STUDENT MEDIA is dedicated to providing hands-on, experiential learning opportunities for students who aspire to a career in media production or journalism, as well as those who simply wish to pursue a creative passion or hobby.
Visit studentmedia.gmu.edu to learn more!
Thomas Britt is a Professor of Film and Video Studies at George Mason University. He is the head of the screenwriting pathway and creator of many courses, including Ethics of Film and Global Horror Film. He completed his PhD at the University of Brighton and his MFA in filmmaking at Ohio University. He is the recipient of George Mason University’s Teaching Excellence Award and writes about film, television, and music for a variety of publication outlets.
Jason Mabry is a FAVS graduate (class of 2025) with a concentration in screenwriting. His approach to writing focuses on telling high-concept stories with unique twists that allows him to show audiences something they might not have seen before. During his time at Mason, he has written multiple scripts, with his most successful being Pandora’s Box and Crash — both previous winners of the Storyline competition.
Emily is a graduate of George Mason University (class of 2025), where she earned a Bachelor’s degree in English and a minor in Film and Media Studies. She currently serves as the Assistant to the Student Media Director, working in both social media and business operations. In her free time, she enjoys reading fiction, writing stories, binge watching new shows, and spending time on creative hobbies such as drawing and painting.
Storyline, now in its fourth consecutive year of publication, has become a familiar presence at George Mason University, available in several locations and featured at events sponsored by Student Media and Film and Video Studies. Current students and faculty, prospective students and their families, and other visitors to the campus enjoy reading this distinctive publication that celebrates screenwriting and exists thanks to the dedicated staff of Student Media (Kathryn, Jason, and David) and talented writers at Mason.
As the publication itself becomes more familiar and anticipated, it seems appropriate that the scripts selected for this year’s edition also involve familiar genres. Most of the following screenplays feature recognizable elements that mark them as belonging to established narrative types or styles. What is noteworthy is how creatively each of the student writers has utilized the conventions of those genres, fulfilling readers’ expectations, confounding them, or both.
Devin Sutphin’s Bad Company is a corporate thriller with a comedic conflict at the center. Aidan Harris-Cross’s The Last Round’s on Me concentrates the tangled plotting of a classic film noir in a successfully compact form. In Rage, Brian Revor imagines an incendiary meetup between Death and a protagonist who will not go quietly. Clown v. Mime is Jackson Kraatz’s physical comedy plot featuring the titular characters in an even zanier interaction than the script’s name suggests.
In Night Shift, Maya Rose sets a vulnerable, kind character against the horrific possibility of encountering an elusive abductor. And the final three scripts of the issue — Aliana Thrasher’s Ouroboros, Cole Rawson’s Tahoe, and Isabella Koontz’s The Last Page — are dramas that deal with potent memories: of a romantic, musical relationship in trouble, of multiple generations of a family on vacation, and of the ongoing effects of war, respectively.
I invite you to read these imaginative scripts to see how much life remains in the genres we all know and to be inspired by the vitality of screenwriting at Mason.
Thomas Britt Professor, Film and Video Studies
FILM AT MASON offers a collaborative and interdisciplinary Bachelor of Arts degree in Film and Video Studies. Students build a strong foundation in screenwriting, film production, business and entrepreneurship, ethics, and film analysis.
Visit film.gmu.edu to learn more!
Student Media Professional Staff:
Kathryn Mangus, Director
David Carroll, Associate Director
Jason Hartsel, Assistant Director
Emily Gomez-Adames, Assistant to the Directors
Tiffany Boggs, Assistant to the Directors
Storyline is a co-curricular partnership with Film and Video Studies. Student Media provided funding and advising support, scholarships for the student editors, and honorariums for those students whose scripts were selected for publication.
Major: Film and Video Studies
Graduation Year: 2026
Screenplay: Bad Company
Logline: After discovering that they both have plans to whistleblow with the same information, two employees of a corrupt tech company argue over who should get the glory.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“Storyline will mark the first time I’ve had my work published in a professional capacity, which I’m very excited about. I believe the magazine is a great way to engage student screenwriters and build the Mason film community. Screenwriting is an oft-overlooked medium, seen as more of a blueprint for something better to come instead of its own, legitimate artform. I love the screenplay medium, so to see it properly appreciated in such a formative way is great to see and important to have.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“This script was written as part of a class assignment for FAVS 352 (Film Ethics). [My group] focused on two central characters with some corporate hacking thrown in. This led me down the route of exploring two deeply selfish and petty whistleblowers, childishly arguing over who’ll get the credit for alerting the press to their employer’s shady practices. I found myself drawn towards exploring the ethical concept of greater good vs personal good within this small story. If you could do something dangerous yet beneficial for a larger population, would the possibility of more direct personal reward become an enticing incentive?”
by Devin Sutphin
OFFICE SPACE, EVIL CORPORATION HQ - NIGHT
SIMON is sat behind a computer in an empty conference room. He looks nervous, downloading incriminating files from his company’s secret servers to a hard drive. A PING sound effect signals the download is complete. He switches tabs anxiously to VIRALLEAKS.COM, deliberating.
The door creaks loudly. BILL, Simon’s coworker, enters, looking friendly. He wa ves. Simon smiles nervously, switching tabs back to the servers.
BILL
Simon!
SIMON (nods)
Bill.
Bill walks through the large room, taking a seat at a computer opposite Simon. Simon sighs, turning back to his computer. He looks puzzled at his screen, seeing a separate anonymous account log into the servers.
A familiar PING sounds out from Bill’s computer. Simon stares over, knowingly.
SIMON
Hey, Bill?
Bil l looks up from his computer.
BILL
Yeah?
Simon squints. He looks annoyed.
SIMON
Whatcha doin’?
Bill looks nervous, trying his best to hide the fear of being caught.
BILL
Workin’.
SIMON
Just workin’, huh?
BILL
Mhm. Yup.
Simon grimaces. He BOLTS from his seat and dashes over to Bill’s computer. Bill, with little time to react, attempts in vain to cover his screen. Simon gasps dramatically.
Bill’s got VIRALLEAKS.COM pulled up as well.
SIMON
You bastard!!
BILL
You can’t tell anyone, Simon! This information’s gotta get out! I mean, the people-
SIMON
That’s mine! I was just doing that! C’mon!
Simon looks one degree away fr om a toddler having a tantrum. Bill seems confused.
BILL
So you’re whistleblowing too?
SIMON
I was whistleblowing first! Why do you even care??
BILL
This company’s been stealing people’s personal information for thirty years-
SIMON
And you get to be the hero that tells the press?!
A beat. Bill smiles.
BILL
Hadn’t thought of it like that ‘til now.
SIMON UGH!!!
Simon paces back and plops back down into his seat, staring Bill down from across the table.
BILL
Do you wanna flip a coin?
SIMON
Why would I wanna flip a coin on this??
BILL
It’s important information! I guess it’s also important who leaks it.
SIMON
Cool. So it should be me.
Simon turns his attention back to his computer, typing away. Bill’s face drops. He scrambles to Simon’s side of the table.
BILL
Whoa whoa whoa, c’mon, let’s not be hasty!
SIMON
I’m not. The people have a right to know, don’t they?
BILL
I just think they shou ld get this information from the right person, y’know?
Simon stops and turns, looking annoyed again.
SIMON
I’m not the right person?
BILL
I mean, I just want the source to be reliable. Y’know, upstanding. It’s what the people would want.
SIMON
You’re more upstanding than me?
BILL
You stole my sandwich out of the fridge last month!
Simon stands, shocked and offended.
SIMON
That was one time, and it wasn’t ev en that good!
BILL
See! You admit to an ignoble act, you wouldn’t be a trustworthy source-
SIMON
Ignoble!? Are you serious!?
BILL
-Ergo, I should be the leaker!
A beat. Simon sits back down in a huff. Bill smugly returns to his seat.
BILL
I’m gonna go ahead and upload the files now.
Simon squints, a smirk forming.
SIMON
Remember that time you slept with your secretary?
Bill SLAMS on his desk and stands angrily.
BILL
I knew it!! I knew she told you!!
SIMON
I’ll be uploading the files now, thank you !
BILL
You little-
Bill throws his hard drive at Simon, which smacks him in the face.
SIMON Ow!
Bill rushes back over to Simon’s side of the table, looking down at him angrily. Simon flaunts both hard drives.
SIMON
The files are mine! I was here first!
Bill snatches the drives.
SIMON Dude!
Bill drops the drives to the ground, stomping them both to pieces in a fit of rage. A beat. Simon looks baffled before lunging angrily at Bill, tackling him to the ground.
Bill and Simon are sat up against the wall on the floor, both out of breath, faces speckled with bruises and cuts.
SIMON
This is so stupid.
BILL
Yeah.
SIMON
People deserve to know that this company’s broken their trust for decades.
BILL
That’s right. I mean we- we just totally lost sight of that!
A beat. They look to each other.
BILL
I’ll flip that coin now.
SIMON
Sounds good. I call heads.
Bill flips his coi n in the air. A loud PING is heard, muffled through the wall from another room. The coin drops unclaimed to the floor, both men turning their attention to the noise.
They scramble back to Simon’s computer, scouring ViralLeaks.com.
BILL
Oh my god, they’re all online now.
SIMON
Someone else must’ve leaked them...
He trails off. They turn to face each other before erupting into loud, petty arguments again.
HARD CUT TO: TITLE CARD & CREDITS THE END
CONT’D is an abbreviation or contraction of “continued,” commonly used in screenwriting to show that a character is still speaking even if dialogue is temporarily interrupted by an action line or page break in the script.
Visit storyline.studentmedia.gmu.edu to read past issues online!
Major: Film and Video Studies (Directing)
Graduation Year: 2026
Screenplay: The Last Round’s on Me
Logline: When private detective Arthur Malloy is hired to find Carmen Chandler’s missing husband, a routine missing persons case quickly spirals into a tale of booze, blood, and betrayal.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“I feel this publication is important because it highlights the unseen efforts of my peers; once a screenplay is produced, it’s more than likely never read again, and this publication provides Mason students the opportunity to see the care and detail that have gone into every page of these wonderful scripts.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“This film is an homage to the moody, monochromatic noirs that have long been dear to me. The script draws heavily from the novels of Raymond Chandler, whose work I pay tribute to through the names of my characters.”
by Aidan Harris-Cross
FADE IN:
Smoke dances in the air of a cramped office as the last traces of sunlight make their way through the venetian blinds. ARTHUR MALLOY, 38, is sitting behind his desk, drink in hand. His tie is loose around his neck, and his forehead is beaded with sweat. Malloy's forehead ruffles as he gazes solemnly out his window.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
It was a night like any other when she called.
