Screemplays: An Anthology of Cinematic Horror

By Mark Hanley

Experience four spine-tingling tales of terror in their original screenplay format!


The Witching Hour: In 1884, a small, quiet, New England town unleashes its religious wrath on an unsuspecting mother and daughter.


Diabolical: A horrifying doomsday plot is uncovered by communications expert Nathan Adams after he and his family move to a small New England town where Nathan has just accepted his dream job.


Reign of Terror: When F.B.I. Agent John Salleum investigates a bizarre murder scene at a cryptic mansion, he uncovers an unspeakable evil far greater and closer than he ever imagined.

The House on the Empty Lot: After building an addition to their current home, the Tallman family experiences terror beyond imagination when they discover their house is now haunted: not by ghosts or poltergeists, but another house.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781468524031

Mark Hanley

Mark Hanley was born on a bone-chilling winter day in 1974 and grew up in the Midwest doing two things: writing and making movies. He earned his B.F.A. at the Academy of Art University, (SanFransisco) in 2010. With an emphasis on screenwriting, he has penned several short and long screenplays in a variety of genres. This is his first published book.

Book preview

SCREEMPLAYS

An Anthology of Cinematic Horror

Mark Hanley

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AuthorHouse™

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Bloomington, IN47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2012 Mark Hanley. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 12/07/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4685-2404-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-2403-1 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011962357

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock. This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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FADE IN:

EXT. WINDSOR VILLAGE, CONNECTICUT-NIGHT

An orange harvest moon hovers over a 17th Century, New England village. Clouds sweep by it as a storm approaches.

SUBTITLE: WINDSOR VILLAGE, CONNECTICUT, 1684. 12:15 A.M.—THE WITCHING HOUR.

EXT. VILLAGE STREET-SAME

Two pairs of Puritan shoes pound their way down a dark dirt road. One pair large, the other, child-size.

They quickly turn off the street and onto another one. TILT UP to reveal: SARAH WILLIAMS (27) brown eyed, attractive, with brown hair tucked under her bonnet. She holds the hand of a little girl, her daughter, ABIGAIL (7) the spitting image of her mother.

The pair runs frantically. Eyes full of fright. Their rapid breath visible in the cool night air.

A block behind them, is the distant flicker of torches carried by a mob of ravenous, WINDSOR VILLAGERS. They charge ahead down the road, uttering the CRIES:

WINDSOR VILLAGERS Burn the witches!

Abigail turns to look back at their pursuers. Her pace slows as her face fills with fear. Immediately, Sarah wrenches her daughter closer toward her. The girl SHRIEKS in pain.

ABIGAIL

My foot!

Suddenly, Abigail jerks violently and begins to limp.

ABIGAIL

I just stepped on something mommy! SARAH

Keep running my baby! Keep running!

Small streaks of blood from Abigail trail behind them.

From the rear of the witch hunters, emerges a tall, thin, ice-faced man, REVEREND MOULTON (62). Eyes black as coal and a face crowned with a buckled, pointed Puritan hat.

He clutches A BOOK in his hands as he pushes his way to the front of the pack.

REVEREND MOULTON (to villagers) Move!

(Yelling to Sarah and Abigail)

Stop I say in the name of Christ!

Ahead, Sarah only hurries her pace as they turn another corner. But Abigail starts to lag a couple steps behind her mother. Sarah again yanks Abigail’s hand. This time, so hard, she lifts the young girl off the ground.

Abigail’s feet hit the dirt. She crumples in agony. Immediately, Sarah stops, turns around, picks up her daughter and whisks her off into the trees lining the nearby road.

EXT. WOODS-OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN-SAME

Holding Abigail, Sarah pushes her way through the thick, dense tangle of trees and brush. Branches slap and slice their faces as they move through to a…

EXT. ABANDONED WELL-SAME

A small clearing. Old wooden boards line the ground ahead. She sees them along with a sign nailed to a tree that reads: Beware, abandoned well.

She hesitates a second, but continues on full speed taking large strides over several of the rotted planks. BOOM! One CRACKS in half. Her legs drop into the neglected well. She drops Abigail, who lands in the nearby brush.

Now Sarah is stuck in the precipice with her upper half exposed and her bottom dangling precariously. Abigail crawls from the brush and over by her mother. As she moves onto the decayed wood, it CRACKS again.

SARAH

Stop! Don’t come out any further! ABIGAIL

But…

SARAH

No! Stay back Abigail!

EXT. WINDSOR VILLAGE STREET-SAME

The mob with Reverend Moulton in the lead, continues on. Suddenly, the minister stops dead in his tracks, looks down, noticing something.

