FADE IN:
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
BLACKNESS.
Slow, ragged breathing. Uneven. Not alone.
RILEY CARTER (17) bolts upright in bed -- gasping.
Her breath clouds the air -- too cold for indoors.
Then she sees it --
Curtains flutter in a sharp, icy draft --
The window is OPEN.
She fumbles for her lamp --
CLICK.
A moth SLAMS into the shade -- frantic. Manic.
Whump. Whump.
Its shadow twitches across the wall -- massive, erratic.
Riley looks down at her nightstand --
A stack of Polaroids. Neat. Face down.
The floorboards CREAK.
She stares. Flips the top one --
INSERT: Riley. Asleep. Tonight.
Her pulse pounds in her ears.
She flips the next --
INSERT: Closer now. Her lips parted. Dreaming.
Her breath catches. Fractures.
The Polaroids slip -- scatter across the floor like dead
leaves.
The room stills.
Then --
CREAK.
The bedsprings shift -- but she’s not moving.
She leans over the edge --
UNDER THE BED
Darkness. Pulsing.
SUDDENLY --
TWO HANDS EXPLODE FROM THE DARK
Clamp around her neck --
YANK her off the bed --
She hits the floor hard. Sheets twist around her -- a shroud.
From the darkness, ETHAN (19) unfolds --
Gaunt. Ferocious. Hunting knife in one hand.
He lunges at Riley -- slashes her throat --
Blood gushes. Hot -- across her chest.
BOOM!
The door slams open --
SANDY CARTER (50s) bursts in -- shotgun raised, trembling.
Her eyes are wide with horror and fury. She cocks the
chamber.
Red-and-blue strobe through the curtains --
SIRENS wail, drawing closer.
Ethan snarls. Cornered. Backs toward the window -- stops.
He locks eyes with Riley. Grins.
ETHAN
You're not done being mine.
BOOTS THUNDER down the hall.
POLICE OFFICER (O.S.)
Police! Drop the knife! On the
ground!
SMASH TO BLACK.
FADE IN:
Genres:
["Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Echoes of Anxiety
INT. CAMPUS LIBRARY - NIGHT
Wind rattles against tall arched windows. Stacks loom tall.
At the end of a long oak table, bundled in a thick coat --
RILEY (20) sits alone, posture rigid, shoulders tight.
SUPER: THREE YEARS LATER
She flips through a heavy textbook. On the cover --
“Fear & Desire: A Psychological Study.”
Her fingers linger on the corner, trembling slightly, like
she’s bracing for something to leap from the text itself.
A faint CREAK echoes between the stacks.
Riley stiffens. Her breath hitches.
She looks up --
Rows of books stare back.
Silence.
She pulls her coat tighter. Inhales --
In four. Hold. Out six.
EXT. CAMPUS LIBRARY - NIGHT
Thick snowflakes swirl around Riley as she passes the frosted
glass entry.
A SHADOW paces her inside -- in perfect step.
Genres:
["Horror","Psychological Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Echoes in the Blizzard
EXT. SORORITY HOUSE - NIGHT
The blizzard SHRIEKS, tearing at the trees.
Through the white squall, a sorority house looms into view --
A Tudor relic sagging under snow -- steep gables clawing
upward.
Riley trudges up the front steps, her boots sinking in the
snow with each heavy step.
The mullioned windows glare out like rows of black, glassy
eyes.
Watching.
INT. FOYER - NIGHT
The front door SLAMS behind Riley.
She stomps her boots -- brushes the snow from her coat.
The foyer looms around her --
Grand once, but decayed.
A grand staircase curves upward like the ribcage of a massive
beast.
A cold draft curls around Riley’s ankles.
She stiffens -- shivers.
From deep below, faint and muffled --
RING.
Riley’s jaw tightens.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Shadows of the Blizzard
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Holiday lights sag in lazy zigzags across the walls, half
their bulbs burned out.
A grandfather clock ticks somewhere behind the girls -- too
loud in the quiet.
On a beanbag, CHELSEA (20) — glossy, curated, every gesture
practiced -- scrolls her phone.
BROOKE (21) perches on the arm of the couch like it’s her
throne, one hand balancing a glass of cheap wine, the other
digging into a half-empty bag of chips.
LILLY (20) curls in an oversized chair, swallowed by a faded
blanket and a battered copy of “Wuthering Heights.”
The room feels lived-in, but in that end-of-semester, half-
feral way -- crumbs, wine rings, and exhaustion.
Floorboards CREAK somewhere in the house.
Riley shuffles in from the cold, cheeks pink -- throws her
backpack to the floor with a thud.
BROOKE
Ayyy, she lives. The library goblin
returns.
CHELSEA
Welcome back to civilization. Kind
of.
RILEY
I was just in civilization. It’s
called a library.
Riley glances at the table --
Half-burnt candles, empty bottles, crumbs.
Chelsea finally looks up from her phone -- studies Riley.
CHELSEA
You okay? You look pale.
Riley blinks, caught off guard by the concern.
RILEY
Yeah, fine.
Chelsea angles herself by the frosted window -- the
reflection of her ring light haloing her face.
CHELSEA
Blizzard selfie!
FLASH -- white light flattens everyone’s faces, ghostly.
She checks the photo.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Ugh. My hair looks weird, but I
still look pretty hot. Let the
double-taps begin, ladies.
RILEY
Being seen isn't the same as being
safe.
CHELSEA
What’s wrong with wanting to be
seen?
Lilly doesn’t look up.
LILLY
It’s shallow.
CHELSEA
Seriously, Lilly? People only call
you shallow when they’re drowning.
Lilly finally looks up -- a sharp flicker in her eyes.
LILLY
Maybe I’m just better at treading
water.
BROOKE
Okay everyone, chill.
CHELSEA
Relax. I’ve got pepper spray and a
rape whistle. Totally invincible.
RILEY
You don’t know it’s dangerous --
until it is.
Chelsea chuckles to herself, amused.
CHELSEA
Okay, Freud -- what are you
diagnosing us with this time?
RILEY
No. This is from personal
experience.
The room stills. Chelsea’s smirk falters.
The clock ticks louder.
BROOKE
(mutters)
Well, there goes the vibe.
Lilly peers out the frosted window --
Snow swirls so thick it seems alive -- writhing under the
streetlight.
LILLY
Blizzards make you feel safe...
But it’s a trick -- so you forget
you’re trapped.
BROOKE
Jesus, Lilly.
CHELSEA
Yeah. Seriously.
Lilly turns another page, eyes glassy in the candlelight.
Riley’s gaze shifts to the window. Her reflection stares back
--
A SHAPE behind her. Still. Watching.
She blinks --
It’s Gone.
TICK... TICK... TICK...
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Reflections of Comfort and Unease
INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Riley peels off her damp sweater -- goosebumps rise on her
arms; her shoulder blades are sharp.
The room is still -- dimly lit by the warm halo of a single
bedside lamp.
Her reflection catches her in the mirror above the dresser.
She pauses.
Her fingers brush her throat, tugging her collar aside --
A jagged, pale scar.
She clenches her jaw.
Inhales -- In four. Hold. Out six.
Her eyes drift to the corkboard above her desk --
A mosaic of pinned memories -- girls in matching jackets,
Halloween costumes, formals.
Laughter, frozen in time.
Riley crosses to it, her fingertips grazing the snapshots.
Her expression softens -- just barely.
Then --
RUSTLING.
Subtle. Not the storm.
She turns.
The closet door is slightly ajar.
She approaches --
One slow, measured step at a time.
Her fingers tremble around the knob...
She yanks it open --
WHOOSH!
A burst of MOTHS explodes into the air -- their papery wings
batter against her face.
They spiral -- vanishing into corners like dying sparks.
She stumbles back, gasping; her eyes dart to the now-empty
closet.
Behind her, the mirror catches her again --
But her reflection lingers behind for a half-beat -- just
long enough to unsettle her.
Riley blinks.
Her reflection syncs again.
She exhales. Shaky.
The door creaks open behind her --
Lilly stands in the threshold, carrying two steaming mugs --
oversized and mismatched.
LILLY
Hot cocoa with extra courage.
She steps in, handing one to Riley.
Their fingers brush -- Riley’s are still shaking.
RILEY
Thanks. I needed --
LILLY
-- Yeah. Me too.
They sip. For a breath, there’s silence. A warmth.
Lilly eyes the corkboard. Points to a photo.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Rush Week freshman year. Right?
RILEY
Yeah.
Riley plucks the photo --
INSERT: She and Lilly, two years younger, arms around each
other, faces half-painted with glitter and Greek letters, mid-
laugh.
RILEY (CONT'D)
God. We look like feral camp
counselors.
LILLY (LAUGHING)
That was the night you dared
Chelsea to chug a Natty Light
through a Twizzler.
RILEY
And she tried. Twice.
LILLY
And threw up on Brooke’s Uggs.
They laugh -- unguarded for a moment.
Then it fades -- slowly, gently.
LILLY (CONT'D)
I miss that. When everything still
felt... possible.
Riley leans against the edge of the dresser, cradling her mug
with both hands.
RILEY
Back when we thought being here
would make us new people.
(MORE)
RILEY (CONT'D)
Better versions of ourselves.
Lilly studies Riley’s face.
LILLY
You never really bought into any of
it, did you?
Riley sits on the bed, glancing at the corkboard.
RILEY
I thought surviving meant I’d get
stronger. That if I kept going,
I’d... heal eventually.
LILLY (GENTLY)
And now?
Riley looks down at her scar.
RILEY
Now, I just don’t want to feel
broken in front of people who don’t
know what it’s like.
A heavy beat. Lilly sits beside her, quiet.
LILLY
I know what it’s like -- hiding the
cracks. Wondering if people would
stay if they saw the truth.
Then --
Laughter from below.
Both girls look down.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Should we go check on Brooke and
Chelsea?
They laugh.
RILEY
Yeah, before they burn the house
down.
Lilly finishes the last sip of cocoa -- sets the mug down.
They stand and step out into the hallway.
The door swings SHUT behind them --
The lamp flickers.
A single moth clings to the mirror.
Its wings flutter once.
Then -- still.
Genres:
["Thriller","Psychological Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Secrets and Shadows
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The fire has dwindled to soft embers.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Brooke sips from a chipped
mug.
Lounging across the couch, Chelsea scrolls her phone with
practiced boredom.
Riley and Brooke shuffle into the room.
BROOKE
Look who’s back. The elusive ice
queens.
LILLY
(deadpan)
I was promised snacks. And only
mild judgment.
BROOKE
Snacks. Judgment. And now... fun.
She lifts an eyebrow -- pats the floor between them.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Truth or Dare, bitches.
RILEY
Hard pass.
CHELSEA
Come on. You can survive one round.
