    
    INT. OFFICE - DAY
    
    A ceiling fan SQUEAKS and sucks up smoke tendrils. The wispy
    trail leads us to a cigarette held by MICKEY STRIKE (40s),
    more slick than suave in his cheap suit behind a desk.
    
    Behind Mickey a wall calendar with the slogan "Famous
    Potatoes" over a baked potato photo tells us it's 1974.
    
                        MICKEY
              Christ. Bob Tate. The Bob Tate.
              Here in Blackfoot. In my office.
              What's it been? Fifteen years?
    
    Across the desk is BOB TATE(40s) in a frumpy brown suit.
    
                        BOB
              Twenty five since graduation.
              Six since you uh... stole my wife.
    
    Momentarily thrown, Mickey's still the alpha dog here.
    
                        MICKEY
              Yeah. That. She never said she was
              married... to you. If it helps, she
              dropped me like a hot potato.
    
                         BOB
              I heard.
    
                        MICKEY
              Way I see it, I did you a favor.
              She was a tram-- we gotta let it
              go. We had some fun. Senior year?
              Prank on ol' Ms. Dinkle? Yeah?
    
                        BOB
              Always the funny guy.
    
                        MICKEY
              Man. I was good.
    
                        BOB
              Well you always made sure you were
              the center of--
    
                        MICKEY
              Anyway, you're the last person I
              expected to see here. What's up?
    
                        BOB
              I think my girlfriend is seeing
              someone... someone else.
    
    Mickey stares hard at Bob and sighs.
    
                        MICKEY
              What's so important now bout this
              dame? Ask me? Maybe it's a sign.
    
    He takes a drag on his smoke before he gets on his soapbox.
    
                        MICKEY (CONT'D)
              Intuition. Maybe we should pay
              attention to that one. You know?
              You think she's cattin' round,
              maybe a sign she ain't worth it.
    
    Bob scrunches up his doughy face and cries. And then sobs.
    
                        MICKEY (CONT'D)
              Ah Christ, Bob. I didn't mean
              nothin' by it. Forget about it.
    
    Mickey pulls scotch and tumblers from the desk. He pours a
    couple fingers for Bob and one for himself. Bob wipes his
    face with his handkerchief.
    
                        BOB
              I love her.
    
    Mickey hides his disappointment and holds his glass up.
    
                        MICKEY
              Well, then here's to love.
    
    He CLINKS his glass against Bob's untouched glass on the
    desk, throws it back and winces.
    
                        MICKEY (CONT'D)
              Here's the thing. I don't normally
              take this type a case because...
              how do I put this delicately--
    
                        BOB
              I need to know if she's with him.
    
                        MICKEY
              Who?
    
                        BOB
              The Potato King.
    
    Mickey grabs Bob's untouched glass and gulps it sloppily.
    
                         MICKEY
              Blackfoot's a small town. These
              dames start cluckin' bout me spyin.
              Next thing, I'm excluded from the
              henhouse. Catch my drift?
                  (beat)
              And the Potato King? Powerful guy
              round these parts. He'll slice me
              into fries he gets wind of this.
    
                        BOB
              Please. I need your help.
    
    Mickey, resigned, sighs and stamps out his cigarette.
    
                        MICKEY
              Yeah. Yeah. Only because we go
              back. And I owe you.
    
    Mickey grabs his notebook and pen and gets down to business.
    
                        MICKEY (CONT'D)
              Alright, lover boy. Lemme hear bout
              this femme fatale.
    
    Bob sits up grateful and energized.
    
                        BOB
              Oh she's... the most beautiful
              thing I've ever laid my eyes on.
    
                        MICKEY
              Okay, stop. Here's the thing, I'm
              gonna need specifics. Photos?
    
                        BOB
              No. I can describe her.
    
                        MICKEY
              Shoot.
    
                        BOB
              She's got the most flawless tan
              skin. Not a single blemish or scar.
              Cutest dimples.
    
                        MICKEY
                  (writing)
              Mm hmm.
    
                        BOB
                  (slower now)
              The most voluptuous curves... round
              and round they go.
    
    Mickey loosens his tie. Sweat beads appear on his forehead.
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              Eyes... oh, they could melt butter.
    
    The fan moves in slow motion, the SQUEAK louder and closer.
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              She likes to dress up for me. This
              slinky SILVER number with a slit
              all the way up to...
    
    Mickey stares at Bob. The sentence hangs thick in the air.
    
                        MICKEY
                  (parched)
              Up to?
    
                        BOB
              Lets just say she knows how to
              accentuate those curves.
    
    Mickey gulps and his chair CREAKS as he adjusts in his seat.
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              Her skin is deliciously salty...
    
    Mickey licks his lips and Bob jumps up and yells.
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              AND SHE'S HOT!!! SIZZLING HOT! SHE
              WILL BURN YOU!
    
    Mickey jumps out of his skin. Rudely brought back to reality.
    The fan spins normal speed again and the SQUEAK is faint.
    
                        MICKEY
              Christ! Scared the livin' daylights
              out of me. What's the deal?
    
    Bob, suddenly confident, reaches to shake Mickey's hand.
    
                        BOB
              Thanks, I just need to know I ain't
              being played. You're a real pal.
    
    Bob waddles to the door and opens it. In black letters on the
    marbled window of the DOOR: Private Idaho Investigations
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              I'll be by next week to see if you
              dug up any dirt on her.
    
                        MICKEY
              Wait. Does she have a name?
    
                        BOB
              Murphy. Just Murphy.
    
    The door SLAMS.
    
    
    EXT. POTATO FARMS - DAY
    
    Mickey hunches behind his camera at the edge of a field. He
    has potato plants camouflaging his head and torso.
    
                        MICKEY
              Well, well... What do we have here?
    
    A bullet SLAMS into the soil just next to Mickey.
    
                        MICKEY (CONT'D)
              Crap!
    
    He dives behind the berm as another shot hits nearby. He
    turns to see the POTATO KING(60s), in the flesh, strolling
    toward him in a fancy cowboy hat and the finest western wear.
    
    He points a rifle at Mickey and has toothpick lodged in the
    corner of his mouth that bounces when he speaks.
    
                        POTATO KING
              This here's private property. I
              don't take kindly to poachers.
    
    Mickey stands, dusts himself off and picks up his camera.
    
                        MICKEY
              Poachers? That's a bit extreme.
              It's a stinkin' potato farm.
    
                        POTATO KING
              The only stench is you on my
              property. What'r you up to, boy?
    
                        MICKEY
              I'm writing an article on potato--
    
    BAM! BAM! The dirt dances up near Mickey's feet.
    
                        MICKEY (CONT'D)
              Whoa! Whoa! Okay, I'm looking for
              Murphy. You know the name?
    
    The Potato King lowers his rifle.
    
                        POTATO KING
              Son, tryin' to be funny? Well, I'm
              not in a laughin' mood. Thousands
              of Murphy's out yonder. Now drop
              the camera and be on yer way for I
              make tater tots outta you.
    
    Mickey confused, drops his camera and sprints away.
    
    MONTAGE: Mickey spies on the Potato King (Note- the end of
    each montage scene turns into an actual still photograph.)
    
    1. Mickey follows a Cadillac with plates: "SPUD KING".
    Something that shimmers is tossed out across the road.
    
    2. Mickey stands outside his car with four flat tires.
    
    3. The Potato King strolls through downtown Blackfoot. Mickey
    dressed as a woman, secretly snaps photos across the street.
    
    4. The Potato King points Mickey in drag out to the group of
    women with him. Cover blown they laugh hysterically.
    
    5. In a steak house, Mickey snaps photos of the Potato King
    as he dives into an enormous baked potato wrapped in tinfoil.
    
    Lifting up from last STILL PHOTO we are in:
    
    
    INT. OFFICE - DAY
    
    Mickey slaps the photos down on his desk in front of Bob.
    
                        MICKEY
              Nothin. And more nothin.
    
    He impatiently slaps a few more photos down.
    
                        MICKEY (CONT'D)
              Nothin. Nothin. Guy's straight up
              crazy. Tried to kill me. Ruined my
              tires, stole my camera. What made
              you think he was seeing Murphy?
    
                        BOB
              She's there with him all right.
    
    Bob's face is on the verge of tears. Mickey's confused.
    
                        MICKEY
              What the hell are you talking
              about? He's alone in every photo.
    
                        BOB
              Not only is he with Murphy, he
              killed her. And you let him. A
              killer Mickey! He's a killer!
    
    Bob stabs his finger on the photo in front of Mickey.
    
    INSERT PHOTO: A foil wrapped potato in front of the Potato
    King as he shoves a sour cream topped bite in his mouth.
    
    Mickey is frozen, mouth agape.
    
                        MICKEY
              NO! Seriously?
    
    Bob's sob transforms into a maniacal LAUGH. Mickey has a
    sickening realization. The player got played.
    
                        BOB
              You haven't changed a bit. I wish
              you could've seen yourself.
    
    Bob wipes away the tears rolling down his ruddy cheeks.
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              You were drowning in you're drool,
              ready to pounce if you found her.
    
    Bob taps the "Famous Potato" calendar on the wall.
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              Meet Murphy! Get it? Murphy!!!
    
    More laughter. Mickey, still at his desk, does not move.
    
                        BOB (CONT'D)
              Good thing you got such a sense of
              humor, right pal?
    
                        MICKEY
              Yeah.
    
                        BOB
              Forget it Mickey, it's Blackfoot.
    
    Bob slaps Mickey on the back and exits the office.
    
    Behind the marbled glass we notice Bob's SHADOW bears a
    striking resemblance to a LARGE POTATO.

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

      Code:
      [b]The text :-)[/b]
      
      FADE IN.
      
      EXT. POOL AREA - NIGHT
      
      Two friends, JAVY (mid 20's) and BRETT (40's) sit at a table
      drinking some brews in the backyard of a house.
      
      A third friend, Xavier (mid twenty's), sits dry with his
      feet in the water. He wears goggles and arm floaters.
      
                            XAVIER
                      (to friends)
                 You guys think I'll catch pneumonia
                 like this?
      
      Oh yeah, he also has a winter coat on, under his floaters.
      
                           JAVY
                      (sarcastically)
                 Pretty sure you got all your bases
                 covered buddy.
      
                           BRETT
                      (sotto, to Javy)
                 Kid is nuts. Cut the cord already.
      
                           JAVY
                      (to Xavier)
                 Your phone is vibrating dude.
      
      Javy picks it up and reads it.
      
                            JAVY (CONT'D)
                 Nim--  Nimisha?
      
                           XAVIER
                 Nimmy? Really? Haven't heard from
                 her since we broke up.
      
      Xavier gets his feet out of the pool and dries his hands
      with a towel. He squirts PURELL disinfectant on his hands.
      
                           XAVIER (CONT'D)
                      (grabs the phone)
                 Let me see.
      
      His eyes beads from left to right as he reads, then,
      paleness comes upon him.
      
      Xavier frantically texts back.
      
                              JAVY
                  Well...  What she say?
      
                            XAVIER
                       (panting)
                  She said "I gotta tell you
                  something important dot dot dot".
      
                              JAVY
                  Oh.
      
      Xavier texts again.
      
      ON PHONE:    "WHAT IS IT?"
                   "You there????"
                   "??"
      
                   "?????"
      
                            XAVIER
                  She's not replying man.
      
                            BRETT
                  Sh!t-just-got-real.
      
                            XAVIER
                  What you mean "Sh!t just got
                  real?".
      
                            BRETT
                  I've gotten that text before...
      
                            XAVIER
                       (panting)
                  And-- and what?
      
      Brett exhales sharply.
      
                            JAVY
                  When's the last time you two spoke?
      
                            XAVIER
                  When we broke up, like a year
                  ago. Right after stupid
                  Valentine's Day. I can't breathe.
      
      Javy places his hand on Xavier's head, it is drenched.
      
                            JAVY
                  Dude you're all sweaty.  Sit down.
      
                              BRETT
                  Oh man...  Them's the signs bro.
      
      XAVIER SITS DOWN.
      
                            XAVIER
                  What signs?
      
      Xavier texts frantically again.
      
      ON PHONE:   "What's going on?"
                  "Please answer."
      
                            BRETT
                  DA' MONSTER.
      
      Xavier continues to text.
      
      ON PHONE:   "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"
                  "???????"
      
                  "????????????"
      
                            XAVIER
                  Brett is right.
      
                              JAVY
                  WHAT?
      
      Brett TRIES not to laugh.
      
                            XAVIER
                       (nervously)
                  He's right. What if she just found
                  out she has AIDS or some other
                  S-T-D or-- Sh!t!
      
      Brett looks at a disappointed Javy and finally EXPLODES with
      laughter.
      
      
      EXT. PHILADELPHIA STREETS - DAY (FANTASY)
      
      Dressed as TOM HANKS in the movie PHILADELPHIA, Xavier walks
      the streets to the song "Streets of Philadelphia".
      
      As he walks all the stores lock their doors, close their
      gates at the sight of a pale and sickly Xavier.
      
      He walks in an ever lonelier block, the only person in fact
      walking in the streets at all, scarf blowing in the wind.
      REVEAL: He is the ONLY person in Philadelphia. He looks up
      to the sky with a (now) long beard and screams.
      
