INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
BLACK.
A ragged breath. Uneven.
RILEY CARTER (17) bolts upright in bed -- gasping.
Her breath fogs.
The curtains billow in a sharp, icy draft.
The window is OPEN.
She fumbles for her lamp.
CLICK.
A moth SLAMS into the lampshade. Whump. Whump.
Its shadow twitches across the wall.
Riley glances at her nightstand --
A stack of Polaroids. Face down.
A floorboard CREAKS.
She flips the top one --
Riley, asleep. Taken tonight.
Her pulse spikes.
The next Polaroid --
Closer. Her lips parted. Dreaming.
Her breath stutters.
The photos slip -- scatter across the floor.
Stillness.
Then -- a slow, deliberate --
CREAK.
The bedsprings shift -- but she’s not moving.
She leans over the edge...
UNDER THE BED
Suddenly --
TWO HANDS EXPLODE FROM THE SHADOWS
Clamping her throat --
Yanking her off the bed -- tearing hair from her scalp --
Riley hits the floor hard, tangled in sheets.
From the dark, ETHAN ROWE (19) emerges -- unfolding into
view.
Gaunt, eyes burning.
He lunges --
BOOM!
The door SLAMS open --
SANDY CARTER (50s) bursts in -- shotgun raised. Shaking.
She chambers a round.
Red-and-blue strobes bleed through the curtains. SIRENS wail.
Ethan snarls -- cornered.
He backs toward the window, locking eyes with Riley --
Grins.
ETHAN
You're not done being mine.
Boots THUNDER down the hallway.
POLICE OFFICER (O.S.)
Police! On the ground!
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Shadows of the Past
INT. CAMPUS LIBRARY - NIGHT
Wind howls against arched windows. Stacks loom like silent
towers.
At the far end of a long oak table sits RILEY (20) -- bundled
in a thick coat, posture rigid, nondescript by intent.
Her hair is pulled up tight. Every strand controlled.
SUPER: THREE YEARS LATER
A heavy textbook lies open before her --
“Dark Mirrors: The Psychology of Belief, Fear, and the
Occult.”
Pages flutter in the draft. Riley clamps them still -- a
tremor in her grip.
She flips a page -- freezes.
A full-page illustration:
A towering demonic figure with three heads -- human, ram,
bull -- each snarling in a different direction.
The name above it:
"ASMODEUS."
Beside it, a twisted sigil -- thorned lines circling an eye-
shaped core.
Beneath it, in clotted serif type:
“HAIR BINDS. BLOOD RELEASES. TRUTH DAMNS.”
Riley underlines "Hair binds." Flips the page.
A small archival photograph is tucked into the binding --
1920s women, formal dresses, hair pinned tight.
They’re gathered in a cramped room -- slanted ceiling,
exposed beams. An attic-like space.
Riley stills. Her brow tightens.
She shakes it off, turns the page.
A soft CREAK echoes between the stacks.
Riley straightens -- scanning the aisles.
Nothing. Just books.
She pulls her coat tighter.
Her hand drifts to her calf beneath her jeans -- checking
that something is still there. Hidden. Safe.
Her phone BUZZES on the table.
She checks the screen:
VOICEMAIL: 1 NEW MESSAGE.
Her thumb hesitates -- then taps PLAY.
ROBOTIC VOICE (V.O.)
This is an automated call from the
Victim Information and Notification
Every Day service. Offender ETHAN
ROWE --
Riley's jaw tenses. The name hangs like a curse. ETHAN ROWE.
The message drones on.
ROBOTIC VOICE (V.O.)
...has been released from state
custody, effective today, 3:11 p.m.
She ends the message.
She inhales sharply -- four counts.
Holds for four more.
Exhales -- out six. Controlled. Practiced.
Her eyes drift back to her textbook.
Another CREAK -- closer.
Riley flinches, turning toward the aisle.
Nothing.
The shadows deepen.
EXT. LIBRARY - NIGHT
Snow swirls around Riley as she exits past the frosted glass.
A SHADOW paces her inside -- perfectly in step.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Whispers in the Blizzard
EXT. SORORITY HOUSE - NIGHT
The blizzard SHRIEKS, clawing the sky.
Through the whiteout:
An old Tudor sorority house looms -- sagging under snow,
gables stabbing upward.
Riley trudges up the steps, boots sinking deep.
Mullioned windows glare out like rows of black eyes.
INT. SORORITY HOUSE – KITCHEN – NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
A low, mechanical HUM from the old refrigerator. The kitchen
is still.
Riley, in pajamas and an oversized hoodie, pads in barefoot.
Half-awake. She flicks the overhead light.
It FLICKERS. Holds.
She opens the fridge. Cold blue light washes over her face.
Leftover mac and cheese. She takes it, shuts the door --
CREAK.
Old wood shifting somewhere behind her.
Riley freezes. Then exhales.
She moves to the microwave. Punches buttons. The tray spins.
In the dark reflection of the microwave door --
A FIGURE.
Riley turns.
SUE (60s) stands in the doorway. Perfectly still. Robe neat.
Hair pinned without a strand out of place.
She’s been there awhile.
RILEY
Oh -- hey, Sue. I didn’t hear you
come in.
Sue smiles. Polite. Measured.
SUE
Late nights happen. Especially
here.
Riley nods, embarrassed. She grabs a spoon from the drawer.
Sue steps into the kitchen.
Each footstep feels deliberate.
SUE (CONT'D)
Winter break’s coming up.
RILEY
Yeah. I’m heading home.
(beat)
But I’ll be back early.
Riley sits on the counter, peeling back the container lid.
SUE
The house is quieter then.
Riley stirs the mac and cheese. Appetite already fading.
RILEY
I don’t really love quiet.
Sue smiles. A fraction too long.
SUE
No one does.
(soft)
That’s when you hear everything
else.
Riley glances at the walls.
RILEY
This place makes a lot of noise.
Sue nods..
SUE
Old houses don't sleep. They keep
watch.
Riley’s spoon stops mid-air.
Sue moves closer now.
Sue reaches out -- lifts a loose strand of Riley’s hair
caught in her collar.
Riley stiffens.
SUE (CONT'D)
You don’t have a boyfriend.
RILEY
No.
Sue lets the strand slide between her fingers. Slow.
Intimate. Wrong.
SUE
That’s a shame.
Riley shifts back, unsure how to respond.
RILEY
I just -- I'm careful.
Sue tucks the hair behind Riley’s ear. Her fingers are cool.
Sue leans in close. Riley smells starch and something old
beneath it.
SUE
Careful girls don't get lost.
A sharp CREAK -- sudden.
Riley flinches. Her spoon slips from her fingers.
It CLATTERS across the tile.
Sue doesn’t react.
RILEY
I should... go back to bed.
She slides off the counter, grabs the container, avoids Sue’s
eyes.
Sue smiles again. Pleasant. Final.
SUE
Goodnight, Riley.
As Riley passes --
Sue brushes a crumb from her shoulder.
Her fingers linger.
Pinch.
A single STRAND OF HAIR.
Riley doesn’t notice.
Sue winds it once around her fingertip -- tight, precise --
then slips it into her apron pocket.
Sue watches Riley leave.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Blizzard Banter and Ghostly Whispers
INT. FOYER - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
The front door SLAMS behind her. Riley spins, locks the
deadbolt -- then checks it again.
She stomps snow from her boots. Frost melts across her coat.
The foyer yawns around her -- once grand, now decayed.
A sweeping staircase curves upward like the exposed ribcage
of a giant carcass.
A cold draft coils around her ankles.
Her eyes drift toward the warped basement door.
Her breath quickens.
A drip of melting snow runs down her wrist.
INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
Holiday lights sag in lazy zigzags -- half burnt out.
The room is enclosed in rose-patterned wallpaper -- hundreds
of identical blooms, pressed flat against the walls.
CHELSEA (20) lounges on a beanbag -- perfect hair, nails
surgical, and under-eye anti-aging strips that glow faint
blue. Scrolling. Expression practiced.
BROOKE (21) perches on the couch arm, smiling -- a joke
already loaded, finger on the trigger. If she keeps it funny,
nothing gets close.
LILLY (20) sits tucked into the corner of the couch, book
shielding her. She’s learned not to take up space.
Lilly's phone vibrates. She glances down.
INSERT -- PHONE SCREEN
MOM: Happy Birthday, baby. Call me when you wake up. I love
you.
The screen glows against her face.
Brooke and Chelsea laugh at something off-screen.
Lilly locks the phone and flips it face down on the cushion
beside her.
Riley enters -- cheeks pink from the cold, eyes haunted.
BROOKE
Ayy, she lives. The library goblin
returns.
CHELSEA
Welcome back to civilization. Sort
of.
RILEY
I was in civilization. It’s called
a library.
She surveys the room -- a total disaster.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Don’t forget -- Sue’s coming back
in a few days.
BROOKE
When the house mom’s away, the
sisters will play.
CHELSEA
Sue's in Arizona. Relax. We could
burn the house down and she
wouldn't know.
BROOKE
I bet she shows up early tomorrow
with groceries and judgment.
Chelsea laughs -- then stops.
CHELSEA
Does anyone else feel like she's
still... here?
Silence.
A lamp CLICKS off by itself.
They all look.
BROOKE
Electrical issues. This place is
like a hundred years old.
Riley drops her backpack and sinks onto the couch.
Something catches her eye --
A POLAROID, face down, resting alone on the coffee table.
Riley goes still.
Brooke notices.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Oh yeah. Look what I found today.
She flips it.
A captured moment:
Riley, Brooke, Chelsea, and Lilly, two years younger --
glittery cheeks, matching Greek sweaters.
Riley exhales. Picks up the photo.
RILEY
Freshman year Rush?
BROOKE
Nailed it.
RILEY
God, we look like... feral camp
counselors.
BROOKE
That was the night you dared
Chelsea to shotgun a Natty Light
through a Twizzler.
Lilly looks up from her book with a dry, tiny smile.
LILLY
She did it -- twice.
RILEY
And then threw up on Brooke’s Uggs.
They all break into laughter -- real, warm.
Chelsea looks at Riley again, really looks at her.
CHELSEA
You okay?
Riley flinches at the question.
RILEY
Yeah. I’m fine.
Chelsea pulls off her eye strips, angles toward the frosted
window.
CHELSEA
Blizzard selfie!
FLASH.
The white blast washes everyone’s faces -- momentarily
ghostlike.
Chelsea checks her phone.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Ugh. I look rough. Whatever.
RILEY
Why do you keep putting yourself
out there like that?
Chelsea considers her, then --
CHELSEA
If nobody sees me, I don't exist.
Lilly lowers her book -- eyes sharp.
LILLY
That's shallow.
Chelsea’s smile cracks.
CHELSEA
People only call you shallow when
they’re drowning.
Lilly’s chin lifts -- hurt hiding beneath stoicism.