BROOKE
You afraid we’ll uncover your deep,
dark secrets?
RILEY
Not in the mood for performative
trauma.
BROOKE
You start, Riley. Truth or dare.
RILEY
I said I wasn’t playing.
CHELSEA
Dare it is.
BROOKE
Them’s the rules. Social contract.
Girl code.
Riley exhales. Defeated.
RILEY
Fine. Dare.
BROOKE
Ohhh, spicy.
Chelsea leans forward, eyes bright.
CHELSEA
We dare you to tell us... your
biggest secret.
RILEY
That’s not a dare. That’s truth
with extra steps.
BROOKE
Fine. Then you pick the dare.
Awkward silence.
RILEY
Let’s play something else. There’s
board games in the basement.
LILLY
The basement? Are you trying to get
murdered?
CHELSEA
Nope. Mold, rats, ghosts. Hard
pass.
Riley shrugs.
RILEY
I'll go alone, then.
She moves toward the hall.
BROOKE
Hold up.
She stands, mock-heroic.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
What kind of friend lets her
emotionally damaged sister face the
basement alone?
CHELSEA
A practical one.
Riley opens the basement door --
Cold air spills out like a whisper.
Riley descends first, followed by Brooke.
Darkness swallows them.
The basement bulb flickers -- like something watching.
TICK... TICK... TICK...
The grandfather clock on the wall resumes its steady rhythm.
Genres:
["Thriller","Mystery","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Unearthed Secrets
INT. BASEMENT - NIGHT
Brooke and Riley step down into the basement, the air thick
with dust swirling in their flashlight beams, revealing --
Moth-eaten banners, broken trophies, and a film projector
covered in cobwebs.
BROOKE
Whoa. That’s for Super eight films.
My grandpa used to have one of
these.
Riley brushes off a metal casing.
“Rush Week, 1975” -- handwritten in faded marker.
RILEY
Nineteen seventy-five. Half-a-
century old.
Brooke takes the film canister from Riley, opens it, and
loads the film into the projector.
Riley finds a frayed power cord. Plugs it in.
The film projector coughs to life, its fan whirring like an
asthmatic ghost.
Light flickers across the stone wall -- grainy and
stuttering.
ON SCREEN
Grainy home-movie images --
Sorority girls in bell-bottoms. Laughter. Champagne. A flash
of someone’s hand covering the lens.
A frame jumps --
A candlelit table. Four women sit in a circle, hands clasped
around an old rotary phone. The light flickers. Their mouths
move silently.
BACK TO BASEMENT
The footage warps -- trembles in the reel.
The image flares white --
One woman’s face is clear now --
SUE. Twenty-something, serene, eyes closed in concentration.
A voice whispers faintly, impossible but real --
SUE (V.O.)
Hold the line. Don't break the
circle.
The projector SNAPS --
The bulb bursts.
Darkness swallows them.
BROOKE
Welp. Monopoly and an exit plan --
let’s go.
RING.
Riley’s flashlight beam sweeps across the floor, landing on a
trunk in the far corner --
Black leather. Warped by time.
A thin mist leaks from the crack, curling across the
concrete.
Riley kneels and forces the lid open --
A clutter of vintage board games with titles like “Mall
Mayhem,” “Glamour or Doom,” and “Guess Your Future.”
Brooke edges closer, peering in.
Riley digs deeper into the trunk.
Something beneath the pile seems to pull at her hand.
Her fingers brush cool lacquer -- a black box, heavy and
sleek.
She hesitates -- pulse ticking in her throat.
Then she lifts it out slowly.
The gold lettering gleams, impossibly fresh --
“DREAM BOY.”
A HUM builds beneath the silence, growing into a low thrum.
Brooke’s eyes widen, the color draining from her face.
Riley’s grip tightens on the box -- knuckles whitening.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
The Dream Boy Game
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The storm rages outside, snow hurling against the windows
like claws.
On the coffee table in the center --
The black lacquered box.
Its gold letters glint faintly --
“DREAM BOY.”
Riley sets it down.
The air seems to shift around it -- dense, charged.
RILEY
It felt like it wanted us to find
it.
Chelsea flips the lid --
INSIDE THE BOX
- A pastel-pink folding board, decorated with lipstick kisses
and cartoon hearts.
- A deck of glossy photo cards -- handsome young men in ‘80s
glam lighting.
- A bubblegum-pink cordless phone, its plastic cracked with
age.
- A single, yellowed rule card, tucked beneath the board.
BROOKE
Okay, who’s ready to summon their
future boyfriend?
Chelsea’s already shuffling through the photo cards.
CHELSEA
Me. Duh.
She fans through them --
The light flickers across their glossy smiles.
But the faces are wrong --
Flat eyes. Sharp teeth. Charm like paint.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
They don’t look normal.
BROOKE
So... Tinder.
Riley pulls out the rule card.
The ink shivers faintly -- as though the letters are
breathing.
RILEY
(reading)
“Once you choose your Dream Boy,
follow these rules --
Answer when he calls.
Don’t let it ring more than thrice.
Never hang up before he does.
Or you will pay the price.
You must finish once the game
starts.
Victory belongs to the one who
follows the rules and speaks the
truth. The key to your dream boy’s
heart.”
The house creaks, wood flexing in the walls.
CHELSEA
“Finish the game.” So mysterious.
BROOKE
Who writes this shit?
LILLY
So... Three rings. Never hang up.
And finish the game. Got it.
CHELSEA
Alright. I’m bored. First victim --
me.
She flips a card dramatically --
A boy’s smoldering grin stares up --
Dark hair, leather jacket, eyes too knowing -- GARY.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Okay, Gary. Try to keep up.
BROOKE
Gary looks like he owns a
switchblade and a mixtape of red
flags.
CHELSEA
My type.
Chelsea sets Gary’s card on the board.
Lilly flips her card next --
Her “Dream Boy” has blond curls, a smug grin -- ZANE.
LILLY
Of course he’s named Zane.
Brooke flips over her card.
BROOKE
I’m calling dibs on Dean.
Riley hesitates.
Finally, she turns her card --
A clean-cut, kind-faced boy smiles back -- EDDIE.
RILEY
He looks safe.
CHELSEA
And boring.
Riley tries to smile.
Suddenly, the card ripples.
Edges blur. Eddie’s face flickers into --
ETHAN. Lips thin. Eyes hollow --
Riley’s breath catches.
She blinks. She looks again --
Eddie’s gentle smile stares back at her.
LILLY
Riley? You okay?
Riley forces calm.
RILEY
Yeah. Fine.
BROOKE
So, what now? Just wait for these
dream boys to call?
CHELSEA
Maybe they’ll sext from the
afterlife.
BROOKE
Or show up with bad poetry and
trauma.
The girls laugh. The lights flicker.
The house groans from every wall and beam.
RING.
Harsh. Metallic. A shriek that cuts through the room.
The pink phone trembles.
Everyone freezes.
CHELSEA
No fucking way.
Chelsea looks around, dumbfounded.
RILEY
Answer it.
LILLY
It’s probably some built-in sound
effect or timer thing.
She picks up the phone and lifts it to her ear, tense.
CHELSEA
Hello?
Silence.
Then --
A voice -- smooth, intimate --
GARY (V.O.)
Hello, Chelsea.
Chelsea plays along.
CHELSEA
Wait. How do you know my name?
GARY (V.O.)
When was the last time someone
looked at you, Chelsea?
Really looked. Past the skin. Past
the smile.
Her smirk falters. The others exchange looks.
CHELSEA
Stop. This isn't funny.
GARY (V.O.)
You wanted to be seen -- now I
can’t stop watching.
Gary’s laugh filters through -- low, intimate -- then splits
into multiple voices, layered, whispering her name.
Chelsea doesn't move.
Silence engulfs the room.
A breath catches in her throat.
She blinks hard.
Then --
HANGS UP.
The silence is enormous.
LILLY
What did he say?
Chelsea, pale and shaking, doesn’t answer.
BROOKE
It was a recording, right? Like an
Easter-egg thing?
Before anyone can respond --
A bright flood of headlights sweeps across the windows --
White glare cuts through the dark like a blade.
The girls flinch, shielding their eyes.
RILEY
Who the hell would be driving in
this weather?
Chelsea exhales, relief flooding in fast -- armor snapping
back into place.
CHELSEA
See? Not haunted. Just fashionably
rescued.
BROOKE
Probably the campus police checking
on us.
LILLY
We need to be careful. Who knows
what's out there.
Chelsea rolls her eyes -- strides toward the door.
Then --
POP.
The lights die.
Instant darkness.
The hum of the heater cuts out.
RILEY
(whisper)
Did the power just --
Her cell buzzes to life in her hand -- the screen flashes “NO
SERVICE.”
Outside --
Headlights blink once. Twice.
Then they vanish -- swallowed by the storm.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
The Watchful Snowman
INT. FOYER - NIGHT
The blizzard ROARS, shaking the house.
The girls huddle near the front door, flashlights in hand.
Breath fogs the air.
LILLY
(whispering)
I don’t... hear a car.
Chelsea presses her palm to the knob.
Riley stiffens -- instinct pulling her back.
RILEY
Chelsea, don’t --
Chelsea twists the doorknob, pulling the door open --
WIND AND SNOW EXPLODE INSIDE.
The girls shield their eyes, blinded by the violent spray.
When the gale subsides, standing in the doorway --
A SNOWMAN stands there. Coal eyes. Jagged smile.
A rotted carrot spirals from its face -- like a horn.
The girls stagger back, breathless.
The SNOWMAN leans forward. Hungry.
Riley SLAMS the door shut with all her weight.
Every lock on the door fires at once --
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The foyer shudders with each lock engaging.
RILEY (CONT'D)
It’s locking us in.
Silence presses down. Thick. Suffocating.
The girls stand frozen.
BROOKE
Anyone else... hungry?
A weak laugh flutters through the group, already dying in the
air.
CHELSEA
I need a bottle of wine. Now.
They drift toward the kitchen, their laughter thin.
Behind them --
Frost feathers across the glass.
Stillness.
Then --
TWO YELLOW EYES flare in the dark.
Blinking. Watching.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Snowpocalypse Tales
INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
An LED lantern hums on the counter, its glow cold and blue.
The girls huddle around the island --
Bundled in blankets, drinking wine from chipped mugs, and
eating ice cream straight from the carton.
Chelsea raises her spoon.
CHELSEA
To the snowpocalypse. May we freeze
in style.
RILEY
That’s the spirit.
Lilly leans in.
LILLY
You know... this house has some
dark history.
Chelsea rolls her eyes.
CHELSEA
Oh no. Here we go.
LILLY
I’m serious. Nineteen seventy-five.
Blizzard like this. Three sisters
just --
(snaps)
-- vanished.
The wind rises outside -- long, hollow, almost answering her.
