THE HUNGRY ONE - Episode 4
By
Frank Juchniewicz
2021 Frank Horror, LLCTHE HUNGRY ONE - EPISODE 4
SCENE 1:
HELLO DARKNESS, MY OLD
FRIEND
INT. ROCK GYM, LADIES’ ROOM - NIGHT
NARRATOR
While using the ladies room at the rock climbing gym,
the lights suddenly go out. Justine find herself alone
in the dark - or at least she thought she was alone,
until the ominous footsteps, from the far corner of the
room, approach the stalls, each step accompanied by an
odd clicking on the tiled floor.
SOUND: CLICK, CLICK OF THE FOOTSTEPS STEADILY CLOSING IN.
NARRATOR
Justine activates the flashlight on her phone. From her
seated position, she doubles over, folding herself
towards the floor. From that low vantage point, Justine
angles the phone’s miniature light beneath the gap of
the stall door. She waits, he eyes fixed on the tiles
in front of her stall as the footsteps progress closer
and closer. In deliberate, measured steps, a woman’s
bare feet tiptoe into the light. Their appearance
elicits a gasp from Justine.
JUSTINE
(GASPS QUIETLY)
NARRATOR
The feet filthy, streaked with dried mud, taper into
yellowed toenails so long and hooked that their pointed
tips scratch at the bald floor.
JUSTINE
(BREATHING SHALLOW AND FAST, BUT TRYING TO STAY QUIET)
NARRATOR
“No, no, no,” she thinks. This can’t be. It can’t be...
She jerks the light away, struggling now to control her
breathing, squelching any instinctive utterances of
terror.
SOUND: CLICKING FOOTSTEPS MOVING PAST HER.
JUSTINE
The clawed steps clack past her stall door. Justine, in
turn, springs to her feet and yanks up her pants, ready
to flee, her blood pumping furiously. Whatever this
thing is, if it’s moved past her now, she may have a
clear shot to the door. This might be her best chance
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 2.
JUSTINE (cont’d)
to make a dash for the exit. But does she even dare to
move?
JUSTINE
(RAGGEDLY BREATHING)
NARRATOR
A hush falls over the room. With no movement, Justine
has lost track of where the footsteps may have halted.
She stares at the stall door’s latch, her brain filled
with a thousand bees buzzing their alarm. All she can
think of is escape. But somewhere, on the other side of
the stall door, the owner of those two terrible feet
prowls around in the dark. Waiting. A quick mental
calculation - just how far is the exit door, and does
she have a reasonable shot if she made a dash for it?
But her nerves falter. It could be right there, waiting
for her to rush unwittingly into its clutches.
JUSTINE
(WHISPERING TO HERSELF)
...not happening... It’s not happening.
NARRATOR
Justine drops to her haunches, holding the phone close
to the floor to cast its light beneath the stall door
once again. Only this time, there are clawed feet to be
seen. She sweeps the light from one end of the room to
the other, but finds no trace of the intruder. She
hears nothing. Justine straightens up, trying to quell
her jangled nerves with reason.
JUSTINE
(WHISPERING)
It’s not real. It’s all made up.
NARRATOR
But in the dark, trapped in this stall, those words
ring hollow. The short distance to the exit seems an
impossible distance. The trembling in her hands cause
the phone’s flashlight to jitter as she reaches for the
door latch. Slowly she turns the lock, careful to keep
minimize its noise, buying herself a few more precious
seconds to steel her nerves.
SOUND: FAINT SCRAPING OF THE METAL LATCH SLOWLY SLIDING
OPEN. A SOFT METAL CLICK AS THE LATCH WORKS ITSELF FREE.
JUSTINE
(SIGHS)
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 3.
NARRATOR
My skin prickles as the fine hairs on my arms and the
back of my neck stand on end. Even my scalp tingles, as
if my hair is being lifted. But as this sensation on my
scalp persists, it becomes clear this is more than just
gooseflesh - my hair is actually moving. Something is
pulling it! What happens next feels like slow motion -
I turn to the side, lift my eyes, and that’s when I see
it... It’s leaning down over the top of the adjacent
stall, reaching with its spindly arm, clutching a
clawed handful of my hair. A tangled thicket of its own
inky black hair cascades over its face, but peering out
beneath that nest of hair, a pair of inhumanly wide,
unyielding eyes - eyes leering at Justine with a
terrible lunacy.
JUSTINE
(SHRIEKS)
NARRATOR
Justine rips herself away and plows shoulder first
through the unlocked stall door.