BROOKE
Ladies, please. I cannot mediate
another emotional breakdown
tonight.
Riley leans forward, voice softer.
RILEY
What I’m saying is... being seen
can make you a target.
Chelsea snorts.
CHELSEA
Please. I’ve got pepper spray, a
rape whistle, and two thousand
followers.
Brooke gestures grandly.
BROOKE
Behold -- Chelsea of House
Influencer, shielded by brand
engagement.
Chelsea shoots her a look.
CHELSEA
At least I don’t use jokes to hide
the fact I’m --
RILEY
(sharp)
-- Chelsea. Stop.
But Brooke’s already turning, eyes narrowing.
BROOKE
No, let her finish. What am I, huh?
A clown? What is it?
Chelsea’s face softens -- it’s rare, vulnerable.
CHELSEA
Brookie... I’m sorry. I was being
an ass. Blizzard brain. Really.
Brooke rolls her eyes but looks away -- wounded under the
humor.
Riley notices. The room feels thinner now.
She turns to Lilly, gentle.
RILEY
You good, Lil?
Lilly doesn’t answer. She stares out the frost-glazed window
as snow churns outside -- wild, alive.
LILLY
Blizzards make everything quiet.
(beat)
But that’s the trick. You don’t
realize you’re trapped until
everything’s buried.
Chelsea scoffs.
BROOKE
It’s weather, not a demonic force
field.
Lilly’s eyes stay fixed on the window.
Chelsea's phone lights her face.
ON PHONE -- INSTAGRAM.
A new selfie.
Blizzard framed perfectly behind her.
Effortless. Controlled.
12 likes.
Refresh.
Refresh.
Her thumb hovers.
A smile forms automatically -- the one from the photo.
It dies the second it lands.
She PINCH-ZOOMS.
Her eyes. Closer. A faint crease beneath one.
She tilts the phone. The crease sharpens in the glare.
Refresh.
She locks the phone.
Black screen.
Her reflection floats there -- warped, softened.
She lifts her chin. Tests the angle.
The reflection adjusts.
A beat late.
Chelsea doesn’t notice.
She unlocks the phone.
Refresh.
Her shoulders drop -- relief, not joy.
LILLY
Do you know about the sisters who
went missing here in the seventies?
Chelsea throws her head back.
BROOKE
Every sorority house has ghost
stories. It’s tradition.
CHELSEA
Oh God. Story time with Sadgirl.
LILLY
A blizzard like this one. Three
sisters. Gone. Just... vanished.
Wind slams against the house -- answering.
RILEY
They never found them?
LILLY
Not a trace.
BROOKE
Probably ran off with some drummer
in a Camaro.
A sickly-sweet floral scent creeps across the room.
Brooke sniffs.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Smells like... a funeral home.
The overhead lights flicker.
Lilly closes her book.
LILLY
My mom was here five years after it
happened. She said people stopped
talking about it.
(beat)
Like the house wanted them
forgotten.
CHELSEA
You’re messing with us.
LILLY
I’m not.
(beat)
One of their names was... Jane
Dawkins.
Riley exhales. Tries to steady herself.
She turns toward the window.
In the glass -- a REFLECTION. SUE (60s).
Not fully there. Just the suggestion of her shape -- tall,
still, patient -- standing behind Riley.
Riley’s breath catches.
She spins --
Nothing.
The room is empty.
Riley turns back to the window.
Her own reflection stares back at her now -- pale, shaken.
Chelsea exhales shakily and tosses her hair like she’s
shaking off a nightmare.
CHELSEA
Okay, new rule -- no more ghost
stories during blizzards.
Lilly clutches her blanket tighter -- still staring at the
window.
LILLY
We’re not alone in this house.
CHELSEA
Oh my God, Lilly, stop. You’re
giving me cardiac acne.
Brooke hops off the couch arm, fishing for the wine bottle.
A long, groaning CREAK rolls through the house.
Everyone goes still.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
That one sounded structural.
LILLY
It’s just old wood.
Another creak. Louder.
Brooke throws her arms wide.
BROOKE
Relax. If we die in this house, at
least we’ll trend. “Four hot co-eds
murdered by vibes.”
Silence.
Chelsea doesn’t look up from her phone.
Riley crosses into the foyer to lock the deadbolt again.
Lilly stares at the window.
Brooke’s smile hangs there.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Too soon?
Nothing.
She nods to herself -- recalibrating.
CHELSEA
Can you not?
BROOKE
Tough crowd. Wow. I’ll workshop it.
You’re welcome for the free
content.
She flops onto the couch, grabbing the wine bottle.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
So. Who wants to play something?
Something dumb. Before we all
spiral into existential dread?
Brooke takes a sip. Eyes on the floor for half a second.
Then the grin snaps back into place.
Chelsea perks up slightly.
CHELSEA
Like what? Truth or Shot? Emotional
Trauma Bingo?
BROOKE
No. We need something vintage.
Retro. Something that doesn’t
involve Chelsea’s skincare routine
or Riley lecturing us about library
etiquette.
LILLY
(soft)
There’s old board games in the
basement... or we could celebrate
my bir --
Chelsea wrinkles her nose.
CHELSEA
-- The basement? Hard pass.
Lilly nods quickly. Forces a small smile.
Brooke raises an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself.
BROOKE
Come on, Chels. Could be fun. Like
urban exploration... but indoors.
The wind rattles the house.
Lilly stands, letting the blanket fall.
LILLY
Let's do it.
Chelsea snaps toward her.
Riley exhales -- uneasy.
Lilly meets Riley's eyes. There's a glint there -- curiosity
edged with something older.
Brooke claps her hands once -- crisp, final.
BROOKE
Basement adventure it is!
Chelsea groans -- stands anyway.
Riley hesitates, looking once more toward the dark hallway.
LILLY
Come on, Riley.
(smiles faintly)
The basement's waiting.
The lights flicker -- just once.
Together, they start toward the basement.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
The Uneasy Discovery
INT. BASEMENT STAIRWELL – NIGHT
The girls huddle together at the top of the basement stairs.
Darkness stares back.
BROOKE
Okay. No one scream unless it’s
hot.
CHELSEA
Brooke, literally shut up.
Riley grips the railing.
Brooke flips the pull-chain bulb on.
BUZZ.
The bulb steadies.
The basement yawns beneath them -- low ceiling, exposed
beams, stone walls sweating moisture.
They descend the creaking wooden steps.
BROOKE
(to Riley)
You know, for someone who reads so
much horror, you’d think you’d be
less scared of stairs.
RILEY
I’m not scared of stairs. I’m
scared of things that live under
stairs.
Chelsea squeaks -- jumps closer to Brooke.
They reach the bottom.
The air thickens -- still, stale.
Riley pauses, frowning.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Do you feel that?
BROOKE
What? The mold? Because yeah.
Lilly nods once -- she feels it too.
They move deeper.
Old sorority junk fills the shelves -- faded composite
photos, cracked candle holders, paint-peeling paddles.
Riley waves a hand in front of her face.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
The funeral home smell again.
Chelsea coughs.
CHELSEA
I’m literally inhaling ghosts.
They pass a pile of old mattresses. A dresser with no
drawers.
Brooke slows. Something catches her eye.
She notices a faded Greek letter banner nailed above a wooden
storage trunk.
Brooke kneels, brushing away cobwebs.
The trunk is carved with ornate symbols -- too ornate for a
sorority prop.
Riley crouches beside her.
Brooke tugs the latch --
CREEEEAK.
The trunk opens. Cold air spills out.
Inside --
A black lacquered box -- glossy, precise, board-game sized.
Neon pink lettering gleams -- too new:
DREAM BOY.
Chelsea hugs herself tighter.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Nope. I don’t like it. Put it back.
Brooke lifts the black box carefully.
BROOKE
Dream Boy? This is awesome.
Riley freezes mid-breath.
RILEY
We’re not really going to play
that, are we?
Brooke wiggles the box at her.
BROOKE
Game night, bitches.
Chelsea gasps, stumbling backward.
CHELSEA
Oh my God. Absolutely not.
Brooke smirks.
LILLY
What kind of game is it?
The house GROANS. Loud. Deep.
Dust shakes from the beams above.
Brooke stands, cradling the box like a prize.
BROOKE
Who cares?
(smiling)
Let’s play.
Lilly stares at the game, pale.
Riley's gaze locks onto the underside of the box, where A
SIGIL is carved.
Twisted lines looping around a central eye shape.
THE SAME SIGIL FROM RILEY’S TEXTBOOK.
RILEY
(to herself)
Asmodeus...
Brooke grins, already heading toward the stairs.
BROOKE
Game night starts now.
The light flickers.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
The Game of Shadows
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The storm outside thrashes. Wind scratches the windows.
In the center of the room --
The Dream Boy box sits on the coffee table -- neon pink
letters glinting.
The girls gather around. The air is thick. Charged.
Riley lifts the lid --
CHELSEA
This better be good.
INSIDE THE BOX
-- A pastel-pink folding board.
-- Two decks of glossy cards
-- A bubblegum-pink cordless phone.
-- Four heart figurines
-- A yellowish dice
-- A single yellowed rule card.
Riley picks up the rule card --
INSERT -- THE RULES
ONCE THE GAME STARTS, IT MUST BE FINISHED.
CHOOSE YOUR DREAM BOY AND WAIT FOR HIS CALL.
ANSWER BEFORE THE FOURTH RING
DO NOT HANG UP BEFORE HE DOES.
AFTER EVERY CALL, ROLL THE DICE.
THE FIRST TO THE END OF THE BOARD CLAIMS THEIR DREAM BOY AND
WINS.
Riley studies the yellowed rule card. The ink gleams. Still
wet.
RILEY
(reading)
Pick your boy. Answer the call
before the fourth ring. Don’t hang
up before he does. Roll the dice
after your turn. First to the end
of the board wins. Oh, and once you
start, you must finish.
Lilly leans in, scanning the card in Riley's hand.
LILLY
Once you start, you must finish.
She looks up.
LILLY (CONT'D)
That part feels... specific.
CHELSEA
Already bored. Okay -- order goes
me, Brookie, Lilly, and last but
not least...
She eyes Riley.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Our resident haunted librarian.
Chelsea flips her card.
GARY -- smirk sharp as a blade. Leather jacket. Eyes that
promise trouble and enjoy it.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Okay. Gary. Bad boy energy.
BROOKE
He looks like he owns a switchblade
and a mixtape of red flags.
Chelsea plants the card on the table.
Lilly flips hers.
ZANE -- blond curls, smug grin. Too perfect.
LILLY
Of course his name is Zane.
Brooke flips her card.
DEAN -- clean-cut charm with something hollow underneath.
BROOKE
Dean. Tell my therapist I tried.
Riley hesitates. All eyes on her now. She turns her card.
EDDIE -- soft eyes. Kind smile. Normal.
RILEY
He looks... safe.
CHELSEA
And boring. On brand.