                             XAVIER
                   WILSON!
      
      BACK TO REALITY:
      
      
      EXT. POOL AREA - NIGHT
      
                             XAVIER
                   I'm f***ing dying aren't I?
      
                             JAVY
                   Dude that's really what you think
                   about AIDS? It's two
                   thousand-sixteen! How about...
      
      
      INT. ARENA - LAKERS V. KNICKS BASKETBALL GAME (FANTASY)
      
      Xavier wears the number "32" Jersey for the Lakers,
      "JOHNSON " on the back. He shoots the three pointer.
      
      EEEEEEHHH!  The BUZZER sounds!  Ball goes in!  Lakers win!
      
      The crowd RUSHES to the floor as "Eye of the tiger " plays in
      the back. They lift Xavier into the air and hand him the
      trophy. He is their champion.
      
      By the entrance to the locker-room from afar Xavier catches
      the eyes of his coach. CHARLIE SHEEN.
      
      Charlie gives Xavier a "Thumbs up".  Xavier smiles, a tear
      rolls down his left cheek.
      
                             XAVIER
                        (sotto)
                   For you coach...   For you.
      
      Charlie, emotional, gives a nod and retires to the shadows.
      
      BACK TO REALITY:
      
      
      EXT. POOL AREA - NIGHT
      
      Xavier grabs car keys from atop the table.
      
                             XAVIER
                   Come on we gotta go.
      
                             JAVY
                   Where?
      
      They follow him to the car.
      
                          XAVIER
                To Nimisha's house.
      
                          JAVY
                Dude, just call her!
      
                          XAVIER
                I did, three times while you were
                telling that STUPID story. She
                ain't pick up!
      
      
      INT/EXT. CAR - NIGHT (DRIVING)
      
                          BRETT
                What if she got pregnant a year ago
                and didn't tell you because you'd
                freak out and now she wants you to
                meet your grown SON?
      
      
      EXT. NIMISHA'S HOUSE/INT. XAVIER'S CAR - DAY (FANTASY)
      
      Xavier is inside his parked car, it is packed with boxes.
      NIMISHA, (mid 20's) waves from her porch.
      
                          NIMISHA
                Thanks for taking Brutus! Your
                turn now! He is ALL yours!
      
      Xavier sweats, scared to death inside the car.
      REVEAL BRUTUS, a 30 plus year old man with bulging
      muscles. His face has a constant mean demeanor to it.
      
                          BRUTUS
                     (in a deep voice)
                Nice to meet you, Dad.
      
      Brutus does a line of coke, pulls out a GUN and COCKS IT.
      
                          BRUTUS (CONT'D)
                Now drive, Nigga.
      
      BACK TO REALITY:
      
      
      INT/EXT. CAR - NIGHT (DRIVING)
      
                            XAVIER
                F***!  F***! F***!
      
                          JAVY
                What? That's retarded... If she
                had your kid, that could be the
                BEST Thing that's happened to you!
      
      
      EXT.   BEACH - DAY (FANTASY)
      
      Xavier waits by the altar in an extravagant beach
      wedding. Everyone wears white. It's luxurious.
      
      The ring bearer is a LITTLE GIRL, HIS little girl, who
      spreads flowers as she hands the ring to her Father.
      
                           LITTLE GIRL
                 You're my hero Dad.
      
      Next to him, the beautiful Nimisha cries tears of joy, her
      stomach might pop any minute, she's expecting again.
      
                           NIMISHA
                 Thanks for giving me a second
                 wedding after with my help you
                 developed the greatest invention
                 ever and became a billionaire.
      
      XAVIER'S MOM and DAD (60's) look on in happiness.
      
                           MOM
                 We love you son!
      
                           DAD
                 You are my greatest
                 creation. Hashtag PROUD.
      
      Javy and Brett YELL-OUT in unison:
                           "WE ENVY YOU!"
      
      
      BACK TO REALITY:
      
      
      EXT. NIMISHA'S HOUSE - NIGHT
      
      Xavier storms out of the car and the guys follow.
      
                           XAVIER
                 You guys are nuts!
      
      He knocks on the door.  Out comes a VERY surprised Nimisha.
      
                           NIMISHA
                 Oh, um, X... Uh, what's going on?
      
                           BRETT
                      (sotto, to Javy)
                 This gon' be good.
      
                        XAVIER
              Whats going on? WHAT'S GOING
              ON!? What's going on is your
              stupid AIDS ridden man-child
              threatened me with a gun!
      
                         NIMISHA
              Uh---  O-kay?
      
                         BRETT
                   (murmurs to self)
              Nailed it.
      
                        JAVY
              Not cool dude.    Not cool.
      
                        XAVIER
              You hid your pregnancy from me!
      
                         NIMISHA
              WOAH!  I'm certainty NOT pregnant.
      
                        XAVIER
              Then how come I have AIDS?  WE USED
              PROTECTION!
      
                         NIMISHA
              What?  You've got AIDS?
      
                        XAVIER
              Yeah because YOU got AIDS!
      
                        BRETT
                   (to self)
              Three, two...
      
      SLAP!
      
                        NIMISHA
              I DON'T got AIDS, I am NOT
              pregnant, and just WHAT THE F***,
              is the F*** wrong with you?
      
                        XAVIER
                   (rubbing his face)
              Weh--Wait... Then why did you text
              me today?
      
                        NIMISHA
                   (angry)
              To wish you a happy valentines day
              because I missed you and it
              reminded me of how HORRIBLE I feel
              about not being with you! But
              OBVIOUSLY you are a PSYCHO STILL!
      
                           XAVIER
                 Wait...
                      (then)
                 You just... You mean that?
      
                             NIMISHA
                 YES!  I MEAN THAT.
      
      XAVIER FLASHES BACK TO:
      
      1.   WALKING ALONE IN THE STREETS OF PHILADELPHIA.
      2.   PLAYING FOR THE LAKERS.
      3.   GETTING THREATENED BY HIS GROWN SON IN THE CAR.
      4.   THE BLISSFULNESS OF THEIR WEDDING.
      
      BACK TO REALITY:
      
      
      EXT. HOME FRONT PORCH - DAY
      
      An old Xavier and Nimisha sit swinging in adjacent rocking
      chairs holding hands. They look happy.
      
      A futuristic sleek cellphone vibrates on a table near by.
      
      SUPERIMPOSED:   "EIGHTEEN OR SO YEARS LATER"
      
                           XAVIER
                      (towards phone)
                 Project!
      
      The phone hovers, then PROJECTS a 3-D text message in thin
      air, it reads:
      
                "MUSHKIN: Hey Dad, I got something
                to tell you, please promise you
                wont be mad..."
      
      Xavier begins panting, sweat pours from his forehead.
      We END on a closeup of his WIDENING eyes.
      
                                                             FADE OUT.
                             THE END

      Comment


      • #4
        Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

        Code:
        [b]Be Mine[/b]
        
        INT. CLASSROOM - DAY
        
        A school bell rings.
        
        Pizza faced SCOTT, 16, sits entranced at his desk.
        
        The object of his desire, ASHLEY, 16, head
        cheerleader. Every teenage boy's wet dream.
        
        The last student in line out the door, she looks back at
        Scott. Whispers to the girl in front of her. They giggle.
        
        The friend exits.  Ashley turns to Scott.
        
                            ASHLEY
                  You have something.
        
        She points at the side of her head.
        
        Scott snaps out of it. He fumbles through his red
        afro. Retrieves a spit ball. Stares at it. Slowly raises
        his head, embarrassed.
        
                               SCOTT
                  Thanks.
        
        Ashley is gone.
        
        
        INT. SCHOOL HALL - DAY
        
        Scott closes his locker.  He looks up at the clock on the
        wall- 3:10.
        
        Alone in the hall, Scott looks over at Ashley's locker.  Her
        name in glitter, it's decorated in school spirit.
        
        A candy wrapper lay on the floor beneath it. Scott walks to
        it. Looks both ways. Shoves it in his pocket.
        
        Scott drops his head. Meanders to the exit.
        
        
        EXT. STRIP MALL - DAY
        
        Scott walks along the sidewalk. Passes each small
        shop. Valentine's Day sale signs in every window.
        
        Scott stops in front of a newly opened shop.  The "Final
        Day" sign catches his eye.
        
        Scott enters the
                                                                       SHOP
        
        Dimly lit.  Red everywhere. An old voice greets him.
        
                                OLD MAN (O.S.)
                     Welcome!
        
        Startles Scott.
        
                                SCOTT
                     Hello?
        
        The OLD MAN emerges from the shadows.
        
                               OLD MAN
                     Looking for something special?
        
        Scott glances around, timidly.
        
                               OLD MAN
                     For a special someone?
        
        Scott, embarrassed, turns to leave.
        
                                OLD MAN
                     Wait.
        
        Scott stops.
        
                               OLD MAN
                     I can help. I've been helping
                     teenagers for years.
        
        Scott slowly turns around.  The Old Man taps his chin.
        
                               OLD MAN
                     Let me guess. A girl?
        
        Scott looks at the Old Man then looks down.
        
                               OLD MAN
                     Yes, of course it's a girl.
        
        The Old Man smiles, draws near.
        
                               OLD MAN
                     Girlfriend?
        
        Scott shacks his head no.
        
                               OLD MAN
                     Want her to be?
        
        Scott, uneasy.
        
                            SCOTT
                  Just for one night.
        
        The Old Man cackles.
        
                            SCOTT
                  I think I should go.
        
        The Old Man gently touches Scott's shoulder.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  I guarantee my gifts will bring you
                  the attention and results you
                  deserve.
        
        Scott stares at the Old man.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  Any idea what she likes?
        
        Scott thinks a moment.  Perks up.  Pulls the wrapper from
        his pocket.
        
                             OLD MAN
                  Ah yes.  Chocolate, every woman's
                  friend.
        
        Scott smiles.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  I have exactly what you need.
        
        The Old Man produces a chocolate bar.  The wrapper glitters,
        mesmerizing.
        
                               SCOTT
                  How much?
        
                            OLD MAN
                  What do you have?
        
                            SCOTT
                  Five dollars.
        
        The Old Man shakes his head.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  Not enough. Perhaps you should get
                  her a card instead.
        
        He tucks the candy away.  Scott, like an addict, grabs the
        Old Man's arm.
        
                            SCOTT
                  Wait! I can come back tomorrow and
                  pay.
        
        The Old Man pulls away.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  Sorry, last day in business.
        
        Scott is frantic.
        
                            SCOTT
                  What can I do?
        
        The Old Man slowly turns around, smiling. In his hand is a
        document.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  You could sign this promissory
                  note.
        
        Scott tries to read it.  So many words, so small print, such
        dim light.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  Just sign it and pay me later.
        
        The Old man walks over to the counter.  Scott follows.  The
        Old Man produces an old fashioned pen.
        
                            SCOTT
                  Okay.
        
        Scott reaches for the pen. The Old Man grabs Scott's
        wrist. Pokes Scott's finger with the pen.
        
                            SCOTT
                  Hey!
        
        The Old Man smears Scott's finger across the page.
        
                            SCOTT
                  What the Hell?
        
                            OLD MAN
                  Sorry, It's out of ink.
        
        The Old Man lets go. Rolls up the paper.  Tucks it in his
        shirt. Hands Scott the candy.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  Make sure you both take a bite.
        
        Scott sucks his bleeding finger.
        
                            OLD MAN
                  After she has some, she'll agree to
                  anything you say.
        
        Scott snatches the bar, heads for the door.
        
                            OLD MAN (O.S.)
                  And be in your room by midnight,
                  alone.
        
        Scott stops, turns around.
        
                               SCOTT
                  Why?
        
        The Old Man is gone.  Scott exits the store.
        
        
        EXT. STRIP MALL - DAY
        
        Scott thinks for a moment. Reaches for the shop door. A
        loud click of the door lock. A hand flips the sign from
        open to closed.
        
        
        INT. SCHOOL HALL - DAY
        
        Valentine decorations galore.
        
        Scott approaches Ashley at her locker.
        
        Startled, she looks around the empty hall.
        
                            ASHLEY
                  What do you want.
        
        Scott holds out the glitzy candy bar.  Ashley can't stop
        staring at it.
        
                            ASHLEY
                  It's beautiful.
        
                            SCOTT
                  It's the best in the world.
        
        He unwraps it.  Breaks off a piece. Eats it.
        
                               SCOTT
                  Try some.
        
        She takes the bar. Nibbles on it.  Smiles.
        
                            ASHLEY
                  It's so good.
        
        Scott, excited now.
        
                            SCOTT
                  Maybe you can come over later to
                  study. Mom's out of town.
        
        Ashley nods her head.  Looks at Scott seductively.
        
                            SCOTT
                  How about nine?
        
        Ashley, barely able to talk, nods.
        
                            ASHLEY
                  I have a thing. How about a little
                  later?
        
        Scott nods his head.  Turns and leaves.
        
        
        INT. SCOTT'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
        
        Scott scurries around the room. Candles burning, rose
        petals everywhere, cheesy romantic music plays in the
        background.
        
        He slightly moves a teddy bear.  Adjusts a camera hidden
        beside it.
        
        Scott stashes a roll of duct tape and butcher knife under
        his pillow.
        