SOUND: STALL DOOR SLAMMING OPEN - A LOUD THUD AS METAL
CRASHES INTO METAL.
NARRATOR
If the moments preceding had felt like slow motion, by
contrast, the world had now whipped itself into a
frenzied blur of vague impressions. Of fleeing for her
life. She’s only marginally aware of wrenching open the
restroom door, dashing into the well-lit rock gym. A
flash of the puzzled expression on the face of the girl
behind the counter as Justine races past to the exit,
down the stairs, through the parking lot to her car.
SOUND: FOOTSTEPS RUSHING UP TO THE RESTROOM DOOR, WHICH IS
THEN FLUNG OPEN. A WIDER, OPEN SPACE ECHOING WITH THE SOUND
OF JUSTINE’S RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, HER RUBBER-SOLED SNEAKERS
SQUEAKING. ANOTHER DOOR BEING THROWN OPEN AND JUSTINE’S
HARRIED FOOTSTEPS ON THE STAIRS. ANOTHER DOOR AND JUSTINE
RUNNING NOW THROUGH THE PARKING LOT. CAR DOOR OPENING AND
CLOSING. KEYS INSERTED INTO THE IGNITION AND THE CAR ENGINE
CRANKING TO LIFE.
JUSTINE
(PANTING THE WHOLE TIME, MAKING SMALL, NONVERBAL
UTTERANCES OF TERROR)
NARRATOR
Once inside her car, once the doors are locked and the
keys stabbed into the ignition, only then does she seem
to catch up with the rush of time. A trail of hot tears
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 4.
NARRATOR (cont’d)
crest over her flushed and swollen cheeks. She searches
the lot for any indication that the creature has
pursued her, but she catches no trace of it. Taking a
moment, Justine grips the steering wheel of the
still-parked car, her mind grappling with what just
occurred, with what she had seen with her own eyes. It
was the exact same horror she encountered in the woods
at eight years old. This was no childhood prank. This
was no product of her imagination. The thing reached
out and touched her, for fucksake.
SOUND: THE IDLING CAR SHIFTING INTO DRIVE. THE ENGINE
ACCELEERATING AS SHE NAVIGATES THE PARKING LOT AND OUT ONTO
THE STREET, WHERE SHE LEANS ON THE ACCCELERATOR.
NARRATOR
This parking lot isn’t safe. She needs to get out of
here, put distance between her and this place. She
needs to get home, securely locked behind shuttered
doors where she can think about what to do next. And so
she sped out of that lot and through the streets,
rolling through stop sign intersections. And when red
traffic lights brought her to a halt, she would scan
her surroundings and check the car mirrors nervously,
drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and
fidgeting in her seat until the light turned over to
green. Here she was, once again, jumping at shadows.
Here she was, once again, contending with the feeling
that she was being hunted.
SCENE 2: THE TREES BY NIGHT
EXT. DR. OSBOURNE’S DRIVEWAY - NIGHT
SOUND: CRICKET SONG. CAR PULLING UP INTO THE DRIVE AND
TURNING OFF. A CAR DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING.
NARRATOR
Upon arriving home after my consultation dinner, rather
than head directly inside, something compels Dr.
Osbourne to turn his attention towards the line of
trees and bushes that skirt the edge of the driveway.
The silhouettes of the tree trunks, black outlines in
the dusky shadows. For some reason his gaze lingers on
one of them in particular. He finds its shape vaguely
suggestive of a human form and, if he were to allow his
imagination to run free, he could probably even
convince himself that he had just spotted someone
standing there, so silent and still among the trees,
studying him in return.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 5.
DR. OSBOURNE
(SCOFFS)
NARRATOR
He scoffs. A trick of the mind, nothing more. Afterall,
he had just spent the last hour discussing the
imaginary entity that haunts his client’s psyche.
Fictional as it may be, the sinister nature of
Justine’s monster was enough to prime his own
imagination. But recognizing this, applying logic to
the moment, doesn’t help dim the internal alarm bells
that warn him he’s being watched.
SOUND: FOOTSTEPS SCUFFLING AND RETREATING TOWARDS THE DOOR.
A KEY TURNING IN THE DOOR LOCK.
NARRATOR
Dr. Osbourne edges backwards towards the reach of the
porch light. From there he hurries to the door and
turns the key in the lock, feeling a pang of
foolishness when he steals a glance back over his
shoulder before retreating inside.
SOUND: DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING.
