bwind22
11-27-2007, 11:34 PM
I wrote this 5 page script for a contest I'm in. Since it's horror, I thought I'd post it here first and see what people think. Pay no attention to the improper formatting. That is a result of copy/pasting it.
The contest rules are that the script has to be 5 pages or less & it must contain a Christmas present. Other than that, anything goes.
I want to know what people think honestly so if you think it sucks, let me know. Be brutal. I can take it. ;)
FADE IN:
INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
A decorated tree sits in the corner of the average country home with several presents stacked at the base. Christmas MUSIC merrily fills the empty room.
A loud THUD as someone slams into the home's front door.
The door knob rattles anxiously, then THREE SHARP KNOCKS.
VOICE
Kate! Open Up! It's me!
URGENT POUNDING.
VOICE
Kate! Hurry!
The front door of the home CRASHES inward.
BRANDON, 30, tall, dark and handsome, bursts in. Eyes wide, panting and pale, he looks terrified.
He slams the door behind himself and leans against it, breathing heavily.
He scans the room.
BRANDON
Kate? Hello?
The home is silent. Brandon takes a breath then moves quickly across the room.
He lifts the couch, drags it then wedges it against the door.
He glances out the window. Three distant figures approach slowly. Past them, at the end of a long driveway two crashed vehicles reside. One's a sedan, the other a mail truck.
BRANDON
Shit.
He moves quickly, sliding a bookcase in front of the largest window in the room.
Brandon scans the room, grabs the fire pick.
Something BREAKS inside the house. Brandon's eyes widen.
BRANDON
Kate?
He moves down the hallway to a closed bedroom door.
BRANDON
Kate, are you in there?
He opens the door, fire pick poised like a sword.
INT. BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS
The bedroom is dark. Brandon hits the lights.
A middle-aged man in a blood soaked mail carrier outfit lunges at Brandon
Brandon instinctively swings the fire pick, embedding the hook in to his assailant's head, stopping him in his tracks.
Brandon lets go and the attacker's body falls to the floor.
Brandon leans in for a better look. His throat looks to have been ripped out.
BRANDON
The Mailman? What the fuck is going on?
His voice trails off as he notices a smashed bedroom window.
BRANDON
Kate!
He reaches Kate, 29, stunning but dead sprawled on the floor behind the bed. Her upper body is coated in blood from a bite wound similar to the one on The Mailman.
BRANDON
Oh, God, Kate. No...
Glass SHATTERS OS.
Brandon darts back to the living room, prying the fire pick from The Mailman's head on the way by.
INT. LIVING ROOM -- CONTINUOUS
The front window has been smashed and two dirty arms are reaching in around the bookcase.
Brandon whacks at them with the fire pick.
The arms recoil and are replaced with angry subhuman GROANS.
BRANDON
Whoever you are, you stay the hell away from me!
(Beat)
I'm serious. I don't care if it's Christmas, I will fuck... you... up...
Brandon jabs the sharp prod through the gaps in his barricade.
Angry SNARLS arise from beyond the barricade.
A smaller window on the other side of the room SHATTERS.
The snarling torso of an animated, but clearly decaying corpse tries to make it's way in.
BRANDON
What the fuck?
The zombie snarls, still only halfway through the window.
Brandon plants the hook end of his pick into the zombie's skull with a CRACK.
Blood splatters as the zombie's body falls limp, half in, half out the window.
BRANDON
Ha ha! Yeah!
The initial zombie is still trying to get past the bookcase.
BRANDON
Oh, you want some too motherfucker?
Brandon grabs the flailing zombie arm and jerks it.
The zombie's face slams in to the window frame and bookcase. This zombie is much less decayed than the previous.
Brandon plunges his pick deep in to the zombie's eye socket. Blood squirts.
The zombie falls backwards in to the darkness, taking the pick with.
BRANDON
Shit.
Brandon scans the room for a new weapon. Nothing.
He sees a long skinny present with his name on it and tears into it. It's a new putter. He takes a split second to admire it.
BRANDON
She got me an Aero Prime Series Two!
(Beat)
Perfect!
He grips it and takes a few practice swings, then risks a glance out the window.
BRANDON
Only one left.
(Beat)
I can do this.
He takes a deep breath then shoves aside the couch, opens the front door and steps outside.
EXT. RURAL RAMBLER -- CONTINUOUS
Brandon wields the putter as he moves towards the zombie.
The zombie lunges forward, grasping at Brandon.
The zombie BITES at him, Brandon keeps him at arm's length.
Brandon kicks the zombie off of him and to the ground.
Brandon's back on his feet, cocking back with the putter.
BRANDON
Merry Christmas!
The zombie SNARLS angrily from a sitting position, struggling to get up.
Brandon swings hard, but misses his mark a little low.
The result is a decapitated zombie head striking the house with a SPLAT.
Brandon shrugs as the headless body falls to the ground.
Brandon returns to the house. He walks through the front door, passes behind the blockaded window.
INT. BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS
Brandon crosses the room to where Kate lays motionless.
BRANDON
Kate...
(Beat)
I'm sorry I wasn't here.
Brandon disappears OS momentarily, then returns with a jewelry sized present. He rests the small present in her hands.
He leans in and kisses her forehead.
BRANDON
Merry Christmas Kate.
Kate's lifeless body suddenly lunges forward.
The present falls to the floor.
Brandon struggles in her grasp.
BRANDON
Kate?
Kate's reply is a vicious SNARL as she sinks her teeth in to Brandon's throat.
Flesh RIPS. Blood paints the walls.