Riley forces a smile --
The card FLICKERS.
Just for a fraction of a second --
EDDIE’S FACE WARPS -- collapsing into ETHAN.
Dead eyes. Hungry.
Riley recoils.
LILLY
Riley?
Riley blinks.
EDDIE is back. Smiling. Harmless.
CHELSEA
It’s literally a picture of a guy
on cardboard. Why do you look like
you saw a ghost?
Riley swallows. Steadies herself.
RILEY
I'm fine. Just thought I saw
something.
BROOKE
So... what now? We just wait for
our emotionally unavailable dream
boys to call?
The house CREAKS -- settling. Listening.
LILLY
Maybe they text first.
Chelsea snorts -- easy, dismissive -- but her eyes drift to
the pink phone.
Silence.
The lights HUM -- barely there.
Chelsea's smirk flickers.
The phone sits there. Waiting.
RING.
The pink phone SHRIEKS.
The sound slices through the room.
Everyone freezes.
Chelsea stares at the phone -- her smirk gone.
CHELSEA
No. Fucking. Way.
BROOKE
Answer it.
LILLY
It’s probably a built-in sound
effect.
Chelsea lifts the phone.
CHELSEA
Hello?
Silence. Then --
GARY (V.O.)
(low, seductive)
Hello, Chelsea.
Her smirk fades.
CHELSEA
How do you know my name?
GARY (V.O.)
I see you. I always have.
Her blood runs cold.
CHELSEA
Stop. That’s not funny.
GARY (V.O.)
(voice distorts)
I... see... you...
Chelsea’s face drains.
RILEY
Don't hang --
SLAM.
Chelsea HANGS UP.
A deep, wooden GROAN ripples through the walls -- like
something shifting its weight.
The rule card lies on the table.
Ink seeps from the letters of "Don't Hang Up Before He Does" -
- slow, deliberate.
POP.
The lights DIE.
Darkness swallows the room.
A collective inhale.
Chelsea taps her phone screen. Nothing.
She checks again.
NO SERVICE.
She catches her reflection in the black glass.
Her face looks... wrong.
Older. Drawn. The smile lines too deep.
Chelsea frowns, shakes her head -- blinks hard.
Looks again.
Normal.
She exhales, shaky.
LILLY
What did he say?
Chelsea doesn’t answer. Her face has gone hollow.
A COLD RIPPLE of air slides down the staircase.
BROOKE
You have to roll now.
Chelsea shakes her head -- small, instinctive.
CHELSEA
I don’t wanna play this game
anymore.
BROOKE
(laughs)
You’re kidding, right? We just
started. Don’t be such a funsucker.
Brooke makes a crude sucking noise.
Chelsea snaps a look at her -- sharp.
CHELSEA
Fuck off.
Then -- resignation curdled with fear.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Fine. I’ll go.
She scoops up the yellowed dice.
Her hands tremble. She rolls.
The dice clatter -- echoing too loud in the dark.
Six.
She moves six spaces. Stops. The square reads: TRUTH.
RILEY
You pick up a Truth card now.
Chelsea hesitates.
Her fingers hover over the deck -- like it might bite.
She pulls the top card. Reads.
The color drains from her face.
Then -- anger rushes in to cover it.
CHELSEA
Whose idea was this? Was it you,
Brooke? This isn’t funny.
BROOKE
I don’t know what you’re talking
about. What does the card say?
Chelsea looks down again -- steels herself.
CHELSEA
(reading)
What will you do when they... stop
looking at you?
Silence.
BROOKE
What the fuck.
Chelsea moves away from the circle, sits apart.
She thumbs her phone -- harder now.
She tilts the screen toward her. Her reflection looks back.
But it’s just... off.
Chelsea lifts her chin. Her reflection lifts its chin a half-
second later. A syrupy delay.
Chelsea freezes. She shifts the phone right.
Her reflection follows -- smooth, calculated -- like it
decided to.
Her breath stutters.
CHELSEA
I’m going to the bathroom. I just --
I need a second.
RILEY
Chelsea -- don’t go alone.
Chelsea lets out a brittle laugh. Too loud.
CHELSEA
Relax. I’ll pee with the door open
if that makes you feel better.
She grabs the lantern -- fumbles -- clicks it ON.
Light flares. Unsteady.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
See? Light. Technology. No ghosts
allowed.
She forces a smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
Chelsea heads for the stairs. Riley follows a step.
RILEY
Chelsea -- seriously.
Chelsea stops. Turns.
For a fraction of a second, the mask drops. Pure fear. Bare.
Then it’s gone.
CHELSEA
Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine.
She turns away.
The stairs CREAK beneath her.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Unease in the Hallway
INT. STAIRCASE - NIGHT
Chelsea climbs, each step groaning under her weight.
Her lantern flickers.
Halfway up --
She stops. Listens.
The house inhales, a deep, wooden sigh.
She swallows hard.
CHELSEA
(to herself)
It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re fine.
INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Chelsea steps onto the second-floor landing.
Her lantern casts shaky halos of light across closed doors.
Halfway down the corridor, she slows.
A large SORORITY COMPOSITE hangs on the wall -- decades of
smiling girls arranged in perfect rows.
It’s slightly crooked.
Chelsea stops. Squints.
She sets the lantern on the floor. Steps closer.
Tilts the frame a fraction to the left.
She steps back. Studies. Still off.
Chelsea nudges one bottom corner -- barely a touch.
There. Level.
She folds her arms. Nods once, satisfied.
A small, private smile.
For a moment, she looks calm. In control.
She picks up the lantern and continues down the hall.
The composite hangs still.
Then tilts again.
She approaches the bathroom door, slightly ajar.
The faintest drip... drip... drip... comes from inside.
She peers in -- pushes the door open.
The dripping stops.
She takes a step inside.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Reflections of Fear
INT. BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Chelsea shuts the door behind her with a SNAP -- sets her
lantern on the sink.
Its bluish glow makes her skin look waxy -- like a mannequin.
She leans toward the mirror. Rubs her cheeks.
Her reflection WINKS.
Chelsea freezes.
She rubs her eyes. Stares again.
Her reflection resets.
She forces a smile. Smooths her hair.
Her reflection doesn’t move -- it smiles faintly. Too still.
The reflection’s complexion dulls -- wrinkles spiderweb
across its skin.
Chelsea stumbles backward.
CHELSEA
What the fuck --
The reflection leans closer to the glass.
REFLECTION (V.O.)
(deep, masculine)
What happens when they stop looking
at you, Chelsea?
The lantern flickers. The temperature drops.
Chelsea’s breath fogs out in white clouds.
The mirror fogs. Letters carve through it --
“I SEE YOU.”
Chelsea steps back -- her entire body trembles.
Two handprints press from inside the glass -- the surface
bulging like skin.
Her reflection looks sixty years older now --
Sagging skin, yellowed teeth.
The glass bulges wider -- a face PUSHES through --
The handsome face of GARY. Perfect jawline. Dreamy eyes.
Radiant smile.
GARY
(soft, hungry)
With me, you’ll never wrinkle.
You’ll be beautiful forever.
His mouth splits open to reveal --
Rows of wet, jagged teeth.
Chelsea lunges for the door, pulling at the knob --
It’s locked.
Her wrinkled doppelgänger pounds the glass from the inside,
grinning with rotten gums.
Gary has vanished.
Her reflection reaches through --
A withered hand shoots out -- wrapping around her wrist.
Her skin withers instantly. Veins blacken. Wrinkles spread up
her arm.
Chelsea claws at the door with her free hand.
CHELSEA
Help! Help me!
Then, with a final, glassy suck --
The mirror SWALLOWS Chelsea whole.
It ripples once --
Then smooths into a pristine reflection of an empty bathroom.
The lantern dies with a POP.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Frozen Fear
INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
Riley and Lilly stand frozen near the staircase -- listening.
A THUD upstairs. Heavy.
The house CREAKS. A slow, satisfied sound.
Brooke backs toward the foyer, shaking her head.
INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS
BROOKE
Nope. No. Chelsea’s messing with
us.
She grabs the doorknob and yanks.
It doesn't move.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Okay. Cute. Who locked it?
She twists harder. The knob doesn’t even rattle.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Riley.
Riley steps closer. Tries the lock.
Nothing.
RILEY
It’s frozen.
BROOKE
It’s what?
Riley presses her palm against the wood.
Ice crystals spiderweb beneath her hand. Her breath clouds.
LILLY
It’s not that cold inside...
Brooke SLAMS her shoulder into it.
The impact BOOMS -- but the door doesn’t budge.
Instead, a dull vibration ripples up the walls.
A low GROAN rolls through the beams.
BROOKE
(voice cracking)
Open the door!
She pounds again -- harder.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Open the fucking door!
Riley grabs Brooke’s arm.
RILEY
Stop.
BROOKE
We’re trapped. That’s great. That’s
just fucking great.
From the ceiling -- a faint CREAK. Slow footsteps above them.
LILLY
Chelsea?
No answer.
Brooke stumbles back from the door.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Tension in the Living Room
INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Brooke's bravado cracks -- just a hairline fracture.
RING.
The sound slices through the room.
Lilly jumps.
Brooke stiffens.
Riley's eyes track, slow, toward the coffee table.
RING.
The pink phone sits there. Waiting.
RILEY
Brooke --
BROOKE
-- Nope.
She backs away.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
I’m not playing anymore.
I didn’t agree to this.
RING.
The third ring HUMS deeper -- metallic, impatient.
RILEY
Don't pick it up after the fourth
ring.
BROOKE
That doesn’t mean anything.
The phone RINGS again.
The FOURTH RING.
Brooke snaps.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Fine!
She lunges -- snatches the receiver --
AFTER THE FOURTH RING
She presses it to her ear.
Silence.
Then -- a low, canned LAUGH TRACK crackles to life. Tinny.
Wrong.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Hello?
The laughter SWELLS -- looping, echoing, multiplying.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Okay. Nope. Not funny.
She hangs up.
The LAUGHTER CUTS.
Upstairs, a SOFT THUD.
Lilly stiffens.
Brooke hugs herself tighter in her hoodie.
Another THUD -- directly above them.
Riley rises, listening.
The rule card sits on the table.
A thin link of ink leaks from the lettering of "Answer Before
the Fourth Ring" -- then darkens.
LILLY
What did he say?
BROOKE
Nothing, it was just... laughing. A
room full of it.
RILEY
You picked up after the fourth
ring.
BROOKE
So?
RILEY
The rules said --
Brooke bristles.
BROOKE
-- Whatever. It’s just a stupid
game. Nothing happ --
Brooke's smile flickers. She sniffs. Touches her upper lip.
Pulls her fingers away --
RED.
A thin line of blood beads from one nostril.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Great. I'm bleeding. Love that for
me.
She wipes at it with the back of her hand.
A single DROP releases. Hits the hardwood.
TICK.
A long, low CREAK rolls through the beams.