        Scott lays back on the bed. Reads a "Forced Sex" magazine.
        He nods off.
        
        The candles burn to nubs. Scott wakes up. He looks at the
        clock. 9pm has quickly turned to 11:59.
        
                            SCOTT
                  I should have known it was all
                  bullshit.
        
                               ASHLEY (O.S.)
                  Scott?
        
        Scott perks up.
        
                               SCOTT
                  Upstairs!
        
        He looks at the clock - 12.
        
        He suddenly breaks out in a sweat. His body shakes
        violently. His eyesight blurs. The bed grows larger.  The
        room enormous.
        
        Ashley enters the room.  She looks around.  She walks to the
        bed.
                             ASHLEY
                  Scott?   Where are you?
        
        Something on the bed moves toward her.  She looks
        down. Sees a big spider.
        
        She picks up the magazine. Screams.  Smashes it.
        
        She staggers around.  Then, as if waking from a dream, looks
        around.
        
                            ASHLEY
                  What the Hell?
        
        She bolts from the room.
        
                               END

        Comment


        • #5
          Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

          Code:
          [b]The Letter[/b]
          
          EXT. TOP OF THE HILL - DAY
          
          A tiny hut rests lonely at the top of a remote hill covered
          in snow. The day is gray, thick clouds are forming, it's
          going to snow again. There's no trees on the hill.
          
          The only access to the hut is a narrow dirt path that has
          not been cleared in a long time. Not many people come to
          this place.
          
          A MASSIVE BODY covered in fur walks through the path to the
          hut slowly, with some difficulties. Heavy steps muffle in
          the snow. A set of KEYS jingle. There's a BUCKET and a BAG
          hanging from the heavy arms.
          
          As we get closer to the hut, we see through the frosted
          window that there's someone in the hut, doing something on
          the wall. There is also a FLOWERPOT with a weak daisy trying
          to find some light.
          
          
          INT. HUT - DAY
          
          It's really cold and dark in here. The only light comes from
          the single window. There's no electricity, no heating. Walls
          are dark and stained with dampness.
          
          We hear someone writing with CHALK.
          
          The decoration consists of a single tiny mattress on the
          floor near the window, covered with a stained bed sheet,
          perfectly arranged. There's also a bucket nearby. And the
          flower. Was that a rat running down the floor?
          
          One half of the wall closest to the mattress is covered in
          white, tiny, dense hand writing. Every line has a date and
          some text. It's a chalk diary. The last line starts with
          "February 14th".
          
          The writer is SAMMY, 15, a skinny tall girl. Her intense
          blue eyes contrast with her emaciated and dirty face. A
          tooth is missing and there are bruises all over her. Her
          fingers hold a piece of lime she uses as chalk. Her
          fingernails are cracked and dirty.
          
          With every stroke a puff of breath comes out from her mouth
          and nose. She's clearly not properly dressed for this cold.
          She's shivering.
          
          Sammy tries to write a bit further but something is holding
          her.
          
                               SAMMY
                    Sh!t...
          
          HER FOOT is constrained by a thick chain. Her skin around
          the ankle has peeled off where the chain is, showing some
          blood. The chain is bolted to the wall with a big lock.
          
          She tries to stretch a bit further when she sees a huge
          shadow covering her window. She freezes. The shadow passes
          the window and now blocks the light under the door. The keys
          jingle. Someone is trying to open the door.
          
          Sammy quickly puts the piece of lime under the mattress,
          licks her fingers and stands near the mattress like a
          soldier.
          
          The door opens, snow flying inside.
          
          A HUGE WOMAN enters inside. Around two meters tall, nearly
          as wide. She's wearing a heavy fur coat. Outside in the
          forest, you may confuse her with a big bear. But no, she's a
          Woman. Or close enough. She puts the key on her pocket.
          
          She leaves a bucket on the floor and takes the old one
          outside. She drops the bag on the mattress.
          
          Sammy rushes to the bag and opens it. She takes a baked
          potato from inside and warms her hands with it. Then she
          starts eating it in small bites. The Woman stares at her, as
          examining a pet. No expression in her eyes.
          
                              SAMMY
                    May you close the door, please?
                    It's freezing in here.
          
          The Woman does not react. She looks at the little daisy on
          the pot. Her mind lost somewhere else.
          
                               SAMMY
                    Bad day?
          
          Nothing. Sammy shrugs, this seems to be the norm. Her potato
          is more important now. She looks at her wall and the last
          line she wrote.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Today it's Valentine's Day.
          
          Now the Woman reacts. She frowns.
          
                              SAMMY
                         (as she chews her potato)
                    Do you have anyone special?
          
          Without warning, the Woman SLAPS Sammy hard on the face, so
          hard that makes her fly in the air and fall hard on the
          floor. The chain pulls painfully at her ankle.
          
          Sammy groans and checks herself for anything broken. Another
          tooth is moving a little. She looks for her potatoes. They
          rolled out to the other side of the hut, out of her reach.
          
          She sighs, knowing that complaining or crying is useless
          here. She looks at the Woman, who is panting heavily. Let's
          appease the beast.
          
                              SAMMY
                    I'm sorry if I offended you. I
                    truly deserved it.
          
          Sammy examines the Woman with her smart eyes. Something
          happened today.
          
                              SAMMY
                         (treading lightly)
                    I hate... Valentine's Day.
          
          The Woman nods slightly. She hates them too. Sammy notices.
          The Woman is very emotional. Unusual. Sammy tries.
          
                              SAMMY
                    He doesn't love you?
          
          The door bangs the wall, pushed by the wind. The Woman
          stares at the daisy. To Sammy's surprise, the Woman starts
          crying softly. Now we got something. Sammy thinks fast.
          After a very long beat.
          
                              SAMMY
                    I can help you.
          
          The Woman looks at her, annoyed. What the hell are you
          talking about?
          
                              SAMMY
                    I mean it. I can make him love you.
          
          The Woman grits her teeth in anger. She walks to Sammy and
          rises her hand, ready to slap her again. Sammy covers her
          face.
          
                                SAMMY
                    A letter!
          
          The Woman stops inches from her.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Today it's Valentine's Day. I can
                    write him a letter that will make
                    him fall in love with you.
          
          The Woman looks at her for a long time. How can that be
          possible? Sammy points at her written wall.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Look at the wall. You know I can do
                    this. I know you like what I write.
                    This is why you-- you made me your
                    guest, right?
          
          The Woman looks at the wall, full of Sammy's calligraphy. A
          letter. Maybe.
          
                              SAMMY
                    You have nothing to lose.
          
          The Woman considers for a moment. Then she looks at Sammy.
          She nods once, with energy.
          
                              SAMMY
                    But there are two conditions.
          
          The Woman grunts. What is it?
          
                              SAMMY
                    It must be a hand written letter.
                    Something typed won't work.
          
          The Woman thinks for a moment. It makes sense. Ok.
          
                              SAMMY
                    And then you will free me.
          
          The Woman sniffs and gets defensive again. Instinctively,
          she puts her hand in her pocket, where the key is. Sammy
          notices this.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Only if he falls in love with you.
          
          The Woman thinks about this. She taps the key in his pocket.
          She then goes out the door and slams it shut. She locks the
          door and steps away in the snow.
          
          On Sammy, as a thin thread of hope appears in the horizon.
          
          
          INT. HUT - HOURS LATER
          
          A MONTAGE of images as hours pass by.
          
          Sammy trying to reach one of the potatoes on the floor,
          without success.
          
          Sammy writing on the wall.
          
          Sammy getting another piece of lime from a section of the
          wall.
          
          Sammy trying to hunt the rat or whatever that is.
          
          Sammy licking the lime, out of hunger.
          
          Sammy writing more on the wall.
          
          Sammy losing hope with every passing hour.
          
          
          EXT. TOP OF THE HILL - DAY
          
          The sun is going down. The hut is lighted by an orange
          sunset.
          
          INT. HUT - EVENING
          
          Sammy is resting on the mattress, playing with her flower.
          
          Suddenly, the shadow appears on the window again. Sammy
          jumps up as she hears the door being unlocked. The Woman
          comes inside, carrying a stack of PAPERS. She drops them
          near the mattress. She also drops a couple of ENVELOPES and
          a PENCIL.
          
          Sammy looks at the open door. Then kneels down and checks
          all the material. She nods at the Woman. The Woman is
          expectant and nervous and doesn't know what to do. She just
          stands near the door. Will this work for real?
          
          Sammy is nervous too. Sammy grabs the pencil and gets ready
          to write.
          
                              SAMMY
                    You'll have to help me a little.
                    What's his name?
          
          The Woman tries to explain with gestures but doesn't know
          how to say. She gets frustrated.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Don't worry, we don't need it.
          
          Sammy writes "My dear love".
          
                              SAMMY
                    How does he look like?
          
          The Woman puts her hands over her head (tall) and then side
          to side (big like her). She flexes her arms (strong). She
          touches her chin and the sides of her face (has a beard).
          
          Sammy keeps writing.
          
          The Woman points at one of her eyes, closes it and moves her
          finger side to side (no eye).
          
                              SAMMY
                    Ok, maybe we can skip that. How do
                    you feel when you are near him?
          
          The Woman pauses. She waves his hands around and touches her
          heart. She feels so much but is unable to express it. Sammy
          feels her pain and puts down the pencil. The Woman doesn't
          know what to do except start crying again in frustration.
          
          Sammy gets as close to her as the chain allows her and
          touches her hand. The Woman looks at her with eyes full of
          tears.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Do you feel nervous when he's near?
          
          The Woman looks at her for a while. Then nods.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Do you feel happy when he arrives
                    and sad when he leaves? Like
                    something is missing inside you?
          
          Nods.
          
                               SAMMY
                    Do you feel he's the only thing you
                    need, more than eating or sleeping?
                    Do you feel joy and pain at the
                    same time?
          
          Nods. Nods. The Woman looks at Sammy in awe as she writes
          everything down.
          
          Sammy thinks for a moment. She looks at her daisy, her only
          connection to the outside world.
          
                              SAMMY
                    Do you feel trapped in this world?
                    Only free when he looks at you?
          
          The Woman feels like her mind is being read. How does she
          know all this? She looks at the chain around Sammy's ankle.
          She nods slowly. That's exactly how she feels. And now maybe
          she sees other things.
          
          Sammy keeps writing for a while. After some long minutes,
          she puts the pencil aside and quickly reads the letter to
          herself. She seems satisfied.
          
                              SAMMY
                    I think it's done. Oh, a last
                    touch!
          
          She takes the pencil and uses the sharp tip to puncture her
          thumb. A thick drop of crimson blood appears on it. She
          smears the bottom of the letter with it. The Woman does not
          understand. Sammy keeps working on it until she makes the
          shape of a red heart with her own blood. Now it's finished.
          
          The Woman is impressed and touched.
          
                              SAMMY
                    You have to read it and sign at the
                    bottom. Can you do that?
          
          The Woman nods. There's gratefulness in her eyes. Nobody did
          something for her like that before. Sammy offers the letter
          but before the Woman takes it...
          
                              SAMMY
                    And then you'll set me free.
          
          The Woman looks at her. Then at the letter and her own
          extended hand nearly touching it. She clears her throat.
          
                              WOMAN
                         (nearly inaudible)
                    Y... Yes.
          
          Sammy hands her the letter. The Woman takes it as the most
          precious thing in the world.
          
          The Woman turns around and starts reading the letter. She's
          a slow reader but as she proceeds, overwhelming emotions
          flow to her. It's probably the most beautiful letter she's
          ever read. She cannot help start crying. It's going to work,
          he's going to fall in love with her.
          
          She touches the key inside her pocket. A decision being made
          in her mind.
          
          With eyes full of tears she offers her hand to Sammy and
          turns it into a writing position. The pencil, please. But
          the pencil does not appear in her hand. She turns around.
          
          And then Sammy SCREAMS and stabs the Woman in the eye with
          the pencil. The Woman HOWLS in pain and tries to get rid of
          Sammy. But she doesn't let go and deepens the pencil even
          more, with a nasty BREAKING BONE sound.
          
          The Woman's limbs go limp. Sammy quickly finds the key in
          her pocket and tries to free herself but the massive Woman's
          body starts falling over her like a meteorite approaching
          Earth. The flowerpot smashes to pieces. As Sammy tries to
          escape, the chain tenses around her leg and something breaks
          inside.
          
          The huge Woman, still holding the letter in her hand, falls
          dead on top of tiny Sammy, hiding her body completely as if
          she never existed.
          
          Under the Woman, Sammy struggles to breath. She rises her
          body a little, as she holds the key on her hand. She can see
          the door open in front of her, just a few feet away.
          
          Then her world turns into darkness.
          
                              THE END

          Comment


          • #6
            Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

            Code:
            [b]Them Good Old Days[/b]
            
            FADE IN:
            
            EXT. HOUSE -- DAY
            
            A dilapidated house; alone on a hilltop; junk scattered
            about its perimeter. JEMIMA -- six years old, ragged, and
            tired -- heaves a bucket of coal to the doorstep.
            
            
            EXT. FIELD
            
            Mist descends. HOLROYD -- mid thirties, ragged and red
            eyed -- swigging the last few drops from a whiskey bottle,
            trudges over frozen sod towards the lone house. He carries a
            heart shaped chocolate box and a posey of flowers.
            He throws the bottle to the ground.
            
