Media Script
Media Script
The basement is brightly lit by overhead fluorescent lights, casting sharp shadows across the rows of parked
cars. The stillness of the space is overwhelming.
A YOUNG BOY (15 years old, dressed in casual clothes) exits the elevator and looks at his watch. It’s late,
and he’s eager to leave. He steps out and heads toward his car, phone in hand.
SFX: A faint metallic clang echoes from somewhere deeper in the basement.
The YOUNG BOY freezes for a moment, glancing around, but the lot remains empty. After a beat, he
shrugs it off and continues walking.
He clicks the remote for his SUV, and the headlights flash, briefly illuminating the dark corners of the lot.
CLOSE-UP: As the YOUNG BOY opens the trunk, his eyes widen. Inside, he finds a BLOOD-STAINED
NOTE hastily written:
The YOUNG BOY’s face goes pale. He slams the trunk shut with a heavy thud, his breath shallow. His
hands tremble as he looks around frantically.
SFX: A metal scraping sound comes from the far end of the basement, faint but unsettling.
The YOUNG BOY turns sharply, scanning the empty space. There’s no sign of anyone. His phone buzzes in
his pocket, and he pulls it out quickly.
The YOUNG BOY’s pulse quickens, fear starting to take over. He looks toward the stairwell and, without
thinking, bolts toward it, running toward the door.
He doesn’t use the elevator. He wants to get out as fast as possible. The elevator is just too slow, and it might
be jammed anyway—he doesn’t trust it anymore.
SFX: The scraping sound becomes more distinct. It’s closer now, dragging across the concrete floor, getting
nearer with each passing second.
The YOUNG BOY stops and listens. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps follows, steadily approaching.
His heart races.
SFX: The scraping sound intensifies, now unmistakable. The figure below is moving toward him.
He looks back down the stairwell. At the bottom, a DARK FIGURE stands motionless, watching him.
His breath catches in his throat as the figure takes a step forward. The scraping noise continues to grow
louder, the sound unmistakable now—like metal dragging on concrete.
SFX: A sudden loud bang, as if the figure is charging up the stairs toward him.
The YOUNG BOY spins around, his face a mask of terror. He throws his body against the door, shaking the
handle violently, his hands slipping from sweat. His heart pounds in his chest, and panic consumes him.
SFX: The scraping noise is deafening now, the footsteps louder, closer.
The YOUNG BOY falls to his knees, looking back down the stairwell.
CUT TO BLACK.