RILEY
You still have to roll.
Brooke swallows, throat tight. Then snatches up the dice.
She rolls. The dice clatter across the board. Then settle.
Six.
Brooke’s grin flickers.
She moves her piece six spaces.
Stops.
TRUTH.
BROOKE
Okay. Fine.
She reaches for the Truth deck.
Hesitates -- just a hair.
Then pulls the top card.
Reads.
Her smile collapses.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Nope. I don’t like that.
RILEY
What does it say?
Brooke doesn’t answer.
She rereads the card -- jaw tightening.
BROOKE
(reading)
What do you call the girl that
hides behind jokes?
Silence.
The question hangs there -- pointed.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
This is bullshit.
She drops the card back on the table -- like it burned her.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Chelsea’s messing with us. This is
her thing.
RILEY
She didn’t write the cards.
BROOKE
You don’t know that.
A floorboard CREAKS upstairs.
LILLY
We should go check on her.
BROOKE
No.
(beat)
She said she was fine. We stay
here.
RILEY
She’s been gone too long.
BROOKE
So what -- we split up now? That’s
smart?
Brooke sinks back onto the couch -- arms folded tight.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
We stay put. Together.
Riley and Lilly exchange a look.
Upstairs, something SHIFTS.
All three girls jerk their heads up.
Lilly grabs Riley’s sleeve.
LILLY
We... we need to find Chelsea.
Riley nods.
Brooke steps back.
BROOKE
I’m staying right here. Right in
this room.
RILEY
We need to stay together.
BROOKE
Good. Then stay here. I'm not going
up there.
Lilly looks torn, terrified.
LILLY
We shouldn’t split up.
BROOKE
Then don’t.
Riley exchanges a look with Lilly.
Riley steps toward the dark hallway. Lilly follows.
RILEY
(soft, firm)
We’ll be right back.
Brooke sinks into the corner of the couch, hugging herself,
eyes locked on the quiet pink phone.
The house CREAKS. A deep wooden sigh moves through the beams.
BROOKE
Hurry back. I'm running out of
jokes.
Riley and Lilly disappear into the darkness.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
The Search in the Shadows
INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT (MOMENTS LATER)
Riley and Lilly race down the hallway, lanterns swinging,
breathless with panic.
Beams play across rows of closed doors --
LILLY
Chelsea?!
Each one feels like an eye -- shut but watching.
One door sits slightly ajar --
The bathroom.
Riley hesitates, then nudges it open --
Inside --
Sparkling clean. Porcelain gleaming. No Chelsea.
Riley closes the door --
The latch CLICKS unnaturally loud.
The hallway leans. Narrows. Presses in.
They go deeper down the hall -- stop.
The door in front of them --
Bigger. Older. A seam of light bleeds underneath.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
The Haunting Return
INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
Brooke sits curled in the corner of the couch, knees to her
chest, staring at the pink Dream Boy box on the coffee table.
The house CREAKS above her.
She forces a shaky exhale and crawls toward the coffee table.
The box’s neon letters glint in the dim light, cheerful in a
way that feels threatening.
Brooke reaches out... hesitates... then flips the box over.
On the underside --
A SIGIL.
Brooke’s breath catches.
BROOKE
No... no. Nope.
She drops the box. It lands with a dull THUD, sigil facing
the ceiling like a staring pupil.
Brooke staggers back, trembling. Her gaze darts to the
fireplace.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
(whispers)
Burn it. Just... burn the damn
thing.
She snatches the box with both hands -- holding it out like a
dead animal -- and stumbles to the fireplace.
The flames dance low, sputtering.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
You don’t get to call me again.
She tosses the Dream Boy box into the flames.
The cardboard and wood catch instantly — crackling, curling,
blackening.
A puff of pink vapor escapes like a dying breath.
Brooke steps back, watching the box warp and collapse into
embers.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
(whispering)
Yes. yes. Burn.
A SHARP POP.
The fire flickers. The flames shrink.
A cold draft whispers across the room.
Brooke’s smile fades.
She turns...
The Dream Boy box sits on the coffee table.
Perfectly intact. Exactly where she left it.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
(voice cracking)
What...?
She spins toward the fireplace.
In the flames -- the charred remains she watched burn --
Gone.
Only undisturbed firewood crackles softly.
Brooke gasps, backing away until her shoulders hit the wall.
The box lid lifts a fraction on its own -- just enough for a
sliver of darkness to stare back at her.
A faint HUM builds inside it. Like a held breath.
Brooke shakes her head violently.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
No. No-no-no-no --
The HUM deepens.
Brooke’s knees buckle.
The house CREAKS above her.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Unlocking Secrets
INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY – SAME
The upstairs hallway stretches out -- narrow, airless.
Riley and Lilly stand at the end of it, Riley's hand on a
brass doorknob.
She turns it -- doesn’t move. Locked.
RILEY
Shit.
LILLY
What are you doing?
Riley tests the knob again. Slower. Nothing.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Riley... maintenance doesn’t even
go in there.
RILEY
That’s how I know it matters.
The hallway answers with a faint CREAK -- wood settling.
Lilly swallows.
LILLY
You feel it too, don’t you?
Riley presses her palm flat against the door. The wood is
cold.
RILEY
She’s hiding something.
Lilly glances down the hallway behind them. Empty. Still.
LILLY
If Sue catches us --
RILEY
She won’t.
Lilly looks at her.
LILLY
How do you know?
Riley lifts her pant leg just enough to reveal a black five-
inch knife strapped to her calf.
Lilly exhales, half a laugh.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Jesus. You were planning this.
RILEY
I was planning on not being
surprised.
Riley slides the blade into the lock.
SCRAPE.
The sound slices through the hallway.
The wallpaper along the walls TWITCHES.
Lilly stiffens.
LILLY
Riley.
Another push. SCRAPE. Metal grinds.
Lilly takes a step back.
LILLY (CONT'D)
This feels like a bad idea.
Riley adjusts the blade -- hand steady.
RILEY
Everything about this house feels
like a bad idea.
She pushes harder. The knife rasps.
SCRAAAAPE.
Lilly clamps her arms around herself.
The hallway narrows. The ceiling presses down.
LILLY
Riley, if we open that door --
One last, precise movement --
CLICK.
The sound snaps through the hallway. Echoes once.
Riley pulls the blade free.
The house PULSES -- deep, slow, aware -- like a heartbeat
felt through walls.
LILLY (CONT'D)
(whispers)
It knows.
Riley doesn’t answer. She reaches for the knob. This time --
it turns.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Whispers from the Past
INT. SUE'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Riley pushes the door open -- a flashlight beam cuts through
the gloom.
Lilly shuffles in behind her.
Dust floats in beam-thin strips of lantern light.
The room is immaculate --
Lace curtains are pinned stiff. A canopy bed with sheets
pressed flat.
An antique vanity gleams -- silver brushes laid out with
surgical precision.
The air is dense. Damp.
They edge in, their breaths hitching.
Riley crouches by the nightstand -- sliding the drawer open --
Empty.
THE VANITY MIRROR FOGS.
Condensation at first... then -- shapes.
LILLY
Riley... look.
Riley turns.
In the mirror -- THREE GIRLS.
JANE (20). CHRISSY (20). MEGHAN (20). The missing 1976
sorority girls.
They stand still. In faded sorority sweaters. Makeup perfect.
Hair pinned.
Their skin is pale and waxy. Eyes rimmed in deep, shadowed
hollows.
Lilly grabs Riley’s arm, her knuckles white.
LILLY (CONT'D)
What do they want?
RILEY
Maybe they’re trying to tell us
something.
Jane lifts her hand -- pressing it against the other side of
the glass.
She turns her head -- staring right past Riley toward
something unseen behind her.
Riley turns -- the flashlight swipes across the room.
Something catches her eye --
THE CLOSET.
When she turns back -- the girls are gone.
Riley crosses to the closet and pulls the door open --
Ordinary clothes. Folded scarves. All perfectly arranged...
Then -- something behind them. A faint seam.
Riley reaches. Pushes.
CLICK.
A false panel swings inward to reveal --
A hidden walk-in closet, narrow but full-length.
They step inside.
INT. SUE’S CLOSET – CONTINUOUS
Riley shines her flashlight along the narrow space -- ritual
tools, Polaroids, melted candles.
Then -- she spots it.
A black leather journal, bound with a red ribbon. Old. Thick.
Riley lifts it carefully, eyes narrowing. She unties the
ribbon.
As she opens it --
INT. ATTIC – NIGHT (FLASHBACK, 1926)
GASLIGHT flickers. Velvet wallpaper breathes. Four women,
pale and trembling, sit around a mahogany table.
At the head -- SUE (20) -- radiant in black silk, pearls like
knives.
On the table: a rotary phone, a spirit board, a hair doll
twitching on lace.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
The Price of Summoning
INT. SUE’S ROOM – NIGHT (PRESENT)
Riley flips to the first page. Elegant, looping script in
black ink:
“DECEMBER 1926 -- We believed we were summoning love. What we
found was hunger.”
She reads on, flipping faster.
INT. ATTIC – NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Sue grips hands with her sisters.
SUE
Tonight.... we call our boys home.
The air hums. The planchette trembles. EDITH lifts the
receiver. Her eyes brim with tears.
EDITH
Joseph?...
The shadows stretch. Edith's face goes pale.
EDITH (CONT'D)
Sue -- it's not him!
Edith SLAMS the phone down on its cradle.
SUE
Hold the line. Do not. Break. The
circle.
INT. SUE’S ROOM – NIGHT (PRESENT)
Riley turns the page -- a charcoal drawing of a sigil. The
same eye-shaped knot.
Underneath:
"Hair binds. Blood releases. Truth damns."
Riley gasps -- flips again.
INT. ATTIC – NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
RING.
Edith's eyes widen in horror. Then -- SNAP. Her neck jerks
sideways.
The circle breaks. Shadows SHRIEK.
The planchette flies, embedding in plaster. Two women SCREAM -
- dragged into the dark.
INT. SUE’S ROOM – NIGHT (PRESENT)
Riley turns to the final pages. They’re frantic. Unhinged.
One phrase is etched over and over:
“Claimed girls don’t rot.”
Riley’s hand trembles. She slams the journal shut.
INT. ATTIC – NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Only Sue remains. Composed. Eyes wide with devotion.
She lifts the phone receiver.
ASMODEUS (V.O.)
What is claimed does not decay.
The phone GLOWS red-hot. Its dial spins backward.
Sue's pearls snap, clattering like teeth.
Blood beads at her lip -- and still, she smiles.
Behind her --
A shadow bleeds from the wall.
A hulking, monstrous form. Three heads: MAN. BULL. RAM.
Eyes aflame. Wings broken. Watching.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Haunting Revelations
INT. CLOSET - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
Riley turns her flashlight to the back wall. On it:
POLAROIDS.
Photos of Riley, Lilly, Brooke, and Chelsea.
Arranged in a ceremonial cross. Their names are scrawled
beneath each photo.
Chelsea's photo is circled -- a red pentagram drawn inside
it.
LILLY
Oh God.
Riley steps in closer -- staring, her breath ragged.
FLASH.
A single Polaroid flutters down from the ceiling -- drifting
like ash -- and lands face-up at Riley’s feet.
The image is crisp, impossibly preserved:
The 1976 girls in matching sorority sweaters -- posed.
And on the table behind them sits a familiar black lacquered
box --
DREAM BOY.
The lantern light jitters, flickers.
A stretched SHADOW glides across the far wall, long-fingered,
with no visible source.
Then -- slow, deliberate --
An invisible fingertip presses into the wall.
The paper wrinkles as an unseen force drags a fresh red
circle around Brooke’s Polaroid.
Riley staggers back, breath hitching.
LILLY (CONT'D)
(whisper)
Riley...
Riley stumbles back.
RILEY
Brooke.
A single strand of hair drifts down from the ceiling --
twisting in the air like it’s alive.
RILEY (CONT'D)
(to herself)
Hair binds. Blood releases. Truth
damns.
Canned laughter erupts from the walls.
The Polaroids SHIVER.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
The Punchline of Fear
INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
The storm presses against the windows.
Brooke stands near the coffee table, the pink phone waiting,
arms folded tight across her chest.
She glances toward the hallway where Riley and Lilly
disappeared.
Silence.
Brooke exhales -- long, shaky -- and drops onto the couch.
Her eyes land on the POLAROID from earlier.
She picks it up carefully.
INSERT -- THE PHOTO
Four girls mid-laugh. Brooke’s head thrown back. Riley mid-
snort. Chelsea winking. Lilly squinting into the flash.
Back to Brooke.
She studies her younger self.
BROOKE
(softly, to the photo)
You were so loud.
A small smile flickers. Fades.
She traces the outline of Riley’s face with her thumb. Then
Lilly’s. Then Chelsea’s.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
We thought we were... permanent.
Her breath wobbles.
Outside, the wind hits harder -- a low, hollow moan through
the chimney.
Brooke swallows.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
(whispers)
I’m scared.
Her composure cracks. She presses the Polaroid to her chest.
A tear slips down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away.
Another follows.
Her shoulders begin to shake -- quiet, contained sobs.
She curls sideways on the couch, clutching the photo like
something fragile that might dissolve if she loosens her
grip.
She looks at the Polaroid again.
For a split second --
Her smiling self in the photo looks back at her... angry.
Brooke blinks.
It’s normal again.
She stares at it longer this time.
CLICK.
The TV snaps ON behind her. Static.
Brooke stiffens. Turns.
She yanks the power cord from the wall. The screen stays on.
The loose cord slithers across the floor -- CLICK. Replugs
itself.
CANNED LAUGH TRACK EXPLODES -- loud, mean.
The static bleeds into an image --
A COMEDY CLUB.
Red velvet curtains. Smoke.
A single mic under a blinding spotlight.
Onstage -- DEAN.
Perfect. Teeth white. Smile sharpened.
DEAN (ON TV)
Ladies and gentlemen... your
headliner tonight -- Brooke Jacobs.
Laughter detonates -- not just from the TV. It RATTLES the
walls.
Brooke clutches her stomach.
BROOKE
No. This isn’t real.
DEAN (ON TV)
Come on, Brooke. Give us a joke.
The mic SHRIEKS with feedback.
Brooke opens her mouth -- Nothing. Her throat locks.
The laugh track ERUPTS again.
Brooke JERKS -- A laugh rips out of her, involuntary.
Then another.
She doubles over -- laughter convulsing her body.
BROOKE
Stop -- please --
Her lips SPLIT at the corners. Blood dribbles down her chin.
The room PEELS AWAY. She’s standing in a SEA OF SHADOW-FACED
MEN -- on stage.
Tables pounding. Mouths open. Laughing.
The sound SHAKES her ribs.
CRACK.
Brooke’s jaw SNAPS wider.
She sobs. Tries to cover her mouth.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Please --
The audience CHANTS, rhythmic and hungry --
SHADOW AUDIENCE (V.O.)
Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!
Dean steps closer to Brooke.
DEAN (ON TV)
I’ve got a joke for you.
Brooke collapses to her knees.
BROOKE
No... no...
Dean crouches. Cups her chin -- mockingly tender.
He smears her blood across her cheek like lipstick.
DEAN
What do you call a girl who hides
behind jokes?
Brooke convulses. Her jaw UNHINGES.
Blood sprays across the mic as it DROPS from above --
The microphone sprouts wires -- metallic tendrils.
They coil around her arms -- yank her upright.
Brooke’s mouth tears wider -- a permanent grin.
Dean wraps an arm around her shoulders.
His eyes glow yellow. Teeth too long.
DEAN (CONT'D)
The punchline.
The faceless audience rises -- CLAPPING.
Brooke’s body goes limp -- dangling from the mic.
Her jaw hangs open -- split into a grotesque smile.
SMASH BACK TO LIVING ROOM
The TV flickers -- static.
The pink phone HUMS, satisfied.
On the rug --
Brooke lies slumped. Lifeless.
Lips torn. Smile frozen.
A faint laugh track wheezes from the dead TV.
The floorboards beneath her SOFTEN. Warp.
CREAK. POP.
They split -- dark and wet below.
Brooke’s body tilts -- slides.
Her face -- still smiling -- is the last thing visible before
the floor CLOSES around her.
The beams settle. Satisfied.
Then the room falls still.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Reflections of Fear
INT. SUE’S ROOM – NIGHT
Riley SLAMS the closet panel shut and turns toward the
vanity.
An old silver hairbrush rests beside the mirror -- pristine.
She reaches for it --
The mirror SHIMMERS.
Just a ripple. Like breath on glass.
Riley freezes.
In the reflection behind her --
SUE (20) stands where Riley should be. Young. Soft-faced.
Bright-eyed. Hair thick.
She smiles -- gentle, almost shy.
A low, breathy GIGGLE slips from the mirror. Intimate. Close.
Riley doesn’t turn.
Beside her, Lilly’s breath stutters -- shoulders drawing
tight.
The giggle multiplies, filling the walls -- dozens of Sue’s,
laughing at different speeds.
Underneath it --
A WET, STICKY SOUND. Flesh separating from glass.
Riley’s fingers hover inches from the hairbrush.
In the mirror, Sue tilts her head.
Her mouth opens just slightly -- as if to whisper a secret.
Her HAND PUSHES THROUGH THE MIRROR -- glass stretching around
her wrist.
And GRABS RILEY’S WRIST.
Riley gasps. Sue’s fingers tighten.
Her smile in the mirror doesn't change.
SUE (REFLECTION)
(soft, delighted)
Don’t rush.
The giggling spikes -- manic now -- crawling through the
walls, the floor, inside Riley’s skull.
The wet sound grows louder as Sue’s arm pushes farther
through, glass creasing around her elbow.
Riley rips her gaze from the mirror -- locks eyes with Lilly.
Fear, pure and wordless.
Riley yanks back --
Sue’s grip slides -- fingertips clawing --
Riley rips free, stumbling back --
Sue’s hand SNAPS BACK INTO THE MIRROR, the surface sealing
behind it like nothing ever happened.
The laughter CUTS OFF.
Riley snatches the hairbrush and jams it into her jeans.
She grabs Lilly’s arm -- hard.
They back toward the door.
The mirror behind them FOGS.
A single word appears, written from the inside --
MINE
Riley throws the door open --
They BOLT, fleeing into the hallway as --
The door SLAMS SHUT behind them.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Echoes of Fear
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Riley and Lilly burst in -- breathless, wild-eyed.
Fireplace embers glow low, dying.
LILLY
Brooke?
(beat)
Chelsea?
Lilly takes a few steps farther in.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Guys?! This isn’t funny!
Her words echo -- thin, swallowed by the house.
Lilly turns in a slow circle, panic blooming fast.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Where the hell did they go?
She looks at Riley -- searching her face like it might have
answers.
LILLY (CONT'D)
It’s like the house just...
(gestures, helpless)
Ate them.
Riley doesn’t answer.
Her attention is fixed near the couch.
On the rug --
An old MICROPHONE.
Wired. Scuffed. Slightly bent at the grille.
The cord snakes across the floor like it tried to crawl away
and gave up.
Lilly notices Riley’s stare.
Riley moves toward it. Careful not to rush.
She kneels. Picks it up.
The mic is faintly smeared with blood at the mouthpiece.
Still tacky.
Lilly swallows hard.
Riley sets the microphone on the coffee table.
The quiet stretches.
Lilly sinks onto the arm of the couch, hugging herself.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Okay. Okay, so... this is bad.
But we’re still here. That’s
something, right?
Riley nods, but doesn’t look convinced.
RILEY
Yeah. We’re still here.
Lilly watches Riley’s hands. They’re shaking.
LILLY
You’re doing that thing.
RILEY
What thing?
LILLY
Where you pretend everything's okay
so you don't have to say their
names.
Riley swallows
She sits on the edge of the couch, rubbing her palms against
her jeans.
RILEY
If I say them, it's real.
Lilly slides closer.
LILLY
If it helps... you don't have to
carry this by yourself.
Suddenly --
A FAINT LAUGH TRACK seeps into the room.
A tired, canned chuckle -- warped and distant -- like it’s
leaking through the walls themselves.
Riley and Lilly freeze.
The laughter fades.
Silence again.
Lilly’s breath comes quicker now.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Tell me you heard that.
Riley nods once.
Lilly reaches toward the microphone.
As her fingers near it --
The laugh track follows. A hollow chuckle. A wheeze.
Then -- nothing.
Lilly jerks her hand back.
Riley exhales -- shaky, human.
She presses her knuckles to her lips. Grounds herself.
The fireplace POPS. Sharp. Sudden.
Both girls flinch.
Lilly lets out a brittle laugh that collapses halfway
through.
LILLY (CONT'D)
I hate this house.
A low CREAK rolls through the walls -- slow, patient.
Riley’s gaze drifts to the coffee table.
The pink phone. Waiting.
Something shifts behind her eyes -- gears aligning.
She picks it up.
Turns it over in her hands.
RILEY
(quiet)
It isn’t random.
LILLY
What isn’t?
Riley studies the phone like a weapon she’s learning to use.
RILEY
The house. The game.
(beat)
It knows what scares you... then
gives you exactly what you're
afraid to want.
Riley unscrews the receiver. Careful. Deliberate.
LILLY
What are you --
CLACK.
The panel drops --
A grotesque HAIR DOLL spills out --
Blonde, brunette, auburn hair twisted tight. Eyes sewn shut.
The doll twitches. Its knotted mouth gapes open.
HAIR DOLL (V.O.)
(whisper, many voices)
I see you...
Riley flings it across the room.
The doll hits the floor -- convulses -- then goes still.
A single hair strand snakes away, slipping between the
floorboards.
RING.
Lilly freezes. Her breath stalls halfway in.
LILLY
It's my turn.
RING.
The sound slices through the room.
RILEY
Before four.
Lilly steps toward the coffee table.
RING.
She lifts the receiver on the third ring.
LILLY
(whisper)
Hello?
Static. Not white noise -- breathing. Close. Damp.
ZANE (V.O.)
There you are. Hello, Lilly.
Lilly stills.
LILLY
...Zane?
The lantern light dips -- then steadies.
ZANE (V.O.)
You always hesitate. Like you’re
waiting for permission to exist.
Lilly’s jaw tightens.
Riley watches her -- clocking every flicker.
LILLY
That’s not --
ZANE (V.O.)
-- It’s okay.
They don’t see you.
(beat)
I do.
The game board on the table trembles. Lilly’s heart figurine
shivers in place.
ZANE (V.O.)
You don’t want to disappear. You
want to be chosen.
Lilly’s knuckles whiten around the receiver.
RILEY
(quiet)
Lilly.
ZANE (V.O.)
Disappear into me. And I’ll make
you unforgettable.
The word lingers. Un-for-get-ta-ble.
The plastic receiver softens in Lilly’s grip.
The phone ripples like something breathing under latex.
LILLY
Riley --
The receiver swells in her hand. The seam splits with a wet,
intimate sound.
A FINGER pushes through. Perfect. Manicured.
It flexes. Then another finger.
Then a hand -- sliding free of the receiver.
Lilly can’t move. The hand cups her cheek. Tender.
Riley lunges -- grabs Lilly’s wrist -- pulls.
The hand tightens.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Help --
The palm presses over Lilly’s mouth. The sound cuts off.
RILEY
Lilly! Look at me!
Lilly’s eyes flick to Riley.
The hand begins to PUSH. Entering. Pressing at her lips. .
The fingers curl deeper against Lilly’s face.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Tell it the truth!
The hand pauses. A tiny tremor.
Lilly fights the pressure. Tears spill.
LILLY
(strangled)
I don’t want to be unforgettable.
The hand tightens again -- desperate now.
The room SHUDDERS.
LILLY (CONT'D)
I just -- I just want to take up
space.
The hand spasms.
Riley draws the knife from her calf in one smooth motion.
She drives it through the center of the palm.
A wet SHRIEK tears through the phone line.
Black-red fluid hisses where it hits the floor.
The hand recoils, snapping backward --
But the fingers cling to Lilly’s jaw, stretching unnaturally
long.
Riley tears the phone from Lilly’s hand and SLAMS it against
the table.
Once. Twice. The plastic fractures.
The hand snaps back with a wet POP -- vanishing into the
phone.
Riley drops the phone.
It hits the ground. Pulsing.
Lilly's eyes brim with tears.
RILEY
You okay?
LILLY
I think so.
A distant CREAK echoes -- deeper now.
The pink phone HUMS. Low. Steady.
Shadows writhe across the wall.
RILEY
It wants us up here. Let's go back
to the basement.
Riley’s eyes burn steady, calm.
Riley leads. Focused. Fast.
Lilly follows close behind -- breath shallow, eyes darting.
Behind them --
THE LIVING ROOM. EMPTY.
The Dream Boy board sits alone on the coffee table.
Riley reaches the basement door, grabs the knob --
Behind them --
CLICK.
A soft, plastic sound.
Lilly freezes.
LILLY
Riley...
Riley turns.
From the living room --
The YELLOWED DICE LIFTS off the board.
No hands. No strings.
It ROLLS across the pastel-pink surface.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The sound echoes unnaturally loud.
Riley and Lilly watch from the stair landing.
The dice settles.
FIVE.
Lilly’s HEART FIGURINE SHUDDERS --
-- then SLIDES ON ITS OWN.
One space.
Two. Three. Four. Five.
It STOPS.
The square beneath it reads:
LET’S PARTY.
The letters darken -- bleeding slightly, like fresh ink.
A low, distant THUMP-THUMP pulses through the walls.
LILLY (CONT'D)
(whisper)
I didn’t roll.
The board TICKS -- once -- like a clock finding its rhythm.
From somewhere deep in the house -- a faint sound drifts up.
MUSIC. Tinny. Warped.
The board’s surface SHIMMERS.
Confetti-like shadows skitter across the squares -- writhing,
celebratory.
Lilly’s breath quickens.
LILLY (CONT'D)
What does that one do?
Riley doesn’t answer right away.
Her eyes lock on the square -- jaw tightens.
RILEY
Whatever it wants.
The music SWELLS -- closer now.
Riley grabs Lilly’s wrist -- firm.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Don’t listen. Don’t look back.
Lilly nods -- fighting the pull.
The music spikes -- a burst of canned laughter underneath it.
Riley throws the basement door open.
Darkness yawns below.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Let's move.
They descend fast -- disappearing into the shadows.
Behind them --
The Dream Boy board sits silent again.
The LET’S PARTY square glows.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Echoes of the Past
INT. BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS
They reach the bottom of the stairs.
Riley scans the basement with her lantern light --
The lantern BUZZES.
CLICK.
The old record player in the corner jerks to life on its own.
DISCO MUSIC crackles out -- warped, slowed, like it’s being
played through water.
The basement doesn’t change --
-- but something is wrong.
Three GIRLS flicker into existence near the furnace.
Not ghosts -- like reflections caught in bad glass.
JANE. CHRISSY. MEGHAN.
Young. Laughing. Oblivious.
They stutter -- frames skipping -- as they drag a wooden
storage trunk across the concrete.
It SCRAPES.
The sound echoes.
Riley flinches.
The trunk overlaps itself -- half there, half not – until --
Chrissy POPS it open.
Inside --
The DREAM BOY box.
Its neon-pink lettering glows faintly.
CHRISSY
Okay, but this is... adorable.
Her voice sounds like it’s coming through a phone line.
MEGHAN
That font is cursed.
Jane lifts the box --
Her hand passes through it for a split second --
She shivers.
They sit on the floor.
The girls’ movements desync -- a half-second behind
themselves.
Jane snatches the rule card.
JANE
(mocking)
“Choose your Dream Boy... wait for
his call... Don't hang up...”
The card slips from her fingers --
Hits the concrete --
And SKIDS --
-- becoming the SAME rule card Lilly is holding.
Lilly gasps.
The record player SKIPS.
Chrissy spins the rotary phone.
The dial rotates backward.
The basement lights FLICKER.
For one frame --
A SHADOW looms behind the furnace.
Tall. Triple-headed. Gone.
RING.
The sound hits Riley in the chest.
Jane reaches for the receiver.
JANE (CONT'D)
Hello?
She freezes.
Her pupils dilate instantly -- too wide.
MEGHAN
Jane -- hang up --
Jane HANGS UP.
BLACKOUT.
The music CONTINUES -- tinny, cheerful.
In the dark --
A WET IMPACT.
Jane’s body SMASHES against the brick wall --
Then -- gone.
Chrissy SCRAMBLES --
Meghan crawls --
Hands -- long-fingered -- slide from the dark and DRAG her
away.
Her scream CUTS OFF.
The record player ARM lifts --
Drops -- the disco track RESTARTS.
Chrissy reaches the stairs.
Looks up --
SUE(20) stands at the top step.
Perfectly still. Watching.
CHRISSY
Sue -- help --
Sue smiles.
SUE
(gentle, reverent)
Yes, dear. I know.
She closes the basement door.
CLICK.
The music WARPS -- slows -- STRETCHES -- then SNAPS SILENT.
The basement is suddenly --
Empty. Normal. Cold.
Riley BLINKS -- hard.
Her breath comes fast.
Lilly grips her arm, shaking.
The record player sits dead in the corner.
Riley and Lilly slide down to the floor -- their breathing
fast and shallow.
Riley fumbles inside her coat pocket -- pulls out the silver
hairbrush.
Her hands shake.
She sits cross-legged and teases loose strands from the
bristles -- braiding them together with trembling precision.
The work is delicate. Obsessive.
Lilly studies Riley.
LILLY
You’re really doing this? Like,
real spell stuff?
Riley doesn’t look up.
RILEY
My uncle talked about the occult
when I was a kid. I always thought
it was just bullshit and scare
tactics.
(beat)
Now, I'm not so sure.
She tightens the braid. Her fingers work faster.
Lilly hugs her knees to her chest.
LILLY
And you think a hair doll is gonna
save us?
Riley looks up -- eyes hard, jaw set.
RILEY
It’s not about saving us. It’s
about binding something. Or
someone.
(beat)
Sue opened the door with hair. We
can close it the same way.
She twists the finished braid into a crude doll shape.
Bits of hair poke out like veins beneath the skin.
Riley’s breath wavers -- just once -- before she presses on.
LILLY
Why us?
Riley doesn’t answer at first.
She swallows, concentrating on the doll.
RILEY
Every fifty years. New girls. New
blood.
Lilly lets the horror sink in.
LILLY
So the game doesn’t end. Ever.
RILEY
It ends when we do.
The hair doll now sits in Riley’s hands -- grotesque,
unfinished -- pulsing with awful promise.
Riley meets Lilly's eyes -- something broken flickers behind
the resolve.
Silence.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Can I tell you something?
Lilly looks up -- vulnerable.
LILLY
Of course.
Riley breathes in -- slow. Controlled.
RILEY
The guy who stalked me in high
school... he got released today.
Lilly’s face twists in horror.
Riley doesn’t let herself cry.
RILEY (CONT'D)
... His name was Ethan. He’d follow
me after school. Wait outside my
house. Hide letters in my locker --
creepy pictures. The kind you don’t
know exists until they’re in your
hands.
Lilly’s arms fold tighter across her chest.
LILLY
Your mom... the school -- didn’t do
anything?
Riley laughs once -- a small, hollow sound.
RILEY
Nobody believes you until they’re
standing over your hospital bed.
She braids a final twist into the hair doll -- hands
trembling.
Lilly hesitates, eyes fixed on the floor.
She rubs her thumb against her palm.
LILLY
It’s my birthday.
(beat)
I didn’t tell anyone.
Riley waits. Lilly swallows.
LILLY (CONT'D)
I didn’t want it to turn into... a
thing.
Riley studies her.
RILEY
Okay.
Lilly glances up, uncertain.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Then it’s just ours.
Lilly’s shoulders drop a fraction.
LILLY
You don’t have to --
RILEY
-- Happy birthday.
Riley reaches out. Squeezes Lilly’s hand once.
A small, relieved smile flickers across her face.
LILLY
Thank you.
Riley nods.
CLICK
Both girls freeze.
Their eyes flick to the ceiling vent above them.
Riley grips the hair doll, her knuckles white.
She rises and grabs the lantern.
The light flickers -- dims, pulses, like it’s being
smothered.