SCENE 3: THE KIND OF STORY THAT
GETS UNDER YOUR SKIN
INT. DR. OSBOURNE’S RESIDENCE
SOUND: LATCHES THE DOOR AND SECURES THE CHAIN. TOSSES HIS
KEYS INTO THE BASKET BY THE DOOR. FOOTSTEPS THROUGH THE
LIVING ROOM AS HE HEADS DEEPER INTO THE HOUSE.
NANCY
Oh, you’re home.
DR. OSBOURNE
(STARTLES)
Oh! Nancy, I didn’t... see you there.
NANCY
Here I am.
DR. OSBOURNE
Hey, hun.
SOUND: A QUICK PECK OF A KISS.
NANCY
How did the dinner consult go?
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 6.
DR. OSBOURNE
Good! It was good to see Patty again. She gave me some
useful insight. As always.
NANCY
(HEADING TOWARDS THE FRONT DOOR)
That’s great, sounds productive.
DR. OSBOURNE
(A LITTLE ALARMED)
Where are you going?
NANCY
I left my planner in the car.
DR. OSBOURNE
...So get it tomorrow. We’re all locked up for the
night.
NANCY
Yeah, but it’s... right there.
DR. OSBOURNE
Yeah, but why not just get it tomorrow morning?
NANCY
What’s going on, Jim?
DR. OSBOURNE
Nothing’s going on, what do you mean?
NANCY
I mean why are you being all weird?
DR. OSBOURNE
(TRYING TO LAUGH IT OFF)
I’m not being weird. It’s after nine, Nancy. What do
you need it for? Are you really going to do more work?
Tonight?... Let’s relax, you know. Watch some TV in
bed... I promised you a foot rub the other night, why
don’t I do that?
NANCY
Well... I mean, that would be nice.
DR. OSBOURNE
Right?
NANCY
You can tell me about your consult.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 7.
DR. OSBOURNE
Ah, nothing to tell. I’d rather hear about your day, to
be honest. Why don’t you go on in, get yourself comfy.
I’ll be right in.
NANCY
(JOKINGLY)
Doctor Osbourne... Should I be suspicious as to why I’m
about to be pampered all of a sudden?
DR. OSBOURNE
(JOKINGLY)
Well, we don’t have to do the foot rub if you really
aren’t interested, I just thought it would be nice--
NANCY
No, no! We can do the footrub, Jim. I do recall you
promising one to me, so tonight is a good night to cash
that in.
DR. OSBOURNE
(LANDS ANOTHER QUICK KISS ON HER LIPS)
I’ll be in. Two minutes.
NANCY
Okay.
NARRATOR
He waits for Nancy to slip into the bedroom before
moving to the window to peel back the curtain and
survey the grounds alongside the driveway one more
time. He reaches to click off the porch lights. Now,
with the property completely dark, he holds his vigil a
few more beats to see if he can catch a glimpse of
something - something that had been waiting for the
lights to extinguish before making its move.
DR. OSBOURNE
(SIGHS, WHISPERS TO HIMSELF)
What are you doing, Jim? You’ve just creeped yourself
out, and now you’re paranoid.
NARRATOR
Still, he’s plagued by the uncanny feeling that
something is out there. He curses himself for allowing
his client’s story to get under his skin this way - he
usually has good boundaries when it comes to this sort
of thing. Trying his best to shake it off, Dr. Osbourne
abandons the window and heads into the bedroom to focus
on his wife in the hopes that will help ground him back
in reality.8.
SCENE 4: SANITY IN THE BALANCE
INT. ABBOTT RESIDENCE, JUSTINE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
SOUND: FROM OUTSIDE THE HOUSE, STRONG GUSTS OF WIND CAN BE
HEARD WHIPPING UP AND THEN DYING OFF.
NARRATOR
Tonight the bed was not meant for sleep; it was a place
to cower. Tucked up tightly against the corner of the
headboard and the wall, Justine huddles with her
blanket drawn up to her chin, listening to the wind
howl around the corners of the house.
SOUND: A FAINT BUT INCESSANT SCRATCHING ON THE WOODEN
WINDOWPANE JUST OUTSIDE.
NARRATOR
The scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch against the wooden
window frame from just outside could very well be the
fingers of a tree moving beneath the sway of the
wind... Or it could be something else. Something
hungrier. The incessant scratching doesn’t seem to sync
up exactly with the timing of the gusts. Or does it?
Justine can’t tell, and she doesn’t think she can trust
her perception - not given her current state of
heightened alarm.
SOUND: GUSTING WIND AND MORE DETERMINED SCRATCHING.