RILEY
They never found them?
LILLY
Nope. Not a trace. Just... gone.
CHELSEA
Please. Every sorority has its
ghost story. Probably just flunked
out and ran off with some guys.
RILEY
We found an old nineteen-seventy-
five rush film in the basement. It
was creepy as hell. Sue was in it.
I didn’t realize she was so
beautiful once.
BROOKE
It was so weird. Who even keeps old
rush footage like that?
CHELSEA
Sue, obviously. She probably
screens it for herself on the
weekends.
They all chuckle -- but the sound doesn’t quite land.
Their voices dissolve into the hum of the house.
A floral scent seeps in --
Faint, powdery... rotted.
Chelsea sniffs.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Ugh. Do you smell that?
BROOKE
Like... funeral home chic?
They go still. Silent.
LILLY
My mom was a sister here. That’s
how I heard the story.
The others look at her.
CHELSEA
When?
LILLY
Nineteen-eighty. Five years after
the blizzard. She said people
didn’t talk about it. Not really.
But everyone knew something
happened.
Heavy silence fills the room. The lantern flickers.
RILEY
You’re messing with us.
LILLY
I’m not. She told me their bodies
were never found.
(beat)
One of them was named... Jane
Dawkins.
The sound of the name seems to hang in the air.
Somewhere deep in the house, a floorboard GROANS.
CHELSEA
Jane Dawkins. Sure. And I’m the
Virgin Mary of Kappa Tau.
RILEY
If that's true, Sue’s face -- and
theirs -- would have composites on
the Chapter room wall.
BROOKE
Then let's go look.
The lantern flickers again -- longer this time, then
steadies.
CHELSEA
You can go play Nancy Drew. I need
to pee before my bladder joins the
missing.
Chelsea straightens her blanket like a cape -- strides out.
Her footsteps echo down the hallway, fading into the silence.
Frost creeps up the kitchen windows. Slow. Deliberate.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Reflections of Terror
INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT
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.
CHELSEA
Ugh. I look like shit.
She leans toward the mirror -- rubs her cheeks.
Her reflection WINKS.
Chelsea squeezes her eyes shut.
She opens them --
Back to normal.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
Cute. Real cute.
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 back.
CHELSEA (CONT'D)
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.
She turns the faucet --
It splutters -- then gushes thick water, tinged red,
splattering her hands.
Chelsea recoils.
CHELSEA
No... no, no --
The mirror fogs over.
A phrase scrawls itself into the condensation, written by an
unseen finger --
“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 forty years older now --
Sagging skin, yellowed teeth. Hair falling out in wet clumps
into the sink.
Glass bulges wider --
A face PUSHES through --
The handsome face of GARY appears. Perfect jawline. Dreamy
eyes. Radiant smile.
Suddenly, his mouth splits open to reveal --
Rows of jagged, glistening teeth.
GARY
(soft, hungry)
With me, you’ll never wrinkle.
You’ll be beautiful... forever.
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 -- wraps 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!
The mirror sucks her in --
INSIDE THE MIRROR
Chelsea thrashes in a black void surrounded by floating
faces.
Mouths flicker fast. Wrong. Eyes glowing faint yellow.
BACK TO BATHROOM
Chelsea PLOPS back out of the mirror, looks at her reflection
--
Inhuman now. Sagging. Skeletal.
The reflection grins back, still tugging at Chelsea.
Then, with a final, glassy suck --
The mirror swallows Chelsea.
The mirror ripples once --
Smooths into a pristine reflection of an empty bathroom.
The lantern dies with a POP.
Then -- silence.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Whispers of the Chosen
INT. CHAPTER ROOM - NIGHT
Heavy oak doors swing open --
Riley, Brooke, and Lilly step inside, their lanterns casting
cones of pale light.
A mausoleum.
Velvet drapes. Oak table.
Smiling girls stare from the walls.
BROOKE
I’ve always hated this room.
Hundreds of smiling faces trapped
in sepia. Feels like they're --
RILEY
-- Watching you.
Brooke shines her light across a wall of composite photos
framed in gold.
Riley moves slowly down the line, studying each composite.
The glass reflects their lanterns, doubling their faces with
the frozen smiles of past sisters.
Riley stops.
The plaque -- “1975.”
Riley leans in --
Three girls in the middle row have had their faces scratched
out violently.
The name beneath one of the scratched-out faces -- JANE
DAWKINS.
Beside them, untouched, is someone familiar.
Dark hair. Piercing eyes. A faint, knowing smile -- SUE.
Riley recoils, breath catching.
RILEY (CONT'D)
(whispers)
There she is...
Riley points. Brooke and Lilly lean in.
BROOKE
Holy shit. There’s Sue.
LILLY
Those girls with the scratched-out
faces are the missing ones. Look --
Lilly points to the name “Jane Dawkins.”
The air drops colder.
In a corner of the room, half-swallowed by the dark --
A figure lingers. Still. Watching. Its eyes glimmer yellow.
The girls remain transfixed on the 1975 composite.
Suddenly, the glass of the frame CRACKS down the middle.
WHISPERS bleed from the walls -- overlapping, feminine,
endless.
WHISPERS (O.S.)
Three were chosen...
Brooke steps back, jaw tense.
BROOKE
Alright, I’m done playing detective
for tonight.
Riley reaches out to steady her.
Then --
RING.
The pink phone shrieks from the living room --
Its metallic clang echoes through the house.
The whispers choke off.
Silence.
RING.
Brooke stares at Riley, terrified but resigned.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
My turn.
The girls bolt out of the Chapter Room, lanterns swinging
wildly.
The sound of the blizzard outside surges like laughter.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Echoes of Laughter
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The girls burst in, clutching their lanterns.
The pink phone waits on the coffee table -- glowing faintly.
RING.
The sound reverberates unnaturally through the house, like
it’s coming from inside the walls.
RING.
Brooke lurches forward and snatches the phone --
On the FOURTH RING.
She presses it to her ear.
Silence...
Then --
A LAUGH TRACK.
Artificial, canned LAUGHTER rises and falls like an old
sitcom. Tinny. Mocking.
Brooke is tense.
BROOKE
Hello?...
The laughter swells, looping and overlapping until it becomes
distorted.
Brooke SLAMS the phone down and clutches her chest, shaken.
LILLY
What did he say to you?
BROOKE
Just... laughing. A room full of
it.
Riley stares, realization dawning.
RILEY
You picked up after the fourth
ring.
BROOKE
So?
RILEY
The rules said to pick up before
the fourth ring.
Brooke bristles.
BROOKE
Whatever. It’s a stupid game.
Riley flips the game box.
Underside -- polished wood. Scratched.
Riley’s fingers find carved initials --
"S.W. 1975."
The letters are jagged, carved with a knife.
Riley’s breath catches.
RILEY
(under breath)
Sue Willits.
Her thumb traces the letters.
A chill seems to rise from the carving itself.
The laugh track echoes -- distant, warbling through the
vents.
LILLY
Where's Chelsea? She’s been gone a
long time.
The realization hits them all at once.
BROOKE
She’s probably just fixing her
makeup.
RILEY
No. Something feels wrong. We need
to go find her.
BROOKE
I’m not going anywhere. Who knows
what’s up there.
LILLY
(to Riley)
It’s my turn. I can’t miss my call.
RILEY
Fine, I’ll go look for Chelsea.
Riley stomps off.
Brooke and Lilly look at each other, dread spreading between
them.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
The Locked Door
INT. STAIRCASE - NIGHT
The storm ROARS outside.
The staircase groans as Riley climbs, lantern swinging.
Her shadow stretches. Warped across the peeling wallpaper.
RILEY
Chelsea...?
Only the wind answers, whistling through unseen cracks.
INT. UPSTAIRS - HALLWAY - NIGHT
Riley moves down the hallway. Cautious.
Her lantern light plays across rows of closed doors --
Each one feels like an eye, shut but watching.
A bathroom door sits slightly ajar.
Riley hesitates, then nudges it open --
Inside --
A sparkling clean bathroom. Porcelain gleaming.
Riley closes the door -- the latch CLICKS unnaturally loudly.
The hallway leans inward. Narrows. Presses.
Riley stops before a door unlike the others.
Bigger. Older. Multiple locks.
A seam of light bleeds underneath --
With it comes a chill that smells of rotting roses.
Her hand shakes. Teeth gnash.
She steels herself and pulls out her STUDENT ID.
She slides the plastic into the lock.
SCRAPE... SCRAPE...
The ID card rasps against metal.
The wallpaper twitches with each push.
Finally --
CLICK.
The echo shudders down the hall like a gunshot.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Secrets of the Immaculate Room
INT. SUE'S ROOM - NIGHT
Riley pushes the door open -- a lantern beam cuts through the
gloom.
The room is immaculate.
Lace curtains are pinned stiff. A canopy bed with sheets
pressed flat.
An antique vanity gleams -- silver brushes and combs are laid
out with surgical precision.
The air is dense and damp.
The smell of wilted roses chokes the room.
Riley edges in, her breath hitching.
She crouches by the nightstand -- sliding the drawer open --
Empty.
She frowns -- turning her gaze to the wooden floor beside the
bed --
One floorboard is warped. It is uneven.
She kneels by it --
She pries it up with her fingernails.
The wood SPLINTERS, snapping loose.
Inside --
A BLACK-BOUND BOOK. Cracked leather. Slick. Sweating.
Riley lifts it --
She opens it with shaking hands.
On the page --
Sigils writhe. Ink spirals. In the margins -- Names. Dates.
Riley flips the page -- wide-eyed.
“December 1975. Three chosen. The house fed well.”
RILEY
(whispers)
Holy shit.
Something slithers across the wallpaper behind her.
A yellowed newspaper clipping slips free from the pages --
Riley picks it up.
The headline reads, “Still No Answers for Three Missing
Sorority Sisters.”
Beneath the headline --
Black-and-white portraits of the three missing girls -- Jane
Dawkins. Chrissy Salters. Meghan Siebert.
Riley swallows hard, clutching the book tight against her
chest like stolen evidence.
The wallpaper BULGES.
A FACE presses outward -- cheeks, nose, mouth mid-scream.
Riley freezes, her eyes full of terror.
The wallpaper ripples again -- harder.
Multiple hands push outward, straining the surface skin of
the house.
WALL VOICES (V.O.)
(whispering, layered)
Feed us...
Riley lurches for the door, SLAMS it shut behind her.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Whispers in the Dark
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The house moans under the weight of the storm.
Brooke paces with a half-empty bottle of wine clutched like a
weapon.
Lilly sits on the couch, knees pulled up, blanket cocooned
around her.
The pink phone sits on the table between them, mute,
watching.
BROOKE
We survived finals, frat parties,
and Chelsea’s skincare routine. One
haunted game? Please.