Brandon SCREAMS. Kate feasts.
The screaming stops. The feasting continues.
FADE OUT:
The contest rules are that the script has to be 5 pages or less & it must contain a Christmas present. Other than that, anything goes.
I want to know what people think honestly so if you think it sucks, let me know. Be brutal. I can take it. ;)
FADE IN:
INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
A decorated tree sits in the corner of the average country home with several presents stacked at the base. Christmas MUSIC merrily fills the empty room.
A loud THUD as someone slams into the home's front door.
The door knob rattles anxiously, then THREE SHARP KNOCKS.
VOICE
Kate! Open Up! It's me!
URGENT POUNDING.
VOICE
Kate! Hurry!
The front door of the home CRASHES inward.
BRANDON, 30, tall, dark and handsome, bursts in. Eyes wide, panting and pale, he looks terrified.
He slams the door behind himself and leans against it, breathing heavily.
He scans the room.
BRANDON
Kate? Hello?
The home is silent. Brandon takes a breath then moves quickly across the room.
He lifts the couch, drags it then wedges it against the door.
He glances out the window. Three distant figures approach slowly. Past them, at the end of a long driveway two crashed vehicles reside. One's a sedan, the other a mail truck.
BRANDON
Shit.
He moves quickly, sliding a bookcase in front of the largest window in the room.
Brandon scans the room, grabs the fire pick.
Something BREAKS inside the house. Brandon's eyes widen.
BRANDON
Kate?
He moves down the hallway to a closed bedroom door.
BRANDON
Kate, are you in there?
He opens the door, fire pick poised like a sword.
INT. BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS
The bedroom is dark. Brandon hits the lights.
A middle-aged man in a blood soaked mail carrier outfit lunges at Brandon
Brandon instinctively swings the fire pick, embedding the hook in to his assailant's head, stopping him in his tracks.
Brandon lets go and the attacker's body falls to the floor.
Brandon leans in for a better look. His throat looks to have been ripped out.
BRANDON
The Mailman? What the fuck is going on?
His voice trails off as he notices a smashed bedroom window.
BRANDON
Kate!
He reaches Kate, 29, stunning but dead sprawled on the floor behind the bed. Her upper body is coated in blood from a bite wound similar to the one on The Mailman.
BRANDON
Oh, God, Kate. No...
Glass SHATTERS OS.
Brandon darts back to the living room, prying the fire pick from The Mailman's head on the way by.
INT. LIVING ROOM -- CONTINUOUS
The front window has been smashed and two dirty arms are reaching in around the bookcase.
Brandon whacks at them with the fire pick.
The arms recoil and are replaced with angry subhuman GROANS.
BRANDON
Whoever you are, you stay the hell away from me!
(Beat)
I'm serious. I don't care if it's Christmas, I will fuck... you... up...
Brandon jabs the sharp prod through the gaps in his barricade.
Angry SNARLS arise from beyond the barricade.
A smaller window on the other side of the room SHATTERS.
The snarling torso of an animated, but clearly decaying corpse tries to make it's way in.
BRANDON
What the fuck?
The zombie snarls, still only halfway through the window.
Brandon plants the hook end of his pick into the zombie's skull with a CRACK.
Blood splatters as the zombie's body falls limp, half in, half out the window.
BRANDON
Ha ha! Yeah!
The initial zombie is still trying to get past the bookcase.
BRANDON
Oh, you want some too motherfucker?
Brandon grabs the flailing zombie arm and jerks it.
The zombie's face slams in to the window frame and bookcase. This zombie is much less decayed than the previous.
Brandon plunges his pick deep in to the zombie's eye socket. Blood squirts.
The zombie falls backwards in to the darkness, taking the pick with.
BRANDON
Shit.
Brandon scans the room for a new weapon. Nothing.
He sees a long skinny present with his name on it and tears into it. It's a new putter. He takes a split second to admire it.
BRANDON
She got me an Aero Prime Series Two!
(Beat)
Perfect!
He grips it and takes a few practice swings, then risks a glance out the window.
BRANDON
Only one left.
(Beat)
I can do this.
He takes a deep breath then shoves aside the couch, opens the front door and steps outside.
EXT. RURAL RAMBLER -- CONTINUOUS
Brandon wields the putter as he moves towards the zombie.
The zombie lunges forward, grasping at Brandon.
The zombie BITES at him, Brandon keeps him at arm's length.
Brandon kicks the zombie off of him and to the ground.
Brandon's back on his feet, cocking back with the putter.
BRANDON
Merry Christmas!
The zombie SNARLS angrily from a sitting position, struggling to get up.
Brandon swings hard, but misses his mark a little low.
The result is a decapitated zombie head striking the house with a SPLAT.
Brandon shrugs as the headless body falls to the ground.
Brandon returns to the house. He walks through the front door, passes behind the blockaded window.
INT. BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS
Brandon crosses the room to where Kate lays motionless.
BRANDON
Kate...
(Beat)
I'm sorry I wasn't here.
Brandon disappears OS momentarily, then returns with a jewelry sized present. He rests the small present in her hands.
He leans in and kisses her forehead.
BRANDON
Merry Christmas Kate.
Kate's lifeless body suddenly lunges forward.
The present falls to the floor.
Brandon struggles in her grasp.
BRANDON
Kate?
Kate's reply is a vicious SNARL as she sinks her teeth in to Brandon's throat.
Flesh RIPS. Blood paints the walls.
Brandon SCREAMS. Kate feasts.
The screaming stops. The feasting continues.
FADE OUT: