The Evil Within

Synopsis: The sadistic tale of a lonely, mentally handicapped boy who befriends his reflection in an antique mirror. This demonic creature orders him to go on a murderous rampage to kill the people he loves most.
Genre: Horror
98 min

Life is a story.

People think dreams are stories.

They seem like stories,

but they're not.

Misguided, no shape, no form.

No reason.

Like rummaging

through unmarked boxes

in a long-forgotten

storage shed.

You'll think it was a story,

but try telling a friend

of yours what happened

in your dream the next day.

Only then will you finally

realize, wait a minute,

"that wasn't a story at all."

Not all my dreams

were like this.

Some of them

really were stories.

Some of them were like this.

(wind blowing)

Mom takes me

to an amusement park.

It's deserted...



Even the barkers pitching

unwinnable games

for Kewpie doll prizes do so with all

the joie de vivre of a cancer patient.

But I'm ecstatic.

No crowds means no lines.

(soft music, wind blowing)

And there it is,

the snow-capped summit

In the topography

of juvenile taste:

The wonderful

haunted house ride.

Its facade promised more

than papier mache monsters

wrapped in derelict-resistant

chicken wire.

Mom, we gotta go.

We gotta go on

the haunted house ride.

Are you sure?

It says right on the marquee,

it's the scariest one

in the world.

Of course, I'm sure.

We have to, have to, have to.

(soft music, wind blowing)

Are you sure you wanna go?

The sign ain't lyin'.

I'm ready.

Are you sure you're ready?

And the car lurched forward


and crashed through the doors,

which snapped back.

And into the darkness.

Into the darkness.

Whisking along through

the darkness,

and, crash, out the other side.

No pneumatic hiss pop ups,

no shrill startle bells, nothing, !

not even the faintest attempt.

A con game.

What a rip-off.

We should get our money back.

Mom, we got ripped off

by the idiots who lives here.

You're not gonna

do anything about this?


We should get our money back.

She turned to me

very slowly and said,

'What makes you think

the ride's over?

"What makes you think

it's ever gonna end?"

That was the first

of these experiences I had.

I'm still reluctant

to call them dreams.

I had that one when I was four.

Let me show you the one

I had last night.

I can't sleep.

It's this house.

I hate this house.

It won't let me sleep.

Oh, my god, I am asleep,

and dreaming about being

right here in my bedroom,

trying to fall asleep.

I had to open my eyes,

but I couldn't.

I could only open the little

dream eyes inside my head,

because I felt the fear.

I felt the dread, pending,

closing, all around me.

Only one kind of dream

tries to hide itself.

The door is open.

He's already here.

You can't run in a nightmare,

not with atrophied muscles

over tungsten bones,

hot through the gelatinous


not from him.


I watched my hand draw a row

of faces on my whiteboard

and despite

the childish artwork,

I could instantly

recognize each,

Family friends. ..

I left the room, then blackness.

The next time my senses

returned to me,

I was not before my whiteboard,

I was in a basement,

standing before a mirror,

surrounded by the

miss-en-scene of nightmares.

I was in his world now,

not my own.

And I can't wake up.

I can't wake up.

Oh, my god, I am awake.

Awake in the very location

where my nightmare ended.

This was real.

How much nightmare would

prove to be real?

Did I sleepwalk here?

How could I have pulled

so sadistic a trick on myself?

Especially as I didn't know

where "here" was.

I know this place.

This is my home.

I was just in a room that

doesn't exist in my own house.

First, relief,

then a sobering realization.

As I had fallen asleep

where my dream began

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Andrew Getty

Andrew Rork Getty (July 1, 1967– March 31, 2015) was an American oil heir, businessman, film director and philanthropist. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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    "The Evil Within" STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 20 Jan. 2021. <>.

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