Above them --
CLICK.
Soft, mechanical, percussive.
Riley whirls.
Nothing.
Another CLICK.
POLAROIDS shoot out of the vent -- one by one, dropping to
the floor like snow.
The girls watch -- frozen in place -- as the photos scatter
on the floor around them.
Lilly kneels, picks one up.
A photo of Riley in the library. Tonight. Sleeping.
Another falls.
Riley picks up a photo.
It's Riley -- right now -- staring at the Polaroid.
Riley drops the photo, trembling.
Riley turns --
LILLY IS GONE.
The lantern sways once. Then stills.
Riley opens her mouth to call out.
Nothing comes. She swallows the sound instead.
Her gaze drops.
One last Polaroid rests near her foot.
She picks it up.
A red rose on a familiar porch.
Fresh. Perfect.
Riley’s fingers tighten around the photo.
Her breath slows.
The world narrows.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Anticipation and Affection
INT. RILEY'S BEDROOM – NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Pop music bleeds faintly through a closed door.
Seventeen-year-old Riley, radiant in a midnight-blue dress,
leans close to her mirror, applying lip gloss with careful
precision.
She smiles at herself -- nervous, excited.
Behind her, taped to the wall:
Scrapbook photos of Riley and TOM -- goofy selfies, movie-
ticket stubs, pressed flowers. Real. Mutual.
The doorbell DINGS downstairs.
Riley’s brows knit.
RILEY
Tom’s early...
She grabs her clutch, slips into her heels, and heads out.
INT. STAIRCASE – CONTINUOUS
Riley descends carefully, lifting her dress hem so it doesn’t
snag.
Her Mom peeks out from the kitchen, smiling warmly.
MOM
You look gorgeous, Rye.
Tom is one lucky buck.
Riley blushes, half-laughs.
RILEY
Don’t jinx it.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Teen Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
A Tense Confrontation
INT. ENTRYWAY – CONTINUOUS
Riley reaches the door, smooths her dress, and opens it --
The world STOPS.
ETHAN stands on the porch.
Black tuxedo. Perfectly pressed.
A single red rose in his hand.
Still. Pale. Dead-eyed.
Riley’s smile collapses.
Her breath catches -- she freezes.
ETHAN
Riley. You look beautiful.
She swallows. Forces calm.
RILEY
Ethan... What are you doing here?
He steps half an inch closer -- not crossing the threshold
yet.
He extends the rose.
ETHAN
I thought I’d walk you out.
Tom doesn’t really... see you.
Riley glances back over her shoulder.
The kitchen light glows warmly.
Riley turns back.
Ethan still holds the rose.
Waiting.
Her fingers twitch.
For half a second -- she considers taking it.
Her hand lifts --
Stops.
She clenches it into a fist.
RILEY
You can’t do this.
You need to leave.
Ethan’s smile tightens. Quivers.
ETHAN
I’d be good to you. You know I
would.
Something sharp flashes behind his eyes -- gone just as fast.
Riley takes a breath. Grounds herself.
RILEY
Please. Just go.
A long silence.
Ethan drops the rose.
It hits the porch with a soft, ugly thud.
He steps back. Turns. Walks down the path.
Riley doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.
Just before he reaches the sidewalk --
Ethan stops.
Turns back.
Stares...
Riley SLAMS the door.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
A Moment of Fear
INT. ENTRYWAY – CONTINUOUS
Riley presses her back to the door, shaking.
Her breath comes shallow.
She looks down.
Through the glass sidelights --
The rose lies on the porch.
Perfect. Red.
The DOORBELL DINGS again.
Riley flinches.
TOM (O.S.)
Riley? You ready?
Riley closes her eyes.
Her mom steps into the hall.
MOM
Honey? Who was at the door before?
Riley opens her eyes.
She looks at the rose.
Then at her mother.
She shakes her head.
RILEY
...No one.
END FLASHBACK.
Genres:
["Horror","Psychological Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Birthday of Shadows
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
The room sits in stillness.
The basement door opens --
Lilly bursts in, panting. Turns around.
LILLY
Riley?
The basement door SLAMS.
Lilly tries to open it -- it won't budge.
The pink phone pulses on the table, slow and steady like a
heartbeat.
Suddenly --
A faint POP of balloons. Music drifts in -- syrupy and
cheerful.
LILLY (CONT'D)
(whispering)
Guys...? Chelsea? Brooke? Riley...?
The living room SHIFTS --
Streamers sag overhead.
A banner unfurls -- letters bleed into view --
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILLY!”
A table groans under cake and punch.
The crowd arrives --
Phantom guests in vintage gowns and tuxes, all clapping at
once.
A PHANTOM GIRL brushes through her. A wet, cold slick
remains.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Hey! Excuse you!
No response. Her voice evaporates into the warped party
track.
From the crowd -- ZANE emerges. Handsome. Perfectly dressed
in a tuxedo. His eyes glimmer faintly yellow.
The dancers part in sync, their heads swiveling unnaturally
to watch Lilly.
ZANE
There you are. The guest of honor.
He extends his hand. Warm.
LILLY
You -- you see me?
ZANE
Only you, Lilly.
He pulls her in. They sway.
Zane spins her out -- raises her arm high like a pageant
queen.
ZANE (CONT'D)
Ladies and gentlemen... your
leading lady!
The crowd CHEERS -- but when they turn their faces toward her
--
Their eyes skip over her. Look through her. Smile at empty
air.
Zane leans in. Kisses her cheek.
When he pulls back -- a strand of her hair dangles from his
teeth.
It glistens like spun sugar. He chews it with relish.
ZANE (CONT'D)
I’d be good to you, Lilly. You know
I would.
The crowd encircles her --
A strip peels from her arm.
Then her cheek.
Her throat.
LILLY
Riley, where are you?
She claws at her chest --
Her hands sink through, grasping -- nothing.
Her skin peels away -- CONFETTI -- paper-thin, fluttering
upward.
The crowd surges closer.
Zane gestures to them -- triumphant.
ZANE
To the girl... no one will forget!
LILLY
(whisper, paper-thin)
Riley... don't forget me...
The final shred tears from her chest.
It drifts upward --
The crowd ERUPTS in applause.
Zane bows, smiling.
The living room CLICKS back into place.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Confronting the Darkness
INT. BASEMENT STAIRCASE – NIGHT
Riley stands at the bottom of the stairs. The lantern
trembles in her grip.
Wooden steps loom overhead like ribs.
A faint THUMP from somewhere upstairs.
Riley freezes.
Her breath loud in the quiet.
RILEY
Lilly?
Nothing.
The lantern flickers.
LILLY’S VOICE (O.S.)
(soft, distant)
Riley... where are you...?
Riley spins, searching the shadows beyond the stairs, beyond
the light.
RILEY
Lilly! I’m here!
Her voice echoes back wrong -- thinner, warped.
The lantern BUZZES.
LILLY (O.S.)
Riley...
(drifting)
Don’t forget me.
Riley’s breath stutters.
She forces herself up the last few steps -- lunges for the
basement door.
She YANKS the handle.
Nothing.
She slams her shoulder into it --
THUD.
Dead.
Again. Harder.
RILEY
I’m here!
I’m right here!
Her fist hammers the wood -- skin splits. Blood smears the
door.
Riley presses her forehead to the door, shaking.
RILEY (CONT'D)
I won’t.
(whispering)
I swear. I won’t.
She slams her palm flat against it.
Behind her --
A sound. Soft. Wet.
A SCRAPE along concrete.
Riley freezes. The lantern steadies.
The basement exhales.
The door handle turns freely in her hand now.
Relief crashes through her --
Then something BRUSHES HER ANKLE.
Riley gasps, spins --
From the dark under the stairs, strands of HAIR snake free.
Long. Wet. Dangling like vines in a cave.
They sway, tasting the air.
The UNDERSIDE OF THE STAIRS SPLITS.
Wallpaper PEELS back as HAIR ERUPTS, forcing its way out in
thick, writhing ropes.
A strand brushes her cheek.
She swats it --
Another slides across her throat.
She slaps it down --
It hits the floor and TWITCHES, alive. Wormlike.
DOZENS MORE ERUPT AT ONCE, flooding out from beneath the
stairs, pouring down around her.
They coil around her legs. Her waist. Her arms.
One wraps tight around her wrist, pinning her arm to the
wall.
Another snakes up her neck, slips between her lips.
Forces itself down her throat.
Riley gags. Thrashes. Her eyes bulge.
She claws for her knife -- rips it free --
And STABS into the mass.
SHRRRIEEEEK.
The strands split, recoil --
The underside of the stairs BULGES.
Beneath the hair --
FACES.
Dozens of pale faces pressed flat into the wood. Eyes wide.
Mouths frozen open in eternal screams.
The hair lashes again -- faster now. Furious.
One strand snakes into Riley’s ear canal --
SUE (V.O.)
(cruel, intimate)
A good house keeps its traditions.
Riley squeezes her eyes shut. Forces a breath.
Then she SCREAMS and SLAMS THE KNIFE INTO THE WOOD beneath
the stairs.
RILEY
You don’t get my fear.
The faces SHRIEK.
The hair convulses, recoils, and slithers back into the dark
beneath the staircase.
The basement falls still.
Riley collapses against the wall -- shaking, gasping --
Below her, the stairs SETTLE.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Shattered Illusions
INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Riley bursts in -- gasping, wild-eyed.
She skids to a stop.
The living room looks... normal.
A single floor lamp hums softly.
Furniture in place.
Riley doesn’t move.
Her eyes sweep the room.
Her breath slows -- In four. Hold. Out six. Again.
She swallows. Forces herself forward. One step.
The floor CREAKS beneath her.
She flinches -- instinctively turns, half-expecting Lilly to
be there.
Riley exhales, shaky.
RILEY
Lilly?
No answer.
Riley’s gaze drifts to the couch -- the spot where Lilly had
been sitting earlier.
She crosses the room, slower now. Each step heavier than the
last.
Her fingers trail along the back of the couch.
A SOFT TAP.
Riley freezes.
Something drifts down from the ceiling. Slow. Weightless.
Riley tilts her head up.
A single piece of CONFETTI spirals through the air.
It lands at her feet. She stares at it...
Then she crouches. Hesitates. Pinches the confetti between
her fingers.
She frowns -- then turns it over.
On the confetti --
LILLY’S EYE.
The iris bright, familiar.
Staring back at her.
Riley's breath vanishes.
Her vision tunnels. The room tilts.
She closes her hand around the confetti -- tight.
Her knuckles whiten -- then tremble.
She presses the fist to her chest
Her knees buckle.
She sinks to the floor, back against the couch.
RILEY (CONT'D)
(whisper)
I'm sorry.
The first sob hits her by surprise -- violent.
She clamps a hand over her mouth, choking it back, but
another one follows. Louder. Ragged.
Her shoulders shake.
Tears spill, unchecked now, streaking down her face, dropping
onto the floor.