Malloy's phone RINGS. His gaze lingers on the handset for a moment before he brings it to his ear.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Malloy speaking.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
Her voice came from out of a dream. Maybe a nightmare.
CARMEN CHANDLER (V.O.)
Hello, Detective.
Malloy leans forward in his chair.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
Her name was Carmen Chandler. Her husband was missing.
Malloy strolls down the sidewalk in a tan suit with a cigarette hanging from his lip. His shoes are as shiny as a black diamond.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
Thomas Chandler's car was found off the side of a bridge less than a mile from his home. There was no trace of Thomas, which meant it was time to get my hands dirty. I went to see Carmen the following morning.
Malloy makes his way onto the porch of the home and knocks on the door.
CLOSE UP on a framed photo of CARMEN CHANDLER, 38, and THOMAS CHANDLER, 27, resting on a mantel. Both are smiling on the porch of their home. Carmen picks up the frame.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Here you are, Detective. My husband looks about the same, although he's usually red in the face.
Carmen is draped in a simple red dress, her handsome face is covered in bruises. Cigarette smoke curls through the air from her ruby lips. She walks from the fireplace and hands the frame to Malloy, who's seated on the sofa. Malloy inspects the portrait.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Looks like a happy couple.
Carmen chuckles.
CARMEN CHANDLER
We were, for a time.
Carmen saunters over to her bar cabinet and begins pouring whiskey into two glasses.
CARMEN CHANDLER (cont'd)
How do you take your whiskey, Detective?
ARTHUR MALLOY
This line of work gets messy, Mrs. Chandler. I take things neat when I can.
A sly grin appears on Carmen's face. She sits down beside Arthur and hands him a glass.
CARMEN CHANDLER
I take mine neat, too. It's my life that's on the rocks.
Chandler takes a swig from her glass. Malloy takes a sip.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Tell me about the last time you saw your husband.
She shakes her head and extinguishes her cigarette.
CARMEN CHANDLER
My husband is a drunk, Detective. Always has been. Half of my married life has been spent dragging him home from Jimmy Marriott's bar up the street.
Carmen downs the rest of her whiskey. Malloy studies her. He looks at her hands.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
No ring.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Last Friday night, I came home and found Thomas hitting the bottle. Soon enough, he was hitting me. He wanted to go out drinking, and I tried to stop him. I guess it's my own damn fault.
Carmen gets up and pours herself another drink. She looks back at Malloy. His glass is only half empty.
CARMEN CHANDLER (cont'd) Aren't you thirsty, Detective?
ARTHUR MALLOY
A story like that can put a man off booze.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Oh, hell. It's a cold world detective, warm yourself up a little.
Carmen sits down beside Malloy again and sips her drink. Malloy takes a swig.
CARMEN CHANDLER (cont'd)
After Thomas was done with me, he took the car. It's no surprise he crashed it, considering the state he was in. After he left, I went to Jimmy's to lick my wounds. We're not so dissimilar, me and my husband. A little whiskey makes everything go down easier.
She downs the rest of her drink.
ARTHUR MALLOY
There's been no sign of your husband since, correct?
CARMEN CHANDLER
Not to my knowledge. It wouldn't surprise me if he skipped town, the bastard.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Do you think he'd be able to skip town that sauced?
CARMEN CHANDLER
Please. If Thomas could stagger home after every barroom scrap, he could damn well clear out after a little crash.
Malloy raises his eyebrows as he finishes his drink. He stands up and tucks in his shirt.
ARTHUR MALLOY
I see. Well Mrs. Chandler, I'll do everything I can.
Carmen stands up slowly and brushes Malloy's collar.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Thank you, Detective. I know you will.
Malloy nods and turns to leave.
CARMEN CHANDLER (cont'd)
Oh, and Detective?
Malloy turns back around.
CARMEN CHANDLER (cont'd)
If my husband is alive and well, make sure to let him know that'll change once I get my hands on him.
She winks at Arthur and grins. A sly grin creeps across his face.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Sure, Carmen.
Carmen laughs and pinches his cheek, then struts across the room and pours herself another drink.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Now run along, Detective.
Malloy pauses for a moment, nods, and heads for the door.
EXT. JIMMY'S BAR - AFTERNOON
Malloy shuffles down the sidewalk outside of Jimmy's.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
After talking to Carmen, I knew where to start: the place Thomas went to drown his sorrows.
Arthur opens the bar door. As he does, a DRUNK comes stumbling out and tips his hat at the detective. Malloy steps inside.
INT. JIMMY'S BAR - AFTERNOON
Malloy walks across the smoke-filled, dimly-lit room. He takes a seat at the bar, which catches the attention of JIMMY MARRIOTT, 58, who walks over to him.
JIMMY MARRIOTT
Hey Chief, what can I do for you?
ARTHUR MALLOY
You can answer some questions. Are you Jimmy Marriott?
JIMMY MARRIOTT
Last I checked. What are you, a cop?
ARTHUR MALLOY
No, but you're not far off. I'm a private detective. What does the name Thomas Chandler mean to you?
Marriott sighs and runs his hands through his thinning hair.
JIMMY MARRIOTT
Ah, Tommy Boy. You heard from him?
ARTHUR MALLOY
I'd ask you the same.
JIMMY MARRIOTT
Afraid not. Haven't heard a thing from Tommy since Carmen dragged him home last Thursday night. Friday, Carmen came by all beat up.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Did that come as a surprise?
JIMMY MARRIOTT
I'll say, especially when she said Tommy was the guy who did it.
Malloy's ears perk up.
Why's that?
ARTHUR MALLOY
JIMMY MARRIOTT
To tell you the truth, Tommy was afraid of her. Besides, I never took him for the violent type, let alone the type to skip town. Need a drink, Detective?
Malloy takes out a flask from his interior jacket pocket.
ARTHUR MALLOY
I brought some from home. Now, you're telling me he wasn't a violent drunk?
JIMMY MARRIOTT
Christ, not that I ever saw, anyway. If he were, I wouldn't take so kindly to him being a regular.
Malloy's eyes sharpen.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
It seemed that Carmen's story had a couple of cracks.
Arthur shakes his head as he takes a sip from his flask.
ARTHUR MALLOY
If Tommy and Carmen didn't get along, why's it a shock one of 'em would fly the coop?
JIMMY MARRIOTT
Well, for one, misery loves company. Carmen I could see leaving, but not Tommy. His old man has one foot in the grave, and Tommy's the only one keeping the other above ground. When he finally kicks the bucket, that'll be some estate to settle. The old man practically owns half the county.
Malloy tucks a cigarette between his lips and nods slightly.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
I'd found my motive.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Christ. Tell me about last Friday, when Carmen came by.
JIMMY MARRIOTT
She didn’t say much, but the blood spoke for her. I dressed her wounds while she downed whiskey, nervously tapping her ring on the glass until I filled it again. I asked what happened. Eventually, she said Tommy had done it. I asked where he was. Long gone, she said. I dropped her home after locking up. The next day, the cops found his car off Thornton bridge. It's a damn shame, Detective.
Malloy nods to himself.
ARTHUR MALLOY
That it is, Mr. Marriott. That it is.
Malloy strikes a match on his fingernail. He lights his cigarette. He blows out the match, and the smoke curls through the air.
CUT TO:
EXT. THORNTON BRIDGE - EVENING
Malloy shuffles down the rocky banks of the lake beside the bridge, flashlight in hand.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
Thornton Bridge. I was convinced it was a crime scene, not a crash site. Although the cops had already dragged the lake for Tommy's body, I knew there was something they were missing.
His flashlight catches something. He moves closer. Pieces of a taillight. The beam glints off something even shinier. Malloy kneels, inspecting it. A diamond ring.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.) (cont'd)
Carmen's ring. She must've came back to cover her tracks.
ARTHUR MALLOY
"Till death do us part."
He shakes the ring in his hand.
EXT. CHANDLER RESIDENCE - DUSK
Malloy struts to the front door of the unassuming home.
ARTHUR MALLOY (V.O.)
It was time to confirm my suspicions.
Malloy knocks on the door. Carmen answers, drink in hand.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Oh. Hello, Detective.
Malloy steps past her.
INT. CHANDLER RESIDENCE - DUSK
He slowly walks into the dimly lit living room. She follows.
CARMEN CHANDLER
I didn't expect to see you so soon.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Life's full of the unexpected, dollface.
Malloy holds out a cigarette.
ARTHUR MALLOY (cont'd)
Got a light?
She pauses for a beat.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Of course, Detective.
She raises a lighter to his lips. He watches her eyes.
CARMEN CHANDLER (cont'd)
Sit down, I'll get you a drink.
Carmen glares at Arthur as she walks to her bar cabinet. She sets down the glass in her hand and fills it. She pours a shot for Malloy.
ARTHUR MALLOY
I'll stand.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Suit yourself.
She pushes the drink at him. He accepts it. Carmen lays across the sofa. She takes a swig. He sips.
CARMEN CHANDLER (cont'd)
Cut to the chase, Detective. Why are you here?
Malloy smiles. He slowly circles the sofa.
ARTHUR MALLOY
Well Mrs. Chandler, it just so happens I know what happened to your husband.
CARMEN CHANDLER
Is that so?
ARTHUR MALLOY
Yes, I know just what happened. The problem is... you know, too.
She sits up.
CARMEN CHANDLER
What are you implying?
ARTHUR MALLOY
Cut the act sister, I ain't buying.
He flicks ashes onto the floor. Carmen sets down her glass with a start. Her eyes cut like daggers.
ARTHUR MALLOY (cont'd)
I had a word with Jimmy Marriott. His description of Thomas didn't quite match yours.
She violently lights a cigarette.
CARMEN CHANDLER
I'm growing quite tired of this.
ARTHUR MALLOY
So am I. Jimmy also told me your husband was taking care of his old man. I hear he's quite sick. I also hear he's quite wealthy. Do I have that right, Mrs. Chandler?
CARMEN CHANDLER
Who gives a damn.