Lilly doesn’t answer. She stares at the black, dead screen of
her phone.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Come on. Don’t give me that look.
Lilly finally looks up -- her eyes glassy in the candlelight.
LILLY
You ever get that feeling... like --
like the house is listening?
Brooke slumps onto the couch beside her.
BROOKE
I keep hoping Riley and Chelsea
will just... walk in, laughing.
But I don’t think that’s going to
happen.
A heavy beat.
The storm presses in, the silence between them thick.
From the corner, a small battery radio flickers to life --
Static first, then a syrupy old love song.
RADIO (V.O.)
"Every night I hope and pray... a
dream lover will come my way..."
The girls freeze. The melody warbles, slowing, distorting.
The singer’s voice deepens -- almost whispering their names
under the lyrics.
Brooke turns to Lilly --
BROOKE
Did you --?
LILLY
Yeah. I heard it.
The radio POPS.
Dead silence.
Lilly clutches her blanket tighter.
BROOKE
It’s just old wiring. Bad
reception. Whatever.
She takes another drink from the bottle, forcing a smirk.
Then, from upstairs --
A faint, muffled CREAK.
Both girls look up.
The ceiling HUMS faintly, like something breathing inside the
walls.
Brooke sets the bottle down. Her smile fades.
LILLY
That’s not the wind.
They listen --
BREATHING, barely.
Then --
Silence.
The house settles.
Brooke forces a grin that doesn’t reach her eyes.
BROOKE
They’re fine. Riley and Chelsea are
fine.
LILLY
I don’t think any of us are.
The lantern light flickers.
TICK. TICK. TICK.
Genres:
["Horror","Mystery","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Haunted Hallway: The Struggle Within
INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT
The storm outside claws at the frosted windows.
Riley creeps forward, her lantern trembling in her grip.
Shadows swing wildly across the peeling wallpaper --
It pulses, faintly, like a vein.
Each footstep throbs in the silence.
She leans against the wall -- jerks back.
The floral pattern is gone.
The wallpaper is HAIR --
Woven, pressed flat, rippling like it’s underwater.
RILEY
(hoarse whisper)
Name it. Claim it.
She touches her scarred throat, grounding herself.
The wallpaper BULGES outward, inhaling like a lung.
Strands snake free, dangling down like vines in a cave.
The air stinks -- sweet rot and burned keratin.
The wallpaper SPLITS --
Hair ERUPTS -- long, wet, slithering.
Twitching. Tasting. Searching.
One brushes her cheek. Riley recoils, swatting it.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Terror.
Another strand slides across her throat like a razor.
She slaps it down --
It writhes on the floor, twitching like a worm.
Suddenly, DOZENS erupt at once, flooding the hallway.
They lash around her -- caressing, choking.
One pries between her lips -- forces itself down her throat.
Riley gags, thrashing. Her eyes bulge.
Her lighter SHAKES in her hand.
She fumbles -- flicks it alive -- thrusts it into a strand.
SSSHRIEEEEK.
The strand recoils, igniting.
The stench of burning hair chokes the air.
The wall writhes.
Beneath the burning strands --
FACES.
Dozens. Pale, pressed flat. Mouths frozen open in eternal
screams. Eyes wide and wet, tracking Riley.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Intrusion.
The faces SCREAM in unison.
Their mouths gape wider, impossibly wide, black throats
spilling sound like static.
The strands lash again, faster.
One pins her arm to the wall.
Another slides into her ear canal --
SUE (V.O.)
(cruel whisper)
A good house keeps its traditions.
Riley squeezes her eyes shut. Inhales -- in four. Hold. Out
six.
She slams the lighter flame into the wall --
The faces SHRIEK. Hair writhes, coiling back.
The wallpaper peels. Crumbles. Curls back like burning
parchment.
The screams overlap -- then implode into silence.
The hallway convulses -- jerking, reshaping.
Doors SLAM shut one by one, like rolling thunder down the
corridor.
Then --
Stillness.
Riley staggers forward, soaked in sweat, clutching her
lighter like a weapon.
Behind her --
The wallpaper re-knits -- strands weaving like flesh healing.
From within the fibers, Sue’s LAUGHTER seeps out. Low. Cruel.
Maternal.
Then --
RING.
The sound shudders through the vents, shaking loose a drift
of dust.
Riley bolts down the hallway, lantern shaking in her grip --
Stops.
At the window, she peers out into the storm --
Through the white blur --
Dozens of SNOWMEN stand in the yard -- dark silhouettes
staring back through the blizzard.
The phone WAILS again.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
The Awakening of the Snowmen
EXT. SORORITY HOUSE - NIGHT
Snow slashes sideways in manic spirals.
Through the swirling white --
Dozens of SNOWMEN stand in a wide circle around the sorority
house. Twisted. Deformed.
The storm drops for a beat --
A vacuum silence.
Then --
CRRRRACK!
A SNOWMAN’S head pivots on its lumpy body -- its coal eyes
glow faintly yellow.
A deep, guttural GROWL rumbles from the hollow of its chest --
low, animal, inhuman.
The others begin to shift --
POP. POP. POP.
The heads of the SNOWMEN snap toward the house in unison.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
The Haunting Call
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Riley bursts in, her breath sharp -- Sue’s black book tucked
under her arm.
Lilly clutches the pink phone to her ear like a talisman.
Her hands shake.
LILLY
(whisper)
Hello?
Static. Nothing.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Hello?...
A soft, syrupy male voice blooms in the tiny room, velvet and
too intimate.
ZANE (V.O.)
Lilly, at last.
Lilly freezes.
LILLY
Zane?
ZANE (V.O.)
I’ve been watching you, Lilly.
They all look right through you.
But I see you. I've always seen
you.
The lanterns flicker. The whole room tightens.
LILLY
Stop. You don’t know me.
ZANE (V.O.)
Wouldn’t you like to be
unforgettable?
On the coffee table, the game board shudders.
RILEY
(to Lilly)
Don’t answer. Don’t give it
anything.
Lilly rocks back, fingers clenching the receiver.
LILLY
(whisper)
Please... just -- go away.
ZANE (V.O.)
I can make them look. I can make
them see you.
The receiver hums.
A tiny vibration crawls up Lilly’s palm like an insect.
Suddenly, the cradle on the phone BUBBLES.
The plastic surface ripples like water -- a soft, wet
slurping sound.
RILEY
What the -- ?
The lacquered surface of the receiver bulges, then SPLITS --
A slick and impossibly HUMAN HAND pushes out --
The fingers are too perfect, nails manicured, but the skin
has an unnatural translucence.
Lilly stares, repulsed.
ZANE (V.O.)
Here I am.
The hand flexes, reaching.
Riley lunges to grab the pink phone -- too late.
The hand wraps around Lilly’s face, cupping her cheeks with
impossible warmth.
Lilly’s mouth opens in a soundless cry as the palm presses
against her lips, pushing, urging.
LILLY
Riley -- !
Riley rips at the receiver --
The hand won’t let go.
Its grip -- ice-cold. Sticky. Impossible.
The phone’s hum deepens into a subterranean THROB.
Lilly’s head tilts forward -- nearly nose-first toward the
handset as if drawn by a magnet.
RILEY
Name it. Own it. It’s not real.
The hand jerks, surprised.
Lilly chokes. Pulls the hand free.
LILLY
(gasping)
It's not real.
For a heartbeat, it trembles.
The fingers lose their easy intimacy and clamp tighter in
panic.
SUE (V.O.)
Finish the game.
Riley grabs a wine glass -- smashes it against the coffee
table with a single, sharp strike.
The sudden CRASH throws the room into fractured sound.
Riley grabs a large glass shard -- slices the hand deeply.
The hand recoils.
Blackish fluid beads emerge from the wound.
Riley tears the phone from Lilly's hand --
The hand snaps back with a wet POP --
Vanishes into the phone with an awful suction noise.
Riley drops the phone.
It hits the ground. Pulses. Angry.
BROOKE
Game over. I say we burn it.
RILEY
What if that doesn’t work?
LILLY
Brooke’s right. We need to destroy
it.
Riley looks between them. On the table, the game box seems to
pulse, patient and hungry.
The carved initials in the underside glisten darker than
before: "S.W. 1975."
RILEY
If we do this, we do it fast.
Together.
BROOKE
Then let’s burn the motherfucker.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
The Unyielding Game
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Brooke staggers forward, clutching the black lacquered game
box.
Riley and Lilly stand right behind her.
Brooke hurls the box into the roaring fireplace --
BROOKE
Burn.
The lacquered wood box curls in the fire. Flames leap.
The pink phone sizzles, its plastic dripping into a glossy
puddle.
The fire ROARS higher, unnaturally bright.
Blue and white tongues crackle like screams.
LILLY
It’s working.
They lean in -- breathless -- the glow dancing across their
faces.
RILEY
Don’t look away.
They don’t. They can’t.
Spellbound, they watch as the box warps and crumbles.
Then --
A low HUM.
Deep. Inhuman -- vibrating the air.
The girls whirl around --
On the coffee table --
The Dream Boy box. Pristine. Untouched.
The pink phone sits neatly in its cradle, pulsing faintly --
like a heartbeat.
Behind them --
The fireplace -- empty. Flames gone. Cold ashes swirl in the
grate.
LILLY
No. No... how is this happening?
Her eyes brim with tears.
She takes a stumbling step back, bumping into the coffee
table.
The rule card trembles on the board.
Ink spreads across it like veins, letters burning themselves
into --
“CHEATING DEMANDS SACRIFICE.”
The words drip blood, soaking into the board.
BROOKE
So that’s it, huh? It’s rigged --
we can’t quit.
RILEY
Every system has a weakness.
This one runs on fear. That’s its
fuel.
BROOKE
Yeah? And what if fear’s all we’ve
got left? You think you're gonna
outsmart this thing?
RILEY
No.
Riley holds up Sue’s black leather book.
RILEY (CONT'D)
But this might.
She flips it open --
Pages crawl with sigils that shift under the lantern light --
like living things.
The ink drips fresh, like the entry was just written.
RILEY (CONT'D)
(whispers)
“Nineteen twenty-five. First
offering...”
The floorboards GROAN.
The walls shudder.
Brooke backs away from the table, wine glass wobbling in her
grip.
The wallpaper BULGES, swelling like lungs inhaling.
MATCH CUT TO:
INT. ATTIC - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
The bulging wallpaper becomes velvet wallpaper under
gaslight.
Four women sit around a mahogany table.
At the head --
SUE (20s), radiant in black silk and pearls, eyes sharp.
On the table --
A black rotary phone and spirit board carved with strange
sigils.
SUE
Tonight. We call our boys home.
The women clasp hands.
EDITH (20s), quivering, lifts the receiver.
