The Last House on Cemetery Lane

Synopsis: Screenwriter John Davies has grown tired of living in London and moves to an old manor house in a sleepy West Wales village to get out of the rat race. At first he enjoys himself, embracing the quieter pace of life and starting a relationship with his beautiful neighbour Cassie Konrad. But strange, unexplained occurrences begin to occur in the manor house. John discovers he is surrounded by a supernatural presence and begins to research the house's past, discovering secrets more terrible than he ever imagined. It is now up to John to right the injustices of the past and finally lay to rest the spirits which haunt the Last House on Cemetery Lane.
 
IMDB:
3.5
NOT RATED
Year:
2015
82 min
90 Views


- Mr. Davies?

- Please, call me John.

Found the place all right, then?

Yeah, I used to visit Saundersfoot

when I was a kid actually,

- but just down the road. So...

- Oh, good.

I know the area quite well, yeah.

I thought I'd show you around the house

and make sure you're all settled in.

Yeah, that's great. Cheers.

- Looks even better than the picture.

- It's a wonderful house.

Dates back to the 19th century.

It's definitely one of the best houses

of that era still around.

Looks superb.

This is the kitchen.

All pretty self-explanatory.

There's a spacious oven over there,

perfect for cooking a family dinner.

Will any family members

be joining you while you're here?

No, just me.

Lot of space in this house

for just one person.

Yeah, well... just working

on a new writing project, so...

a bit of space is exactly

what I'm looking for.

- Oh, really? You're writing a book?

- No, a film. I'm a screenwriter.

Oh, really? Have you written

anything I might have seen?

Depends. Do you like horror films?

No, all that blood and violence

isn't my cup of tea.

Well, I write horror films,

and I guess they're not

for everyone, are they?

This is the living room.

Wonderful fireplace.

You can pick up some wood

for that in the nearby town.

Or if you're the outdoor type,

there's a woodland at the bottom

of the garden, and an ax in the shed.

It's fine.

You got two bathrooms on this floor,

and five bedrooms.

So you can take your pick from those.

Every bed has fresh linen.

And there's an airing cupboard

downstairs full of spares.

Now, I need to explain

something that's, well...

a little unusual.

What's that?

Although the advert

says there are two floors...

there's also a third floor.

Well, it's not so much an entire floor,

more like an attic.

That doesn't sound so unusual.

Well, the unusual thing is,

there's actually a tenant

living on the third floor.

The listing didn't mention that

though, did it?

I apologize, but it tends

to put a lot of people off.

I can see why, Mrs. Connelly.

I was kind of hoping to have

this place to myself, you know?

It will seem like you have.

The tenant's an old blind woman.

Her name is Agnes.

You won't even know she's here.

- She hasn't left the room in years.

- I got to be honest, Mrs. Connelly,

I really think you should've mentioned

this in the advert, you know.

I mean... No, no, hear me out.

When I rent a place, Mrs. Connelly,

I don't expect to be sharing it

- with a complete stranger, now, do I?

- Well, I'm sorry.

But I can assure you,

Agnes won't be of any inconvenience.

She hardly makes a sound.

I mean, you've seen

the size of this place.

You'll have two very large floors

all to yourself.

Well, shouldn't we at least go up

so I can maybe introduce myself?

Oh, I doubt she'd answer the door.

She likes to keep to herself.

Oh, she's fine.

You can see her from outside.

She just sits in her rocking chair,

looking out of the attic window.

I thought you said she was blind.

Well, she is, but she hasn't

been blind her entire life.

She used to sit by the window

when she could see.

I suppose old habits die hard.

Yeah, I suppose they do, Mrs. Connelly.

- Shall we go downstairs?

- Yeah, of course, yeah.

- You'll be fine.

- Yeah.

Okay.

Here's the keys to the front door,

the back door,

as well as the shed in the back garden.

- You have my number, yeah?

- Yeah.

Feel free to give me a call

if there's anything else you need.

- Yeah, I'm sure I'll be fine.

- Okay, when you leave,

just slip the keys under that plant pot,

and I'll slip by and pick them up.

- Yeah, will do.

- Okay.

So...

There is three of us here, Mrs. Connelly.

- Hello.

- Sh*t!

Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.

It's fine. I didn't realize

anyone had moved in.

Oh, no, it's not permanent. It's a...

- It's just a holiday place.

- Oh, nice.

You...

- You making a pie?

- Sorry?

The blackberries.

Oh, yeah.

- You don't mind me picking them, do you?

- Oh, no. No, not at all.

You're a local?

Yeah, down the road.

I'm Cassie. Cassie Konrad.

John... Davies.

It's nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you, too.

If you...

If you ever wanna borrow

a bowl of sugar, just...

just knock the door, will you?

Maybe I will. Thanks.

Hello?

- Hi.

- Got any sugar?

Yeah.

Come in.

Yes, it's quite a place.

Yeah, I was looking

at the ident earlier on.

Just before you came, actually.

It's got to be around

600 years old or something.

- How long are you here for?

- I booked it for eight weeks.

Hey, do you know the old woman

who lives upstairs?

- There's an old lady upstairs?

- Yeah, on the third floor.

That's weird.

What, you never heard that

an old woman lived here?

No. I thought it was

just a holiday home now.

Yeah, me, too.

But apparently the third floor

has a permanent resident.

- You talk to her?

- Nope. The door's locked.

She never comes out.

And no one comes to see her, either.

- That's quite sad.

- Yeah. A bit creepy to be honest.

- You scaredy cat.

- Yeah, I guess I should grow a pair.

I suppose this big house can get

a bit creepy if you're alone all the time.

How come you didn't come

with a friend or a girlfriend?

Well, I don't have a girlfriend.

And I suppose this self-imposed isolation

sort of comes with the territory.

What territory?

- I'm a writer.

- Oh, yeah?

Yeah. Well, I say I'm a writer,

but I'm struggling to string

a sentence together at the minute.

Got a bit of writer's block going on?

You know, I feel like

I've really hit a wall, you know.

That's why I booked this place. I thought

the peace and quiet may help, but...

it hasn't worked so far though.

Well, you've only been here five minutes.

Give it a chance.

True. Patience isn't

my strong point though.

So, you...

You're probably wanting that sugar, right?

Sorry?

The sugar you came over to borrow.

Right, yeah.

Well, I suppose I'll see you around?

- How about tonight?

- You want a tour of the pubs?

Pubs really aren't my scene,

to be honest with you. I'm...

I'm pretty boring.

It's not really my scene either,

to be honest.

I suppose I'm boring, too.

Why don't you just come around here?

We can be boring together.

Perhaps I can cook.

- You cook, do you?

- No.

But I'm not too bad at ordering

a take away or something maybe?

Yeah, that'd be nice.

Great. How about 8:00?

- Yeah, okay, I'll see you then.

- See you then.

Just thinking about childhood stuff.

It really is a playground for the wicked?

So... tell me a bit about yourself.

Like what?

I don't know.

What kind of music you like?

- What a shocking effort?

- All right, all right.

Bit rusty, bit rusty.

- Tell me a bit about your childhood, then.

- You sound like a psychiatrist now.

Well, I was raised Catholic.

- Rebel by any chance?

- No, I was a good girl.

- That almost sounded convincing.

- Seriously, I really was.

- Yeah, scared of purgatory, were you?

- No, scared of my parents.

I'd rather face purgatory,

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Andrew Jones

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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