ARTHUR MALLOY
It seems like you do. With Thomas out of the picture, all that money will be going to you. That's some luck, ain't it?
She slams her smoke into her drink. The air is thick as ice. He paces the floor. Her black eyes follow his every move.
ARTHUR MALLOY (cont'd)
Well, I suppose you'd still get your hands on the cash even if Thomas was still around. That is... unless he was planning to leave you. Maybe Friday night, he finally worked up the nerve to do it.
CARMEN CHANDLER
That's enough, Detective.
ARTHUR MALLOY
It happened here, didn't it? Then you tried to dump the body in the lake. That was a mistake. The crash left you a little worse for wear. You went to Jimmy's for whiskey and an alibi while you cooked up a convincing story. You went back to move the body. Crash victims don't usually have gunshot wounds. Besides, if you can drag him home drunk, you can drag him home dead. Not a bad coverup. The problem is, you forgot something.
Malloy tosses her the diamond ring. She catches it. Her mouth falls open, speechless.
ARTHUR MALLOY (cont'd)
Now the one thing I can't figure... Why'd you go and hire me?
Carmen's face goes blank. She stands up. A snarl appears.
CARMEN CHANDLER
So I'd get a chance to tie up my loose ends.
Carmen pulls a gun. Malloy is quicker. BANG! She's shot. She crumples in a cloud of smoke. Malloy tucks away his gun. He downs the rest of his drink.
ARTHUR MALLOY
You've been awful generous with your whiskey, Carmen. The last round's on me.
FADE OUT
Major: Film and Video Studies
Graduation Year: 2028
Screenplay: Rage
Logline: After surviving an accident, Marcus encounters Death who states he should be dead.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“This publication showcases the talents of many new and young screenwriters and allows their work to be viewed by a wide audience. It provides a milestone that will help further writers to create even more and continue on. The variety in scripts also becomes a source of inspiration for any future or current writers.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“My story came from the combination of two ideas I’ve played around with for a while; the idea of Death personified and of guilt grasping on as a ghost. The idea also sprung from my desire to use my relative’s backyard to create a giant bonfire, which we have done in the past. These ideas combined with the genres of action, fantasy, and mythology created the main idea and story of Rage.”
by Brian Revor
EXT. DESTROYED HOUSE - DUSK 1 1
MARCUS is crumbled on his knees as fire flares where a house once stood in an otherwise barren field. Blood drips from his head and shoulder. His clothes are covered in dust and have some burn marks. A piece of rubble is stuck in his leg.
MARCUS
LEOOOO!
Flames explode. Wood cracks. LEO and MARCUS are running through a blurred landscape. The world crashes around them.
EXT. DESTROYED HOUSE - DUS K
Marcus yells into the rubble, but a reply is not given. He smacks the ground.
MARCUS
LEOOOOO, WHY?
He starts to break down into a mix of crying and yelling.
Leo’s hand reaches out and pushes Marcus. DEATH cloaked in darkness watches. The world collapses.
EXT. DESTROYED HOUSE - DUSK
Death, wearing a long black coat and black hat stands to the right of Marcus, looking down at a notepad. After ma rking something down with their pen, they pause and look up at the fire.
DEATH
How unfortunate. (pauses, and turns toward Marcus) You were supposed to die.
Marcus stops. He turns toward the figure. Shock barely holds his face together as anger seeps from behind.
MARCUS
What did you just say?
Death turns, steps towards Marcus, and crouches down. Their face is tired and uninterested.
DEATH
I am DEATH. I was supposed to collect two souls (Holds two fingers) At this time (Points at watch) In this location. (Points at rubble) But I only collected one. (Holds one finger)
Marcus tries to land a punch on Death and stands up. Death appears on the other side of him, observing carefully, intrigued.
Marcu s, furious, whips his head around toward Death.
MARCUS
Why JUST Leo, not me?
DEATH
Fate is fickle. Some people die too young while others live far past their destined time. My job is simply to collect the souls of those scheduled to die. (Points to Marcus) You will live on. Lucky you.
MARCUS
How is it luck!? Am I not alive BECAUSE of Leo’s sacrifice?
DEATH
Whether or not your brother died for nothing is now up to you.
Marcus tries to land another punch but again Death calmly appears on the opposite side. Death continues to carefully observe Marcus.
DEATH (CONT’D)
As you have probably noticed, I cannot interact with humans. However, a Reaper can and one is already hunting you.
MARCUS
A what!?
But don’t worry, it will be some time before he arrives so you should rest.
Death starts walking away.
(CONT’D)
Honestly it’s amazing you are even standing.
Marcus looks down at himself. His body is bloodied and burned. The debris is still lodged into his leg. He looks back up but Death is gone, only an empty field in front. Marcus collapses.
A void of nothingness. Embers glow in the empty space.
Marcus jolts awake, his eyes opening wide, air leaving his lungs, heart pounding. Slowly breathing in, he calms down and gets out of bed. The bandages that wrap his injured body disappear under a ragged sweater he slips on before leaving the room.
BASEMENT 3 3
A single light reveals a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, with a worn out couch beyond. Marcus walks over to the bag, his face unsure. His eyes stare off into nothingness.
THUMP. A fist strikes the bag.
SPARK. The embers flare.
Marcus breathes in heavily. His face slowly starting to crumble into anger.
THUMP THUMP THUMP. Three quick strikes.
SPARK SPARK FWOOSH.
The embers turn into a small flame.
His breathing becomes harsher. Marcus scrunches his face trying to contain his rage.
THE BRINK
The flame explodes.
Marcus unleashes a flurry of furious blows to the punching bag.
THE BRINK
The flame continues to grow and explode, becoming a raging bonfire.
THUMP. Marcus lands one last punch, leaving his fist on the bag. His breathing is tired. He slowly walks up to the bag, drops his fist, and rests his head on it.
CAIN, THE REAPER, appears behind Marcus. He throws a black knife towards Marcus, but completely misses and hits the wall in front of them, revealing Cain’s presence. Marcus quickly looks at the knife before turning around to face Cain.
MARCUS
The hell was that?
Cain, having failed, pulls out a black short sword instead and rushes Marcus. He wields the blade poorly, clearly a novice. Marcus easily redirects his blade, grabs his wrist, and then punches Cain. Cain disappears then reappears a few feet in front of Marcus, akin to Death’s movements.
CAIN
Damnit!
MARCUS
Who the hell are you? That reaper or whatever Death mentioned?
CAIN
Of course Death told you, I knew they had it out for me.
MARCUS
Can’t believe an incompetent punk like you is supposed to kill me.
CAIN
Oh shut up!
Cain disappears again, this time reappearing behind Marcus. He tries to thrust the sword into Marcus’s back, but he side steps, grabs Cain as he flies past, and throws him onto the ground a few paces away. Marcus walks over and picks Cain up by his shirt. He holds up his fist about to pummel him, but Cain disa ppears once more. Marcus flinches. He doesn’t return.
Marcus breathes in and out slowly, before letting out a yell and punching the bag once more.
The flames flare once more before dying down.
Death stops the bag’s swinging.
DEATH
So I see you survived.
MARCUS
Yeah, and you don’t seem surprised. Maybe send less of a coward.
Death walks around the bag, and looks at Marcus. A slight smile emerg es, before they look away again and relaxing on the couch.
DEATH
That was Cain. He runs from me. His Fear is what has kept him around. He’s beginning to draw out some of my power.
MARCUS
Is that why he can teleport like you?
DEATH
Indeed.
MARCUS (scoffs)
So why do you keep Cain around?
Death drops their smile. An annoyed tint to their eyes.
In order for a human to reap a soul they need a bit of my power. Otherwise they become ghosts and spirits, or in other words, an ever growing pile of problems for me. That’s why I need reapers. However...
Death sinks into the couch a bit, and lets out a sigh.
DEATH (CONT’D)
Reapers like Cain have become problematic. Their obsession is disrupting the nature of the world.
Marcus stares Death down, as the sound of a crackling fire rises.
What does this have to do with me?
Death stands up and leans their head closer to Marcus. Their eyes appraising him.
You’re a weed in their garden. They don’t take well to newcomers. All manner of men will be upon you and you will be purged from this earth...unless...
Death tilts their head up and smiles, showing their teeth.
DEATH (CONT’D) ...you purge them first.
The fire has returned to mere embers.
Marcus looks straight down towards Death.
Marcus looks straight down at a grave. Holding flowers, he solemnly stands in front of it. Dark woods sprawl around him. The last bits of sunlight try to reach through.
Leo’s smile. A golden glow pouring out from it.
Marcus places the flowers down. It’s now dark. He is enveloped by the shadows as he walks into the trees.
EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 5 5
The leaves crunch beneath Marcus’s feet, with each step emitting a soft glow of embers. Marcus stops in a small clearing surrounded by tightly knit trees and foliage, his head tilted towards the forest floor. He breathes in a long, slow, breath, lifting his head up as he inhales, before letting it out.
Marcus turns his head to look back. A piercing eye with blazing intensity looks dead into the s hadows of the trees.
MARCUS
How long are you going to cower in Fear! (pause) CAIN!
His voice echoes.
The embers erupt into a flame.
Marcus bares his teeth as he speaks. A controlled fury contorts his face. Turning his body more, both eyes now penetrate the darkness. The leaves on the forest floor appear to be glowing like embers.
Cain carefully walks out from beyond a tree, the sword already in hand. Face is panicked, sweat starting to form, and eyes darting around as if looking for an escape.
MARCUS (CONT’D)
Look at ME!
Cain freezes, hunched over, and snaps his head towards Marcus. Their eyes lock. Marcus is fully turned towards Cain, standing tall, sturdy, and unwavering. A glow of fire seems to emanate from him. He raises his fist into a boxing position.
MARCUS (CONT’D)
Let’s finish this!
Marcus lunges forward, launching leaves up into air glowing like embers, and punches Cain in the face with his right fist.
He tries to connect a quick left jab, but Cain teleports to other side and tries to strike with his sword. Marcus quickly reacts and blocks with his left arm. The blade sticks into his body. Marcus uses this to continuously hit right jabs on Cain’s face.
Cain vanishes again, leaving the blade stuck in Marcus’s body. Marcus tears the sword from his arm before rushing at Cain once more. Cain tries t o teleport away, however the dense forest keeps him in reach. Marcus puts his foot behind Cain and then grabs his head and shoves him down, tripping him to the ground.