NARRATOR
“What’s happening to me?” she wonders. “How can this
be?” If Mike had told her the truth about making up the
story of The Hungry One with the intent to scare her,
then how could Justine have seen it tonight at the rock
climbing gym? Could she be losing her mind? Is this
what it feels like to lose your bearings on reality? To
go mad?
SOUND: SCRATCHING, SCRATCHING.
NARRATOR
"It’s just the wind," she tells herself. "It’s just the
wind."
JUSTINE
(FEARFUL WHISPER)
...Eighty-seven... Nine... Thirty-three... Four hundred
and ten...
(FADE OUT ON THE COUNTING, THE WIND AND THE
SCRATCHING SOUND)9.
SCENE 5: AN EYE FOR AN EYE, A PRANK
FOR A PRANK
INT. ABBOTT RESIDENCE, JUSTINE’S BEDROOM - DAY
SOUND: FAINT SOUND OF MORNING BIRDS CHIRPING OUTSIDE.
NARRATOR
Early morning, when the light creeps orange through the
blinds, Justine gets out of bed and heads to the
window. She must have dozed off at some point, as she
couldn’t remember the transition between the gusting
winds and the sane calm of the world outside. She
inserts her fingers between the slats of the blinds,
creating just enough space for her to peek out into the
yard. Satisfied that nothing unwholesome awaits her on
the other side of the glass, she draws the blinds,
unlocks the window and slides it open.
SOUND: BLINDS BEING DRAWN UP, A CLICK OF A WINDOW LOCK AND
THE SWISH OF THE WINDOW SLIDING OPEN. BIRDS CHIRPING GROW
LOUDER NOW WITHOUT THE WINDOW MUFFLING THE SOUNDS.
NARRATOR
In the wake of last night’s wind storm, the bright and
tranquil world is a touchstone of reassuring sanity.
That is, until she examines the wooden frame on the
exterior side of the window. The deep scratch marks
carved into the painted wood shatter any thin hopes
that the noises she heard were merely a tree in the
wind. Something had stood by her window throughout the
night, scratching and clawing to get in.
JUSTINE
(GASPS)
SOUND: CELL PHONE RINGING, A CONNECTION BEING ESTABLISHED.
MIKE (E.V.)
Hey, what’s up? It’s really early. Is everything okay?
JUSTINE
It came after me last night. It attacked me.
MIKE (E.V.)
...What?! Justine, come on.
JUSTINE
I’m telling you. It attacked me at the rock climbing
gym. In the bathroom.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 10.
MIKE (E.V.)
(SKEPTICAL)
It attacked you. And what did it do to you? Are you
injured?
JUSTINE
Well, I got away. But it grabbed my hair! I saw it,
Mike and it saw me. I looked in its eyes! There was
nothing human in its eyes, it was just... insane.
MIKE (E.V.)
Justine, we talked about this--
JUSTINE
No, I’m not done yet. It must’ve followed me home. It
must’ve. It was scratching at my window all night,
trying to get in. It knows where I am, do you hear me?!
It’s going to come back, Mike and it’s going to get me.
MIKE (E.V.)
Nothing is going to get you. Jesus Christ! I’m worried
about you, Justine. I’m really worried you might be
mentally ill. Maybe you better get help, you know?
Maybe you better see someone.
JUSTINE
I am seeing someone. This is not in my head; this is
real. I am looking right now at claw marks in my window
frame from where it tried to get in last night.
MIKE (E.V.)
Show me.
JUSTINE
I will.
NARRATOR
She leans out the window and snaps a pic of the claw
marks. It takes a few moments for the picture to arrive
after she hits SEND, but once it does she hears Mike’s
response loud and clear.
MIKE (E.V.)
(EXHALES SHARPLY)
JUSTINE
Now do you see it?! Now do you believe me?! The Hungry
One is real.
MIKE (E.V.)
How could it...? How could...? Some story I just made
up as a kid-- how could that be real?
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 11.
(A BEAT)
MIKE (E.V.)
Are you sure it’s not an animal? Like a raccoon or
something? Maybe it’s got rabies.
JUSTINE
A raccoon didn’t do this, Mike.
(A PAUSE)
MIKE (E.V.)
Hold on. You’re putting me on, aren’t you?
JUSTINE
Putting you on?
MIKE (E.V.)
That’s what this is.
(SARCASTICALLY)
Ha,ha. Very funny, Justine. I said I’m sorry, okay. I
get it, I scared you. And now you’re trying to punk me
to get me back, but I’m not falling for it.
JUSTINE
No! This isn’t a prank, Mike, I swear to you.
MIKE (E.V.)
Okay, well then I’m sad to say I think you need to be
on some serious meds, then. I can’t help you there.