            
            EXT. HOUSE
            
            Holroyd tugs the bell rope. A little unsteady on his feet,
            he steps back and waits; a hint of nervousness on his
            breath. He pulls a letter from his pocket:
            
                                  Dear Holroyd,
                                  I want you back.
                                  Yours,
                                  Patricia
            
            Holroyd pockets the letter and pulls out a fresh bottle of
            whiskey. Knocking back a swig, he rings the bell again.
            PATRICIA -- mid thirties, ragged and mean-faced -- opens the
            door...
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         Oh. F*** off.
            
            She slams it shut without a moment's thought.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         Patricia! I'm a changed man! It'll be
                         just like them good old days!
            
            There is a moment's despair in his eyes. He re-reads the
            letter; mouthing out the words as he does so.
            
            
            INT. HOUSE, HALLWAY
            
            Jemima peeps through the spy-hole.
            
            
            EXT. HOUSE
            
            Holroyd is a teary mess. He knocks back another swig.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         I won't give up on you!
            
            Stepping back, he places the flowers and chocolates on the
            ground, then rolls up his sleeves and readies himself to run
            at the door...
            
            
            INT. HOUSE, HALLWAY
            
            Jemima unlocks the door.
            
            
            EXT. HOUSE
            
            In a burst of shear athleticism, Holroyd charges...
            
            
            INT. HOUSE, HALLWAY
            
            Holroyd crashes into the hallway; his fifteen stone of heft
            launching Jemima into the wall.
            
            Holroyd looks up to see Patricia peering over him. We hear
            the raspy voice of FATHER:
            
                                       FATHER (OS)
                         Is he here?
            
            Patricia lets a gob of spit fall on Holroyd's face.
            
                                     FATHER (OS) (cont'd)
                         Come in! I hope you're staying for
                         tea.
            
            Holroyd reaches into his pocket, but Patricia trudges off in
            a scowl before he has a chance to show her the letter.
            
            
            INT. HOUSE, KITCHEN
            
            The room is thick with steam. Pots and pans hang from the
            ceiling. Every nook and corner is cluttered with junk.
            
            FATHER -- bent backed, wispy haired -- sits at the table. He
            reaches his hand towards Holroyd's.
            
                                     FATHER
                         The prodigal son returns! How are
                         you? Keeping well?
            
            Patricia slings plates onto the table.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         He eats, then he goes!
            
            Jemima carries the chocolate box to the table.
            
                                     FATHER
                         Take a seat.
            
            Father gestures Holroyd towards a chair on which Jemima is
            about to sit.
            
            Father lays a hefty smack across Jemima's face. She backs
            away.
            
            Holroyd sits down. Father snatches the letter from his hand.
            
                                     FATHER (cont'd)
                         That's my pen-work. Only way I could
                         get you here. I hope you don't mind,
                         hey?
            
            Father takes a chocolate. Jemima reaches towards the box but
            Patricia -- snatching the box away -- slaps her hand from
            it.
            
            Holroyd, beaded with sweat, removes his greatcoat. He mops
            his brow. Knocks back more whiskey.
            
            We hear a loud shriek. It sounds like a parrot in distress,
            and comes from elsewhere within the house.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         Shut! Up!
            
            Father leans in to Holroyd.
            
                                     FATHER
                         Remember that revolver I had?
            
            He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fist of
            banknotes: thousands of pound's worth.
            
                                     FATHER (cont'd)
                         For you. If you do it.
            
            Holroyd is taken aback. Another glug of whiskey. Father
            holds the clutch of banknotes against Holroyd's clammy hand.
            
                                     FATHER (cont'd)
                         Go on. Touch the money.
            
            A maniacal grin forms across Father's face. More whiskey.
            Holroyd's head is becoming heavy.
            
                                     FATHER (cont'd)
                         Go on. Touch it.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                               (to Holroyd)
                         What's those hands of yours doing?
            
            Holroyd throws his arms up as if under arrest.
            
            Father turns to Holroyd. He taps his nose. Another shriek.
            Father shapes his hand into a gun and points it towards the
            door.
            
                                     FATHER
                               (whisper)
                         A favour... Before you f*** off
                         again.
            
            He mimes pulling the trigger.
            
            Holroyd doesn't seem to be concentrating. He looks very
            pale.
            
            Patricia doles out large lumps of stew onto the plates.
            Jemima -- bruised forehead, red ear -- screws her face up at
            the grey mass of offal on her plate.
            
            Holroyd swigs more whiskey. As he does so, he begins to
            cough. Then, all of a sudden, he lurches back.
            
            He reaches out for the hem of his jumper, pulls it out in
            front of him, them vomits into it. An ad-hoc bowl of sick.
            Father laughs.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         Jesus Christ! Have you been drinking?
            
            Holroyd -- his jumper heavy with vomit -- eases himself up
            from his chair, and waddles towards the sink. He tries to
            pour the vomit into the bowl but most of it ends on the
            floor.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         I'll get a towel.
            
                                     JEMIMA
                         Is he my Dad?
            
            Holroyd has removed his jumper; revealing a naked torso
            covered in scabs and scars.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         Put something on, will you!
            
                                     FATHER
                         Have one of my shirts.
            
            Father points towards the door.
            
            Another shriek. Father makes the gun gesture once more. He
            mouths the words:
            
                                       FATHER (cont'd)
                         Go on.
            
            Holroyd hesitates.
            
                                     FATHER (cont'd)
                         The money...
            
                                       PATRICIA
                         What money?
            
                                     FATHER
                         Do. It. Keep the shirt.
            
            
            INT. HOUSE: UP THE STAIRS AND ALONG THE LANDING
            
            Holroyd climbs the stairs. With each step, the shrieks
            become louder.
            
            He rounds the top of the stairs and pauses outside one of
            the bedroom doors. He nudges the door open. The shrieks
            subside.
            
            
            INT. HOUSE, BEDROOM
            
            Holroyd creeps across the room to the tallboy. A fresh white
            shirt hangs on its door. He puts the shirt on; tidying
            himself up in the mirror that hangs above the mantelpiece.
            
            On the mantelpiece, there is a box. Holroyd opens it. There
            is a revolver inside. The barrel is full.
            
            A shriek. Holroyd glimpses MOTHER's reflection in the
            mirror.
            
            Bent backed and ghostly faced, she sits upright in the bed.
            Holroyd studies her reflection before -- hand quivering --
            taking the pistol.
            
                                     MOTHER
                         Is that for me?
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         It's for some money, you see.
            
                                     MOTHER
                         I thought it would end like this.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         Do you mind?
            
            Holroyd steps up to mother. She smiles. He smiles. He cocks
            the pistol. Then raises the barrel to her forehead. She
            closes her eyes.
            
            Bang! The doors slams open -- Patricia standing there with
            whiskey bottle in hand. Holroyd shoves the revolver into his
            pocket. Mother let's out an ear splitting shriek.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         Get your wandering hands away from my
                         mother!
            
            Holroyd is nonplussed. The pistol pushes against the crotch
            of his trousers. This has not gone unnoticed by Patricia,
            who is aroused in an instant.
            
            She knocks back the whiskey then presses herself against
            him.
            
                                     PATRICIA (cont'd)
                         Don't hurry off just yet.
            
            Holroyd tries to back away.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         I better go.
            
            She backs him onto the bed.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         This is all just a service. Okay?
            
            Holroyd is pinned down.
            
                                     JEMIMA (OS)
                         When is he going?
            
            Patricia straddles Holroyd, pushing herself against the gun.
            Jemima stands unnoticed at the door. She holds a small
            suitcase.
            
                                     JEMIMA
                         When is he going?
            
            Patricia is in mid passion.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         Not now Jemima!
            
            Patricia reaches for Holroyd's belt but he's slaps her hand
            away. She persists. He slaps her hand away again. A look of
            disgust shoots across her face. She backs away. Mother
            shrieks.
            
                                     JEMIMA
                         I'm going to live with my father.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         Oh. I'm not your father.
            
            Patricia leaps up from the bed and grabs Jemima by the ear;
            pulling her downstairs.
            
            Holroyd is left alone. He looks at Mother. He looks at the
            window. He rushes out of the room.
            
            
            INT. HOUSE, KITCHEN
            
            Holroyd reaches for his coat.
            
                                     FATHER
                         For f***'s sake! You didn't do it,
                         did you?
            
            Patricia points to the bulge in Holroyd's crotch.
            
                                     PATRICIA
                         The dirty f***. At Mother's bed he
                         was!
            
            Jemima grabs hold of Holroyd.
            
                                     JEMIMA
                         I'm coming to live with you.
            
            Patricia swings her fist into Holroyd's crotch.
            
            BANG!
            
            Jemima ducks for cover. Patricia's eyes are wide with shock.
            Holroyd's jaw drops. He looks down at the smoke coming from
            the crotch of his trousers. He grabs the gun from his
            pocket -- it's hot; he drops it to the floor.
            
            There is silence. Then a scream. Patricia's face is riddled
            with terror.
            
            Holroyd turns around just in time to see Father -- bullet
            hole in forehead -- collapse onto the table.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         I'd better go.
            
            At that he turns on his heel; bundling himself from the
            house.
            
            
            EXT. FIELD -- DAY
            
            Holroyd stumbles down the field. Jemima follows after him;
            suitcase, chocolates and posey in hand.
            
                                     JEMIMA
                         Are you my father?
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         No. (beat) How old are you?
            
                                     JEMIMA
                         Six.
            
                                     HOLROYD
                         Oh. I might be.
            
            She offers him a chocolate. His eyes dart about; his mind
            searching for something.
            
            Holroyd remembers! He snatches the flowers and chocolates
            from Jemima then dashes back up the hill.
            
                                     HOLROYD (cont'd)
                         Patricia!
            
                                                        CUT TO BLACK
            Last edited by dpaterso; 02-22-2016, 04:54 AM.

            Comment


            • #7
              Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

              Code:
              [b]It's A Date[/b]
              
              FADE IN:
              
              EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
              
              A running woman comes into a view -- a bizarre vision in
              a "superhero" type outfit -- a combination of spandex and
              armor with spikes. This suits her moniker: IRON MAIDEN.
              
              She skids to a stop and looks around, seeking a way out.
              It's hard to see when you're wearing a round helmet that
              covers the upper half of your face.
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL (O.S.)
                         There's no escape, Iron Maiden.
              
              Iron Maiden looks up -- he's hanging off a fire escape --
              another costumed maniac in spandex and... feathers. His
              winged helmet covers his head completely. Big eye lenses
              give him the appearance of an owl. This is in fact KNIGHT
              OWL, crime fighter.
              
              He flaps his arms and his cloak billows out, becoming wings.
              
              With a smooth camera cut his boots touch down on the ground.
              
              Iron Maiden crouches in a fighting pose, she's ready to
              rumble, her big spiked gauntlets vs. his feathers.
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                         I don't want to fight you, Iron
                         Maiden.  I already traded blows
                         with your gang.
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                        That was you?!
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        They're tied up in the bank, waiting
                        for the forces of law to apprehend
                        them. But I'm not interested in those
                        deviants. I'm interested in you.
              
              Iron Maiden doesn't stop looking around, trying to figure
              how she can get away from this clucker.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You figure on collecting the reward
                        money, huh?
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        No.
              
              Knight Owl slowly reaches up, grasps hold of his owl-lens
              helmet and lifts it off, revealing the face beneath.
              
              Iron Maiden gasps.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You've revealed your true identity
                        to me!
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Yes.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        I can track you down and identify
                        your family and friends, and either
                        murder them or hold them to ransom.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Yes, I--
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Thus rendering you helpless as I
                        launch a crime wave that will engulf
                        this city in flames and despair.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Is that really what you want to do
                        with your life?
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        The hell kind of question is that?
                        I'm a crime queen! I rule this
                        town! Every super villain and crook
                        acknowledges my leadership!
                        Anyone who crosses the Iron
                        Maiden ends up on a spike.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        It's the decisions we make that
                        define who we are.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        I like it when you say "hooooo",
                        it reminds me how ridiculous you
                        look in that costume.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I didn't say "hooooo", I said "who".
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You just said "hooooo" twice.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I didn't say "hooooo" twice.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Look, are we going to beat the
                        crap out of each other, or what?
                        The night isn't getting any younger.
              
              She looks up at the sky.
              
              Dark clouds move across the face of the moon, blotting it
              out.
              
              Iron Maiden smiles knowingly.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Is it true what they say about
                        you? That you derive your super
                        strength from the light of the
                        moon?
              
              Knight Owl looks up -- a moment of panic -- clouds!  His
              nemesis.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        It's actually a combination of
                        moonlight and a steroid elixir of
                        my own concoction. One still works
                        without the other. But I say again,
                        I don't want to fight you, Iron
                        Maiden.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Gee, that's too bad.
              
              She attacks him, swinging punches. Those big spiked
              gauntlets are crazy dangerous. Knight Owl ducks and leans
              back and sways and avoids every punch expertly.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Stand still so I can knock your
                        head off!
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        You're just getting yourself all
                        worked up.
              
              Iron Maiden screams in rage and throws herself bodily at
              him.
              