Marcus raises his leg to stomp on Cain, but he teleports backwards against a tree, still on the ground. The leaves that are stomped produce a glow of embers. Marcus turns towards Cain, who is fishing for something in his pocket.
Cai n pulls out a revolver and aims at Marcus, causing him to pause briefly.
BANG.
Marcus collapses onto his back. Blood pouring from his side. FADE TO BLACK.
Darkness. Marcus opens his eyes and a bonfire erupts behind him. His breathing is loud. As he sits up, the world rotates with him. He turns towards the fire.
So he wasted his last bullet, huh. I knew he would rely on it in the end. His cowardice will bring about his end.
Death is sitting on a chair to the left of Marcus, admiring the fire. Marcus turns towards Death.
Where am I?
You are on the Brink. Your inner world between the Mortal and the Dead. Every Reaper has something that drives them. Keeps them going. Like Cain’s Fear. For others... curiosity, pride, or pure luck. This is the same for you.
Death turns and tilts their head towards Marcus. A smile. Marcus stares back, pondering.
DEATH (CONT’D)
What a beautiful Fire.
Death turns back to look at the flames, putting out their hand as if holding it. Marcus turns to observe it. Enthralled by the flames.
DEATH (CONT’D)
That’s what’s driving you. (pause) Rage.
Death drops their smile. Marcus snaps his head back towards Death.
DEATH (CONT’D)
You’re angry about your Fate. Furious about your brother’s sacrifice. Filled with wrath towards the world for trying to cut your life.
Death turns back towards Marcus, leaning towards him. Staring deep into his eyes.
DEATH (CONT’D)
So let that fire of rage fuel you. Reap that coward that is Cain, and GET UP!
Death waves their hands towards Marcus, sending him into the darkness.
EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 7 7
Marcus’s eyes fly open. A quick inhale. The wound on his side cauterized. Cain is sitting with his back turned, muttering to himself. Small beams of white moonlight pierce the trees.
CAIN
Damnit, I just had to waste my last bullet.
Marcus slowly stands back up, his face hidden in darkness. The glow of embers start to return from beneath him. He makes his way towards Cain. The sounds of a crackling flame growing louder and louder with each step.
Marcus stands towering above the unaware Cain. He quickly flips Cain around before trapping him to the ground.
Cain is helpless as Marcus delivers a flurry of blows. Each punch lighting up Marcus’s face like flames. Each strike sounding like a growing fire.
Leo’s glowing smile slowly gets burned up and disintegrated.
After a relentless onslaught, Marcus finally stops. Panting. Tired. He looks up at the night sky and lets loose a yell that reverberates through the woods. It slowly turns into a saddenin g yowl.
Death appears behind Marcus, looking down at him. Their face reveals a small smile.
Major: Film and Video Studies (Directing)
Graduation Year: 2026
Screenplay: Clown v. Mime
Logline: When a nervous college student finds himself hunted by ruthless goons, his boss calls in an unlikely protector: a clown armed with absurd gags and slapstick tricks. But just as the clown gains the upper hand, the villains unleash their deadliest weapon: the sinister mime.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“I have never had anything published before, so it means a lot to have my work recognized and appreciated by others.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“I was mainly motivated by wanting to create something different from the other projects in my class. I wrote this script for my FAVS 475 (Advanced Fiction Directing) class at Mason, and I figured most students would make dramas, which ended up being true. I originally wanted to make an action film, but after watching the most recent Naked Gun, I was inspired to create something completely ridiculous and unapologetically unserious. That inspiration ultimately led to this script.”
by Jackson Kraatz
INT. BATHROOM – DAY
A BIG MAN IN A SUIT sits in the dark, *Phone buzzes*. The light illuminates his face. The caller ID flashes: “JOSH.” He answers it and puts it on speaker.
JOSH (V.O.)
Boss! … They found out what I did. The Boss barely reacts.
JOSH (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I think they’ve got people following me! I’m at the park please, send help!
The Boss hangs up calmly and claps; the light turns on, revealing he has been sitting on the toilet the entire time. He looks at a HENCHMAN holding toilet paper.
BOSS
Call the clown.
INT. CLOWN'S ROOM - DAY
The silhouette of the CLOWN raising his phone to his head. He listens for a moment and slowly puts the phone down.
CLOWN
Tell him to stay put.
MONTAGE – THE CLOWN GETS READY
The Clown smears white makeup over his face.
On the table: green hairspray.
He grabs the hairspray.
He sprays his hair… accidentally sprays his eyes.
CLOWN
AHHHH!
He rinses his eyes in the sink.
He puts on a clown costume. One arm and leg at a time.
He walks in front of his bed. On the bed: honkers, umbrella, trick flower, banana, and balloons.
He selects the red nose, pops it on, and exits.
EXT. SIDEWALK – NIGHT
Josh sweats on a park bench, nervously scanning the street.
NIGHT
Across the way, TWO GOONS, ROUGH (scruffy, intense), squatting next to a tree holding binoculars and TUMBLE leaning against a different tree, watching Josh.
TUMBLE (CONT'D)
Hey Rough... you ever feel guilty about doing this?
ROUGH
Never Tumble. Money is money.
Josh looks from left to right very nervously, like he thinks people are watching him.
TUMBLE
Yeah, but money isn’t everything.
Rough finally turns his head slightly, still watching Josh.
ROUGH
Money is everything.
He lowers the binoculars, revealing he's wearing sunglasses.
ROUGH (CONT'D)
My family was only happy when we were absurdly rich. My mom used to tell stories about how everyone loved and respected them, while my twelve siblings, four dogs, cat, my parents, and my mother’s exboyfriend’s best friend's barber, Uncle Jimmy, all crammed into a one-room apartment.
He adjusts his sunglasses, very seriously.
TUMBLE
Damn. That sucks, man.
ROUGH
Yeah… five generations of wealth gone.
TUMBLE
What happened?
He stops leaning on the tree and stands up straight.
Rough pauses, embarrassed.
ROUGH NFTs.
Tumble nods, seriously, and goes to lean back on the tree, but misses the tree entirely and falls *making a loud sound*.
His fall was too loud. Josh freezes then bolts.
Rough picks Tumble off the ground and pushes him in the direction Josh is running.
ROUGH (CONT'D) Chase him.
Rough walks a different direction.
EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT
Josh bolts into a corner. When he turns, ROUGH is waiting with his arms crossed. He stands menacingly, and Tumble rounds the corner behind Josh. Josh backs up into the grass as Rough and Tumble walk closer together. Rough and Tumble have Josh at the end of his rope until a loud HONK echoes.
The CLOWN, sprinting full force, sucker punches Rough, knocking off his sunglasses. With that momentum, the Clown grabs Tumble and slams him to the ground.
CLOWN RUN!
Rough tackles the Clown to the ground and gets on top of Clown, choking him.
Josh, watching the Clown struggle under Rough, starts to run.
ROUGH TUMBLE! GET HIM!
Tumble gets up and chases after Josh.
The Clown struggles to knock Rough's hands loose to get out from under him. After everything else fails, the Clown pulls out two honkers and puts them up to both of Rough's ears and squeezes.
HONK! HONK!
AHHHHH!
ROUGH (CONT'D)
Rough loosens his grip. The Clown flips him and squirts acid from his trick flower into Rough’s chest and eyes.
ROUGH (CONT'D)
Clown runs to catch up to Tumble and Josh.
Rough, writhing in pain, pulls out his phone.
ROUGH (CONT'D)
Sir... we need backup... call the Mime.
EXT. SIDEWALK - CONTINUOUS
Meanwhile, Tumble chases Josh down the sidewalk like a game of tag. Josh jukes every grab.
The Clown watching Tumble chase after Josh. The Clown begins peeling a banana. He eats it quickly, then tosses the peel perfectly in Tumble’s path.
Tumble slips on the peel and gets YEETED into a pole. The banana peel also goes flying in the air.
Once Josh realizes the Clown has knocked out Tumble, he begins to sprint towards the Clown, but the banana peel falls directly in front of Josh. He slips on the banana peel. He’s launched hundreds of feet into the air.
The Clown blows up a tiny balloon. Tumble starts to get up. The balloon, which is now a fully inflated air mattress.
The Clown positions it carefully, but instead, Josh lands directly on Tumble, knocking him out cold.
The Clown looks at the mattress, then at the unconscious Tumble. He is confused.
He helps Josh up.
Get out of here. I’ll deal with these clowns.
He winks at the camera.
Josh starts to leave when car headlights flare. A MIME steps out, silently miming the action of closing a car door. He lifts an invisible tommy gun.
RATATATATAT! Invisible bullets shred the alley walls.
The Clown leaps in front of Josh, snapping open his umbrella to block the invisible barrage.
The Mime and Clown lock eyes.
The Mime clicks an empty gun. Out of bullets. He pats his pockets nothing. Tosses the gun aside.
He gestures for the Clown to come closer, then slips into an old-timey boxer stance.
The Clown charges. The Mime squats, heaves something invisible off the ground, and hurls it upward.
The Clown SMACKS into an invisible wall, his red nose squeaks. Everything goes black.
The Clown wakes to find the Mime looming over him.
The Mime circles, pressing his palms against unseen barriers, revealing the Clown is trapped inside an invisible box.
Mime turns toward Josh, head tilted, grin wide and sinister.
Josh bolts
Only to be snared by an invisible lasso around his feet. He crashes to the ground.
JOSH HELLLP! AHHHH!
The Mime slowly drags Josh closer.
The Clown squirts acid from his flower, burning a hole in the invisible wall. He scrambles free and blows up a balloon, twisting it into a sword.
Josh is pulled to the Mime’s feet. The Mime unsheathes an invisible blade just in time to block the Clown’s balloon sword.
A surreal duel begins: balloon vs. nothing, each clash punctuated by squeaks and swishes.
It’s even until the Mime stabs with an invisible tack, POP! The balloon sword bursts.
The Mime swings his sword at The Clown. The Clown evades the first swing and ducks under the second swing. He then dives behind the BOOM OPERATOR.
The Mime, frustrated, swings at the boom operator. Blood sprays. The boom operator collapses, microphone CRASHING.
The Clown seizes the moment, snapping the Mime’s sword arm. The Mime tries to punch the Clown with the other arm but the Clown snaps that one too.