JUSTINE
Mike, I’m telling you I think I’m in serious danger.
And I think you might be, too.
MIKE (E.V.)
(NOT TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY)
Uh-huh. Okay, then. Thanks for the heads up. If it’s so
real, then the next time you see it why don’t you take
a picture.
JUSTINE
Mike.
MIKE (E.V.)
Listen, I gotta get to work, sooo...
NICOLE (E.V.)
(IN THE BACKGROUND)
Mike? Is everything all right?
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 12.
MIKE (E.V.)
(TO NICOLE)
Everything’s fine, honey. It’s Justine.
NICOLE (E.V.)
At this hour?
MIKE (E.V.)
(TO NICOLE)
It’s nothing, don’t worry. I’ll fill you in later.
MIKE (E.V.)
(WHISPERS TO JUSTINE)
Don’t call me again with this shit. You understand?
MIKE (E.V.)
(FORCED PLEASANTRY, NORMAL SPEAKING VOICE)
Well, thanks for calling. I’ll talk to you later.
JUSTINE
Mike.
MIKE (E.V.)
Oh, and please thank Aunt Sherri again for the meal
last night... Okay, bye-bye.
SOUND: SOFT CLICK OF THE CALL ENDING
JUSTINE
(SIGHS IN DEEP FRUSTRATION)
SCENE 6: APPETIZER
EXT. ABBOTT RESIDENCE, SIDE YARD - DAY
NARRATOR
She ventures outside to take photos of the window
scratches from a different angle. She stoops to examine
the ground below the window, but finds no sign of
footprints, no trace of The Hungry One. Even out here
now in the sunshine, that awful feeling consumes her as
if she is suddenly not alone, as if she is being
watched.She rises to her feet, she turns around, eager
to see for herself but dreading what she may find.
Terror is an icy dagger, sliding into her sternum,
freezing her in her tracks. Terror is what she finds,
not fifteen feet away, lurking beneath the shade of the
dogwood tree.
(A BEAT)
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 13.
NARRATOR
The being is tall - at least six and a half feet - and
lanky with long claws at the tips of its fingers. There
are no lips to speak of, just a wide slit for a mouth
lined with interlocking teeth as thin and as pointed as
needles, like a zipper that’s closed, its teeth all
tucked in neat and tidy in a careful row. The eyes are
like saucers set in its head, enormous and round and
lacking corneas; just huge, black pupils swimming in
the whites. It stands impossibly still, stringy black
hair scrabbling down over bony shoulders. Justine feels
pinned beneath its unrelenting, unblinking gaze - this
nude, sexless figure, a horrific approximation of a
female, as if spun from some mad god who, in its
failure to understand humanity, meant to replicate us
but instead ended up creating a misbegotten version. A
thing that belonged in nightmares, but certainly not
walking about beneath the rising sun of day and reason.
JUSTINE
(BREATHING FAST AND SHALLOW)
NARRATOR
Slowly, careful not to trigger it with any quick
motions, Justine raises her phone. Despite her
trembling fingers, she manages to find the camera
button and capture the monstrous form in the viewframe.
SOUND: PHONE CAMERA CLICKING THREE TIMES IN SUCCESSION.
NARRATOR
Three soft clicks of the camera function and still it
doesn’t flinch. Only its eyes shift a little to follow
Justine’s subtle motions. There they stand,
face-to-face, each studying the other until a sudden
flurry of movement breaks the stalemate.
SOUND: A QUICK FLURRY OF SMALL, FEATHERED WINGS.
NARRATOR
A streak of brown feathers swoops into view near the
creature and, in a response of mind-blurring quickness,
it lashes its arm out at the movement. Without so much
as flinching the rest of its body, without diverting
its eyes from Justine, the creature reaches out and
plucks a robin of the air in mid-flight. The bird
wriggles and chirps within its grasp to no avail. Its
horrific gaze still locked on Justine, The Hungry One
raises the poor bird to its face as the zipper of teeth
come undone and its maw widens to reveal each gleaming
point in the rows of fangs.
SOUND: A SOFT, WET CRUNCH AND THE BIRD GOES SILENT.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 14.
NARRATOR
It takes off the head in one bite, a dusting of bloody
feathers caught in the teeth as they zip back to a
close. That was all it took to jolt Justine into
motion. Before she knew it, she was on her heels,
racing for the front of the house, her heart clamoring
at the back of her throat.
SOUND: FRANTIC FOOTSTEPS SPRINTING THROUGH THE GRASS.