He reaches down and touches the dirt. His fingertip is crimson.

A delicious grin spreads over his face.

REVEREND MOULTON By the grace of God, one has been injured.

He lowers his torch to better see the blood trail. His eyes follow it across the road where it leads into the trees and foliage.

He stands up and rushes to the side of the road. He steps into the brush and stops. He turns to the group behind him.

REVEREND MOULTON Make haste I say for the sake of the Lord!

A CRACK of THUNDER.

Like scared dogs, they obey and run in behind him.

EXT. WOODS-OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN-SAME

Reverend Moulton carefully follows the trail of broken branches as they lead him ahead.

EXT. VILLAGE STREET-NEARBY-SAME

A young, handsome man, EDWARD PARRIS (22) holds a lantern and watches the pack of villagers chase their prey from afar. He SIGHS in disgust.

ABANDONED WELL-OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN-SAME

Sarah struggles as she lifts herself out of the hole. Her daughter moves forward and again reaches out her hand for her mother.

SARAH

Abigail Williams! What did I say! Do not under any circumstances come any closer!

ABIGAIL But you need my help!

SARAH

If I fall, so be it. But you are not going to!

Sarah grabs a hold of a thick branch and pulls herself out of the opening. She gets back on her feet-barefoot, scoops up Abigail and rushes off into the trees.

A moment later, Reverend Moulton reaches the well clearing. He sees the broken hole in the planks and turns to his posse.

REVEREND MOULTON I want thee to split into small formations and continue the hunt. They might be down by the stream or heading back to Windsor.

The villagers break into groups of three and move into the woods in separate directions.

EXT. WOODS-SAME

Out of breath and looking fatigued, Sarah carries her daughter sluggishly through the darkness. Her foot LOUDLY CRACKS a branch on the ground just as she HEARS a COUPLE VILLAGERS quite close by. She freezes in silence. Waiting.

Only her eyes dare to move. SILENCE.

Abigail looks scared and opens her mouth to SCREAM. Before any sound escapes, Sarah cusps her hand over her daughter’s mouth-and holds it there, until…

The SOUNDS RECEDE a bit and move away. Sarah pulls her hand from Abigail and finally takes another step forward. Then another. As she walks, a strange flickering light grabs her attention ahead through the thick growth. She hurries toward it with Abigail.

FAINT THUNDER RUMBLES in the distance.

EXT. BLACKSMITHS SHOP-SAME

They reach the source of the light-a glass window reflects the fire of a torch lamp burning nearby. The pane is situated high up on the side of a small, stone building.

She races to the window, reaches up and pushes and pulls. It’s locked. So she creeps to the front of the shop and tries the front door. It too won’t budge.

Through the forest, Sarah sees several torches moving around only a hundred feet away. She breathes heavy in panic, as she looks around. Searching. Then, she sees something.

Sarah puts Abigail down and picks up a wooden crate nearby. She takes it around the side and sets it directly under the window. She then rips off her bonnet, tightens her hand into a fist and wraps it around her hand.

More THUNDER. LOUDER. Closer. A flash of lightning as well.

She turns to her daughter and puts her finger to her lips to inform Abigail to keep silent. Abigail nods, ‘yes’. Sarah looks skyward and waits. Then…

An EARSPLITTING CRASH of THUNDER! Quickly, Sarah BREAKS the glass as the clouds continue to GRUMBLE overhead. A gust of wind blows her hair. The storm is almost here.

Quickly, she steps down, grabs Abigail, hoists her into the air and shoves her inside the shop-feet first. With her daughter in, Sarah climbs in as well, scraping her arm on the broken glass, cutting it severely. Her face tightens into a painful grimace. But she lets out no scream or cry of pain.

INT. BLACKSMITH’S SHOP-SAME

Moonlight streams in through the window casting silhouettes on dark metal tools hanging everywhere. Ominous-looking tools of all shapes and sizes from scythes to hammers to knives.

Sarah shivers at the sight. She joins Abigail who’s huddled in a dark corner, nearly hyperventilating in fear.

Abigail snuggles in closer to her mother, shaking. Sarah, gently runs her hand across her daughter’s forehead, soothing her panic a bit.

As her daughter settles down, Sarah carefully raises up Abigail’s foot and examines the bottom where she was cut. She unwraps the bonnet from her hand and rolls the fabric around Abigail’s foot. Her mother’s touch is so soft, the girl barely reacts.

She continues stroking her daughter’s hair.

EXT. WOODS NEAR BLACKSMITHS SHOP-SAME

With lantern in hand, Edward walks through the trees, when he sees the blacksmith shop. His eyes squint in confusion as he also sees the crate under the broken window. He starts to take a step toward the shop when…

Reverend Moulton emerges from the woods with two villagers behind.