She rocks forward, folding in on herself.
Grief pours out of her in gasps and shuddering breaths --
messy, animal, unstoppable.
She presses her forehead to her knees.
Riley lets her head fall back. Stares at the ceiling.
BOOM.
The WINDOWS DETONATE OUTWARD.
Glass explodes. Wind screams in.
The blizzard invades the room, ravenous.
Through the whiteout --
FOUR FIGURES EMERGE.
DREAM BOYS.
Perfectly synchronized. Smiles painted on.
Behind them, the storm rages.
The pink phone THROBS on the table.
Riley turns -- and RUNS.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Ascent into Darkness
INT. STAIRCASE / UPSTAIRS HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
The stairs ELONGATE beneath Riley’s feet -- stretching,
rubbery.
Each step she leaves behind sinks into black.
The hallway BREATHES -- walls swelling wide, then tightening.
FOOTSTEPS behind her. Many.
Riley reaches the attic ladder and stops.
Above -- a low, patient HUM.
Her hand slips into her jacket pocket.
She finds the HAIR DOLL.
Feels the brittle hair. Still there.
From her pocket, she removes the RULE CARD. Reads:
ONCE YOU START, YOU MUST FINISH.
Riley exhales. A slow, deliberate breath.
She folds the card.
The ceiling above her GROANS -- wood flexing, settling.
Riley looks once more at the card.
Then TEARS IT IN HALF.
A HAIRLINE CRACK races across the plaster ceiling --
splitting outward like a spiderweb.
The HUM cuts out.
The house goes DEAD QUIET.
Riley lets the torn pieces slip from her fingers.
She turns toward the dark window beside the stairs.
Her reflection stares back -- hollow-eyed.
Her fingers brush the hair doll once more in her pocket.
She swallows.
Then reaches up -- grips the ladder -- and climbs.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Confronting the Darkness
INT. ATTIC – NIGHT
Riley shoulders the hatch.
WHOOF --
The air pressure collapses.
Cold SUCKS across her face. Her breath ghosts white.
The attic yawns open like a cathedral -- impossibly vast.
In the center --
A SIGIL burned into the wooden floorboards.
A loop of jagged symbols, chalked and salted into the shape
of an open eye.
Candles burn at the edges of the circle -- their flames
black, bending inward.
The game board and pink phone sit beside the sigil like an
altar.
Between the sigil’s markings, the floorboards fold apart.
An OVAL MOUTH yawns open -- a throat. Breathing.
Riley closes her eyes. Breathes.
She inhales -- holds too long -- panic flickers -- then
exhales anyway.
She opens her eyes --
Across the attic -- propped crooked against a support beam --
a small, cracked mirror catches the lantern light.
Riley looks up. Her reflection stares back.
Blood mats her hair into dark ropes.
Tears have frozen on her cheeks, carving pale tracks through
grime.
She steps closer.
She reaches up -- hesitates -- then unwinds her hair, letting
it fall free around her shoulders.
The tightness disappears.
Her reflection shifts -- softer, truer.
Riley meets her own eyes in the glass.
Her breathing stutters.
She forces it steady.
In -- four. Hold -- out six.
The reflection steadies with her.
The mouth beneath her WIDENS.
From the throat --
HANDS EMERGE.
Then bodies -- stuttering, unstable, like corrupted footage
trying to load:
GARY. DEAN. ZANE.
Their eyes burn sickly yellow. Smiles pulled too wide -- skin
splitting, teeth crowding.
They TWIST TOGETHER, collapsing inward -- until a single face
forces through the mass.
EDDIE.
He doesn’t step forward.
His features begin to SHIFT. The glow drains from his eyes.
His grin slackens.
The body rearranges itself, bones popping.
Eddie’s face CHANGES into SUE.
The fusion SINKS INTO HER, absorbed beneath the skin.
Sue stands alone now. Half-glamoured. Half-rotted.
SUE
Tonight... the house collects
again.
Riley’s eyes flick -- cataloging the room:
The SIGIL.
The MOUTH.
The PINK PHONE, pulsing softly.
RILEY
You’re the hand that keeps feeding
it.
Sue nods. No denial.
SUE
I did what the house required.
The PINK PHONE RINGS --
Backward. Wet. Wrong.
The sound vibrates through Sue’s chest.
Her mouth opens.
EDDIE (V.O)
Riley... you’re not done being
mine.
Riley draws her knife. Locks her grip.
RILEY
You don’t get to say my name.
(beat)
And I was never yours.
Sue SHUDDERS.
Eddie’s voice fractures mid-breath -- bleeding away.
Sue grabs her head, fighting something internal.
Riley steps forward -- deliberate. Presses the HAIR DOLL into
Sue’s palm.
Sue recoils -- gasps --
Riley clamps her fingers shut around it.
RILEY (CONT'D)
You fed it fear.
(beat)
That’s what it eats.
The doll STIRS.
Threads of hair animate -- crawling up Sue’s wrist,
disappearing into her sleeve.
Her hand trembles.
SUE
I survived because I was willing to
do what other girls weren't.
The house SCREAMS. BOARDS EXPLODE.
From below --
SKELETAL ARMS, bound in hair, burst upward.
Three heads rise. Braided crowns of bone and hair.
JANE. CHRISSY. MEGHAN.
They move with a terrifying grace -- swarming Riley.
Hair forces down Riley’s throat -- a living gag.
Her feet drag -- splinters carving her heels.
Sue moves with her. Calm.
SUE (CONT'D)
The house protects me.
(beat)
Who protects you?
Riley's breath catches.
Sue kneels close, voice low and lethal.
SUE (CONT'D)
Aren't you tired of being afraid?
Tired of feeling broken?
Sue smiles -- satisfied -- as the 1976 girls tighten their
grip.
SUE (CONT'D)
No one ever will love you, Riley.
Not like this. But this house will.
The floorboards FLEX. The sigil pulses.
Sue studies her -- still dragging forward.
SUE (CONT'D)
I was nineteen when grief found me
first.
The MOUTH OPENS WIDER.
SUE (CONT'D)
The war took my husband.
Desperation doesn't knock. You let
it in.
Riley’s thrashes -- barely holding ground.
RILEY
And you listened.
Riley plants her feet -- barely.
SUE
I asked for him back. The house
answered.
Sue turns back as the MOUTH OPENS --
SUE (CONT'D)
You think you're different? You
already live like prey.
The 1976 girls pull Riley within inches of the MOUTH.
Hair spills through Riley's fingers -- she reaches up --
Grabs the gnarled face of Jane -- shakes her --
RILEY
You don’t belong to her.
Or this house.
Or him.
For the first time -- the girls hesitate.
A RUMBLE.
Something stirs in the darkness of the rafters.
Riley looks up --
THE SHADOW OF ASMODEUS APPEARS with three heads tiered: Man.
Bull. Ram. Silhouetted. Towering. Watching.
The shadow incinerates the frost on the ceiling -- then
collapses inward.
Riley slices the pad of her thumb -- fresh blood wells.
She drags her hand across old chalk symbols bordering the
MOUTH.
The salt peels away --
RILEY (CONT'D)
Jane Dawkins. Chrissy Salters.
Meghan Siebert. I release you.
The 1976 Girls' breath frosts... then warms.
Their shoulders drop -- released.
The 1976 Girls look at her. Then away. They’re free.
Sue’s eyes widen. She turns to run --
Riley catches her, dragging her to the edge of the MOUTH with
all the strength she has left.
Hair sutures through Sue’s veins -- dragging her faster than
Riley’s strength alone.
Sue’s glamor rots off her like wet silk --
Riley clenches Sue's hand HARD around the hair doll one last
time.
SUE
You think this ends with me? Girls
will always beg to be wanted.
Riley meets her eyes.
RILEY
You opened the door. I'm closing
it. Game's over.
Riley shoves her into the mouth.
Sue falls -- hair ripping from her like curtains tearing in a
storm.
The MOUTH SLAMS SHUT.
Instant silence.
The candles blow out.
The pink phone DIES -- a single ember glow -- then black.
Riley collapses onto her hands and knees.
Her breath saws.
The attic settles like lungs after a final scream.
Riley turns --
Jane, Chrissy, and Meghan stand one last time -- smiling.
They fade into the floorboards like dust returning home.
Riley forces herself upright, breath ragged -- but steady.
She surveys the wreckage --
The pink phone -- melted into a black, glossy slag.
Then she sees it.
On the floor, impossibly untouched --
A single RED ROSE. Perfect. Velvety.
She stares at it. Nudges it with her boot.
It rolls slightly -- fragile. Real.
Riley crouches, picks it up.
The petals feel real.
She turns it once in her fingers -- feels the thorns.
For a moment, she holds it.
A breath.
Then she lets it fall.
She steps back.
CRUSH.
Petals tear. Stem snaps. Red smears dark against the floor.
She grinds her heel -- deliberate -- until there’s nothing
left but pulp and thorns.
She wipes her face --
Blood and tears smeared into resolve.
Then she moves toward the hatch.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Aftermath of Silence
EXT. SORORITY HOUSE - MORNING
Snow crews shovel in silence, their breath rising in white
plumes.
TWO POLICEMEN tape flaps in jagged gusts.
Red and blue lights strobe across the Tudor façade.
EMTs hover around Riley.
She sits slumped, a blanket around her shoulders.
Her hands shake -- fists still clenched.
EXT. AMBULANCE - MORNING
Riley sits on the bumper.
A PARAMEDIC leans close, shining a penlight into her eyes.
PARAMEDIC
You’re lucky. Hypothermia’s the
real monster tonight.
Riley isn’t listening.
Her gaze -- fixed on the house.
At the faint glow in the attic window.
The paramedic clicks the penlight off.
PARAMEDIC (CONT'D)
You’re gonna be fine. Just a couple
of bumps and bruises.
A COP waves Riley toward a waiting cruiser.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Reflections of Silence
INT. POLICE CRUISER - MORNING
Riley sits alone in the back seat, wrapped in a gray blanket.
Snow drips from her hair onto the rubber floor.
The cruiser idles.
Radio low. Static soft. Ordinary.
In the plexiglass divider ahead of her --
Her reflection looks back.
For a flicker --
ETHAN’S FACE overlays it. Watching. Smiling.
Riley meets his reflection in the glass. Doesn't flinch.
Ethan dissolves.
Breath in -- four. Hold. Out -- six.
Only Riley remains in the glass. Steady. Present.
Her hand drifts to her calf -- stops.
RING.
Riley looks down at her phone.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
She hesitates. Answers.
Riley doesn't speak.
Silence.
Then -- breathing. Slow. Intent.
Riley's jaw tightens.
The breathing continues.
Then -- the line clicks DEAD.
Riley lowers her phone.
Still breathing.
As the cruiser drives away --
In the attic window --
A faint pink glow PULSES once -- then stops.
SMASH TO BLACK.
THE END