END FLASHBACK
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
The pink phone hums low -- vibrates the table.
Brooke flinches. Lilly hugs herself tight.
RILEY
(whispers)
It’s like it remembers.
INT. ATTIC - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
The receiver hums in Edith’s hand. Low. Wet.
The planchette trembles, scrapes --
H-E-L-L-O.
EDITH
Joseph. It’s him.
The women sob in relief.
END FLASHBACK
INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS (BACK TO PRESENT)
Riley flips another brittle page --
The ink twists into a drawing of the rotary phone, wrapped in
strands of human hair.
She shudders.
INT. ATTIC - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
The hum deepens into something guttural.
The planchette jerks violently, gouging splinters into the
board --
N-O-T J-O-S-E-P-H.
The trap door SLAMS shut.
Gaslight bulbs flare.
Shadows writhe.
EDITH
Sue -- it’s not them.
SUE
Hold the line. Do not break the
circle.
The rotary phone RINGS. Shrill. Unnatural.
The sound bleeds across --
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY (PRESENT DAY)
The pink phone SHRIEKS on the board.
All three girls jolt.
Riley nearly drops the book.
LILLY
Riley, put it down!
Riley clutches it tighter.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
The Bargain in Shadows
INT. ATTIC - NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
Edith lifts the receiver to her ear.
EDITH
(into phone, whisper)
No... you can’t --
Her neck SNAPS --
A sharp CRACK.
Her body locks rigid.
Her hand is frozen on the receiver.
The circle breaks.
The photographs of soldiers on the wall ignite in flame.
The planchette rockets across the room like a dagger --
It embeds in plaster.
Two women SCREAM as shadows pour through the wallpaper --
dragging them backward into blackness.
Only Sue remains -- untouched.
Shadows curl lovingly around her shoulders like a shawl.
She presses the receiver to her ear with a faint, satisfied
smile.
SUE
(whispers)
Then we have a bargain.
The shadows lean closer -- coiling tighter -- whispering
through her hair like lovers breathing secrets.
The rotary phone glows from within, its dial spinning
backward on its own.
From the earpiece --
A voice, slick and inhuman -- LAUGHS.
The room warps.
Wallpaper melts into faces -- dozens of screaming mouths
pressed behind the walls.
Sue’s pearls snap -- scattering across the floor.
Blood beads at her lip -- but her smile never fades.
END FLASHBACK
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
The Game Found Us
INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS (PRESENT DAY)
The book vibrates in Riley’s hands. She forces it open --
Ink ripples across the page --
“Blood and hair. Strands bind the living. Blood opens the
door.”
The pink phone HUMS louder. Low. Steady.
RILEY
(under breath)
Blood and hair... strands bind.
Blood opens.
The storm outside stops for one horrific beat.
The silence is crushing.
The board pulses, glossy ink warping their reflections.
With an eerie calm, Riley moves toward the pink phone.
She picks it up -- unscrews the receiver. Careful,
deliberate.
BROOKE
Riley, don’t --
CLACK.
The panel drops --
A grotesque HAIR DOLL clumps 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
floorboards.
RILEY
We didn’t find this game. This game
found us.
Heavy silence.
Then --
The pink phone HUMS louder.
Shadows writhe across the lace curtains.
Riley paces, clutching the book tight. Mind racing.
RILEY (CONT'D)
I’m going back to Sue’s room. I
have to end this.
Brooke’s head snaps up.
BROOKE
You’re kidding, right?
Riley’s eyes burn steady, calm.
RILEY
I know how to beat this thing. But
I need a piece of Sue. Her hair.
Brooke laughs once, brittle and sharp.
BROOKE
What are you now, a witch? One
creepy diary and you’re Buffy the
Vampire Slayer? No. We stay here.
Together.
LILLY
(to Riley)
I’m coming with you.
Brooke stares at her, incredulous.
BROOKE
It’s a board game. Cardboard.
Plastic. A dial tone. That’s it --
not some... prophecy.
Lilly rounds on her, eyes flashing.
LILLY
At least she’s trying -- not hiding
behind jokes cause she’s terrified
of being alone.
The words slice through the room.
For a flicker, Brooke’s armor drops -- pain swims up from
somewhere raw and real.
Riley steps between them. Steady. Urgent.
RILEY
Stop. We're all sisters here. We
need to work together.
Brooke won’t meet her eyes.
She stares at the phone instead -- its faint glow painting
her pale, tired face.
BROOKE
You think -- you think you can
actually stop it?
Riley kneels to her level.
RILEY
Yes -- but I need you to watch the
board and don’t touch the phone...
no matter what.
Brooke nods once, still fragile.
BROOKE
Okay. But -- but don’t leave me
long.
Riley squeezes her shoulder, a fleeting spark of sisterhood.
RILEY
Five minutes. That’s all.
Riley stands, signals to Lilly.
Darkness swallows them.
Brooke lingers by the coffee table, frozen.
The pink phone pulses, the hum almost a whispering moan now.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Urgent Ascent
INT. STAIRCASE - NIGHT
The staircase looms in front of Riley and Lilly, half-
swallowed by shadow.
Riley steadies the lantern; the glow trembles across the
banister -- wood slick with dampness.
They climb.
Each step groans.
Halfway up --
A violent gust roars down the stairwell, rattling the walls.
Riley clamps her hand around Lilly’s, pulling her up.
RILEY
Keep moving. Don’t look back.
From below --
A faint RING. Metallic, sharp.
LILLY
Riley, it’s your turn.
RILEY
They can leave a message.
They climb faster.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
The Haunting Performance
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Brooke sits alone on the beanbag, arms wrapped around her
knees.
The pink phone hums steadily on the table.
She stares at it...
Then --
CLICK.
The TV flickers on by itself --
Static fizzes across the screen.
Slowly, an image bleeds through --
A COMEDY CLUB. Red velvet curtains. Smoke haze. A single mic
glows in a white-hot spotlight.
Onstage -- DEAN. Perfect -- teeth gleaming like knives.
DEAN (ON TV)
Ladies and gentlemen... your
headliner tonight -- Brooke Jacobs!
A CANNED LAUGH TRACK detonates. Tinny, metallic, wrong.
The laughter doesn’t come from the TV --
It rattles from the walls.
Brooke flinches -- clutches her stomach.
BROOKE
No. This isn’t real.
The LAUGHTER swells, pounding in her skull.
She clamps her hands over her ears -- but it’s inside her.
DEAN (ON TV)
Come on, Brooke. Give us a joke,
darling.
The mic SQUEALS with feedback.
Brooke opens her mouth --
Nothing. Her throat clenches shut.
DEAN (ON TV) (CONT'D)
Oh, Brooke, you’re bombing already.
The laugh track ERUPTS again. Violent. Jagged.
Brooke jerks -- an involuntary laugh rips from her throat
like a muscle spasm.
Then another.
She doubles over, laughter pouring from her in convulsions.
BROOKE
(through laughter)
Stop -- I can’t --
Her face spasms.
Her lips split at the corners --
Blood dribbles down her chin.
The living room walls DISSOLVE --
The furniture melts away --
Replaced by rows of SHADOW-FACED MEN -- pounding tables.
Their LAUGHTER shakes the air, vibrating her ribs.
DEAN (ON TV)
That’s it. Let it out.
Brooke stumbles back, tears streaking through her smeared
makeup.
The shadows in the crowd lean forward, their mouths
stretching wider than humanly possible.
Their laughter changes pitch -- morphs into SCREAMS disguised
as guffaws.
Brooke’s body lurches with each laugh.
Her jaw twitches like a puppet on strings.
CRACK.
Her jaw SNAPS slightly wider.
A tooth rattles free, bouncing across the floorboards.
BROOKE
Please, stop -- please --
SHADOW AUDIENCE (V.O.)
(chanting in rhythm)
Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!
Dean steps closer to the TV screen.
His smile glimmers unnaturally wide.
DEAN (ON TV)
I’ve got a joke, Brooke. Wanna hear
it?
The audience ROARS.
Dean presses his palm against the screen --
The glass RIPPLES like liquid.
Then --
Dean’s face and body PEEL THROUGH, static clinging to him.
He stands up --
Tall. Radiant. Monstrous.
Brooke collapses to her knees, trembling.
BROOKE
No. No, please...
Dean crouches, cupping her chin with mock tenderness.
His thumb smears blood across her cheek like lipstick.
DEAN
What do you call a girl who hides
behind jokes?
The laugh track multiplies, filling every inch of space --
High-pitched. Low-pitched. Distorted.
Laughter drips from the ceiling. Seeps up from the
floorboards.
Brooke convulses.
Her jaw cracks wider, spraying more blood.
Her tongue lolls, twitches.
Dean leans close, breath steaming.
DEAN (CONT'D)
(whispering)
A punchline.
The living room BLINKS --
Suddenly, Brooke is ON STAGE.
Spotlight blisters her skin.
The faceless audience leans forward in silence.
Their mouths gape, expectant. Hundreds of them.
Brooke stares into the void of faces, sobbing.
BROOKE
Please. I’m not funny. I’m not --
The audience ERUPTS into laughter.
Her jaw cracks wider -- UNHINGES.
Blood sprays across the mic.
Her laugh is now a howl.
The microphone sprouts wires -- coiling around her arms like
snakes -- yanking her upright.
The stand fuses into her skin, anchoring her in place.
Her lips tear into a permanent smile.
Blood sheets down her throat.
Her chest trembles like a speaker.
Dean wraps his arm around her shoulders.
His eyes burn yellow. Teeth long. Animal.
DEAN
Ladies and gentlemen. Give her a
hand!
The faceless audience rises, CLAPPING.
Brooke’s body goes limp, dangling from the mic -- jaw
grotesquely split into a rictus grin.
The shadows howl in a standing ovation.
BACK TO LIVING ROOM
The TV flickers with static.
The pink phone hums louder, pulsing with hunger.
On the rug --
Brooke lies slumped, lifeless.
Lips torn.
Frozen in a monstrous grin.
CANNED LAUGHTER plays faintly from the now-dead TV.
Then --
Silence.
Genres:
["Horror","Psychological Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Reflections of Fear
INT. SUE'S ROOM - NIGHT
The door CREAKS open.
Riley and Lilly step inside, lantern light trembling.
Riley edges toward the vanity -- picks up a silver hairbrush.
Its bristles -- tangled with strands -- thick, matted, faded
blonde and brown woven together.
Riley shudders, clutching it tight.
Behind her --
The mirror FOGS. Condensation at first.
Then -- shapes emerge.
LILLY
Riley. Look.
In the mirror stand THREE GIRLS.
Dressed in faded sorority sweaters. Makeup perfect, hair
coiffed like a yearbook photo --
But their skin is pale, their eyes rimmed with deep shadows.