Edward steps back in intimidation.

REVEREND MOULTON

Edward?

EDWARD Yes, Reverend?

REVEREND MOULTON What see you out here? Your cousin, Sarah?

EDWARD No. I’ve not seen her.

Reverend Moulton HUFFS in anger as he moves toward the shop.

EDWARD (Shouting) Reverend…

The Minister whips his head around.

EDWARD

… I did see two people run in the direction of the stream however.

REVEREND MOULTON When was this?

EDWARD Not two minutes ago.

The Reverend stops, turns around and approaches Edward. He then SLAPS the young man’s face-hard. A line of blood trickles down Edward’s cheek. The other villagers are startled. Edward looks terrified.

Reverend Moulton adjusts the ring on his finger that just tore into Edward’s flesh.

REVEREND MOULTON You saw them and did not call out?

EDWARD

I saw only two dark forms. I could not even make out a face.

REVEREND MOULTON Edward, I have been a Man of the Cloth for forty years. I know evil. It is all around us. We all know your cousin is a witch… but what about you?

EDWARD (Taken aback) What say you Reverend?

REVEREND MOULTON Sarah Williams will not go free for her unspeakable crimes. That is certain. So anyone in dissent, must be in league with her.

Edward stands there in dreaded, awkward silence.

EDWARD

(firm)

I am in league with no one! I swear to God Almighty!

Moulton draws a smirk on his face as Edward squirms.

REVEREND MOULTON

Good.

(Turns to followers, raises book over head) The Malleus tells us of witches. It speaks in exacting words, what reveals a witch and what needs to be done to them.

He looks back at Edward.

REVEREND MOULTON Be glad your name is not in it-yet.

The Reverend and his men move away from the shop. Edward stands fixed in fear, then makes a slight step toward the blacksmith shop when…

Moulton stops and turns back to Edward.

REVEREND MOULTON I say, are you to join the search this night or stand out here in the darkness and cast further doubts on your loyalties?

With a cold stare at the Minister, Edward reluctantly walks over to join the group.

Moulton smiles.

INT. BLACKSMITHS SHOP-SAME

Abigail is calmer. Her breathing more steady and even. Still holding Abigail, Sarah takes her torn bonnet and wraps it tightly around her arm to stop the bleeding. She tears off the excess cloth with skilled precision.

ABIGAIL

Have you done this before mommy? SARAH

Unfortunately, I have Abby. A long time ago.

Her daughter pulls away. Looks straight at her mother.

ABIGAIL

Where’s papa? Is he coming here?

Sarah only stares back. Her eyes tear up. She composes herself.

SARAH

Abigail… I know you don’t know what’s happening to us or why, but I do want you to know that your father is in the hands of the Lord now. Do you understand what I’m saying?

Confused, Abigail shakes her head ‘no’.

SARAH

He’s in Heaven now, baby.

Her daughter’s eyes quickly flood with tears. She begins to SOB. Sarah takes her into her arms and cradles her. As she does, Sarah’s eyes look ahead, thinking back to:

FLASHBACK TO:

EXT. FRONT OF WILLIAM’S HOME-MIDNIGHT

Screen reads: 12:03 A.M. The Witching Hour

A large CROWD OF VILLAGERS have assembled outside a modest clapboard home with a lantern burning out front. GASPS OF HORROR rise up from the group.

Sarah casually approaches the home, carrying her daughter. But her face soon contorts into a panic, as she sees the commotion. Sensing something is wrong, she sets down her daughter and pushes her way through the mass of people.

As she gets about halfway, Edward grabs her by the shoulders, to stop her.

EDWARD

Don’t go up there Sarah! SARAH

What is it? Where’s George? He doesn’t reply.

SARAH

Will you please tell me what on earth is going on at my home? Where is my husband?

Edward takes a deep breath.

EDWARD Someone killed him.

SARAH

What?! Quit jesting. EDWARD

If only I were cousin. But just—

Sarah breaks away and rushes to the front door. She steps inside the thresh hold of her home and peers inside. Her face contorts in horror. She covers her mouth.

INSIDE OF HOUSE-SAME

Lying on the floor in a large pool of shimmering blood is George Williams. His eyes open and staring. Carved onto his bare chest are the words, For the Dark Lord of Shadows.

BACK TO SCENE

Sarah retracts from the house. She turns to the crowd.

SARAH

(Loud, through tears) Who did this I say! Who!

The villagers shake their heads ‘no’ when a man approaches the scene-Reverend Moulton. He walks up to Sarah who reaches out to embrace the minister. But Moulton backs away and points his finger directly at her.