JUSTINE
(PANTING)
SOUND: THE FRONT DOOR BEING FLUNG OPEN AND THEN PULLLED SHUT
AND LOCKED WITHOUT HESITATION.
NARRATOR
Inside, behind the locked door, she backs away from it,
anticipating the sound of claws scrabbling at the door.
But she hears nothing of the sort. A glance at the
window, expecting to see it peering into the house with
those dreadful, unblinking eyes. But all she sees is
the yard awash in the rising sunlight. She backpedals
into a corner, granting herself a wide and defensive
vantage point of the front door, the living room and
all of its windows.
JUSTINE
(RAGGED BREATHING)
NARRATOR
After a matter of minutes, what feels like hours,
Justine musters the courage to peel her eyes away, to
glance down to her phone and scroll through the pics
she snapped outside. Blurry. All of them blurry. Is it
any wonder, though, since her hands had been trembling
uncontrollably at the time. Throughout all of this, her
mother slept in the very next room, blissfully unaware
of the danger outside. Unaware of the monstrous shadow
that had loomed over Justine for nearly two decades.
But in this case, what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt
you. Her mom’s ignorance of the Hungry One could very
well ensure her safety... or at least that was
Justine’s hope.
(A BEAT)
NARRATOR
As time wears on, it becomes more apparent that the
creature has no designs on pursuing her into the house.
Her panic subsides enough for her mind to think a
little more clearly. To turn to to Mike and their last
conversation. He had asked for proof. He had asked for
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 15.
NARRATOR (cont’d)
a photo, and so she sends him one. No explanation
accompanying it, no context needed; the image speaks
for itself. Even out of focus, the subject of the
image, the pure supernatural menace that it exudes,
grabs ahold of you and slides right under your skin. It
doesn’t take long for Mike to respond with a direct
call.
SOUND: CELL PHONE RINGING, THEN CUT SHORT AS JUSTINE
ANSWERS.
MIKE (E.V.)
Are you fucking kidding me?! Are you fucking KIDDING
ME?!!! What the actual fuck?!
JUSTINE
I told you.
MIKE (E.V.)
What is that thing?!
JUSTINE
I told you!
MIKE (E.V.)
Yeah, I heard you! Jesus Christ, what is that thing,
Justine?
(DRAMATIC PAUSE)
JUSTINE
That’s The Hungry One. The pic came out a little
blurry, but may hands were moving. I was pretty fucking
scared.
MIKE (E.V.)
This doesn’t make any sense! This makes no sense!
JUSTINE
I know.
MIKE (E.V.)
How is it...? I made it up.
JUSTINE
And I believed it. For years I believed in it.
(A BEAT)
JUSTINE
What if... What if that’s what made it real? Like
between the two of us we created it. Just by believing
in it, I willed it into existence.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 16.
MIKE (E.V.)
This is insane.
JUSTINE
Do you ever watch Trudy?
MIKE (E.V.)
Trudy?! The talk show host?
JUSTINE
She has this recurring guest, Dr. Gottschalk, or "Dr.
G" for short. He’s a psychologist, but he’s also into
Eastern mysticism and consciousness and all.
Apparently, he trained with some Tibetan guru and
stuff.
MIKE (E.V.)
What?! What the fuck are you even talking about?
JUSTINE
Listen, you ass. I’m getting to my point... He just did
this segment on there about manifesting. It’s like when
you envision something so vividly, like a goal or
something, and you put your mental energy into making
it a reality.
MIKE (E.V.)
Yeah, I’m familiar with manifesting. It’s New Age
bullshit.
JUSTINE
Is it, Mike? Is it bullshit? Because it seems to me we
created something out of nothing. We manifested this
monster into existence.
MIKE (E.V.)
That’s nuts. Are you hearing yourself right now?... And
what’s with this "we" shit? You did this. This is
on you.
JUSTINE
Oh yeah? Well where do you think I got the idea for it,
Mike? Who created the story about the woman in the
woods who ate her children and turned into something
demonic?
(A BEAT)
MIKE (E.V.)
Fuck.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 17.
JUSTINE
Yeah, fuck is right.
MIKE (E.V.)
Get rid of it, then. If you manifested this thing into
existence, then make it not exist anymore. Make it go
away.
JUSTINE
How? How do I do that?
MIKE (E.V.)
(INCREASINGLY AGITATED)
How the hell should I know? Didn’t they cover this on
that Trudy show?
JUSTINE
They were talking about manifesting good things. Why
would you want to un-manifest something positive?
(A PAUSE)
MIKE (E.V.)
I know! If it became real because you believed in it,
then just stop believing in it.
