The Story Of Our Time: Mort By George B.

Hewer

31 Highlands Road Horsham, West Sussex RH13 5LS 07549 944639 01403 250944 [email protected]

[NOTE: The film is in black and white.] FADE IN: These words appear: Story Of Our Time: Mort

INT. MANSION - WET ROOM - NIGHT A MAN lies face-down on the cold, stone floor of a large, shower room. He is slightly dazed as he regains consciousness and takes in his surroundings. He is wearing white trousers and a white t-shirt, with nothing on his feet. The lights are flashing on and off intermittently, while the dripping of water from a shower head can be heard, creating a small puddle on the tiles. It is dark outside, but the moon casts a powerful glow. The Man gathers himself, blinking heavily to focus his eyes. He looks around the room in bewilderment, bringing himself up onto his knees. He is breathing heavily as he pulls up his wrist to look at his watch. The Mans brow furrows as he sees that the hands of the watch are quickly turning backwards. He lowers his arm. Grunting and shaking his head, the Man drags himself to his feet. He stumbles from the wet room and out into a corridor.

INT. MANSION - CORRIDOR - NIGHT Moonlight is streaming on from the windows, creating strong barricades of light along the hallway. The walls are wood-paneled with lots of doors leading off on both sides. The MAN tries the handle of one. It is locked. He tries the door opposite, but to no avail. He is frustrated and stands for a moment with his hands on his hips. There is a creaking sound coming from the floor above, as if something is moving about upstairs. He looks at his watch again, to see that the hands are still moving backwards, but at a much slower pace than before. He gives it a few light taps on the face with his finger. The Man lowers his watch and looks down the corridor, fixing his eyes upon the next door. He tries the handle but like the others, it does not give way. Angry, he steps back and kicks the door open.

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INT. MANSION - DINING ROOM - NIGHT The door flies open and the MAN steps inside hesitantly. The room shares the same styling as the corridor with wood-paneled walls and a chandelier. There is a large, wooden dining table, set for one person, in the centre of the room, besieged by equally elegant chairs. It is not these features that prompts a disturbing look to cover the Mans face however. That is owed to the Christmas decorations that adorn the place. Tinsel hangs from the bookcases and sparkly ribbon entwines the chandelier, while a long banner hung above the mantelpiece reads: MERRY CHRISTMAS! Despite the adornment, the room does not have a warm feel to it. The Man steps further into the room, taking in the slightly bizarre decor of the room. He stands behind the chair of place setting on the table and picks up the name tag. It shows: MORT. The Man throws the name tag back down the table as if it had scalded him. He looks at his watch again, to see that it is now turning in the correct way, but at a faster speed than normal. He begins to breathe heavily again, stepping back to the wall and firmly closing his eyes. After a couple of moments, the Man hears a door slam in the corridor outside the dining room. He opens his eyes sharply and stands there for a moment, pondering his next move. He moves to the open doorway and looks out into the hall for the source of the noise. There is nothing or no one to be seen.

INT. MANSION - CORRIDOR - NIGHT He stands for a moment with his hands on his hips. The old, worn rug of the corridor stares back up at him vacantly, when the sound of a slamming door is heard once more from a far room. The Man looks up in the direction of the noise and begins to walk purposefully towards it. As he approaches a corner in the corridor, there is a loud crash as the Man hears one of the rooms being wrecked violently. He flinches at the noise and cowers back, crouching down against the wall. He looks around for some sort of weapon, but doesnt see anything appropriate. The Man edges forward slowly, still crouching against the wall, to the corner of the corridor. He takes a deep breath and gradually peers around the corner to try and get a look at the ASSAILANT. He sees a slightly-open door to one of the rooms. A bright (CONTINUED)

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light is illuminating the inside but he cannot get a look at its source. There is another loud noise, causing the Man to retreat back behind the cover of the wall. He gathers himself once more for another look. The door is still only a little of the way open, but the Man can see the direction of the light moving about the room. He edges himself onto all fours and takes a couple of tentative steps towards the room. As he draws closer, the floorboards underfoot creak loudly. The Man winces in anguish as there is a screeching-grinding sound of metal from within the room, and the bright light points straight at him through the doorway. The Man clambers to his feet and runs back the way came. He desperately tries one of the doors that he originally attempted to enter and is relieved when it allows him entry.

INT. MANSION - ROOM 2 - NIGHT He scrambles inside and quietly closes the door behind him, listening through the keyhole for his pursuer. After a moment he hears the sound of metal scraping on wood, approaching his door. The Man sits back from the door and watches as the light entering the room under the door, grows brighter. The scraping sound is right outside the door now and the light is lustrous. The Man draws in a sharp intake of breath and covers his mouth with his hand. The scraping stops for a moment and the Man sits motionless, fear in his eyes, before the light continues to move on and the scraping sound resumes. He relaxes, closing his eyes and sighing with relief. After a moment, the Man opens his eyes and looks around the room. It is similar to the last room he was in, but smaller. He stands up and turns around to see a vast amount of sticky notes on the wall, all reading: MORT. The Man is visibly disturbed and begins to panic, putting his hands on his head and breathing heavily. He steps towards the wall of notes, pulling some down and analysing them more closely. After a few handfuls, he searches the room, almost frantic. The Man eventually finds what he is looking for - a pen. He rips off the lid and scribbles down the same word onto one of the sticky notes. His eyes widen with concern as he sees that the two words are clearly in the same handwriting. The Man looks at his watch and sees that the hands are now turning clockwise rapidly.

(CONTINUED)

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He stumbles backwards, tripping on the rug and falling to the floor noisily. The sound of echoing voices begins and grows louder. The Man closes his eyes and clutches at his ears as the babel, coupled with the re-introduction of the metallic-scraping sound, becomes ear-splitting. The door flies open, pouring fresh light into the room from the ASSAILANTs light source, which illuminates the fear in the Mans face as he sets eyes on his pursuer. The voices and the scraping noise have now stopped. The Assailant advances to within a few feet of the trembling Man, whose terror has become so overwhelming, that he has taken up a figure not dissimilar to that of the fetal position on the wooden floor. There is no silhouette behind the bright light however and the light source does not advance any further. The Man opens his eyes tentatively and looks up at the gleaming white cascade that towers above him. He sits up, confusion flooding across his face. The Man rubs his hands together and extends them, warming his palms on the heat of the glow. The Man lowers his hands, still wary. He looks at his watch once more and sees that the hands are finally turning at the right pace and in the correct direction. Keeping his arm up, the Man looks at the floating orb for a moment, before a wave of realisation ruches over him. He speaks in a French accent. MAN Mort. These subtitles appear: Dead. He slowly stretches out his hand to touch the light. As his fingers near, the light grows blindingly bright, filling the screen with pure white.

INT. HOSPITAL - MANS ROOM - NIGHT The MAN, much older than before, is lying in a hospital bed connected to a life support machine. The beeping of his heart monitor comes to a continuous bleep. There is a picture on his bedside table. It shows the Man sitting at the same dining table that was in the Mansion, with the same Christmas decorations. Only, in the picture, there are other people seated with him, all facing the camera with broad grins and joyous faces. FADE TO BLACK: Roll credits.