              Knight Owl's eyes open wide, fuuuuuu--!
              
              He staggers back until a brick wall stops him. The spikes
              in her costume have penetrated him. Blood drips down onto
              the ground. She's glued to him, face to face.
              
              Iron Maiden's spiked gauntlets are stuck in the wall on
              either side of his head. She struggles to pull them out --
              but they're embedded.
              
              She stares at him -- he stares back at her.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I'm getting the impression this
                        didn't go exactly as planned?
              
              She struggles harder -- he groans in pain.
              
              Iron Maiden looks down.  Realizes she's spiked him.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You're bleeding.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I bleed every night. I fight crime.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Yeah that's very heroic. And I
                        make crime. I make more crime
                        than you can possibly fight.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Bully for you. I'll never stop
                        trying.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Any idea how we can get out of
                        this? You got any gadgets on you?
              
                                      KNIGHT OWL
                        I have two.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Well don't just stand there
                        bleeding, use them.
              
              Knight Owl reaches up, takes hold of Iron Maiden's helmet,
              and lifts it off her head.
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                        Hey!  The hell are you doing?
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I just wanted to see what the rest
                        of you looked like.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Well now you know. Are you happy?
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I'm not unhappy.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You're saying I'm not the good-
                        looking dame you thought I was.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Who even says "dame" any more?
                        When were you born, the 1920s?
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Don't deflect. You don't think
                        I'm pretty.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        You're not what I expected.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Just what did you expect? Some
                        knockout bombshell? The fantasy
                        woman of your dreams? Sorry to
                        disappoint you.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I thought you'd be ugly and twisted
                        by what you do. That your
                        expression would be a permanent
                        sneer. That maybe someone had
                        damaged you, resulting in your
                        turning to the dark side.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        The dark side?
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        It's a thing. Evil lurks there.
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                        Evil lurks in my pants. You know
                        I'm going to have to kill you now,
                        to stop you giving my description
                        to the cops?
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        That would make you a murderess.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Nuh-uh, I'd be the badass who took
                        down the Knight Owl. People would
                        fear me. There's a whole bunch of
                        guys in the slammer who'd be happy
                        to know you were out of circulation.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        You expect gratitude from these
                        malcontents and deviants?
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        I was hoping to inspire fear, but
                        gratitude would be nice, too.
              
              Knight Owl's eyes close, his head dips.  Iron Maiden
              realizes he could be on his way out.
              
                                   IRON MAIDEN
                        Hey! Wake up! Don't you dare die
                        on me!
              
              Her gauntlets are still stuck fast, she can't do anything...
              except nuzzle her face against his to push his head up.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        I said wake up! Knight Owl! Hey!
                        Police calling Knight Owl! There's
                        a crime in progress! We need your
                        help!
              
              He blinks and wakes up.  Iron Maiden shows relief -- then
              tries to hide it.
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                        What?
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You were babbling nonsense.  It
                        disturbed me.
              
              Two CLOWNS with guns come waddling into the alleyway.
              
                                     SAD CLOWN
                        Boss!  You okay, boss?
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                        Do I look as if I'm okay?!
              
                                    HAPPY CLOWN
                        The cops are all over, we gotta
                        get back to the hide-out!
              
              The clowns stop and examine Iron Maiden and Knight Owl.
              
                                    SAD CLOWN
                        You want us to come back later?
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Hit my gauntlet release switch,
                        I'm stuck here.
              
              The clowns glance at each other.  Interesting.
              
                                     HAPPY CLOWN
                        Knight Owl, huh?  Tough guy!
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                            (to Iron Maiden)
                        Why clowns?
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Why not clowns? Seventy-five
                        percent of people are afraid of
                        them.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        I think that's an overexaggeration.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        I think you don't know what you're
                        talking about!
              
              She looks at the clowns.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        I said hit the release switch.
              
              Happy Clown scratches his jaw thoughtfully with his gun
              barrel.
              
                                    HAPPY CLOWN
                        Yeah, yeah, in a second.  You look
                        very happy together.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You are out of your mind.
              
              It's like a switch is thrown, Happy Clown becomes psycho.
              
                                    HAPPY CLOWN
                        You're saying I'm crazy?!
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        No, I didn't say that, I said get
                        me out of here.
              
                                    SAD CLOWN
                        Just because we spent some time in
                        the asylum doesn't mean you can
                        look down on us.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        I'd never do that. I got you out
                        of there because I knew you were
                        good boys at heart.
              
                                    HAPPY CLOWN
                        Yeah, we are.
              
              Happy Clown puts his gun to Knight Owl's head.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Wait, what are you doing?
              
                                    HAPPY CLOWN
                        This guy put my brother in the
                        slammer. Time for payback.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Put the gun down. I don't want--
              
                                    HAPPY CLOWN
                        Shaddup!  I'm giving the orders now!
              
                                    SAD CLOWN
                        Yeah, Happy's giving the orders
                        now.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        You sons of--
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Say hi to your brother for me.
              
              Knight Owl throws Iron Maiden's helmet at Happy Clown,
              DUNG! He goes down. Sad Clown gapes in surprise, making
              a big show of it, like a clown would. Then he brings his
              gun up.
              
              Iron Maiden kicks him in the nuts. As Sad Clown doubles
              over, she knees him in the face. Sad Clown collapses. Or
              more like he deflates, clown style.
              
              Knight Owl and Iron Maiden have a moment.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Thanks.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Yeah, well, this doesn't mean I'm
                        giving up crime or anything.
              
              Knight Owl finds the release switches and frees Iron
              Maiden's hands from her embedded gauntlets. She's
              surprised. But she's still stuck to him, with spikes.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        Do it.
              
              Iron Maiden slowly pulls away. SLURPING NOISES. Knight
              Owl grimaces in pain. POP. She's free. She stares at his
              bloody wounds.
              
                                    IRON MAIDEN
                        Oh God.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        My utility fanny pack.  Healing
                        pads.
              
              Iron Maiden reaches behind him to access his fanny pack.
              She pulls out pads and applies them to the wounds. They
              stick. She looks to him for an explanation.
              
                                    KNIGHT OWL
                        A healing unguent of my own
                        concoction.
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                         You're quite the scientist.
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                         I dabble.
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                         If you don't mind, I'll run along
                         and leave you to it. You gonna be
                         okay?
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                         I'll be fine.
              
              Iron Maiden picks up her helmet. She almost puts it on --
              then shrugs, why bother? She turns to go--
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                         See ya. Wouldn't want to be ya.
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                         Luigi's restaurant. Tomorrow night.
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                         You're as crazy as they are!
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                         I'll book a table for seven.  Wear
                         something red.  I think you'll
                         suit it.
              
                                     IRON MAIDEN
                         You got high hopes, mister.
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                         Always.
              
              Iron Maiden hesitates, thinking.  Then she runs off into
              the night.
              
              The clouds clear the moon, leaving it full and bright again.
              
              Knight Owl smiles.
              
                                     KNIGHT OWL
                         Still got it.
              
              FADE OUT

              Comment


              • #8
                Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

                Code:
                [b]Second Entry[/b]
                
                FADE IN.
                
                INT. DONE DEAL PRO FORUMS > PRIVATE MESSAGES
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           So you got that extra entry for the
                           valentines day contest?
                
                                     ME
                           Nah, I can't find a good topic to
                           write about.
                                (then)
                           My first entry was good though,
                           kinda just wanna write more.
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           Well then write.
                
                                     ME
                           I kind'a wanted to write about
                           writing. But it'll be kind'a corny
                           to write about writing. Isn't that
                           Kauffman's deal?
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           Nothing is new.
                
                                     ME
                           You know, I've always wondered how
                           you say your name.
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           What do you mean? It's pronounced
                           "dpaterso".
                
                                     ME
                           Right.
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           Right.
                
                                     ME
                
                           But, I mean is it D and then last
                           name Paterso? Like, seems like
                           Paterso, should be paterSON.
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           it's dpaterso. Just like I'm
                           saying it... Say it with me...
                           dpaterso.
                
                                       ME
                           DPATERSO.
                
                                      DPATERSO
                           No, no.  dpaterso.
                
                                     ME
                           dpaterso? Oh.
                                (then)
                           Okay, that makes sense.
                                (then)
                           You know, some of these
                           names-- You ever wonder how they
                           came about? "14001", "Crayon",
                           "The Road Warrior ", "EWTAYLOR"
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           It's "ewtaylor ".
                
                                     ME
                           That's what I said, EWTAYLOR.
                
                                    DPATERSO
                           No, no. You are pronouncing it
                           wrong. It's ewtaylor.
                
                                     ME
                           This gag is getting old.
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           I thought you were on to
                           something... But sure, move on.
                
                
                INT. DONE DEAL PRO FORUMS > ABOUT THE CRAFT > SCREENWRITING
                
                THREAD:   Character BIOs: useful or waste of time?
                
                                     ME
                           This looks interesting.
                
                                     DPATERSO
                           Why am I still in your script?  I'm
                           not even on that thread.
                
                Me turns to his side and directs his attention to the thread
                starter, GOLDMUND.
                
                                     ME
                           This looks interesting.
                
                                     GOLDMUND
                           Yeah, wrote this script and the
                           director loves it, but says he
                           doesn't "feel" the characters.
                           Wants bios on each one of them.
                
                                    ME
                          What a douche.
                
                                       GOLDMUND
                          I know!
                
                                    ME
                          Isn't that stepping on the actors
                          toes a bit?
                
                                    DPATERSO
                          Did you really just post that?
                
                                       ME
                          I did.
                
                                       DPATERSO
                          Meh.
                
                                    ME
                          Thought you weren't on this thread!
                
                
                INT. DONE DEAL PRO FORUMS > PRIVATE MESSAGES
                
                                    CHICKENSCRATCH
                          So, got anything yet?
                
                                    ME
                          Eh, wrote something.
                
                                    CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Send it over.
                
                                       ME
                          Sent.
                
                Me, refreshes the page thirty odd times until "NEW MESSAGE"
                appears on his inbox.
                
                                       CHICKENSCRATCH
                          This is...  Horrible.
                
                                    ME
                               (sarcastically)
                          Why don't you tell me how you
                          really feel?
                
                                   CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Well, for one, it's unfilmable,
                          two, this doesn't work outside of
                          this message board. Three, is that
                          really how how say dpaterso?
                
                                   ME
                          RIGHT!?  That's what I said!
                
                                   CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Crazy.
                
                                   ME
                          I know!
                
                                   CHICKENSCRATCH
                          So, either way, no antagonist, no
                          real point to it all, it's just a
                          bunch of--
                
                                   ME
                          Chicken scratch?
                
                                   CHICKENSCRATCH
                          That's lazy.
                
                                   ME
                          Eh, a little clever no?
                
                                   CHICKENSCRATCH
                          I'll let it slide. Listen, this is
                          page four, means you have four more
                          pages to make this work. You can
                          turn this all around.
                
                                   ME
                          Yeah but, it's already three and
                          deadline is midnight and--
                
                                   CHICKENSCRATCH
                          There!
                
                                   ME
                          There what?
                
                                   CHICKENSCRATCH
                          There is your antagonist, time!
                
                                   ME
                          Oh this is getting ridiculous.
                
                                    CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Seriously! The goal is to make
                          this eight pages, antagonist is
                          time, boom!
                
                                    ME
                          Eh, seems presumptuous.  It's like
                          trying to be something.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                          It IS something. Everything is
                          something.
                
                                    ME
                          Okay, I'll try.  Thanks man.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Ma'am.
                
                                      ME
                          Huh?
                
                                    CHICKENSCRATCH
                          I'm a female... So it's Ma'am.
                
                                    ME
                               (surprised)
                          No sh!t.
                
                
                INT. CELTX - NIGHT
                
                                    ME
                          I'm a loser, dpaterso is the
                          man, I suck.
                          I'm a loser, dpaterso is the
                          man, I suck.
                          I'm a loser, dpaterso is the
                          man, I suck.
                          I'm a loser, dpaterso is the
                          man, I suck.
                
                
                INT. DONE DEAL PRO FORUMS > PRIVATE MESSAGES
                
                                      ME
                          Yo!
                
                                      CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Sup dude.
                
                                      ME
                          Someone hacked into my account and
                          typed all this crazy sh!t.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                          What they type?
                
                                      ME
                          "I'm a loser, dpaterso is the
                          man, I suck."
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Oh sh!t! He got you too? He
                          totally erased my whole eight pages
                          and just did that.
                
                                     ME
                          That's not cool.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                          I know!
                               (then)
                          You know, you should make dpaterso
                          your antagonist, along with time.
                
                                     ME
                          There is really no urgency here
                          though, only I'm feeling the time
                          issue.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                          Welp, it's eleven thirteen.
                
                The clock rapidly switches to eleven fourteen.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH (CONT'D)
                          You got forty six minutes to finish
                          this story.
                
                                     ME
                          Right, and if I don't get it done
                          then what happens? NOTHING! No
                          drama.
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                          If you don't get it in by midnight
                          promise to smash your computer
                          screen.
                
                                     ME
                          I just got this computer.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                           It's now eleven thirty.
                
                                      ME
                           Okay.
                
