THE MORBID SEVEN RISE AGAIN Page #4

BACK TO SCENE:

She draws the curtains and sits at her desk and picks up her hand-held makeup mirror. Her fingers run across her brow, around her eye sockets and across her cheeks. Her face looks good but she has a look of concern. She takes out an old calendar and looks at the date circled with words written in red ink - ‘The Accident.’ It is December 1st 2009, quarter past ten at night.

SERIES OF SHOTS:

-- Country lane near Pitesti. Car travelling. Misty.

-- Goes off the road and into the trees.

-- Locals come to the rescue.

-- Two people inside the wreck. Male dead. Female badly hurt.

-- They are rushed to the nearest dubious facility with access to some medical help.

-- The only one within 70 miles - the Eternal Cryogenics Facility.

-- The only operating table is in the morgue.

-- Barely alive, Elena’s eyes make contact with Luther’s.

-- She dies shortly afterwards.

-- Both victims are cleaned up and put in cryogenics freeze tanks.

-- Elena is resuscitated after 10 years.

-- She looks forty, feels forty but in reality, she is now fifty years old.

-- Unfortunately, she is brought back to life too soon.

INT. ELENA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Elena sits on the couch. She is in a pensive mood. She looks at her relatively large room with bewilderment. She grabs a little mirror on the couch and looks at the left side of her face out of the corner of her eye. It still carries a tiny scar but hardly noticeable.

The bathroom looks relatively modern. It has an ensuite, the bed at one end, and at the far end, an odd-looking clear-glass cylindrical compartment. It is an upmarket cryogenics tank permanently lit with neon-like blue lights that whizz up, down and around with surprising speed. Imported from Germany - a high-tech medical wonder.

The room next to the bedroom is a plain kitchen.

INT. ELENA’S ROOM - DAY

The time shows 6.30 on the wall. She gets out of bed, picks up a towel and heads to the shower. A perfect body for forty. Her blonde hair comes down to below her shoulders. She spends quite a while rubbing her hair down and still dripping, she steps out of the shower. She dries herself but somehow, she always faces the far corner of the shower while doing so.

She sits down in front of her full-sized mirror and to her usual horror she sees her grotesque face. It’s the face of an old haggard crone but sitting on a body of forty, with not even a single wrinkle on it. She steps inside the cylindrical cryogenics tank, puts a face mask on and at the end of ninety minutes her face looks forty again.

A quick breakfast and then she walks to the laboratory aka the mortuary. She arrives a few minutes before Luther shows up which normally is exactly at two minutes to nine.

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