The Mime silently screams, but the Clown ties his broken arms together like balloon animals.
With a flourish, the Clown yanks down the Mime’s pants.
Then he throws rapid-fire punches towards the Mime's balls. He pummels the Mime’s balls like a speedbag.
The Mime howls in agony.
The Clown keeps hammering the Mime’s balls like a speedbag.
The Clown stands up and waits a few seconds for the Mime to recover, but then he points at the Mime’s shirt.
Hey... you got something on your shirt.
The Mime looks down and the Clown then uppercuts the Mime into the stratosphere.
Josh runs up, staring.
JOSH
Holy shit. WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?
He turns. The Clown’s gone. A MANHOLE cover CLANGS shut.
CLOWN (V.O.)
Hahahahah…
Josh, exhausted, throws his hands up.
JOSH
I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED!
The screen starts to fade to black.
JOSH (CONT'D) (panicking)
CAN'T MORE PEOPLE COME? WHY IS EVERYTHING BECOMING DARK?
The room is dimly lit by the glow of a phone charger and the distant hum of a streetlight outside.
Josh suddenly jolts awake, breathing hard. He blinks, disoriented, sweat running down his face.
A knock at the door.
BROTHER (O.S.)
Hey, you okay? You were talking in your sleep.
Josh rubs his eyes, catching his breath. His OLDER BROTHER (played by the same actor as the Clown) opens the door slightly, framed in the hall’s warm light.
JOSH
Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. (beat)
Just a really silly dream. Actually, might make a good movie.
He grabs his phone from the nightstand, unlocks it, and opens his Notes app. He types: "Clown vs. Mime."
A sudden PING! echoes in the quiet room. INCOMING FACETIME CALL UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Josh hesitates, confused. He glances at his brother, then answers.
On the phone screen a live view of him and his brother, from the exact angle of the bedroom doorway.
Josh’s breathing stops. He slowly turns toward the door.
Standing there, half-shadowed by the hall light, is THE MIME. He’s holding an invisible phone and silently waves.
JOSH (CONT'D) (screaming) NOOOO!!!
His brother spins around, sees the Mime for the first time.
(startled) Who the hell is that?!
The Mime tilts his head, smiles faintly… and mimes flipping a switch.
CLICK LIGHTS OUT. Darkness.
ON SCREEN TEXT: THE MIME WILL RETURN FADE OUT.
Major: English
Graduation Year: 2027
Screenplay: Night Shift
Logline: On a cold midnight commute, a bartender’s act of kindness toward a stranded stranger pulls her into a nightmare tied to the city’s recent string of disappearances.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“Danger does not always look threatening at first glance. Night Shift taps into the fears many women experience while navigating everyday spaces alone at night, especially in situations where they are expected to remain polite, trusting, and accommodating. The story plays with audience expectations, emphasizing how manipulation can hide behind kindness and charm. By focusing on realistic dialogue and familiar interactions, the script aims to create tension that feels personal rather than distant. The ending leaves audiences with discomfort and uncertainty, reinforcing the psychological horror of realizing trust can be weaponized.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“The inspiration behind Night Shift comes from psychological thrillers and crime stories that build suspense through human interaction rather than excessive violence. Stories where the audience slowly realizes something is wrong have always been compelling to me and I was especially interested in exploring how easily charisma can lower someone’s guard. Small interactions that normally seem harmless can suddenly feel threatening depending on the circumstances. I wanted to capture that uneasy atmosphere where kindness and danger blur together.”
by Maya Rose
MR. SHAW (50’s) stands behind the bar. JACQUELINE (20s) wipes down the counter.
MR. SHAW
Jacqueline, you can go home. It’s getting late, and I know you don’t have a car. I wouldn’t want you to get stuck here.
Are you sure? There are still tables that don’t have their drinks.
MR. SHAW
I know I hired you to make drinks, but believe me, I know a thing or two about bartending.
JACQUELINE
I don’t mind staying, though.
MR. SHAW
Well, I do.
Mr. Shaw gently nudges her out from behind the bar.
MR. SHAW (CONT’D)
I can’t have a woman out here this late. Especially with that creep that’s been kidnapping women lately.
JACQUELINE
I can take care of myself. I even have a taser.
MR. SHAW
Those little Amazon tasers? Half the time they don’t even work right.
JACQUELINE
Why on earth would you know that?
MR. SHAW
Moving on. You don’t have a car, and you refuse to let me give you a ride.
JACQUELINE
You know I only refuse because I live so far.
MR. SHAW
Exactly. So you need to go and get on a bus before it gets really late.
Mr. Shaw hands over her jacket and bag.
JACQUELINE
Alright, alright, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.
Jacqueline puts on her jacket and heads toward the back door.
MR. SHAW
See ya, kid.
Mr. Shaw waves as she exits.
EXT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT
Jacqueline steps outside. The cold ai r hits her immediately.
JACQUELINE (V.O.)
Man, I really wish I brought a bigger jacket.
She walks toward a nearby bus stop and sits. She checks her phone. A RANDOM MAN (30’s) approaches.
RANDOM MAN
Excuse me.
Jacqueline is startled and looks up.
JACQUELINE Yes?
RANDOM MAN
Sorry, I don’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to know when the next bus was coming. My phone is dead, and no one was here, so I’ve ju st been waiting.
JACQUELINE
It’s okay. It looks like the next bus should be here in seven minutes.
RANDOM MAN
Oh, that’s fantastic.
JACQUELINE
How long have you been waiting out here?
RANDOM MAN
Ten to fifteen minutes. I’ve just been walking around to keep warm.
JACQUELINE
That’s awful.
RANDOM MAN
It hasn’t been too bad. This jacket is pretty warm. Do you mind if I sit? I’ve been walking around a lot. He gestures to the seat next to her.
JACQUELINE
Oh, sure.
The man sits. Jacqueline subtly scoots over, creati ng distance.
RANDOM MAN
Sorry.
JACQUELINE
No, it’s alright.
RANDOM MAN
I’m Evan, by the way.
He extends his hand.
JACQUELINE
I’m Jacqueline.
She shakes his hand with a tight smile.
EVAN
Do you have a charger by any chance? I really need it to get where I’m going.
JACQUELINE
I think I might have one.
She searches her bag and pulls out a portable charger.
JACQUELINE (CONT’D)
Here. Hopefully it’s not dead.
EVAN
Thank you.
He plugs in his phone.
JACQUELINE
So, where are you heading? If you don’t mind me asking.
EVAN
I’m going to Upland Gardens.
JACQUELINE
That’s so far. Are you sure the bus will take you there?
EVAN
That’s why I need my phone. I wanted to see how far the bus would take me.
JACQUELINE
Well, I can already tell you it's not going that far. I live on Coleridge. I ’m usually the last stop, and Coleridge and Upland Gardens are at least twenty minutes from each other.
EVAN
Damn. Well, that’s good to know. Do you know any hotels near Upland?
The bus pulls up, cutting him off. They both stand.
INT. BUS – NIGHT
The doors open. HOLT (60’s), the bus driver, leans back in his seat with a grin.
HOLT
Jacky, another late night?
JACQUELINE
You know it. Mr. Shaw needs me.
She scan s her pass.
HOLT
I guess you’re right. (looking toward Evan) And who’s this? A friend of yours?
JACQUELINE
No. He’s just someone I just met.
EVAN
Yeah, we just met. I’m Evan.
HOLT
Nice to meet you. Do you have a bus pass?
EVAN
Yeah, I do.
He tries turning on his phone, but the screen stays black.
EVAN (CONT’D)
Sorry, my phone won’t turn on.
JACQUELINE
I got him.
She scans her pass again.
EVAN
Thank you.
JACQUELINE
Don’t worry about it.
The y move farther into the bus and sit in the same row, separated by one empty seat.
EVAN
Thanks again. How can I repay you?
JACQUELINE
It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.
EVAN
So, how long have you known the driver?
JACQUELINE
About three years. He’s a good man… just a little overprotective.
EVAN
It’s good to have someone watching over you at night. Making sure you get home safe.
Jacqueline looks out the window. Streetlights streak across the glass.
JACQUELINE
Yeah… you never really know someone. A beat.
EVAN
Sorry. I hope that didn’t sound weird.
JACQUELINE
No, it’s fine. I’m just not used to talking to people… especially on the bus.
EVAN
Don’t you work at a restaurant? Don’t you have to talk to peo ple all the time?
JACQUELINE
How do you know I work at a restaurant?
EVAN
Your shirt says Domaine de La Roche. That’s the winery and restaurant, right?
Jacqueline glances down at her shirt and realizes.
JACQUELINE
Oh… right. She lets out a quiet laugh.
JACQUELINE (CONT’D)
Yeah. I guess you do need people skills, but I don’t really consider myself a people person.
EVAN
You seem like one to me. With the charger… and the bu s pass.
JACQUELINE
Being kind doesn’t mean I’m a people person. I was just raised with basic decency.
EVAN
I guess you’ve got a point.
He smiles slightly.
EVAN (CONT’D)
But you are a kind person, though. Thanks again for everything you did tonight.
JACQUELINE
Don’t worry about it, really. It’s not a big deal. Anyone would in my position.
EVAN
Maybe. But it was still nice. He studies her for a moment.
EVAN (CONT’D)
Why are you nice to st rangers? Didn’t your parents warn you about strangers growing up?
JACQUELINE
They did, but you don’t seem like a creep.
She squints at him playfully.
JACQUELINE (CONT’D)
You're not a creep, right?
Evan raises his hands in surrender.
EVAN
No, no. I promise. Not a creep. Just a guy that’s bad with charging his phone.
JACQUELINE
Good. I got a taser, so don’t even think about doing anything.
A smirk slowly forms on her lips .
EVAN
Good to know.
He laughs.
JACQUELINE
So, why are you going to Upland Gardens?
Evan’s smile fades slightly.
EVAN
I’m visiting my grandmother. She’s in the hospital.
He glances down at his dead phone.
EVAN (CONT’D)
I gotta see her before anything happens. That’s kinda why my phone’s dead. As soon as I heard, I left work and looked for the nearest bus stop.
Jacqueline softens.
JACQUELINE
I’m so sorry. I hope she’s alright.
Evan nods slo wly.
EVAN
She has to be. She's a fighter.
A small smile returns.
EVAN (CONT’D)
I mean, why else has she lived for 87 years? No one would want to live that long.
