DARKNESS. A low wind stirs from far away...
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD HOUSE - NIGHT
No cars in the driveway. A single light on in an upstairs
window. We hear A TEENAGE GIRL’S VOICE.
TEENAGE GIRL (O.S.)
I wanted to talk. I felt like last
night... I don’t know. Things were
starting to get kinda weird between
EASE IN on that upstairs window...
INT. BEDROOM -NIGHT
Glimpse a sliver of A BEDROOM... because we’re looking out
from inside the bedroom closet. The slightly open closet
door keeps us from seeing more.
We stay exactly in this spot throughout...
A teen girl sits on the floor. This is DEBBIE (17). She’s
talking to someone in her room.
It was fun for a while, when we
first started playing. But... I
feel like you’ve changed.
EASE OVER SLIGHTLY... able to see a little more of Debbie.
There’s something in front of her on the floor. A GAME
BOARD. Debbie’s fingers touching a heart-shaped wooden piece
on the board.
She’s playing OUIJA with someone. But from where we are
inside the closet, we can’t see who it is.
WE DRIFT UP AWAY FROM THE BOARD now so that we’re just on
I mean, you’re still my friend,
Debbie sits there waiting.
C’mon. Answer me.
Suddenly, Debbie’s expression shifts. Fear in her eyes.
You know what? This is our last
game. I’m not playing ever again.
I want you to leave. Just get out.
MOVEMENT. A DARK SHAPE steps past the crack in the closet.
We hear a THUD and now we are -
IN THE BEDROOM WITH DEBBIE
She sits there alone on the floor, glancing over to the wide
open bedroom door as it comes to a rest against the wall. As
if someone just left the room.
The night wind creaks outside...
Debbie gathers up the Ouija board and planchette and moves
quickly to her closet. She opens the double doors, about to
put the board away when -
--there’s a noise. SCRAPE. Debbie glances over her
shoulder. The room is still empty.
She turns back. Reaching to place the Ouija up on a shelf as
behind her -
-- there’s MOVEMENT in a mirror. Unseen by Debbie, because
she’s still reaching up to put the board away.
The wooden planchette slips and falls, landing at Debbie’s
feet. She picks it up when suddenly --
-- BAM! A loud sound in her room. Debbie spins to see that
her bedside table lamp has fallen... now slowly rolling on
Debbie stands there totally still. Staring. Her panicked
eyes scan the room. All we hear is her BREATHING and the
WIND outside. She turns slightly... and a SHADOW falls
across her face. We don’t see what she sees -- but someone’s
standing right there.
Debbie stares. Absolutely terrified. Her lips tremble,
about to say something when -
-- she’s PUSHED HARD into her closet! It’s a blur. She
falls back into her hanging clothes. Getting twisted up in a
plastic dry cleaning bag.
VERY CLOSE on Debbie -- and right before she can scream, a
clear plastic dry cleaning bag suddenly PRESSES TIGHT AGAINST
HER FACE! A split second shock and we instantly go -
INT. DEBBIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
-- back into the bedroom. The closet doors, out of focus in
the background. We catch the tail end of them closing shut
with a slight creak. No sound comes from the closet. Just
the wind outside.
CHILLING MUSIC rises, taking us to -
TITLE CREDITS. A vintage turn of the century black and white
photograph of a parlor SEANCE GATHERING. People in formal
attire at a table with a OUIJA BOARD at the center. We hear
a WOMAN’S VOICE speak via a scratchy cylinder recording --