                                     CHICKENSCRATCH
                           Thirty one.
                                      ME
                           Fine.   I promise.
                
                
                INT. PORNHUB - NIGHT
                
                ON SEARCH BAR:
                
                          "Midget big black penis"
                
                Five videos of midgets come out.
                
                Me looks at the clock and it says eleven forty-six.
                
                                       ME
                                  (sotto, to self)
                             Don't. Don't. All I need is one
                             more page, I can knock it out
                             quick.
                
                Me "x's" out PORNHUB.
                
                Eleven fifty.
                
                                        ME
                             F***.
                
                
                INT. CELTX - NIGHT
                
                ON SCREEN:
                             "INT. DONE DEAL PRO FORUMS >
                             PRIVATE MESSAGES
                
                                       DPATERSO
                             So you got that extra entry for the
                             valentines day contest?
                
                                       ME
                             Nah, I can't find a good topic to
                             write about."
                
                Back to reality.
                
                
                INT. LIVING-ROOM - NIGHT
                
                                    ME
                               (sotto, to self)
                          This is going to be so bad.
                
                
                INT. DONE DEAL PRO FORUMS > PRIVATE MESSAGES
                
                                       THE ROAD WARRIOR
                          Yo!
                
                                       ME
                          I did it.
                
                                       THE ROAD WARRIOR
                          Aaannnddd?
                
                                    ME
                          I guess, I still can't believe
                          that's how you say dpaterso.
                
                                    THE ROAD WARRIOR
                          That's how you say that?
                
                                       ME
                          I know!
                
                                       THE ROAD WARRIOR
                          Well did you hand it in already?
                
                                       ME
                          Well, yeah, but it went over eight
                          pages.
                
                                       THE ROAD WARRIOR
                          By a lot?
                
                                       ME
                          Nah, only thing on page nine was
                          the big reveal. A one liner.
                
                                       THE ROAD WARRIOR
                          Oh, well I'm sure dpaterso will let
                          you get that bit in.
                
                                       ME
                          Yeh, hopefully... It would suck if
                          people didn't find out that the

                Comment


                • #9
                  Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

                  Code:
                  [b]Dark Valentine[/b]
                  
                  FADE IN:
                  
                  EXT. LOS ANGELES -- DESERT ROAD -- NIGHT
                  
                  A crashed Sprite --
                  
                  Crumpled fenders --   steam billowing --
                  
                  A crumpled and torn flyer rests on the passenger seat --
                  what we can read begins "be my Dark Valentine -- then a piece
                  that is difficult to decipher -- eventually -- Chateau Marmont -- 14th February 2016"
                  
                  The flare-haze of L.A's city lights in the distance --
                  
                  Along this desert road staggers...
                  
                  ... the girl.  Aged 22 -- beautiful. An actress.
                  
                  PULLING BACK TO REVEAL:
                  
                  
                  INT. CALIFORNIA -- DESERT ROAD - MORNING
                  
                  A WIDE-ANGLE -- the girl sits down -- shakes out the sand
                  from her red shoe.
                  
                  She is very young and mysterious -- angular black hair cut
                  in the style of an early movie star.
                  
                  As she stares up at the CAMERA we see that her make-up is
                  smeared and that her eyes are puffy.
                  
                  ANGLE FURTHER DOWN ROAD --
                  
                  A black limousine is slowly approaching -- main beams on
                  full in the morning gloom.
                  
                  She is walking-death, lost in her reverie.
                  
                  The limousine slows -- the door closest to her GENTLY CLICKS
                  open -- there is nobody in the rear -- she sees only the
                  black leather interior and small and bright recessed lights.
                  
                  
                  INT. LIMOUSINE -- MOMENTS LATER --
                  
                  The girl sits back in her seat -- the leather is cool and
                  smooth -- she feels the surface of the upholstery with flat
                  palms of her hands.
                  
                  A whir as the partition descends--
                  
                  -- we meet the DRIVER.
                  
                                         DRIVER
                             We have spirits and a little vodka
                             if it would help?
                  
                                         GIRL
                             I don't like spirits.
                  
                  Silence.
                  
                                         DRIVER
                             There's some natural or sparkling
                             water back there.
                  
                                         GIRL
                             Do you always pick up strangers?
                  
                  The driver seems animated now.
                  
                                         DRIVER
                             Well miss... I only ever pick up
                             strangers.
                                          GIRL
                             Really. Let me guess, they're mostly
                             young girls?
                  
                                         DRIVER
                             Mostly.
                                 (he smiles)
                             They tell me who to pick up.
                  
                                         GIRL
                             They?
                  
                                         DRIVER
                             I'm just the driver ma'm.
                  
                  The limo accelerates. The girl regards her own reflection
                  in tinted black glass of the window.
                  
                  Beyond her ghostly image lies L.A. the city reflects the
                  sun's rays from the downtown buildings.
                  
                  
                  EXT. VARIOUS ANGLES/ HOLLYWOOD HILLS
                  
                  Time drums to a different beat -- as the limo glides through
                  the canyon roads day quickly becomes night.
                  
                  Above this canyon road -- directly ahead -- we see the white
                  lettering of the Hollywood sign but something unusual is
                  happening -- the sign is growing brighter -- a blaze of white
                  lettering, it blinds us.
                  
                  
                  INT. LIMOUSINE - CONTINUOUS
                  
                  Oblivious and stifling her emotions the girl begins to groom.
                  She opens her small jewel incrusted purse and combs her hair --
                  she removes a white handkerchief with the initials L.T.
                  emblazoned -- slowly and deliberately wipes down through the
                  running make up that gave her a sad clown like appearance.
                  A second girl emerges from beneath the tear-runs and make-up --
                  more natural -- that face now belies a flicker of home town
                  innocence.
                  
                                        DRIVER
                                (via mirror)
                            That's much better.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Oh... so you think so do you?
                  
                  The girl wipes her lipstick off in a small handheld mirror.
                  
                                        GIRL (CONT'D)
                            Where are you from Driver?
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            I'm not from anywhere.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Moved around a lot huh?
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            You could put it like that.
                  
                  After a reckless-sounding laugh.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Are you taking me anywhere nice?
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            I'm taking you somewhere interesting.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Let's just get there then, speed up.
                  
                  The driver looks at her again -- they lock eyes.
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            We're going to be making a number of
                            stops.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            That's fine by me.  I'm used to that
                            by now.
                  
                  She begins to laugh again -- but this time the tremor in her
                  voice is unmistakable.
                  
                  The cones of the limo's lights sweep the road ahead as they
                  drive down through the Hollywood Hills. Beyond that is only
                  an inky blackness.
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            I'd prefer it if you'd buckle up.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            ... that's fine by me.  I'll feel
                            safer yes?
                  
                  The car begins to accelerate -- slowly at first and then
                  building speed -- swinging around the narrow curves of the
                  canyon roads until the engine is ROARING -- rain begins to
                  splatter the windshield.
                  
                                        GIRL (CONT'D)
                            I guess we're not in L.A. anymore?
                  
                  The driver stays silent. She stares out through the
                  windshield over the driver's shoulder, flakes of snow crystals
                  begin to appear and soon -- we're driving through a heavy
                  blizzard.
                  
                  The snow begins to ease slightly and is replaced by a frosted
                  night -- a glassy road ahead gives way to a dirt track --
                  the limo bumps and rocks along comfortably over deep mud.
                  
                  
                  EXT. MEDIEVAL CHURCH YARD -- NIGHT
                  
                  The door CLICKS open and the girl climbs out -- the Driver
                  follows and immediately stares up at the church spire, faintly
                  ominous, shrouded in a heavy mist.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Is this a new century?
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            Please... follow me.
                  
                  They approach an old wall -- a small entrance -- arched wood
                  and stone -- they stand closer to the wall -- watching --
                  waiting.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Who am I here to see?
                  
                                          DRIVER
                            Patience...
                  
                  Out beyond the grim nest of slanted stones a young girl
                  appears -- her white dress is so bright it appears to glow
                  in the moonlight.
                  
                  Then a man dressed in plumes and and a ruff makes an entrance -
                  he is dressed in the garb of the 17th century -- they join
                  hands and begin to dance -- he leads -- they move around in
                  a tight circle. She stares longingly into his eyes.
                  
                  The driver begins to walk back to the limo.
                  
                                          GIRL
                            So soon...
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            We owe them their privacy at least.
                  
                  
                  INT. LIMOUSINE - MOMENTS LATER
                  
                  The girl is staring at the driver -- her face begs an
                  explanation.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Those were ghosts back there. I
                            know real people, and they weren't
                            real people. They were ghosts. You
                            just showed me some dead people.
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            Yes, they were ghosts, at least that
                            is what you would call them.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Who were they, who was she, they
                            seemed very much in love.
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            He was a Spanish nobleman and she
                            was once a beautiful peasant girl.
                            They fell in love but were expressly
                            forbidden from seeing one another by
                            his father, a great Duke...
                  
                                        GIRL
                            And so come on, what happened to
                            them?
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            She was poisoned and soon after, he
                            threw himself down a well.
                  
                  The girl slumps back.
                  
                                        GIRL
                                (gravely)
                            You're showing me the centuries jilted
                            lovers, the broken hearted, the...
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            I'm showing you what you do not see
                            or understand.
                  
                  The limo accelerates -- the darkness clears -- night rolls
                  back -- bright sunshine envelops the back seat of the limo --
                  so bright that the girl pulls a shade down and puts on her
                  shades.
                  
                  Coast road -- Pacific North West -- The girl returns the
                  sunglasses to her purse as the light fades into a cool evening
                  blue-- she then notices that her dress has changed -- flowing
                  1920s style -- white -- she's dressed like an old movie
                  star.
                  
                  
                  EXT. COAST ROAD - ENTRANCE TO PARKING AREA
                  
                  The limousine makes a violent turn into a parking area --
                  drives up to a high point. Beyond -- the sea -- blue --
                  perfect -- stretching forever.
                  
                  But that's not what grabs the girl's attention as she exits
                  the limo and sees --
                  
                  -- a crumpled pink Cadillac turned violently against the
                  view and facing towards us. Out in front a gil -- an actress
                  in the vein of a starlet under the old studio system -- she
                  seems sad -- distracted.
                  
                  She is pressing a single rose to her chest -- a tiny drop of
                  blood runs down her cheek -- for a moment she looks back out
                  to sea and then casts the rose out in front -- we watch it
                  blow out in an arc until it settles on the cold water of the
                  roiling pacific.
                  
                                          DRIVER
                            We must go.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            No... you are forbidden to see more.
                  
                  The driver grabs the girl's arm and forces her back into the
                  limo.
                  
                                        GIRL (CONT'D)
                            You bastard... men are all the same.
                  
                  
                  INT. LIMOUSINE - MOMENTS LATER
                  
                  The girl is furious -- she slaps at the driver.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Tell me that she drives away.   She
                            drives away right?
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            She is there, in a sense, the car is
                            also there, it's at the bottom of
                            the cliff, under the water.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Who did that to her, was she jilted?
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            She was under contract to a studio
                            and worked with one of those big
                            directors back in the day. When he
                            found her with drugs, she was let
                            go, she owed her job to him, but the
                            director had found out about her
                            lover, another actor and so after he
                            took an overdose and died, she decided
                            to end her life. It never made the
                            papers.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            I want to get out... let me out here!
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            I have so much else to show you...
                            stories and events that nobody else
                            has ever seen or even knows about.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            I don't care, I want to live... I
                            don't want to end up like that...
                            I'm young, I have my life ahead of
                            me.
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            That's fine miss, I'll drop you
                            outside your hotel.
                  
                  The girl can't quite believe it -- in front of the car is
                  the Chateau Marmont -- rising up in the bright light of L.A.
                  morning.
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Listen... I now know why you picked
                            me up? At first I just thought you
                            were another creep, but I didn't
                            care what I did at that-
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            Do you care... now?
                  
                                        GIRL
                            Don't patronize me.  I'm getting
                            out!
                  
                  The girl tumbles out of the limo and brushes herself down.
                  She blinks in the harsh light of L.A. As she stares at the
                  limo the whir of an electronic window.
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            Keep it... I think she'd have wanted
                            you to have it.
                  
                  The girl takes the pendant. A small locket made out of high
                  carat gold with a single diamond in the center.
                  
                  When she looks up the limo and its driver have disappeared.
                  
                  
                  EXT. L.A. MANSION -- HOLLYWOOD HILLS -- NIGHT
                  
                  A 1950s saloon sits in a driveway beneath a coconut tree.
                  Lawn sprinklers scatter silver droplets -- the spray rainbows
                  in the lights of the Hollywood mansion behind.
                  
                  We hear two very loud GUNSHOTS
                  
                  
                  EXT. BALCONY -- HOUSE --SAME
                  
                  A woman in a white party dress steps backwards -- crying --
                  she drops the gun -- the barrel is still smoking -- she
                  turns and stares down at the blue of an underwater lit
                  swimming pool -- suicide swims in her eyes.
                  
                  She kicks her shoes off and begins to climb up onto the white
                  balcony wall capping and suddenly --
                  
                                        DRIVER
                            I don't think there's really any
                            need to do that miss.
                  
                  Her attention darts to a young man below -- dressed in evening
                  wear -- just beyond him is an early 1950s limo with the lights
                  blazing.
                  