JUSTINE
How do I do that?
MIKE (E.V.)
I don’t know, you fucking figure it out! Just stop
believing, that’s all.
JUSTINE
I don’t know if I--
MIKE (E.V.)
Justine, just do it, okay?! I don’t ever want to see
this fucking picture again in my life... Let alone if I
ever saw it in person. Jesus Christ!
JUSTINE
Okay, I’ll go back and re-watch the episode of Trudy.
MIKE (E.V.)
Well, there you go. And Google "manifesting". Read
anything you can on it, but just get rid of this
thing... Before it does something.18.
SCENE 7: MANIFESTING IS ALL THE
RAGE THESE DAYS...
INT. ABBOTT RESIDENCE, LIVING ROOM - DAY
NARRATOR
Justine spends the rest of the morning planted on the
living room couch with her laptop perched on her lap.
By the time her mom wakes up and shuffles into the
living room, Justine has already plunged herself down a
deep rabbit hole of researching anything and everything
she can find about "manifesting."
JUSTINE
If you’re going for the paper, I already grabbed it.
SHERRI
(SURPRISED)
What are you doing here?
JUSTINE
Called out sick. I got a headache. I didn’t sleep well.
Again.
SHERRI
That’s been happening a lot, hasn’t it?
(A PAUSE)
SHERRI
What’s going on? Lately you seem... I don’t know.
JUSTINE
Everything’s fine.
SHERRI
You talk about work, and that seems to be going well.
You tell me a little about some of your friends, and we
talk about TV shows. But other than that, I don’t know
a whole lot about what’s going on in your life. I get
that you’re an adult and you really can’t wait to get
out there into your own space, but sometimes you just
seem so... guarded around me.
JUSTINE
There’s nothing to talk about, Mom. Really.
SHERRI
I’ve always tried to do my best, and I know... I know I
fell short in some ways. It wasn’t easy being a single
mom, but I did everything I could to try and make up
for that. I just worry sometimes that maybe there’s
something else I could have done--
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 19.
JUSTINE
Oh my god, Mom. Stop. You’re the best mom ever. Full
stop. Everything is fine, Mom, I promise you. And when
I move out, I’m not going off to the ends of the earth
or anything. I’ll be right across town, so I’ll be back
often, especially for dinners because - let’s face it -
you cook way better than I do.
SHERRI
Well, I know what your favorite dishes are so I know
how to bribe you to come see me.
JUSTINE
So what’s on the docket for today?
SHERRI
(SIGHS)
Maybe organize the paperwork in the office. But that
seems tedious. I need to finish painting the living
room - I got most of the way through yesterday and ran
out. So, I guess first up after coffee is going to pick
up another small can of that paint. Golden heather, I
think it was called.
JUSTINE
I’ll get it. Why don’t you just stay home today? I need
to run some errands anyway.
SHERRI
Aww, you’re not feeling well. Why don’t you just rest
and--
JUSTINE
I’ll get it. I need some other stuff, so... You stay
here. No need to leave the house. I’ll take care of it.
SHERRI
Well, let me give you some money for it.
JUSTINE
Mom, don’t worry about it.
SOUND: CELL PHONE RINGING.
NARRATOR
The incoming call on her cell phone is from Mike.
Justine scurries into her room and closes the door
before answering.
SOUND: FOOTSTEPS MOVING QUICKLY ON CARPET. DOOR CLOSES.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 20.
JUSTINE
Hey.
MIKE (E.V.)
Well?... Anything?
JUSTINE
Not really. I don’t know, everything I’m finding is
different. None of it really fits with what’s going on.
I mean, there’s some stuff about how to manifest toxic
people out of your life.
MIKE (E.V.)
Okay, so just try that! Anything is worth a try.
JUSTINE
I think I’m going to call Dr. Osbourne... That’s my
therapist. Maybe he could help now that we know what
we’re dealing with.
MIKE (E.V.)
Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.
JUSTINE
All right, I’ll keep you posted.
SCENE 9: YOU WANT TO HEAR SOMETHING
SPOOKY?
INT. CHAIN RESTAURANT - NIGHT
SOUND: BACKGROUND CHATTER OF DINERS IN A CHAIN
RESTAURANT/BAR.
NARRATOR
Friday night, and Allie’s spilling over with
excitement, on her first date with Aaron. Things seemed
to be going well initially, but once seated at their
table the conversation quickly loses momentum. They
began, at first, talking about their mutual friend
Justine because that was something they had in common.
But chit-chat about a mutual friend can only get you so
far before you need to find other common interests.