REVEREND MOULTON

You!

SARAH

What?

REVEREND MOULTON Harlot of the devil! Your sins will not go unpunished.

SARAH

What are you saying Reverend? That I murdered my husband?

REVEREND MOULTON Only she who is guilty of such a crime knows of what I am saying. And you Sarah Williams, know all to well.

Sarah steps away in fear and confusion-her back against her house. The crowd of villagers form a semi-circle around her. Edward does not join them.

SARAH

I have done no such thing! I have no idea what has happened here!

REVEREND MOULTON Witches know everything they do.

SARAH

Witch! I’m no such thing!

Reverend Moulton holds up, The Malleus Malificarum.

REVEREND MOULTON This book, The Malleus Malificarum says unequivocally, that she who protests her innocence at being a witch, is thus proving her guilt. And you have all heard her speak.

SARAH

Has everyone gone mad! She looks at her cousin, Edward.

SARAH

Edward, please tell them! You know I would never-REVEREND MOULTON

Enough!

An ELDERLY WOMAN (63) in the circle steps forward.

ELDERLY WOMAN Then what of the recent events in Windsor Village Sarah?

SARAH What of them?

ELDERLY WOMAN Do you not remember all the rumors of nocturnal sabbaths with the masked figures, the fires?

A YES issues from the crowd. Reverend Moulton turns to the people.

REVEREND MOULTON Well done I say. The perpetrator has finally been revealed to us. And there she stands.

The people tighten around her. Sarah snatches a torch held by one of the villagers. She waves the flames in front of her. Then, Sarah looks around in fear.

SARAH (Calling) Abigail! Abigail!

The circle tightens even more, when Abigail comes running up behind the people.

ABIGAIL (Calling out) Mommy?

REVEREND MOULTON And let us forget not, the daughter of a witch!

The people inch closer to Sarah. Suddenly, she grabs the lantern out front, smashes it on the ground between her and the villagers, then tosses her torch onto the spilled oil. It ignites immediately. The crowd scatters.

In the confusion, Sarah runs, grabs Abigail’s hand and dashes away, getting a decent head start.

REVEREND MOULTON Flames from Hell! What more proof does thou need? Seize them both!

With torches in hand, they scramble down the road after their prey. Moulton runs to join the manic crowd.

BACK TO PRESENT

INT. BLACKSMITHS SHOP

Tears roll down Sarah’s check. But Abigail is now SOBBING. LOUDLY. Sarah looks around nervously.

SARAH

It’s alright Abigail. The little girl begins to SOB uncontrollably.

SARAH

Please baby. Stop it or they’ll—

A POUND on the front door. They look at each other in terror. They jump to their feet and climb out the side window.

The POUNDING continues. Harder. Then, the door is knocked off its large, iron hinges. TWO MALE VILLAGERS quickly move inside and glance around. It’s empty. One of the men catches sight of two shadowy figures out the window. He rushes out and looks.

EXT. WOODS-SAME

Sarah and her daughter hobble away toward town.

MALE VILLAGER #1 They’re running from the blacksmith shop toward the town square!

A flood of villagers converge near the shop and take up the chase.

As they do, a heavy downpour of rain suddenly blankets the town. Flickers of lightning everywhere.

EXT. WINDSOR VILLAGE SQUARE-SAME

Drenched, mother and daughter limp across the green of the town square, running more out of breath with each step they take. Dozens of villagers are but two hundred feet behind. Through the storm, a MIDDLE-AGED VILLAGER cries out:

MIDDLE-AGED VILLAGER Stop. Make it easier for yourselves! The Lord forgives!

SARAH

Don’t look back Abigail. Just stay with me.

They make their way to the last place of sanctuary, The Windsor Village Anglican Church.

EXT. FRONT OF WINDSOR VILLAGE CHURCH-SAME

Sarah pulls an exhausted Abigail up the remaining steps of the pristine white church. They go in.

INT. CHURCH NAVE-SAME

Inside, Sarah turns around and throws down a heavy wooden latch across the front door. They rush down the nave as POUNDING shakes the door from outside.

INT. ALTAR-SAME

Behind the altar, they see another door-partially ajar. A light burns within. Then…

A violent CRASH as the front door is knocked down and stampeded over by several villagers. Dozens pour in behind.

Sarah and Abigail hobble to the door behind the altar. Abigail can barely run anymore.

INT. REVEREND MOULTON’S PRIVATE CHAMBERS-SAME

Sarah goes in first and slams the door. She immediately turns the lock to seal them inside.

SARAH

Abby, come over behind me.