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Thought I'd share it with you guys. Please don't send it anywhere else or anything, it's just for my PoP friends. Kind of a horror (slight)comedy monster movie type thing. Not sold on the title, which is the name of the town it takes place, so if you come up with a better name, and I can have it, let me know.
INT. OLD HOUSE KITCHEN – DUSK
ANNIE stands at the stove, spooning some spaghetti onto two plates. She's fifty-three and fat, her hair gray and pulled back into a ponytail. She wears sweatpants and a Tweety bird sweat shirt with slippers. She puts the lid back on the pot of spaghetti and grabs the two plates.
INT. OLD HOUSE LIVING ROOM – DUSK
Like the kitchen, the living room of this old wooden house is cluttered, a couple days worth of newspapers laying on the end tables, along with Annie's People's and Star's.
Her husband, BOB sits on the old dusty couch, in front of the kind of TV most people haven't seen in twenty years. Wheel Of Fortune plays. Bob is fifty-seven and fatter than his wife. He's bald, in dirty jeans and a Dale Earnhardt tee shirt.
Annie enters with the two plates. She hands one to Bob and sits in an arm chair. They both grab little trays that they set in their laps and set their plates on.
BOB
Looks great.
ANNIE
Thanks.
The two sit for a few moments, quietly eating, and watching their game show.
BOB
No garlic bread?
ANNIE
Oh, whoops. Yeah there's some.
Annie sets her tray aside and stands, heading back into the kitchen. She soon returns, dropping a hot piece of garlic bread on both of their plates.
ANNIE
Damn. Burnt my fingers near off!
BOB
Yeah, better be careful there.
More silence. Faintly in the background. We hear a BABY CRYING. After a few seconds, Annie seems to hear it too.
ANNIE
You hear that, Bob?
BOB
What's that?
ANNIE
Sounds like cryin'.
BOB
What does?
ANNIE
Outside. Listen.
BOB
I don't hear anything.
ANNIE
Well, ya gotta shut up.
Annie turns the TV off. Sure enough, somewhere outside, a baby crying.
BOB
What in the hell?
ANNIE
See?
BOB
What would a baby be doin' out
here?
ANNIE
Well, I don't know Bob, why don't you
go out and see?
BOB
Supper'll get cold.
He takes a bite.
ANNIE
A baby might be out there. With a hurt
momma or somethin'.
BOB
Yeah.
ANNIE
So get out there.
BOB
Well, you're legs work good as mine.
Annie gives Bob 'the look'.
EXT. OLD HOUSE – DUSK
Bob exits through the back door, pulling a jacket on as he does. It's fall, the trees around him an explosion of orange and red.
Bob walks a ways from the house, looking over his shoulder at the house before sliding a cigarette pack from the inside pocket of his jacket. He slides a cigarette between his lips and lights it with a match.
BOB
Smoke me one, if I got to be out
here.
Bob continues on, towards the treeline of deep woods.
BOB
Don't see no damn baby. Or hurt momma.
The sentence still lingering in the air, a CRY is heard.
BOB
Well, shit.
Bob turns towards the sound, and walks. He hesitates at the tree line, and the CRY is heard once more.
BOB
Alright, I'm coming.
Bob enters the woods.
INT. WOODS-NIGHT
Dusk has faded to night, and it's darker in the woods than out of them. Bob fumbles the book of matches from his pocket. As he strikes one, the CRY is heard again, closer than ever.
BOB
Hello?
He turns all around, holding the match above his head, until it burns so low it burns his finger tips. He drops It.
BOB
Shit.
Bob lights another match.
BOB
Hello? Anyone out here?
Silence.
BOB
Anyone? Hello? I'm going back in!
A CRY.
BOB
Damn it to hell.
Bob drops the match and lights yet another one, before walking towards the crying, which is constant now. He steps over a large branch and there, a few yards ahead of him, a bundle of blankets.
BOB
Fuck me and call me Suzy.
Bob lowers the match closer to the ground and makes his way towards the bundle. Sure enough, wrapped in the bundle, a little baby, it's skin white as ivory, blonde hair in small wisps on it's head. It looks at Bob with big blue eyes.
BOB
Hey there, little one.
Bob steps closer, kneeling to the ground. He reaches forward. With surprising speed, the baby sits up, and bites into Bob's finger.
BOB
Fuck!
Bob falls backwards, onto his ass, dropping the match he had lit. It burns a dead leaf to fiery life, and Bob is distracted a moment with putting it out, using the heel of his hand.
BOB
Almost burnt the whole damn place
down.
Bob looks back to the baby. It's on his stomach now, looking at him.
BOB
Now listen little guy, I don't know how
you have no teeth already, but if
you want me to take you back to the
house, you going to have to play nice.
The baby grins, his mouth full of razor sharp little teeth.
BABY
Fuck you, redneck.
Bob stares in amazement.
BOB
What are you?
In front of Bob's eyes, the baby begins to change. His skin becomes gray, sickly and unhealthy, with blue veins running through it, easily seen. Those blue eyes disappear, leaving yellow orbs with no pupils surrounded by blackened and cracked flesh. Nails that look like claws grow from it's hands and feet, and two little horns press out of it's skin on it's forehead.
BABY
Your worst nightmare.