Maybe, she thinks, things will get easier with a second
drink. Fumbling to keep the conversation fluid and
moving forward, she resorts to showing him pics of her
dog.
ALLIE
And here’s another one of Roger. He usually just lays
there in my bed all day while I’m away at work, and
then comes running once I get home. He snores, too.
Little dog-snores. It’s funny.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 21.
AARON
I love dogs.
ALLIE
Oh, do you have any?
AARON
Nah.
ALLIE
So, do you have any pets?
AARON
Nah, no pets.
(A BEAT)
AARON
But I like dogs, you know? So if I was going to have a
pet I would probably get a dog.
ALLIE
Cool.
(A LONG, AWKWARD PAUSE)
ALLIE
(SIGHS, STRUGGLING TO KEEP THE CONVERSATION FLOWING)
So I keep telling Justine that she should get a dog.
Once she moves into her own place.
AARON
Yeah. I mean, why not.
(A BEAT)
ALLIE
...Soooo....
(AWKWARD PAUSE)
ALLIE
(SUDDENLY INSPIRED)
Hey, you wanna hear something spooky? Speaking of
Justine...
AARON
Yeah, of course. Like a ghost story or something?
Because I’m all into that stuff. I’m addicted to those
ghost hunting shows.
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 22.
ALLIE
Oh, this is scarier than that.
AARON
Yeah? Well, anything paranormal is right up my alley.
My buddy even runs his own video blog - you know, like
true stories and people’s first-hand accounts of the
supernatural.
ALLIE
You ever hear of "The Hungry One?"
AARON
(TANTALIZED)
No!
ALLIE
Oh, well wait ’til you hear this. I don’t know if she
ever mentioned this to you, but Justine has family out
in central Pennsylvania - it’s where her mom was from
before she moved here to civilization.
AARON
Pennsyltucky.
ALLIE
Exactly. So anyway, she’s out there visiting one summer
when she was young, like seven or eight years old. And
her cousins take her out into the woods one day...
(FADE OUT WHILE SHE LAUNCHES INTO THE STORY)
NARRATOR
Throwing out the teaser of a scary, paranormal story
set the hook, and as Allie spun the story she slowly
reeled him in. That topic jump was a desperation move
on her part, but one that paid off. She had Aaron
captivated now and the conversation was flowing. So how
could she, at the story’s conclusion, ruin their
momentum by then admitting The Hungry One was nothing
more than a prank perpetrated on an unwitting, young
Justine. She purposefully omitted that part. Better to
let Aaron believe the tale to be factual.
SCENE 10: A NAGGING FEELING
INT. DR. OSBOURNE’S HOUSE, THERAPY OFFICE - NIGHT
NARRATOR
Running a private practice, working around the
schedules of clients meant working nights and weekends.
He kept his Saturday caseloads lighter by design. And
at some point after his final client of the day left,
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)CONTINUED: 23.
NARRATOR (cont’d)
while sitting at his desk penning notes on the session,
night fell. Shadows stretched out into the corners of
the room. Dr. Osbourne found himself staring vacantly
at the window - the same window in his home therapy
office that panged or rattled during his EMDR sessions
with Justine Abbott. “It sees us through the window,”
Justine had insisted. The imaginary window. It was a
technique used to create distance during a session when
the emotional trauma of reliving a memory became too
intense. Imagine you’re seeing everything from a
distance, like watching it through a window. Doing so
removed some of the immediacy of the experience. But
during Justine’s session, her emotional trauma
escalated. Her boogeyman saw them in the therapy
office... through the imaginary window. And it started
coming towards them. Closer. Closer, and then: BAM,
something hit the office window. That’s how he
remembered it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. This
very same window that drew his gaze. And the night
outside whose darkness appeared unusually dense.
SOUND: TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP OF THE TIP OF HIS PEN ON THE DESK.
NARRATOR
The tapping of his pen on the desk - a nervous habit -
anchors him back into his senses. He tries not to think
about The Hungry One and what it might look like. What
it looked like to eight-year-old Justine when she saw
it for the first time. She had called his cell phone
this morning. She had left him a message that he
listened to earlier in the day, but he hadn’t returned
the call. This was avoidance behavior on his part, that
was easy enough for any trained clinician to recognize.
But why? Why was he hesitant to return his client’s
call? He plays the message again.
JUSTINE (E.V.)
Dr. Osbourne, it’s Justine Abbott. I know my next
appointment isn’t scheduled until Wednesday night, but
I... There’ve been some developments since out last
session. I’ve got new information and I need your help.
(TO BE CONTINUED)