It's the missing 1975 girls -- JANE. CHRISSY. MEGHAN.
Staring. Haunted.
The girls’ mouths open -- yet no sound emerges.
Their lips form words like a chant -- but it's
undecipherable.
The mirror shivers with their breath.
Lilly clutches Riley’s arm.
LILLY (CONT'D)
What do they want?
The reflections’ mouths widen into smiles like wounds
splitting open across porcelain masks.
RILEY
I’m not sure if they want to help
us or hurt us.
Suddenly, Meghan lifts her hand in the mirror, pressing it
against the glass --
Her palm leaves a wet print on the inside.
Riley steps closer. She studies their faces, looking for
signs of malice or mercy.
Then --
Their smiles falter.
Their eyes shift -- not at Riley, but at something behind
her.
Riley whirls --
Nothing in the real room.
When she turns back --
The girls are closer.
Right against the glass.
Their teeth are faintly jagged now -- hair dripping with
black water.
The mirror HUMS. The glass ripples like water about to burst.
The girls speak in unison -- voices layered, echoing from the
walls --
1975 GIRLS (V.O.)
(whisper)
Join us...
The mirror spiderwebs with cracks. The reflections split --
Half-smiling, half-weeping, as if two wills are fighting
inside them.
Riley clutches the brush like a weapon.
She yanks Lilly back toward the door.
RILEY
Let’s head to my room.
Then --
The mirror goes smooth again. Empty.
Only their own frightened reflections remain.
Riley and Lilly stand frozen, breathing hard, then retreat
toward the door.
The mirror fogs once more.
The 1975 girls linger in the glass, watching, waiting.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Haunted Confessions
INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Riley and Lilly slip inside, slam the door behind them --
lock the door.
The room feels smaller than before -- its walls hum faintly.
Riley sets her lantern on the desk. The glow is pale --
watery.
Both girls slide to the floor, backs to the bed, breathing
hard.
For a long beat -- only their breathing and the moan of the
blizzard.
Riley pulls the silver hairbrush from her coat pocket.
She sits cross-legged, hands shaking, and begins teasing the
strands out, braiding them with trembling precision.
LILLY
You’re really doing this witchcraft
shit?
Riley keeps her eyes on the bristles, fingers working faster.
RILEY
Hair binds the living. Blood opens
the door.
LILLY
She started all this, didn’t she?
Riley doesn’t answer immediately.
She just keeps braiding, jaw tight.
RILEY
She made a bargain. And the house
kept her young.
The crude hair doll takes shape in her trembling hands.
Lilly edges closer.
LILLY
The game is going to keep coming
after us until we finish it... Hey,
Riley, can I ask you something?
RILEY
Yeah, anything.
LILLY
The scar on your neck. How'd you
get it?
Riley’s hands falter. The doll trembles in her grip.
RILEY
His name was Ethan...
Senior year. He’d... wait outside
my classes. Found my locker
combination. Started leaving me
notes. Photos. The kind you don’t
know are being taken until you see
yourself in them.
Lilly’s arms cross over herself, shivering.
RILEY (CONT'D)
I told the school. My mom. The
cops. No one took me seriously
until --
She pulls her collar down, revealing the jagged scar across
her neck.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Until the night he broke into my
room... and tried to kill me.
Lilly grips her arm, horrified.
Riley looks up, meeting Lilly’s eyes.
She dangles the hair doll from her hand --
It sways, crude and grotesque.
From somewhere in the vents --
A faint, muffled RING.
Both girls freeze.
Riley clutches the hair doll tighter, jaw set.
Riley stands -- moves to the desk.
The lantern flickers.
Then --
A faint CLICK behind her -- like a camera shutter.
She whirls --
Nothing.
Another click.
Suddenly --
POLAROIDS fall from the ceiling, one by one, like the house
is feeding them into the room.
They flutter to the floor.
Lilly picks one up --
INSERT: Riley in the library tonight.
Another drops.
INSERT: Riley standing in front of her mirror earlier, shirt
collar down, scar exposed.
Another.
INSERT: The two of them in this very room, right now, looking
down at the Polaroids.
Lilly drops the photo, backs up.
LILLY
Oh God, no. No.
Floorboards CREAK. Slow. Heavy.
Riley forces herself to breathe.
Floorboards CREAK louder, closer.
The wood under the desk BULGES.
CREAK. CRACK!
Suddenly --
A HAND BURSTS THROUGH --
Long fingers blackened at the nails.
Another hand follows.
Floorboards SHRIEK.
They buckle --
SPLIT wide --
ETHAN rises. Slowly.
He unfolds like a marionette pulled through the floorboards
by invisible strings.
His spine uncoils with a wet pop -- vertebrae stretching.
His arms hang strangely low -- fingertips brushing the floor.
A smile cuts across his face --
Too wide. Too still.
His eyes blink, glowing sickly yellow.
Riley stumbles back. Clutches the knife and the hair doll.
Riley’s gaze fixes on Ethan.
The room fractures.
Space bends around him.
Lines stutter.
ETHAN SPLITS.
Two versions of him now -- side by side -- flicker in
different rhythms -- out of sync.
One smiles, frozen.
One shivers, mouth twitching with animal static.
Both turn toward her.
RILEY
(whisper, barely audible)
Ethan...
The edges of her vision smear. Light stutters. The room
breathes.
She shuts her eyes tight.
Inhales -- in four. Hold. Out six.
When she opens them --
Only one Ethan remains.
He grins. Tilts his head -- his voice a hiss of static and
velvet --
ETHAN
You're not done being mine.
He lunges toward her --
The floor splinters under his weight.
Riley retreats -- all she can do is run.
She grabs Lilly’s arm as she bolts for the door.
Behind them --
Polaroids lift into the air, spiraling like birds -- snapping
more and more pictures as they flee --
FLASH!
FLASH!
FLASH!
A rising, high-pitched camera WHINE builds to distortion.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Hallway of Shadows
INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT
Polaroids whirl mid-air, flashes etching ghost light into the
wallpaper.
Riley and Lilly rush down the hallway.
Riley tries a doorknob -- LOCKED.
Another -- LOCKED.
Then --
BREATHING. Heavy. Wet. Close.
Riley spins, her lantern beam slicing through the dark --
Nothing.
A door at the far end SLAMS open -- the echo shatters the
silence.
A WOMAN’S SILHOUETTE fills the glow.
SUE.
Still. Regal. Poise carved from ice.
Riley’s pulse spikes.
She turns to Lilly --
LILLY IS GONE.
She whips the beam back down the corridor --
Sue’s silhouette -- gone too.
The walls quiver.
Air bends.
Light warps like heat rising off asphalt.
Then --
The hallway MELTS INTO GLASS.
Behind the glass --
An endless, SURREAL DANCE FLOOR bathed in pulsing pink and
cobalt blue, the colors of bruises.
Couples twirl in looping rhythm, their laughter warped --
skipping like a broken record.
Riley steps closer. Mesmerized.
Gary holds Chelsea, spinning her lazily. Her eyes glassy --
smile stretched too wide.
Dean dips Brooke, their movements stuttered, puppet-like.
At the center --
SUE.
Twenty again. Perfect hair. Crimson mouth.
She doesn’t dance. She watches.
A vinyl SCRATCH -- Sue's eyes lock onto Riley's.
A cold smile flickers, thin as a razor.
The dance floor strobes faster --
Laughter turns to SHRIEKS.
Limbs bend wrong. Spines shudder.
Necks crack -- heads spin like loose dolls.
From the crowd -- a SHAPE tears loose. Broad. Predatory.
ETHAN.
His grin slices through the neon haze.
Eyes burning gold. Feral. Hungry.
The mirrored glass BULGES, rippling like skin stretched too
tight.
Each step he takes warps the reflection around him.
His hand finds the glass -- tender, almost loving.
CRACK.
Fractures web outward, glinting like veins of lightning.
Then --
SMASH!
The mirror ERUPTS --
Shards slice the air, whistling past Riley’s face.
She stumbles back, boots grinding glass to dust.
Inside the mirror --
The music stops.
Every dancer freezes mid-motion.
Their heads SNAP toward her in unison.
Necks crack. Smiles split wide.
At the center -- Sue watches.
Ethan presses forward --
His torso pushes through the shattered pane, shoulders
dislocating to fit through.
His body moves wrong, boneless, serpentine.
The mirror world behind him darkens.
The dancers melt into silhouettes.
Their limbs blur -- elegance unraveling.
A black tide seeps up from the floorboards -- thick and
soundless, devouring their forms.
One by one, they slip under like film negatives dissolving in
acid.
Suddenly --
Ethan stands face-to-face with Riley.
ETHAN
I told you, Riley. You'll
always be mine.
Riley staggers back -- the corridor closes around her.
The mirrors hum -- vibrating with laughter.
Ethan LUNGES at Riley --
Riley ducks -- RUNS.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Haunted Reflections
INT. UPSTAIRS - BATHROOM - NIGHT
SLAM.
The door shuts behind Riley with a sharp finality.
She twists the lock. Click.
Dark. Silent. The storm is muffled.
Her lantern sits on the counter, its dim glow flickering like
a failing pulse.
The small, tiled room presses in.
Riley leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain until her
knuckles blanch.
Her breath shudders, mouth open.
But no sound comes out.
CLOSE ON HAND
A shard of mirror glass is lodged just beneath her skin.
Blood oozes slowly -- black in the dim light.
She wets a towel. Wipes at the cut.
Behind her --
The mirror waits. Fogged over. Still.
Riley doesn’t look up.
Her reflection barely registers as a blur in the steam.
She rinses her hands again. Slower. Like a ritual.
A drip echoes from the faucet.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It starts to sound almost -- deliberate. Like footsteps. Like
a heartbeat.
She finally dares to lift her head.
THE MIRROR
Only fog.
Her shape -- a ghost behind glass.
She reaches out...
Fingers hover inches from the mirror’s surface.
Her breath fans across it -- revealing a sliver of
reflection.
Riley -- but --
Something moves behind her.
A flicker in the steam.
She turns.
Nothing.
She faces the mirror again.
The fog has returned. Thicker than before.
But something is writing across it now, slowly, traced by an
invisible fingertip --
“You'll always be mine.”
Riley stumbles back.
The lantern flickers violently, casting shadows that stretch
and slither.
She grabs the lantern -- hand shaking.
Then --
From inside the mirror -- a soft whisper.
ETHAN (V.O.)
Finish the game, Riley.
Riley whirls --
An empty room.
Then --
The lock on the door clicks open -- by itself.
Riley freezes.
Stares at the door -- now slightly ajar.
Nothing on the other side -- only darkness breathing in.
She lifts the towel -- wraps it around her bleeding hand.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
The Birthday of Erasure
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The room sits in stillness.