Jacqueline laughs quietly.
JACQUELINE
I guess you have a point there.
INT. BUS – LATER
HOLT
Jacky, we are here.
JACQUELINE
Oh. Thanks, Holt.
She turns toward Evan.
JACQUELINE (CONT’D)
It was really nice meeting you.
Evan stands, stepping aside so she can get out.
EVAN
I know this is gonna sound a little forward, but would you want to go out sometime?
JACQUELINE
Uh… I don’t know.
EVAN
It doesn’t have to be a date. I just would like to repay you for your kindness tonight.
JACQUELINE
Sure. Why not?
She pulls out her phone.
JACQUELINE (CONT’D)
I’ll text you so you know it’s me.
Evan takes the phone carefully and types in his number.
Jacqueline watches him for a second before realizing she’s smiling.
He hands the phone back.
EVAN
Okay. I’ll see you, Jacqueline. Goodnight.
JACQUELINE
Goodnight.
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
Jacqueline exits the bus and waves goodbye to Holt. The bus pulls away as she walks toward her house. She looks back one more time.Through the window, Evan smiles and waves. She smiles back before continuing home.
Jacqueline enters her house, quickly shutting the door behind her but "doesn’t lock it." She leans against the door, smiling. She has never felt this feeling before. She’s surprised by how much she enjoyed tonight because of him…
A noise somewhere inside the house pulls her from her thoughts.
Her smile fades.
Jacqueline grabs her phone and switches on the flashlight, ai ming it toward the darkness ahead. She slowly walks toward the sound.
Before she can react, someone rushes up behind her and presses a cloth tightly over her mouth and nose.
Jacqueline thrashes violently, struggling against them. She kicks backward wildly, swinging at anything she can. Her phone smashes against the attacker’s head. They loosen their grip. Jacqueline scrambles across the floor.
LINE Help! Somebody help me!
The intruder grabs her legs and drags her backward.
Jacqueline claws desperately for anything she can use as a weapon, but the attacker pulls her closer and closer. The intruder climbs on top of her and wraps both hands around her throat. Jacqueline gasps for air. Her vision begins to blur.
Suddenly—
The front door BURSTS OPEN.
Another figure rushes inside and strikes the in truder hard across the head. The attacker collapses to the floor. Jacqueline coughs violently, trying to breathe.
The person reaches for the light switch.
CLICK.
The room floods with light.
It’s Evan.
EVAN
Are you OK?
He approaches slowly, holding out his hand. Jacqueline stares at him, shaking.
JACQUELINE
I’m alright. I don’t know who that was. I just walked in and heard a noise… and then they grabbed me.
Evan takes her hand and pulls her into a hug.
EVAN
Hey, it’s OK. You’re alright.
JACQUELINE
What are you even doing here?
EVAN
I came to give you back your charger and I heard you scream.
A groan comes from the intruder. Evan immediately punches him again, forcing him back down. Jacqueline stares in horror.
JACQUELINE
Mr. Shaw!?
EVAN
Is that your boss?
JACQUELINE
Yes… I… I just don’t understand why…
Evan pulls her into another hug.
JACQUELINE (CONT’D)
Is he the man kidnapping women on the news lately?
EVAN
I don’t think he is. That didn’t feel planned. That guy on the news seems organized.
Jacqueline slowly pulls back.
JACQUELINE
Why don ’t you think so?
Evan tightens his grip on her.
EVAN
Because… Jacqueline…
beat.
EVAN (CONT'D) (CONT’D)
That’s what I’m here for.
Before she can react, he injects something into her neck. Jacqueline collapses.
FADE OUT.
END
Major: Film and Video Studies
Graduation Year: 2028
Screenplay: Ouroboros
Logline: A burnt-out metal guitarist traverses a surreal loop of memories from the past as he struggles to break the cycle of guilt caused by a relationship destroyed through addiction.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“Storytelling has always been a huge part of my life. Expressing my inner world externally is an itch I can never fully satisfy. However, when it comes to actually sharing my writing, I have often shied away from opportunities or fallen short of them. Storyline will be my first publication, and that is incredibly important to me because it inspires me to continue developing my voice. It reminds me that my stories are worth sharing, and that means everything to the vitality of this passion of mine.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“Music was central to inspiring this screenplay, as it continues to inspire all of my creative work. It is something I cannot live without and remains at the center of my life, including, I have noticed, at the center of my most impactful memories—even the ones we’d rather push away, about people we’d sometimes rather forget. A song, or even a single instrument, can instantly bring those images and feelings back to life. That feeling, and the act of healing from it rather than holding onto it, was what I wanted to portray here. Through that, I hope to give people a glimpse into their own shadows, offering even a small sense of absolution from the unnecessary guilt we so often carry for far too long.”
by Aliana Thrasher
OVER BLACK:
JAMIE (V.O.)
Francis. Her name was Francis. She was a few years my senior, wise beyond her years. Long curly hair that moved like the ocean with the right amount of wind. (beat)
I try to remember her from back then, but remembering feels like...
FADE IN:
JAMIE (20s) opens his eyes. For a moment, the world around him is void, as if the memory were waking up with him. Then suddenly, music and madness.
JAMIE (V.O.)
Like reliving a certain death.
BANDMATE #1
Bottoms up!
A swirl of sweat, beer, and cheap red light colors the atmosphere, revealing a jam-packed bar, including Jamie's THREE BANDMATES surrounding him. They throw their shot glasses back and jostle. He puts out a cigarette.
BANDMATE #2
Happy twenty-four, you bastard! Now, get up there!
Jamie gets pushed into the crowd, a cocky grin on his face as he makes his way to a corner stage packed with music equipment. His hand meets a microphone.
JAMIE
This one's a little sumn' I call, "Today's My Birthday and You're All Gonna Shut Up and Listen to This Guitar Solo."
The crowd reacts with cheers and smiles.
JAMIE (CONT'D)
Now, where is that thing?
He scans the stage.
JAMIE'S POV
Jumbled instrument cables, a pedalboard, a drum set, and a guitar stand. No guitar.
BACK TO SCENE
Jamie blinks a few times. His brow falls as an offbeat, delayed realization creeps up on him.
JAMIE (CONT'D)
No. No, no, no...
Suddenly sobered, the sting of UV light becomes harsh, the hum of it loud, and the crowd quieter. Then, above all the noise, a velvety voice:
FRANCIS (V.O.)
What did you wish for?
A beat. Deafening silence. Looking up and out at the crowd, everything is now frozen in time, barely visible through the blinding stage light. Jamie shields his eyes, searching for the voice.
JAMIE (breathless) Francis?
FRANCIS (V.O.)
Did you hear me? I said--
INT. ART MUSEUM - DAY
The scene is interrupted by a stark white gallery wall. Hanging against it is a painting of a large snake biting its own tail. Twenty-year-old Jamie and FRANCIS stand admiring it.
FRANCIS
What did you wish for? For your birthday.
JAMIE
I don't really care much for birthdays. They're sorta just, like, any ol' day for me.
FRANCIS
Sheesh, no wonder you're metal. She looks over at Jamie.
FRANCIS (CONT'D)
You plan on spending the rest of your twenties like that?
Jamie looks back. He only stares for a long, intimate beat. Behind them, the painting begins to move in a dreamlike illusion, the snake slowly slithering in on itself, never getting smaller.
JAMIE
I planned on spending the rest of them with you.
FRANCIS
What are you saying?
JAMIE
I never thought I'd get to see you again. Not like this.
FRANCIS
You can't do this here, Jamie. None of this is real, you know.
JAMIE
I know, I just- I didn't think I could come back.
FRANCIS
You never really left.
Jamie breathes through his nose, his body softening. He reaches out slowly to grasp her hand, but just as he's about to make contact - BANG. An echoed pound from the other side of the gallery doors. Jamie whips his head toward the sound. He looks back. Francis is gone.
BANG. BANG.
Somewhere in the void, Francis and Jamie's voices echo in repetition of a past memory.
FRANCIS (V.O.)
I love you, Jamie. I just wish you'd get better...
Jamie looks down. A small plastic baggie has appeared in his hand. He raises it to his eye, perplexed, studying the white powder inside.
Bang. Bang. BANG.
The pounding grows constant and deafening. An unsteady heartbeat layers.
FRANCIS (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I hate seeing you like this. I hate having to fight for you to stop killing yourself!
Jamie winces and grabs at his chest, then his head. A thick trickle of blood runs down his nose. He touches it, gapes at his fingers, completely thrown.
JAMIE (V.O.)
Then don't.
The sound of a snake's hiss and rattle builds to a peak, then BAM! The gallery doors burst open. Two EMTs rush in, wheeling a gurney at full speed. Jamie now lies in it, limp, overdosing.
INT. HOSPITAL HALLWAY - NIGHT
Francis rushes after him, screaming his name, tears streaming down her face.
JAMIE (V.O.)
I thought I'd buried this memory. I thought I buried this.
We're looking from above, Jamie clinging to life, foaming at the mouth, barely conscious. The hospital flickers between sterile and nightmarish.
JAMIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I'm so sorry for what I did to you this day. God, how I wish you could hear me.
INT. TRAUMA BAY - CONTINUOUS
Francis watches helplessly as the doors shut in front of her. Back on Jamie, surrounded by frantic medical staff. They tear open his shirt, revealing a gaping cavity in his chest. Not flesh, but a twisted nest of electric guitar strings, pulsing, sparking, fraying at the edges.
The room begins to shift. Overhead lights morph into blinding stage lights. Surgical tools become mic stands and coiled cables, transforming the trauma bay into a liminal hybrid of emergency room and concert arena.
FRANCIS (V.O.)
Why won't you let me help you?
Francis approaches the gurney, clad in scrubs. The other medical staff fade away. She snaps on a latex glove, eyes locked on Jamie's wound.
JAMIE (V.O.)
Because if you save me, then I'd owe you. And I'd rather end it all than deepen my debt to you.
Francis tries to untangle the knot. One of the strings bites back. She bleeds.
FRANCIS
God, you're such a--
JAMIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you. I know you were only trying to help. Please. Please, take me back. I don't want to remember this.
Jamie squeezes his eyes shut, unable to speak, desperately willing away this memory. The hospital rumbles, lights intensifying, washing everything out.
JAMIE (V.O.) (CONT'D) Take me back!