                                        DRIVER (CONT'D)
                            Miss... easy... please step back
                            down onto the tiles. You see... I
                            have something to show you... but we
                            must get going...!
                  
                  SLOWLY FADE to black.

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

                    Code:
                    [b]The Incredible and Slightly Implausible Tale of the Shuriken of Love[/b]
                    
                    FADE IN:
                    
                    -- on a gaggle of college girls playing softball.
                    
                    GEORGE (21, tall, sexy) is at the center of the action as
                    always --
                    
                    George plays a fast ball towards her best friend Lucy (20,
                    blond, leggy) who giggles -- almost falling over the ball in
                    her rush to bat it away --
                    
                    Watching all this with keen interest from their daily pew on
                    the college steps is Chad (22, tall, athletic) and Wayne
                    (21, funny, shorter).
                    
                    Chad regards his ice cream with more than detached interest
                    before he takes a slow and deliberate lick.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               Sometimes you disgust me.
                    
                                           CHAD
                               It reminds me of summer Wayne.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               We've got Valentine's Day tomorrow
                               and we don't even have a date.
                    
                                           CHAD
                               We could just go over and speak to
                               George and Lucy in person.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               I don't know... sounds a bit extreme.
                               Who does something like that these
                               days?
                    
                                           CHAD
                               Hmmm... I'm not even sure how that's
                               done.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               Our babe-point-average is really
                               low this year Chad.
                    
                    Chad clears his throat.
                    
                                           CHAD
                               Erm... how far are you prepared to
                               go Wayne?
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               Whatever it takes.  I'll try anything
                               once Chad.
                    
                                           CHAD
                               It's just an urban myth, but if we
                               follow it up.
                    
                    
                    EXT.   JAPANESE ANTIQUARIAN SHOP WINDOW   - DAY
                    
                    Oddities -- four old samurai swords, candles, strange little
                    stuffed animals, charms, pendants. Ghostly masks hang on
                    both walls at the side of the window display. Right at the
                    center of all this weirdness -- elegantly presented on satin
                    and in a box... is an ancient shuriken.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               This doesn't look like it's going to
                               help with the babe-count.
                    
                    Chad is poised for action... his hands are folded in prayer
                    and he is muttering some kind of secret incantation.
                    
                                           CHAD
                               I have to achieve a perfect state of
                               Tai Chi oneness to become one of the
                               deserving.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               I have no idea what you are doing.
                               This is just so weird.
                    
                                           CHAD
                               Okay... I'm ready to answer the
                               question and pass the test the shop's
                               owner will present to me.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               What test... Chad?
                    
                    Too late... Chad has disappeared.
                    
                    
                    INT. CHAD'S CAR - MOMENTS LATER
                    
                    The throwing star is on the dashboard.  Wayne is staring
                    hard at it.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               I know it's for the fourth time Chad
                               but run that past me again.
                    
                                           CHAD
                               You simply throw the shuriken at any
                               girl you desire and if it sticks she
                               will instantly fall in love with
                               you.
                    
                                           WAYNE
                               Is that even legal?
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Not strictly... but it's the shuriken
                              of love... you can't fail Wayne.
                    
                    
                    EXT. CAMPUS GROUNDS - COLLEGE WALK IS
                    
                    The long pathway between campus buildings where Wayne has
                    positioned himself behind a hedge. We watch a tall brunette
                    girl, CHRISTABEL (22) as she tries to balance several heavy
                    books. Suddenly a fluttering noise fills the air and our
                    POV ahead of the girl is a good place to witness the explosion
                    of books and the high-pitched scream.
                    
                                          CHRISTABEL
                              What kind of mother---ker!
                    
                    Wayne sidles up.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              I was wondering if I could have my
                              shuriken back please.
                    
                                          CHRISTABEL
                              You're the creep who threw-
                    
                    Christabel is angry but her expression is -- strangely
                    beginning to soften.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              It's just there, no... right butt.
                    
                                             CHRISTABEL
                              Oh... I see.
                    
                    Wayne is turning red...
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Thanks. Really, that should be fine,
                              it doesn't leave any marks, must be
                              magical or something.
                    
                                          CHRISTABEL
                              Oh I understand... here you go...
                              say... are you new here?
                    
                    Christabel's eyes are swimming with love.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Oh, erm, kind of.
                    
                                          CRISTABEL
                              So where do you hang?  I don't recall
                              seeing you around.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Hang? Oh hang... sure, yeah...well
                              me and my friend Chad... we... er...
                              sit on the college steps most days.
                    
                    Wayne reddens further.
                    
                                          CHRISTABEL
                              Wow that's such a cool place to hang.
                              Listen...
                                  (she smiles and does
                                   a sort of cuddly
                                   motion left to right)
                              I was supposed to be meeting Joe,
                              he's my football playing boyfriend
                              over at the sport's college, tomorrow,
                              but I'd sure like to hang with you
                              instead. You know... Valentine's.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Er... Valentine's, who knew... sure,
                              why not, I'll be there at 10am.
                    
                                          CHRISTABEL
                              Cool, we'll hang tomorrow then.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Somebody will.
                    
                                             CHRISTABEL
                              What's that?
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Nothing. Listen... Christabel, do
                              you mind if there were to be any
                              other girls there?
                    
                                          CHRISTABEL
                              Not so long as you are going to be
                              there... I don't mind.
                    
                                            WAYNE
                              Cool.  We'll hang tomorrow.
                    
                    They smile and lightly bump fists.
                    
                                          CHRISTABEL
                              Oh, what's your name by the way?
                    
                                             WAYNE
                              Wayne.
                    
                                          CRISTABEL
                              I'm Christabel.
                    
                    Wayne left on the stage alone -- so to speak.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              This is just incredible... that's at
                              least ten girls so far!
                    
                    LUDICROUS MONTAGE...  but please stay with me reader:
                    
                    Hallucinatory is the abiding image here --
                    
                    Arc of a fluttering throwing star passing and re-passing
                    over the screen time and again.
                    
                    We see girl's spinning around in anger and then slowly
                    succumbing to the same dizzy lovesick swoon as Wayne
                    approaches.
                    
                    Wayne shrugging, apologetic, taking down phone numbers,
                    helping remove the shuriken from a girl's arm, her breast,
                    leg, but usually from sore butts.
                    
                    
                    EXT. COLLEGE STEPS - VALENTINE'S DAY - MORNING
                    
                    Wayne pleading with Chad -- an argument that has become
                    heated.
                    
                                            CHAD
                              How many?
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              I've forgotten. Twenty maybe?
                    
                                            CHAD
                              Twenty!
                    
                                            WAYNE
                              At least...
                    
                                          CHAD
                              You've abused the shuriken of love
                              Wayne.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              We never discussed limits.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              I thought that if you ever got the
                              guts up you might just... maybe...
                              try it on George. You're always
                              talking about her.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              I'd never try it on George.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Oh... but any other girl is fair
                              game. You know what... you're a
                              sick man Wayne.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              I got carried away.
                    
                    Chad sees something coming their way.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              That's an army?
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Here they come? Must push off, see
                              you later. You'll be here right?
                    
                    Over the field is a small platoon's worth at least of girls,
                    when they see Wayne they let out a shriek and begin to run.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Now I get why he wanted to borrow
                              the college minibus... and I vouched
                              for him.
                    
                    After mobbing Wayne he walks to our right -- we CAMERA track
                    him and the minibus appears as he counts the girls in. When
                    the rear is full three girls follow Wayne into the front.
                    
                    
                    EXT. COLLEGE STEPS - VALENTINE'S DAY - EARLY EVENING
                    
                    Chad eats an ice cream whilst watching the shadows begin to
                    run over the college grounds. He seems to have been there
                    for a number of hours.
                    
                    A shadow appears form behind him -- he looks up to see George
                    and Lucy watching.
                    
                                          GEORGE
                              Any left for us?
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Er, no... I mean sure if you want
                              to go and get-
                    
                                          GEORGE
                              Just kidding. We thought we'd come
                              over and say hello. What's your
                              name?
                    
                                          CHAD
                              It's erm... Chad... I mean, yeah...
                              that's right. Oh... I'm waiting to
                              see if my friend Wayne gets back
                              alive.
                    
                    The sound of an engine and then the minibus appears --
                    swerving erratically all over the college field.
                    
                    
                    EXT. ANOTHER ANGLE - THE MINIBUS COMING DIRECTLY AT US
                    
                    The sudden SCREECHING draws George -- Lucy -- Chad's
                    attention.
                    
                    As the minibus continues to swerve back and forth until it
                    pulls up only twenty yards away.
                    
                    The rear door bursts open and Wayne, dressed in only a bra
                    and a pair of girl's knickers is thrown out.
                    
                    We can see two girls in the driving seat as they lap once
                    more and scream away.
                    
                    George, Lucy and Chad run over to where Wayne is face down
                    in the dirt.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Wayne.. are you okay?
                    
                    Wayne remains motionless.
                    
                                            GEORGE
                              Is he okay?
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              I'm fine. Let me just gather my
                              thoughts for a moment.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Did they harm you in any way?
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Not really, it began so well
                                  (seems dizzy)
                              We had a picnic, we went to the lake,
                              and swam naked, well, I did. We went
                              into town and I walked into the mall
                              with all these girls on my arm and
                              it was like... about me... me... me!
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Wayne, calm down dude, I was warned
                              that after the day was over, that
                              extreme narcissism was a risk.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              But then... around... six o'clock...
                              the effect-
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Began to wear off and they became
                              themselves again, I forgot to mention
                              that there was a time limit.
                    
                    Lucy stares at Chad.
                    
                                          LUCY
                              So they began to kick your butt?
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Even that felt good.  Well, kind of.
                    
                                          GEORGE
                              How did this all get started boys?
                    
                                          CHAD
                              The shuriken of love! Wayne and I
                              requested it from an antiquarian
                              book and oddities dealer who is also
                              a sage of love on the side.
                    
                                          LUCY
                              I've no idea what you're both talking
                              about but it sounds like you've been
                              taught some kind of a lesson.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              I don't know what happened but they
                              all chased after me at once.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Wait.. what about the shuriken Wayne!
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Try the left cup.
                    
                    Chad reaches in.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              It's not there, you didn't lose it
                              did you. That would be so bad.
                    
                                            WAYNE
                              Other side.
                    
                    Chad carefully recovers the throwing star and places it
                    carefully inside his college pack.
                    
                                          GEORGE
                              I've seen those in badly dubbed
                              martial art films.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Something like that, only this one
                              is slightly different and way more
                              powerful.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              Too powerful.
                    
                                          GEORGE
                              If you boys have stopped playing at
                              being Cupid... We wondered if you'd
                              like to go out for A few beers?
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              On like a real date?
                    
                    Lucy glances at George and winks.
                    
                                           LUCY
                              Kind of.  Yeah.
                    
                                          GEORGE
                              We got bored of hanging about.
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              Hanging about?
                    
                                          GEORGE
                              Sure. You've been coming onto us
                              with your eyes all month. We just
                              figured we'd make the first move,
                              before college was over.
                    
                                          CHAD
                              That sounds so cool... ... but wait...
                              I have request of sorts...
                    
                                          WAYNE
                              That had better not involve more ice
                              cream.
                    
                    Wayne who whacks his head, stares back at Chad in disbelief.
                    The girls glance at one another and smile.
                    
                    FADE OUT... and it is probably felt by all.. not before time.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Re: Entries - Dark Valentine's contest 2016

                      Code:
                      [b]Girl Next Door[/b]
                      
                      TITLE SEQUENCE (B&W & RED)
                      
                      Camera flashes expose still images that fade to black --
                      
                      -- blood-spattered bed and sheets.
                      
                      -- bloody corpse on a bathroom floor.
                      
                      -- blood trail down a staircase.
                      
                      -- bloody hand print on the inside of a front door.
                      
                      -- 1940s suburban house with a naked corpse face down on
                      the front lawn.
                      
                      END TITLE SEQUENCE
                      
                      
                      FADE IN:
                      
                      
                      INT. HALLWAY - DAY
                      
                      The entrance hall of an ordinary, respectable, suburban
                      home. A hat-stand, a mirror, and a wall-clock TICK-
                      TOCKING at around three-thirty-three.
                      
                      A well-worn recording of an OLD LOVE SONG plays.
                      
                      Beyond an open doorway, at the far end of a living-room,
                      a middle-aged WOMAN dances alone.
                      
                      SUPER: "VALENTINE'S DAY 1956"
                      
                      The top half of the front door has a glass panel with red
                      art deco roses. Bright shafts of light from the low
                      winter sun shine through, catching dust motes in the air.
                      
                      (beat)
                      
                      An indistinct figure outside the front door obscures the
                      sunlight. The textured glass hides their identity. Just a
                      shadow on the other side, standing there.
                      
                      The old love song slows, and slows, and slows. The
                      singer's golden voice warped into an eerily low pitch.
                      For a moment, the clock's tick-tock almost stops.
                      
                      (beat)
                      
                      The shadow departs. Light streams back into the hallway.
                      
                      INSERT: NEEDLE ON VINYL - a record spins gradually
                      faster, until the old love song plays at the proper speed
                      again.
                      