Lilly bursts inside, panting. Her breath steams in the cold.
Her lantern flickers wildly, casting sickly pulses of green
and blue across the room.
The pink phone pulses, slow and steady -- a grotesque,
heartbeat rhythm.
Then --
A faint POP of balloons.
Music drifts in.
Not just music -- a party song, syrupy and too cheerful,
warped just slightly off-key.
Lilly hugs herself, teeth chattering.
LILLY
(whispering)
Guys...? Brooke? Riley...?
She edges deeper.
The living room SHIFTS --
Streamers sag overhead.
A banner unfurls, letters bleeding into view --
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILLY!”
A table groans under cake and punch.
The punch bowl glows deep ruby, bubbles rising like blood.
Balloons sway gently, their latex faces drawn with smiles --
too wide.
The crowd arrives --
Phantom guests in vintage gowns and tuxes, all clapping at
once.
Their grins fixed, too many teeth -- their laughter skips
like broken records.
The smell hits her -- cheap perfume, spoiled frosting, sour
wine.
A PHANTOM GIRL brushes through Lilly, leaving behind a wet,
cold slick across her arm, like a slug trail.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Hey! Excuse you!
No response. Her voice evaporates into the warped party
track.
From the crowd -- he emerges --
ZANE. Handsome. Perfectly dressed in a tuxedo.
A rose in his lapel wilts and perks as he smiles. 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. Solid.
LILLY
You -- you see me?
ZANE
Only you, Lilly.
He pulls her in. They sway.
The crowd CLAPS. Rhythmic. Mechanical -- like a hundred pairs
of hands slapping meat.
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.
Slowly.
With relish.
ZANE (CONT'D)
Mm... Sweet. Just like I remember.
CONFETTI CANNONS POP --
But the falling shreds aren’t confetti.
They’re torn Polaroids --
Smiling mouths. Empty eyes.
Lilly’s name bleeds across a blank card.
She clutches it --
It melts between her fingers.
Ink streams down her wrist.
Her outline flickers, patches dissolving like film caught in
a projector.
LILLY
Riley, where are you?
The crowd encircles her --
Waxen. Smiling. Perfect.
They mime gift-giving, boxes wrapped in pale skin.
Ribbons twitch.
The lids flap open --
Inside --
Strips of her own skin, folded like ribbons. Each one faintly
breathes.
Lilly SCREAMS -- the crowd CLAPS.
The sound tears at her flesh.
A strip peels from her arm.
Then her cheek.
Her throat.
No blood.
No pain.
Only erasure.
She claws at her chest --
Her hands sink through -- grasping --
Nothing.
Her skin lifts away in perfect squares --
Paper-thin, fluttering upward like memories.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Stop this. Stop it!
ZANE
(soft, reverent)
You said you wanted to be
remembered. Now you’ll never fade
again.
He kisses her lips.
When he pulls back --
Her lips stay on his, tearing loose like wet petals.
He spits them aside, smiling wider.
Above them --
The banner writhes.
The letters twist, bleed, reform --
“GOODBYE, LILLY.”
Balloons POP -- one by one --
Each burst releases a tiny, human scream.
The crowd surges closer.
Zane gestures to them, triumphant.
ZANE (CONT'D)
To the girl... no one will forget!
The crowd mimics unwrapping, clawing the air.
Each gesture rips more of her away.
Her hair falls like static.
Her eyes disintegrate into white confetti.
LILLY
(whisper)
I don’t want this.
Her jaw splits down the center --
Paper tearing wet.
Her torso folds inward --
Origami made of flesh and memory.
LILLY (CONT'D)
(whisper, paper-thin)
Riley... help...
Her final shred -- her NAME -- tears from her chest.
It drifts upward --
Glows -- then disintegrates.
The crowd ERUPTS in applause.
Balloons BURST, spraying black slush across the floor.
Zane bows.
The crowd vanishes.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
The Uninvited Guests
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Silence.
The room stands empty.
Cold. Still.
The pink phone pulses softly on the floor.
RING.
Hungry.
Waiting.
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Riley steps into the room -- clutching the black book tight
against her chest.
The living room looks... almost normal.
Brooke and Lilly lounge on the couch, laughing.
An open wine bottle. Cards scattered.
Go Fish.
Their laughter rings too bright -- tuned a half-note wrong.
Riley stops cold.
RILEY
Brooke? ... Lilly?
They look up in perfect unison.
Their smiles hold -- too long. Too wide.
BROOKE
Hey. Finally. You were taking
forever.
LILLY
You missed the party. But don’t
worry -- there’s still time.
The grandfather clock ticks in the corner -- heavy,
mechanical, wet.
TICK. TICK. TICK.
Each tick thickens the air.
RILEY
What’s going on?
BROOKE
We’re fine now. We get it.
LILLY
The house just wanted us to laugh.
Brooke laughs -- a brittle, glassy sound that cracks mid-
breath.
Lilly joins in -- the same rhythm, the same tone.
Their giggles loop, skipping like a broken record.
Riley’s pulse hammers.
Their skin gleams too smooth. Eyes glint too yellow.
Their smiles stretch, trembling at the edges.
A sound comes from the kitchen --
DING.
The oven timer chimes, bright and cheerful, cutting the
silence like a blade through silk.
Brooke and Lilly snap their heads toward it, mechanically.
When they look back -- their smiles are wider.
Their teeth are... different.
LILLY (CONT'D)
Our cookies are ready.
BROOKE
Come see, Riley. You’ll love them.
They rise together, movements slightly out of sync.
As they turn, Riley glimpses their backs --
Fabric seams run down their spines, stitched too tight.
Something dark seeps through the threads.
Brooke tilts her head --
A single drop of wax -- or flesh -- slides from her ear.
Riley steps back --
The clock stops.
Everything stops.
Then --
DING.
Genres:
["Horror","Thriller","Supernatural"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Cookies of Horror
INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
The kitchen hums with warmth, impossibly cozy.
Holiday lights twinkle. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafts
thick.
On the counter --
A tray of fresh cookies, steam curling upward.
Brooke and Lilly wear oven mitts and move in eerie
synchronicity.
BROOKE
We made them just for you.
The cookies look perfect.
Golden. White chocolate chips dot the surface.
Riley, wary, edges closer.
The oven light flickers.
Her face turns pale.
The white chocolate chips are NOT actually white chocolate
chips --
They're HUMAN TEETH.
Brooke plucks one up and blows on it.
She takes a bite --
CRUNCH.
She chews.
Riley gags, staggers back.
RILEY
Oh my God.
Brooke leans forward, teeth clacking as she chews.
The lights flicker. The air grows thick.
In the reflection of the kitchen window --
THREE SHADOWY FIGURES stand behind her --
JANE. CHRISSY. MEGHAN.
Their mouths move, whispering soundless words.
One raises a Polaroid camera --
FLASH!
The brightness blinds Riley --
When her eyes clear --
They’re gone.
From deeper in the house --
Sue’s LAUGHTER. Cruel. Maternal. Carried in the walls.
SUE (V.O.)
(whispers, giddy)
Time to feed the house, girls.
The pink phone SHRIEKS -- metallic, shrill, vibrating like it
wants to run.
Riley whirls.
When she turns back --
Brooke and Lilly are gone.
In their place --
Two lumpy, steaming SNOWMEN.
Their mouths curve into jagged hooks, coal teeth dripping
meltwater -- eyes glowing yellow.
The oven’s heat warps the air around them, snow sloughing off
in wet chunks.
The mitts are still on their twig hands.
Steam hisses where snow meets heat.
SNOWMAN BROOKE
(voice layered, warped)
They’re just for you, Riley.
They step forward -- twig arms twitching like broken
marionettes, splintering the air.
Riley staggers back, eyes darting --
The temperature drops. Her breath fogs.
The pink phone SCREAMS louder, a metallic wail that feels
alive.
The oven door BURSTS OPEN, flames belching teeth instead of
heat.
Gnashing. Grinning. Hungry.
Riley bolts --
RILEY
No. No -- NO!
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
The Invasion of the Snowmen
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The living room walls THROB as Riley enters.
Wallpaper sweats. Veins pulse beneath it.
Silhouettes press against the windows --
SNOWMEN.
Dozens. Twisted. Hunched -- coal eyes glowing yellow.
Their heads turn in unison toward Riley as she rushes in.
Riley grips the lantern in one hand -- the hair doll in the
other.
She breathes raggedly, steadies herself. Eyes fierce.
RILEY
(under breath)
Name it. Claim it. Fight it.
The first SNOWMAN splinters through the window --
Its head shatters, spewing slush and teeth.
The RULE CARD shakes in Riley’s hands.
Ink crawls, bleeds, smears, REWRITES --
"CLOSE WITH WHAT OPENED TO RETURN SENDER."
Blood rivulets soak the game board’s seams, veining outward
like capillaries.
Her lantern flickers out.
A beat of dead silence.
Then --
WINDOWS ERUPT.
Glass SCREAMS inward --
The blizzard HOWLS through the room, snatching curtains and
body-slamming picture frames.
Through the whiteout --
SHAPES. Dozens. SNOWMEN. Hunched, wrong, coal eyes GLOWING
YELLOW, carrot noses warped into hooks.
Behind them --
DREAM BOYS march in lockstep, smiles pre-set like mannequins.
Their shadows crawl faster than their bodies.
Riley grips the hair doll in one hand and a lighter in the
other.
She inhales -- in four. Hold. Out six.
The phone’s heartbeat syncs with hers -- too fast.
A SNOWMAN rams the window frame and topples in, detonating
into a cyclone of frost.
The slush heaves and cleaves --
A bloodied smile emerges. CHELSEA’S grin, teeth chattering.
SNOWMAN CHELSEA
(taunting, layered)
It’s just a game, Riley. Calm down.
The head splits like clay -- body sags into steaming black
slush, creeping across the rug.
Two more SNOWMEN EXPLODE through.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Nightmare Ascension
INT. STAIRS - NIGHT
Riley scales the staircase.
It stretches, elongating like a tongue.
Steps ripple under her boots.
Above her --
DREAM BOYS crawl along rafters like spiders, heads craning at
impossible angles.
DREAM BOYS (V.O.)
(overlapping)
Join us, Riley.
RILEY
You’re not real.
Riley lunges up the stairs, each step buckling behind her.
INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT
Riley sprints down the hallway.
Faces press from the plaster in silent SCREAMS.
Hair threads push from seams.
The hall STRETCHES -- doors smooth into a featureless wall,
then reappear farther away.
Two SNOWMEN DETONATE through windows -- collapse to black
puddles -- then reform.
Behind her --
A SNOWMAN drops to all fours -- galloping spider-like toward
her.
INT. UPSTAIRS LANDING - NIGHT (SAME TIME)
Sue steps into guttering candlelight, her eyes ancient but
her face youthful.