The baby lunges at Bob, and he screams as the screen:
CUT TO BLACK
TITLE SHOT
DEEPWOOD VALLEY
INT. OLD HOUSE KITCHEN – DUSK
ANNIE stands at the stove, spooning some spaghetti onto two plates. She's fifty-three and fat, her hair gray and pulled back into a ponytail. She wears sweatpants and a Tweety bird sweat shirt with slippers. She puts the lid back on the pot of spaghetti and grabs the two plates.
INT. OLD HOUSE LIVING ROOM – DUSK
Like the kitchen, the living room of this old wooden house is cluttered, a couple days worth of newspapers laying on the end tables, along with Annie's People's and Star's.
Her husband, BOB sits on the old dusty couch, in front of the kind of TV most people haven't seen in twenty years. Wheel Of Fortune plays. Bob is fifty-seven and fatter than his wife. He's bald, in dirty jeans and a Dale Earnhardt tee shirt.
Annie enters with the two plates. She hands one to Bob and sits in an arm chair. They both grab little trays that they set in their laps and set their plates on.
BOB
Looks great.
ANNIE
Thanks.
The two sit for a few moments, quietly eating, and watching their game show.
BOB
No garlic bread?
ANNIE
Oh, whoops. Yeah there's some.
Annie sets her tray aside and stands, heading back into the kitchen. She soon returns, dropping a hot piece of garlic bread on both of their plates.
ANNIE
Damn. Burnt my fingers near off!
BOB
Yeah, better be careful there.
More silence. Faintly in the background. We hear a BABY CRYING. After a few seconds, Annie seems to hear it too.
ANNIE
You hear that, Bob?
BOB
What's that?
ANNIE
Sounds like cryin'.
BOB
What does?
ANNIE
Outside. Listen.
BOB
I don't hear anything.
ANNIE
Well, ya gotta shut up.
Annie turns the TV off. Sure enough, somewhere outside, a baby crying.
BOB
What in the hell?
ANNIE
See?
BOB
What would a baby be doin' out
here?
ANNIE
Well, I don't know Bob, why don't you
go out and see?
BOB
Supper'll get cold.
He takes a bite.
ANNIE
A baby might be out there. With a hurt
momma or somethin'.
BOB
Yeah.
ANNIE
So get out there.
BOB
Well, you're legs work good as mine.
Annie gives Bob 'the look'.
EXT. OLD HOUSE – DUSK
Bob exits through the back door, pulling a jacket on as he does. It's fall, the trees around him an explosion of orange and red.
Bob walks a ways from the house, looking over his shoulder at the house before sliding a cigarette pack from the inside pocket of his jacket. He slides a cigarette between his lips and lights it with a match.
BOB
Smoke me one, if I got to be out
here.
Bob continues on, towards the treeline of deep woods.
BOB
Don't see no damn baby. Or hurt momma.
The sentence still lingering in the air, a CRY is heard.
BOB
Well, shit.
Bob turns towards the sound, and walks. He hesitates at the tree line, and the CRY is heard once more.
BOB
Alright, I'm coming.
Bob enters the woods.
INT. WOODS-NIGHT
Dusk has faded to night, and it's darker in the woods than out of them. Bob fumbles the book of matches from his pocket. As he strikes one, the CRY is heard again, closer than ever.
BOB
Hello?
He turns all around, holding the match above his head, until it burns so low it burns his finger tips. He drops It.
BOB
Shit.
Bob lights another match.
BOB
Hello? Anyone out here?
Silence.
BOB
Anyone? Hello? I'm going back in!
A CRY.
BOB
Damn it to hell.
Bob drops the match and lights yet another one, before walking towards the crying, which is constant now. He steps over a large branch and there, a few yards ahead of him, a bundle of blankets.
BOB
Fuck me and call me Suzy.
Bob lowers the match closer to the ground and makes his way towards the bundle. Sure enough, wrapped in the bundle, a little baby, it's skin white as ivory, blonde hair in small wisps on it's head. It looks at Bob with big blue eyes.
BOB
Hey there, little one.
Bob steps closer, kneeling to the ground. He reaches forward. With surprising speed, the baby sits up, and bites into Bob's finger.
BOB
Fuck!
Bob falls backwards, onto his ass, dropping the match he had lit. It burns a dead leaf to fiery life, and Bob is distracted a moment with putting it out, using the heel of his hand.
BOB
Almost burnt the whole damn place
down.
Bob looks back to the baby. It's on his stomach now, looking at him.
BOB
Now listen little guy, I don't know how
you have no teeth already, but if
you want me to take you back to the
house, you going to have to play nice.
The baby grins, his mouth full of razor sharp little teeth.
BABY
Fuck you, redneck.
Bob stares in amazement.
BOB
What are you?
In front of Bob's eyes, the baby begins to change. His skin becomes gray, sickly and unhealthy, with blue veins running through it, easily seen. Those blue eyes disappear, leaving yellow orbs with no pupils surrounded by blackened and cracked flesh. Nails that look like claws grow from it's hands and feet, and two little horns press out of it's skin on it's forehead.
BABY
Your worst nightmare.
The baby lunges at Bob, and he screams as the screen:
CUT TO BLACK
TITLE SHOT
DEEPWOOD VALLEY
