The Hollow - SAMPLE

THE HOLLOW SAMPLE Written By Thorne Sherwood Winter, V

Thorne Winter 678-641-1152 thorne@thornesattic.com

FADE IN 1

EXT. SOUTHERN PLANTATION ESTATE, 1984 - NIGHT

1

Dark clouds loom large in the blackened sky, intermittently allowing an orange Harvest Moon to shine through.

Skeleton trees sway in the breeze and October winds scatter dead leaves across a forgotten dirt road, shrouded in fog, which leads into a vast expanse of woodlands, and then further into the night.

Suddenly, headlights, and the blue flashes of law enforcement pierce the fog, and a police cruiser emerges from the trees, before rolling to a stop.

2

INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT An older man dressed in a long overcoat and fedora, MILES CONNOR, and his younger partner, a standard, by-the-book uniformed man, OFFICER JAMES SAMSON, are wrapping up a long-running conversation.

MILES -fuck you, I’m glad you know. Makes my life a hell of a lot easier, probably save a bundle on the commute alone.

JAMES (sarcastic) Oh really?

MILES (lights a cigarette) Goddamned right.

They drive in silence.

MILES You wanna know what she said then?

JAMES What?

MILES (mockingly) She said "I’m taking the kids!" HAH! Can you believe that shit? As if I gave a rat’s ass. Good! Let ’em go- let ’em chase some other sap’s pension.

2

2.

JAMES You’re a saint, Miles.

Miles begins drinking from a silver flask, then crudely wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

MILES (chuckles) Tell you what kid, stay in this town long enough and see how much better you do.

He burps, and opens the car door.

3

EXT. SOUTHERN PLANTATION ESTATE, 1984 - NIGHT

3

The two men exit the vehicle, which they leave running.

They are following the car’s headlights, which illuminate an immense wrought-iron fence, wrapped in rusty chains complete with a padlock, which separates them from a looming Southern Plantation house sitting atop a small, overgrown hill in the distance.

SUPERIMPOSE TITLE: Holstead’s Hollow, 1984 CUT TO Miles drops into the overgrown yard next to James, who is visibly nervous.

MILES (exhausted and triumphant) Still got it.

James is too busy looking over his shoulder and flitting his flashlight around to be amused.

Miles puts his hand on his partner’s shoulder, startling the man. James regains his composure, and Miles nods, gesturing to him to follow his lead.

Their flashlights reveal a dirt path lined with stones leading up to the house, and they follow it, making their way past ruined cherubic statuary and vestiges of long-dead gardens.

JAMES You think maybe the homeowners called this in?

3.

MILES (laughs) Really kid, you’ve got to learn your history.

He stops to rest, produces his flask, and takes a drink. he finishes, something on the ground catches his eye:

As

MILES (CONT’D) Take a look at this.

A fresh Dogwood flower lies in the middle of his flashlight beam. James stoops down and picks it up.

JAMES Guess the gardener didn’t get the memo either.

A gust of wind snatches the flower from his fingers- and the distant sound of a woman singing soft and mournfully is heard.

Miles and James slowly rise to their feet. James nervously reaches for his sidearm, but Miles stops him, silently gesturing for them to move on.

They press onward up the pathway to the house; the sound of singing steadily grows louder and more distinct: "O, Shenandoah", a song of the Old South.

JAMES Sounds like something my grandma used to siMiles raises his hand, silencing James. Before them, only 20 feet or so from the steps of the home’s porch, a shadow moves wistfully amongst the overgrowth, dancing in time with the singing.

Miles cocks his head, enraptured, and begins to move towards the shadow, and into the tall grass.

James begins to follow, but his flashlight flickers, then blacks out, casting him into darkness. The singing stops, and save for the wind in the grass, all is silent.

He waits for a moment, then calls out: JAMES Hey Miles! (a beat) Chief!

4.

He cautiously appraises his surroundings: tall grass and broken statues- not even a clear path that the detective might have taken into the night.

Just as he gives up hope, Miles screams from somewhere across the field.

JAMES (CONT’D) Shit.

He takes off running through the grass, tripping and nearly falling over shattered stone.

Just before he reaches the treeline, he loses his footingstumbling headlong down a steep embankment, past the wooded threshold, and into a clearing.

Stunned and terrified, he scrambles along the ground searching something- anything that can offer a semblance of hope and comfort. His desperate hands find another of their kind- old, and well worn. James gets to his feet and stares at his discovery in the faint moonlight: There, on the forest floor, wrinkled face contorted in a look of anguished horror, is Miles: dead- the distinct mark of a woman’s lipsticked kiss adorning his mouth.

James shakes his head in shock and slowly begins to back away. Behind him, a shadow emerges from the black, gliding towards him, and the ethereal singing of "O, Shenandoah" begins in his ear.

TITLE: THE HOLLOW Please contact Thorne@ThornesAttic.com for the completed script.