                      BACK TO HALLWAY
                      
                      A large red envelope now lies on the doormat, and DING-
                      DONG, the doorbell chimes.
                      (beat)
                      
                      The sounds of someone stumbling into furniture, something
                      heavy knocked over, and a fragile thing broken.
                      
                      MARGARET, 46, overly voluptuous in a too slender dress,
                      steps precariously down the hallway. One hand grasps
                      along the staircase as she passes. Her other hand
                      clutches a loaded martini glass.
                      
                      Unsupported, she arrives abruptly at the doormat and the
                      large red envelope. She recoils, almost tipping over. But
                      fear not, the martini is in experienced hands.
                      
                      With knees together, feet apart, and her perfectly level
                      martini glass outstretched to counter-balance, Margaret
                      reaches down and picks up the envelope.
                      
                      She brings it close to her face, moves it back and forth
                      to focus, then turns to address the top of stairs.
                      
                                                  MARGARET
                                      Arrr-nieee!!! You got maaail!!!
                      
                      To pass the time, Margaret finishes her martini, and
                      sways in several directions at once, almost in time to
                      the music.
                      
                      An upstairs door SLAMS open, then lumbering FOOTSTEPS.
                      
                      ARNOLD, 13, rather tubby, appears on the landing. He
                      stomps downstairs into the hallway, the weight of the
                      world on his shoulders.
                      
                      Margaret holds out the large red envelope, but when
                      Arnold reaches for it she moves it away.
                      
                                                  MARGARET
                                      A-haaa, my brave little soldier
                                      has himself a secret admirer.
                      
                      Arnold scowls.
                      
                                                  MARGARET
                                      But who is the young lady with
                                      such exceptional taste?
                      
                      Arnold stretches over, snatches the envelope from
                      Margaret's swaying hand, and stomps back upstairs.
                      
                                                  MARGARET
                                      Oh, how charming. So like your
                                      dear father.
                      
                      
                      INT. ARNOLD'S BEDROOM - DAY
                      
                      Arnold sits on the edge of his bed. He stares hard at the
                      large red envelope in his hands.
                      
                      Lips pressed tight together, he rips open the envelope
                      and pulls out an elaborate hand-crafted greeting card
                      with crimson velvet, black lace, and gilded gothic
                      lettering: "You're My Valentine".
                      
                      Arnold holds the Valentine's card in anxious readiness to
                      look inside. His eyes shift side-to-side, as though he
                      fears someone behind him, watching him.
                      
                      He slowly opens the card ... but quickly slams it closed
                      again, and swallows hard.
                      
                      
                      INT. LIVING-ROOM - DAY
                      
                      A well-stocked drinks cabinet. Along the top stand framed
                      B&W photographs. One shows a younger Margaret as a bride
                      with her big handsome groom. Another is that same man,
                      but alone and in soldier's uniform.
                      
                      A Silvertone phonograph plays the TRAGIC ARIA from a
                      classic romantic opera.
                      
                      Margaret fixes herself another martini. She raises her
                      glass to toast the soldier in the photograph.
                      
                                                  MARGARET
                                      Bottoms up, loverboy.
                      
                      
                      INT. ARNOLD'S BEDROOM - DUSK
                      
                      The peculiar Valentine's card clasped in one hand, Arnold
                      stands facing his bedroom window, a cautious few feet
                      back from the pane.
                      
                      He looks out across the short distance to a window in the
                      side of the neighboring house, with its peeling paint and
                      broken gutter. The window appears almost opaque, the room
                      beyond in darkness, but half-light from the setting sun
                      catches something inside.
                      
                      Arnold's empty hand clenches into a tight fist.
                      
                      In the opposite room's shadows a figure, barely visible,
                      moves motionless towards the window.
                      
                      Becoming clearer, a gaunt PALE GIRL, the semblance of a
                      young teenager, stares expressionless with hollow eyes.
                      Her long lank straw-blonde hair almost indistinguishable
                      from her sallow skin. She smiles a cold thin tight-lipped
                      smile.
                      
                      Arnold takes a slow step backwards.
                      
                      The Pale Girl's dreadful smile is gone. The fading light
                      returns her to darkness.
                      
                      DING-DONG. Startled, Arnold turns his head towards the
                      source of the sound.
                      
                      
                      INT. HALLWAY
                      
                      The front door with its art deco roses in a glass panel.
                      Nothing moves inside or out, but the doorbell chimes
                      again, DING-DONG.
                      
                      
                      INT. LIVING-ROOM
                      
                      Margaret sprawled face-down on a chaise-lounge. One hand
                      hangs to the floor and a dropped martini glass. Her low-
                      cut dress reveals the top of a wide scar down her back.
                      
                      The faint CRACKLE at the end of an old record goes around
                      ... and around ... and around ... and ... DING-DONG.
                      
                      
                      INT. HALLWAY
                      
                      Arnold, up on the landing, eyes locked on the front door.
                      He waits. Silence. He descends the stairs, one step at a
                      time, and approaches the front door. Still silence.
                      
                      He pauses, shuts his eyes for a second, then opens the
                      door.
                      
                      There is nobody there. Arnold looks out to the street and
                      sees nobody.
                      
                      He looks down at his feet. On the doorstep sits a two-
                      foot square box, gift-wrapped perfectly in scarlet heart-
                      pattern paper with a satin ribbon and bow. A heart-shaped
                      gift-tag with ornate script: "for Arnold x".
                      
                      
                      EXT. STREET - NIGHT
                      
                      Carrying the unopened gift-box at arm's length, Arnold
                      shuffles down the path from his front door and turns onto
                      the sidewalk.
                      
                      The street is silent, no-one else around. He passes
                      mounds of swept-up snow, tinted yellow by the light from
                      street lamps.
                      
                      Arnold slows to a stop in front of the house next door.
                      It sits in darkness, not a light inside or out. An
                      untouched shroud of snow covers the property.
                      
                      Unlike the other houses on the street, this one has not
                      been maintained. Even the "FOR SALE" sign, pitched on the
                      unkempt lawn, is weathered with age.
                      
                      Arnold steps warily onto the path and approaches the
                      bleak house. His are the only footprints in the snow.
                      
                      He crouches, gently places the gift-box on the front
                      step, and slides the Valentine's card under the ribbon.
                      
                      Glancing up, Arnold sees the front door ever so slightly
                      ajar. He slowly backs away. The door CREAKS open a
                      fraction further, and he sprints clumsily across the
                      snowy lawn towards home.
                      
                      
                      EXT. ARNOLD'S HOUSE
                      
                      Arnold plods to the doorstep, breathless. He finds a
                      short STRANGE MAN, 66, about to ring the bell. The man
                      has a bouquet of red roses in hand, and a shallow gift-
                      box under arm. They eye each other, equally suspicious.
                      
                      
                      INT. LIVING-ROOM - NIGHT
                      
                      On the couch, Arnold shovels down a B&W TV dinner,
                      engrossed in a particularly frightful episode of "Inner
                      Sanctum".
                      
                      Behind Arnold, over by the phonograph, Margaret dances to
                      outrageous JAZZ MUSIC which drowns-out the sound of the
                      TV. She pauses to admire a vase of red roses, and also
                      for a mouthful of supper, a large and very dirty martini.
                      
                      Margaret wags a finger at the TV.
                      
                                                  MARGARET
                                      That television will rot your
                                      brain, sweetheart! All the
                                      psychiatrics say so!
                                            (beat)
                                      Isn't that true, Doctor Erikson?
                      
                      That short Strange Man from the doorstep is now seated
                      facing Margaret, and smoking, studiously.
                      
                                                  DR. ERIKSON
                                      It certainly is, Margaret. It most
                                      certainly is.
                      
                      He offers up a selection box of fancy chocolates, already
                      half-gone. Margaret feigns reluctance to have another,
                      then takes her pick.
                      
                      (beat)
                      
                      Margaret dances over to the couch and ruffles Arnold's
                      hair.
                                                  MARGARET
                                      Come on, honey-pie! Dance with
                                      mommy!
                      
                      Glowering, Arnold's eyes dart sideways, then straight
                      back to the TV screen.
                      
                      
                      INT. ARNOLD'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
                      
                      Curtains closed, a bedside lamp casts a low light.
                      Sitting up in bed, Arnold's sleepy eyes are drooping.
                      
                      A copy of "Wuthering Heights" falls from his limp hand
                      onto the floor. He blinks to ward off sleep, but it
                      overcomes him.
                      
                      
                      ARNOLD'S DREAM (B&W & RED)
                      
                      A cowboy on horseback chased by Apache warriors. The
                      image distorts with poor reception and white noise.
                      
                      The Bride of Frankenstein looms in an archway. Distortion
                      and white noise.
                      
                      Dr Jekyll writhes in agony. More white noise.
                      
                      A SAD BOY, 4, sits two steps up on a staircase. More
                      distortion.
                      
                      
                      SAD BOY'S P.O.V. - HALLWAY
                      
                      A front door, its glass panel has distinctive red art
                      deco roses. A hat-stand holds a soldier's cap. An army
                      kit-bag on the floor.
                      
                                                  BIG MAN (O.S.)
                                      Margaret!
                                            (beat)
                                      Margaret!
                      
                      A BIG MAN, 38, in soldier's trousers and underwear vest,
                      storms down the hallway, brandishing a large ax. He slams
                      open the front door and strides outside.
                      
                                                      BIG MAN (O.S.)
                                      Margaret!
                      
                      Hesitant, the Sad Boy trails after the Big Man, who kicks
                      down the picket fence that separates the neighboring
                      house, crosses the lawn, breaks open the front door, and
                      barges inside.
                      
                      The Sad Boy follows into the front garden, but stops on
                      the path and faces the house.
                      
                                                      BIG MAN (O.S.)
                                      Margaret!
                      
                      
                      EXT. GARDEN PATH
                      
                      The Sad Boy's bemused face. Sounds echo from inside the
                      house --
                      
                      -- a man SHOUTS
                      
                      FLASH IMAGE -- blood-spattered bed and sheets.
                      
                      -- a girl SHRIEKS
                      
                      FLASH IMAGE -- bloody corpse on a bathroom floor.
                      
                      -- men QUARREL
                      
                      FLASH IMAGE -- blood trail down a staircase.
                      
                      -- a woman YELLS
                      
                      FLASH IMAGE -- bloody hand print on the inside of a front
                      door.
                      
                      -- a woman SCREAMS
                      
                      
                      SAD BOY'S P.O.V. - HOUSE
                      
                      The front door swings open and a slim naked man with a
                      huge bloody wound in his chest stumbles out and collapses
                      on the lawn.
                      
                      The echoes of a woman's SCREAMS continue. Moving slowly
                      towards the open front door, the image of the house
                      decays.
                      
                      END ARNOLD'S DREAM
                      
                      
                      INT. ARNOLD'S BEDROOM
                      
                      Arnold's eyes wide open. No look of distress, just bitter
                      resentment. He takes a glass of water from the bedside
                      table, puts it to his lips, but then stops, frozen still.
                      
                      Over on a chest of drawers is that unmistakably dire
                      Valentine's card. Arnold drinks the glass dry.
                      
                      Faint SCRATCHING and SCRAPING draws his attention to the
                      foot of his bed. From his position he can see what looks
                      like a scarlet satin bow.
                      
                      There on the floor sits that two-foot square gift-box,
                      wrapped in hearts and tagged for Arnold.
                      The SCRATCHING and SCRAPING grow more intense. The
                      wrapping paper TEARS apart around the box lid.
                      
                      Arnold pushes himself up to better see. The satin ribbon
                      unties itself and falls away. The box lid flips off onto
                      the floor.
                      
                      (beat)
                      
                      From out of the box, rigidly upright and without a sound,
                      the Pale Girl slowly rises. She looms over the end of the
                      bed, somewhat taller than her full height, with dead eyes
                      and a cold thin tight-lipped smile.
                      
                      Arnold pushes himself back against the headboard and
                      brings his knees up to his chest.
                      
                      From the crown of her head, the Pale Girl's long blonde
                      hair turns deep-red down to the tips.
                      
                      Arnold's eyes transfixed in dread.
                      
                      The Pale Girl's wretched smile twists into a tortured
                      scowl and, from beneath her hair, a torrent of ruby-red
                      blood gushes down her pallid face and over her lifeless
                      body.
                      
                                                                            CUT TO RED.
                      
                                                                          FADE TO BLACK.
                      
                      FADE IN:
                      
                      
                      INT. ARNOLD'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
                      
                      The window with its morbid aspect, and the Pale Girl
                      reflected. The bedside light goes out and now, in
                      darkness, the view of the desolate neighboring house
                      unobscured by reflections.
                      
                      Out through the window into the chill night air, and in
                      through the opposite window to the grim shadow of a lost
                      girl's derelict bedroom.
                      
                      In the farthest corner amid the deep gloom, the Pale
                      Girl, sat up in a dusty bed, wide eyed and a graven
                      smile, with Arnold asleep in her loving arms.
                      
                      FLASH IMAGE (B&W & RED) -- Margaret and Dr. Erikson
                      slaughtered in the living-room.
                      
                      
                                                      THE END

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                      • #12
                        Re: Votes needed now! Dark Valentine's contest entries

                        Final bump for last-moment visibility in the forums index.

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