SUE
Every fifty years, the house must
be fed.
Her hands climb higher...
SNOWMEN SHRIEK in unison.
DREAM BOYS bow like knights awaiting command.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT
Riley is boxed in -- SNOWMEN to the front, DREAM BOYS at her
back.
Above her --
The attic hatch CRACKS open --
A hungry glow leaks out.
Sue’s laughter booms from the rafters, a cathedral roll.
Riley grips the hair doll, jaw set.
The only path -- up.
Below her -- FOOTSTEPS.
Multiple Dream Boys climb in unison.
Riley digs out the hair doll.
It writhes faintly. She puts it back in her pocket.
RILEY
Hair binds. Blood opens. Return to
sender, the door closes.
She pricks her thumb on her knife, smearing blood across the
doll’s mouth --
It twitches in her palm as if it just tasted something.
Then --
A hiss at her shoulder -- a whisper as slick as oil, though
no one stands there --
SUE (V.O.)
Come join us, Riley.
Riley ascends -- each rung a pulse of dread.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
Confrontation in the Attic
INT. ATTIC - NIGHT
Riley shoulders the hatch.
WHOOF.
The pressure drops.
Cold sucks at her face.
Her breath ghosts white.
The attic yawns like a cathedral -- bigger, longer than the
house should allow.
Rotted rafters vanish into dark ribs.
Snow trickles through split shingles like ash.
At the center of the room lies a chalk-and-salt SIGIL branded
into the wooden floorboards.
Candles burn with black flame.
The game board and pink phone sit in the heart like an altar.
The pink phone THUMPS -- wet, arrhythmic.
Between sigil marks, floorboards hinge open into an OVAL
MOUTH.
Riley steadies.
The scar at her throat prickles like a compass needle.
From the MOUTH --
HANDS rise.
DREAM BOYS climb out, faces flipping like cards --
GARY/DEAN/ZANE.
Their smiles shear open -- teeth razored.
Suddenly --
Bones CRACK -- jaws unspool --
The three bodies KNOT into a single braid of smiles, enamel,
and hair.
Then --
A head PUSHES THROUGH...
ETHAN. Not flesh -- an idea sharpened.
FUSION ETHAN
I never left, Riley. I've always
been watching you. Seeing you.
The rafters SNAP like ribs.
Frost fans across the panes --
Rows of YELLOW EYES blink alive from outside.
A SHADOW peels off the far wall --
Sue, flickering. Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Her smile is
half maternal -- half wolf.
SUE
Tonight... the house collects
again.
Riley’s eyes cut --
Sigil, phone, mouth.
RILEY
You feed it. For what -- beauty?
Sue steps into the half-light.
For a blink, bone shows under the glow.
SUE
For time, dear. For a life where
men don’t bruise and grief doesn’t
wrinkle.
The phone RINGS -- backwards, wet, like metal dragged through
meat.
FUSION ETHAN
Answer it, Riley. Time to finish
the game.
He steps. The boards sink like wet snow.
RILEY
(to herself)
Name it. Claim it. Fight it.
She flicks the lighter -- a flame shivers.
She stares at her bloody thumb, at the doll, at the phone.
Ethan lunges at Riley --
She SPLASHES FLAME --
Fire licks Ethan’s borrowed face.
The knot HOWLS, voices duetting in static and charm.
Riley smears her blood across the doll’s matted lips.
The doll QUIVERS.
SUE
You can’t close what you didn’t
open, dear.
RILEY SPRINTS AT SUE.
They COLLIDE --
Air wrinkles -- the fabric of the room draws tight.
Riley’s knife flashes. She NICKS Sue’s forearm. DARK BLOOD
worms out like ink.
Riley crams the hair doll into Sue’s palm, SMEARS Sue’s blood
over it -- CLAMPS her fingers shut.
The sigil FLARES.
The doll’s hair WRITHES, braiding up Sue’s wrist, elbow,
shoulder like a needle pulling a seam.
Sue jerks.
Her glamour FLICKERS -- something gaunt and ancient beneath.
SUE (CONT'D)
Hold the line!
The FUSION staggers -- splits. Re-knits.
GARY/DEAN/ZANE peel -- then slam back together.
Ethan stands alone. Hungry.
Riley plants a boot on the chalk ring -- drives Sue toward
the mouth, inch by inch.
She heels Sue across the sigil -- yanking her wrists down.
Hair threads gouge into Sue’s veins like barbed wire, pulling
her toward the mouth...
Suddenly --
FLOORBOARDS EXPLODE.
From the seams, SKELETAL ARMS wrapped in hair burst up --
Three HEADS rise, crowned in braided mats --
JANE. CHRISSY. MEGHAN. Their eyes glass-marble, smiles
cracked with ice.
They move with hunger and grief, hair coiling like eels.
They swarm Riley -- gentle and merciless, knocking her off
her feet.
Riley gags as hair slips between her teeth.
Riley screams, kicking, dragged on her back toward the MOUTH.
Her nails dig into the floor -- desperate.
The air pulses with breath. The dark ahead opens wider.
SUE (CONT'D)
(laughing)
The house protects me. Who protects
you, Riley? Who loves you? No one
can love a broken soul like yours.
But this house can...
Riley thrashes -- burning a coil of hair with her lighter.
Screams ECHO up the strands, traveling from skull to skull
like a current.
The girls recoil, but only enough to take a deeper breath.
SUE (CONT'D)
One hundred years ago, I made a
bargain. I made a pact. Not with a
priest or a prince... but with a
Demon. A Demon of lust. His want --
female sacrifices. So I gave it
what it craved. Broken girls with
their soft, foolish dreams. In
return, it gave me time. Youth.
Beauty... Power.
Sue steps closer, almost whispering in Riley’s ear.
Sue’s face flickers -- gaunt and monstrous.
SUE (CONT'D)
You think you can win? There is no
winning. Only feeding.
And tonight... you’re the feast.
Riley’s breath finds the count. In four. Hold. Out six.
She turns to the 1975 girls.
RILEY
You don’t belong to this house or
to her. Let me set you free.
A HUM swells beneath the boards. The black flames quiver.
The 1975 girls’ whispers soften -- their hair loosens from
Riley’s mouth.
Their gazes tilt to Sue -- a recalibration.
The MOUTH widens, hungry.
Riley BITES the pad of her thumb -- fresh blood wells.
She smears it across the sigil with her hand -- it buckles,
chalk peeling back like shedding skin.
RILEY (CONT'D)
Jane Dawkins. Chrissy Salters.
Meghan Siebert. I release you.
The pink phone on the board FLATLINES -- a high, steady tone.
Wind REVERSES -- a TEARING VACUUM yanks SNOWMEN toward the
mouth.
Dream Boys WARP, their smiles cracking like porcelain.
Ethan claws floorboards, his reflection flickering in coal
eyes.
He reaches up -- tapping Riley’s scar with a tender finger as
he slips --
RILEY (CONT'D)
I choose who gets to see me.
ETHAN
(soft, almost kind)
See you in the dark.
He's ripped away -- shredded into hair and teeth as the MOUTH
drinks.
Riley kneels down by Sue, still wrapped in hair.
For the first time, a deep fear flickers in Sue’s eyes.
RILEY
You fed it us. Now it’s time to
feed it you.
Riley turns to the 1975 girls.
SUE
No. Hold the line. Do not break the
circle!
The 1975 girls are no longer under her control.
They watch on -- still. Silent. Free.
Riley plants her feet -- anchors her breath.
With both hands, she drags Sue to the edge of the mouth.
Hair SUTURES through Sue’s chest like barbed floss.
Her eyes cloud like antique glass.
Hair pours from her eyes, nose, and mouth.
RILEY
Return to sender, bitch.
Riley hurls Sue into the MOUTH --
The MOUTH CLAPS SHUT like a book.
Sudden quiet.
Black flames gutter out.
The pink phone -- cracked, embering -- glows once. Then dies.
Riley sprawls on her hands and knees, her chest sawing.
The floor beneath her palm feels warm.
Somewhere below, the house EXHALES.
Locks CLACK open.
Riley staggers upright -- lifts the hair doll --
Now just dead hair and dried blood.
She pockets it like an evidence bag.
Riley stands at the hatch.
She looks back at the missing girls --
The girls smile softly -- then sink through the seams of the
house.
Riley touches her scar.
Inside her pocket, the dead doll’s hair, almost imperceptibly
-- quivers.
Riley inhales -- in four. Hold. Out six.
Then lowers herself down the hatch.
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 tremble -- 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 is 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","Supernatural","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Echoes of the Past
INT. POLICE CRUISER - MORNING
Riley slides into the back seat. The door shuts with a padded
thunk.
The air smells of melting snow and burnt coffee.
She leans her forehead against the plexiglass divider.
Her reflection stares back -- hollow-eyed.
In the rearview mirror --
ETHAN sits in the seat behind her -- his smile gentle.
Riley’s breath stops.
She spins around --
The seat -- empty.
The police radio CRACKLES.
Static builds, shifting into a dial tone.
Then --
RING.
Riley shuts her eyes tight, forcing her breath into rhythm.
She inhales -- in four. Hold. Out six.
The ring cuts off -- abrupt.
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Psychological"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
A Welcome with Unease
EXT. SORORITY HOUSE - DAY
Spring. Sunshine. Birds.
The Tudor gleams. Shutters painted. Flower boxes spill with
color.
SUPER: SIX MONTHS LATER
A banner flutters over the door --
“WELCOME, SISTERS!”
A U-Haul sits open. Music bounces from a Bluetooth speaker.
Girls laugh, their voices bright and new.
INT. FOYER - DAY
Three sorority sisters -- KAYLA (20), ZOE (19), MIA (19) --
stumble in, arms full of boxes.
KAYLA
This place is a literal Pinterest
board.
MIA
Do you smell that? It’s like
flowers... but rotten.
They set the boxes down.
A cold draft snakes across their ankles.
The chandelier above TINKS faintly, swaying though no window
is open.
ZOE
Did someone leave a window cracked?
Genres:
["Horror","Supernatural","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
The Discovery of the Dream Box
INT. HALL - CLOSET - DAY
Kayla swings open the closet door --
Coats. Sheets. Old board games stacked like crooked teeth.
At the very back, tucked beneath a quilt...
A black lacquered box.
Its faded gold script glimmers --
“DREAM BOY.”
Kayla beams, tugging it out.
KAYLA
What the hell is this?
The box HUMS faintly in her hands -- a vibration that makes
her bones itch.
Behind her, the others shift, uneasy.
The house GROANS.
The room presses in.
Kayla lifts the lid, excitement in her eyes --
The pink phone PULSES once.
SUE (O.S.)
(faint whisper)
Welcome home, girls.
SMASH TO BLACK.
RING.