INT. MUSIC BAR - NIGHT
We're back to Jamie, center stage, choking in front of an audience. Time is back to normal, and the crowd watches, murmuring in confusion.
BANDMATE #2 (projecting) Where is it?
JAMIE
W-What?
BANDMATE #2
Your guitar, Jamie.
JAMIE
My...
Jamie rubs his forehead, distressed. His face contorts with grief, lip trembling. In the quiet, Francis's voice begins to rise, humming a gentle tune.
An achingly soft sunrise colors Jamie’s room. He sits on his bed with an acoustic guitar on his lap. Francis embraces him from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder. He strums, she hums along for a while.
FRANCIS
I got somethin' for ya.
He meets her gaze with a suspicious brow. Francis rolls her eyes and hops off the bed.
FRANCIS (O.S.) (CONT'D)
No, no. Wrong guess. This is better.
JAMIE
Impossible.
She calls from another room.
FRANCIS (O.S.)
I think you'll get what I mean once you see it!
She waddles back into the doorway with a giddy grin, holding something in her arms.
FRANCIS (CONT'D)
Okay, close your eyes.
Jamie shakes his head, smiling, then shuts his eyes.
FRANCIS (CONT'D) No peeking!
JAMIE
Alright, alright. C'mon.
FRANCIS
Hold out your hands... No, no, like this.
JAMIE
What is this? It's heavy.
FRANCIS
Okay, you can look now.
He opens his eyes and looks down. Resting on his lap is an ELECTRIC GUITAR. A carved serpent looped around itself decorates the wooden body, same as the painting from the art gallery - an ouroboros.
FRANCIS (CONT'D)
Happy birthday!
JAMIE (awestruck)
Jesus, Francis. Did you make this?
FRANCIS
Just the body! I spent forever looking for someone to get the inlay right, though. Do you like it?
JAMIE
It's... I don't know what to say.
He grazes the carving, reverent.
JAMIE (CONT'D) What is it?
FRANCIS
It's an ouroboros.
JAMIE
It's eating itself.
She shoots him a playfully unamused look.
FRANCIS
I started painting them a lot more after I met you. (beat)
Never-ending. Beautiful. Trapped. They represent the cyclic nature of life and death. We bring about our own destruction, but even then, through that, we are reborn.
Jamie is entranced by her words.
FRANCIS (CONT'D)
Some people are scared of it, but my dad always used to tell me that
FRANCIS (CONT'D)
--healing is never linear. It circles back through the wound until we finally stop flinching.
JAMIE
Healing is never linear. It circles back through the wound until we finally stop flinching.
JAMIE (CONT'D)
I remember those words. Even now. After everything.
Francis turns to him. She softens.
FRANCIS
You remember everything, don't you?
JAMIE
How could I forget? What we had, what you gave me...
FRANCIS
I know. I never forgot either. (shaking her head) But it's not like that anymore, Jamie.
JAMIE
God, what I wouldn't give for another day. I'd do things differently. I'd do better.
FRANCIS
We tried...
FLASHES OF MEMORY
– Jamie walking alone, the ouroboros guitar on his back.
– Francis asleep, arm draped across a pillow. No Jamie beside her.
– A PAWN SHOP sign flickering in the early morning.
FRANCIS (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Remember?
END MONTAGE
INT. PAWN SHOP – DAY (MEMORY)
A store bell jingles. Jamie enters, carrying his guitar. As he approaches, we witness the toll of his addiction: ragged clothes, overgrown hair, sunken eyes. A cigarette hangs loosely from his mouth. He drops the guitar onto the counter.
JAMIE
S'all I got left.
A PAWN WOMAN across the counter observes the instrument.
PAWN WOMAN
Looks one of a kind. You sure you want to let a beauty like this go?
Jamie takes a drag from his cigarette, suddenly burdened. He scratches his brow.
JAMIE
It means nothing to me. I just need enough to get gone.
PAWN WOMAN
I’ll give you what it’s worth.
INT. JAMIE'S BEDROOM - DAWN
Jamie sits, the guitar gone from his lap. His jaw is tight, tears spilling over.
JAMIE
I tried not to remember. All this time. All this guilt. I sold us for two grand and temporary happiness. I kept telling myself it was just a guitar. Just wood and wire. But it wasn’t. It was you. It was us. You gave me a gift, and I couldn't cherish it.
Francis watches him break. No judgment, just quiet knowing.
JAMIE (CONT'D) And then when you left, I...
INT. JAMIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT (MEMORY)
Darkness shrouds the room. Jamie sits on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped, eyes down. Francis yanks her coat from a chair. She rushes to the doorway, then pauses, looking back.
FRANCIS
You keep walking in circles, Jamie. Same pain. Same wreckage. There’s nothing left to forgive.
She exits.
INT. JAMIE'S BEDROOM - DAWN
FRANCIS
I would never say that now. I hope you know that.
JAMIE
I don't blame you. I can't even forgive myself.
FRANCIS (tender)
But you want to. That's why you're here. Not for me.
Jamie looks up at Francis, desperation in his eyes.
JAMIE
I'm scared that if I get to that point, I'll lose you forever.
FRANCIS
I'm as real in your memory as I am out there in the real world.
JAMIE
It keeps me up at night... thinking about how someone like you, so full of life, doesn't get to keep living while someone like me does.
Francis smiles, bittersweet. She sits beside him.
FRANCIS
You're full of life, Jamie. So full of it. Let me be evidence of that. Not of your pain.
Jamie looks at Francis. They sit in silence. He takes her in one last time. She lets him.
A ticking clock fills a cozy office with quiet rhythm. A THERAPIST sits on a loveseat, pen and notebook resting on her thigh. A nearby nameplate reads: Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing Therapy. She tilts her head, calm.
THERAPIST
So? How do you feel?
Across from her sits a man in his late 40s. A faded ouroboros tattoo marks his left shoulder. He slowly opens his eyes.
It’s Jamie.
Major: Film and Video Studies
Graduation Year: 2027
Screenplay: Tahoe
Logline: On a summer trip to a cabin, a young boy tries to bring together his family after the death of a loved one.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“Storyline is important because it provides a great opportunity for students to share their work with their peers. Screenwriting is an essential part of filmmaking, and through it, I feel like I’ve been able to think more critically about myself and my own perspectives, making me a stronger storyteller and filmmaker. That being said, screenwriting can be incredibly challenging. Emotions and visuals aren’t easy to convey through words. Having a publication to work towards, where we receive feedback and know our work will be read and appreciated, creates helpful pressure that pushes us to make the core of our films as strong as possible.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“I wanted to challenge myself to tell a story about my family, which has always been an important part of my life. The screenplay comes from memories of family vacations and interactions with relatives that have stayed with me over the years and shaped who I am today. I tried to bring many of those moments together into a story that captures both the warmth and the distance that comes with being part of a family. I was inspired by films like Yi Yi, Sentimental Value, and The Tree of Life, which all include themes of family, loss, and childhood. Because of my experience in cinematography, I’m drawn to the visual side of filmmaking. I intend to shoot this film as my final project at Mason.”
by Cole S. Rawson
A family of four drives along a mountain highway in Northern California.
A BOY, 10, blinks awake. Morning breath fogs up the window. Pine trees pass in the reflection. He yawns and frowns.
Through his disheveled hair, he sees his SISTER, 8, is still asleep in the seat next to him.
His MOTHER files her nails in the passenger seat. She looks as her husband, his FATHER, who grips the steering wheel tightly. He takes a deep breath and spots the tired boy watching in the rearview mirror.
The car pulls up a long driveway. At the end, an elderly man limps down the porch of a large CABIN.
The children are greeted by their GRANDFATHER’s arms. Their father watches sullenly, bags slung over his shoulder. He could smell his father’s aftershave from the car.
INT/EXT. CABIN - DAY
The boy and his sister keep a lookout through the cabin window. A car pulls up in the re flection.
The girl runs down the driveway to her AUNT, who is pregnant. The boy saunters behind. His UNCLE ruffles his hair.
Trees. A football soars over a green lawn. The boy, his father, and uncle play catch. The two men hold beers. The mother and aunt converse in lawn chairs nearby.
The uncle snags a ball one handed. He throws it over the boy’s head to the father, but his attentio n is pulled away. The grandfather watches them from behind the barbecue.
The dad breaks from his father’s gaze and returns the pass, but the boy, giggling, tackles him. Beer spills everywhere.
FATHER
Dude!
The mom looks concerned. The grandfather continues grilling.
Food is laid out across the dining room table. Everyone looks around awkwardly, eager to eat. The grandfather takes his seat at the head of the table.
He folds his hands and the rest of the family follows. They recite “Bless Us, O Lord”.
The boy opens the door to the garage holding a recycling bin. His grandfather sits at a table illuminated by an overhead wor k light. He beckons the boy closer.
The old man grabs a beer can from the bin. He positions the tab vertically, squinting as he threads it with some string.
He drops a few marbles into the can, then presents it to his grandson, giving it a nice shake. The boy follows the same steps. The finished beer cans pile up on the table.
The father passes by the door to the garage. He peers through, watching h is son and his father work.
In a circle around a bear-safe dumpster at the end of the driveway, they hang the strand of beer cans on sticks.
The boy watches a baseball game on TV. WHACK! A home run. The boy looks ecstatic. He turns to his grandpa who snores next to him.
He spots his uncle alone on the porch smoking a cigarette, watching as the last bit of orange light leaves the sky.
The boy approaches the slightly cracked sliding door. His uncle hears him. He puts out his cigarette and steps inside.
The young man looks at the child, unsure what to say.
PSST! Across the room, his wife and niece beckon the two boys outside. They’re holding blankets and snacks.
The two kids and their aunt and uncle lay on the lawn and gaze up at the stars. The boy looks unamused.
His aunt tickles him. She points up at a constellation. The children stare up intently. The aunt and uncle lock eyes past them, and smile. The aunt rests a hand on her stomach. INT. KITCHEN - MORNING
The father looks at a picture of a woman on the cabin wall. Next to it is one of the father and grandfather, arm in arm. The boy sneaks past him, grabs a doughnut off the counter, and slips into the other room.
His father rounds the corner. The boy holds the contraband behind his back.
FATHER
Buddy, you’ve gotta take out the trash. Remember you we’re supposed to last night?
He snaps and points. The boy concedes, handing over the doughnut, then turning to sulk away.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Don’t f orget. And make sure the latch clicks like I told you. EXT. WOODS - DAY
The boy mopes through the woods behind the cabin. He steps over rocks and branches, eyes locked on the ground.
Eventually, he spots his prize. A few feet away, the perfect walking stick. He picks it up and poses regally before swinging it around like a lightsaber.
EXT. DRIVEWAY - DAY
The boy practically drags two giant trash b ags down the driveway. His grandfather stands behind him on the porch with his arms crossed, then promptly returns inside.
The beer cans jingle. The boy shoves one of the bags into the small dumpster, but the second one doesn’t quite fit.
He tries to push it down with his stick, but gives up, and slams the lid. It bounces back, leaving the latch unlocked.
The grandfather sits in a leather reclining chair. There is an identical one opposite him. A baseball highlight reel is muted on the TV.
Decades of photographs adorn the walls around him. From baby photos to vacation pictures, a woman appears in almost every one. The GRANDMOTHER.
In a wooden hutch, newspaper clippings, an obituary, a flower begins to wilt in a small vase next to her portrait.
The grandfather faces away from the memories. The boy watches him from the entryway.
The family sits around the dining room table once again, this time by lamp light. Everyone has a cup and a pair of dice. There is a somber air to the room, but they laugh timidly, warming up to each other’s company after their time apart.
The uncle reveals his dice. He won . The grandfather shakes him by the shoulder and chuckles. The father rolls his eyes across the table. The boy looks at his dice, confused.
The beer can alarm rattles outside. Voices hush. The father gets up from the table.
FATHER
Guys. Come check this out.
The boy gets up and cautiously walks to the window. He presses his head against the glass.
Barely visible through the darkness, a black bear rummag es through the dumpster at the bottom of the driveway.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Looks like someone forgot to close the latch.
He looks down at his son.
GRANDFATHER
What the hell. You didn’t tell him to do the latch?
FATHER
I told him. You were the one watching him...
Their voices trail off. The boy stays at the window, staring out at the animal as the argument intensifies.
The father sits on his bed, head hung low. His wife comforts him, wrapping her arms around his head.
The boy wanders through the backyard, kicking rocks and swinging his stick, uninspired. He’s wearing swim trunks.
He hears a rustling in the b ushes next to him and perks up. More rustling...another bear? He approaches vigilantly.
His sister sits on the other side. She is surrounded by beautiful purple flowers. Next to her is a basket with a colorful assortment of hand-picked flora.
The aunt watches the children from the kitchen as the boy helps his sister pick some flowers too high out of her reach. The kids run inside and present their bouquets.
The mother walks through a wooded path. The purple flowers are in her hair. The family marches behind her.
Lake Tahoe glistens in the sunlight. The boy gets buried in the sand. They swim in the pristine blue water.
The kids stand on a lone rock breaking the surface in the middle of the bay. Their father jumps up on it, crowding the rock, someone slides off.
The boy carves something into his stick with a Swiss Army knife. The knife slips he cuts his leg.
It stings, but he pulls the leg of his trunks down slightly to cover the cut. He looks back toward the family tent.
The boy and his uncle scale rocks at the far end of the bay. Squatting down, the uncle traces the tree line, enlightening his captivated nephew. He points at a rocky outcropping protruding high above the lake. People stand atop it.
They reach the top of a particularly large one. The boy looks down. The uncle briefly coaches the uneasy looking boy, then bounds off of the rock into the blue water below.
The boy stands far back, ready to make a running jump. He takes a deep breath— runs, hesitates...and SLIPS.
He tries to grab the edge, SKIDDING toward the rocks below. His uncle swears, and tears his way back towards the shore.
Lake water and blood drip down the boy’s leg. He’s bleeding at the ribs, scratched from the rocks, but alive. He winces as they walk b ack to the tent. Thunder in the distance.
Everyone rushes to the boy. The mother inspects his injuries. She pours water and wipes away the blood with a beach towel. She spots the small cut on his leg.
You always get hurt on the last day.
Ashamed, the uncle sits down on the blanket. The dad gives him a tentative pat, meant to reassure. Rain taps the tent.
The boy shivers under a towel. He spots his uncle and gets up. Standing over him, he gives his hair a playful ruffle.
INT. TRUCK - LATER 22
Piled into cars, the family drives back to the cabin. Inside, it’s sandy. On the outside, rain ripples down the windows. The boy yawns.
The boy lays in his bed facing the wall. His abdomen is bandaged and his eyes blink closed.
His mom lays next to him scratching his back. She so ftly sings “Sunshine on My Shoulders” by John Denver.
INT. PARENTS' BEDROOM - NIGHT
The father sits up in his bed. Next to the bed hangs a photo of him and his father. The mother continues her song.
INT. KID'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
The sister quietly lies awake on the top bunk, listening to the serenade from below. She traces a constellation in the glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars above her.
CABIN - NIGHT
Much farther away, real stars twinkle in the n ight sky.
There’s a sliver of blue on the horizon behind the cabin. A light turns on downstairs.
The boy is sound asleep in the dark.
The door creaks. Footsteps. The children don’t stir.
A strong hand softly shakes the boy awake.
FATHER Hey buddy. Good morning.
The boy turns over, stretching. He squints up at his father.
The boy and his f ather descend the driveway towards the blue glow in the sky.
The boy stops in his tracks. He runs back to grab his walking stick which he left leaning against the house.
Crickets still chirp and birds begin to sing as the sky slowly brightens. Orange light seeps through the trees. The pair hike uphill, past giant rocks.
They catch peekaboo views of the lake in the early morning ligh t. The boy looks out curiously. His father looks down at him. The walking stick digs into the ground.
The father and son slow as they reach the crest of the mountain, out of breath. Their faces glow as the lake below them reflects the beautiful sunrise.
EXT. SUNRISE - DAY
The boy and his father gaze out at an overlook. The boy dangles his stick over the ledge.
BOY
How come we don’t visit grandpa more?
The father thinks about it for a moment.
FATHER
He...he makes it hard sometimes.
BOY
He misses grandma.
FATHER
Everyone does.
The stick taps against the rocks.
BOY
When was the last time you guys came up here?
FATHER
You know, I’ve been so many times, but can’t remember.
BOY
I don’t think I’ll ever forget this.
The father smiles. A beat.
FATHER (laughing)
Don’t think you’re gonna forget to take out the trash again either.
He nudges the boy with his shoulder, and he drops his walking stick. They watch as it casca des down the cliff.
BOY
Oh well.
They sit in silence for a moment. The boy straightens up.
He climbs the giant boulder next to them. His father stays still. He looks out, tears welling in his eyes. The lake sparkles in the distance.
BEGIN MONTAGE:
- The boy stands atop the rock, his arms out titanic style.
- The boy makes a diving catch on the lawn.
- The children put flowers in their family’s hair.
- The boy presses his ear against his aunt’s pregnant belly.
- The parents dance together.
- T he family is silhouetted against a sunset.
- At dinner, the family joins hands and sings “The Lord is Good To Me”.
- During liars dice, the family laughs.
- The boy and his sister get up. They dance crazily.
- The aunt and uncle laugh. The uncle looks at the aunt’s stomach and tenderly strokes her hand. They smile into each other’s eyes.
- Focused, the boy widdles away at his walking stick.
- The boy and his father pee on the side of the hiking trail.
- The boy blows wood chips off of his walking stick on which he crudely carved water and mountains. There’s a word at the end of it: TAHOE.
MUSIC CUE: "Sunshine on My Shoulders" by John Denver.
The boy carries a trash bag down the driveway once again. He makes sure to take extra care in securing the latch. EXT. DRIVEW AY - CONTINUOUS
The father meticulously packs up the car. He eyes the grandfather up the driveway. Everyone’s there to see the family off.
The boy pulls away from the aunt’s arms. His uncle is there. He kneels down and gives him a hug.
The father stops packing and strides over to the grandfather, who freezes. A look of concern on his face. The father hugs his dad.
The grandfather returns the embrace. They hold on tight. Years of pain dissipates in an instant.
The father guides the boy away with a gentle hand. The boy looks back. The grandfather gives a small wave of approval.
The family cruises along a highway. They’re quiet.
The father looks at the boy in the rearview mirror; his boy looks back at him.
Laying his head against the window, the boy catches a final glimpse of the glistening blue lake through the trees.
He closes his eyes and smiles.
FADE TO BLACK.
END
Major: Film and Video Studies (Directing)
Graduation Year: 2026
Screenplay: The Last Page
Logline: After discovering an unsent apology in her late grandfather’s World War II journal, Annabelle grapples with her grief as she delivers the goodbye he never could.
Why do you feel this publication is important?
“Storyline is an important publication because it gives students a chance to share their scripts with their peers and college. Moreover, the ability to put ‘Published Screenwriter’ on your resume at our age is an incredible accomplishment.”
What are the inspirations/motivations behind your screenplay?
“I have always wanted to make war films that explore human connection and the complexities during uncertain times. My great-grandfather served during World War II and participated in the D-Day +1 Normandy invasion. The character Bill Autry is named in his honor and Eddie Worsham is named after two of my other great-grandfathers, Carroll Worsham and Eddie Remstedt. The Last Page is about the quiet griefs we carry, the stories we never get to hear, and the words we leave unsaid. It’s also an exploration of how love can extend after death and the peace we can find before and after endings. The bonds between grandchildren and grandparents are special and I wanted to create a film that honored my grandfather and great-grandfathers while exploring the feeling of wanting just one more conversation with someone you lost.”
by
Isabella Koontz
ANNABELLE (20s, wearing a black dress) sits the edge of the dock over the river, her feet in the water.
BILL (70s, oxygen tube in nose) sits on the dock with his feet in the water. Annabelle jogs down to the dock.
ANNABELLE
Granddaddy, what are you doing? You're supposed to be resting.
BILL
I am resting.
ANNABELLE Inside.
BILL
What's a better place to rest than by the water?
Bill pats the dock and Annabelle sighs before sitting down.
BILL (CONT'D) I came out here to think.
ANNABELLE
I think Nana would prefer if you did your thinking inside.
BILL
Even during the war, the water was the only place I could think... When I'm gone-
ANNABELLE
Granddaddy, stop.
BILL (continuing gently)
When I'm gone, I want you to read this. I'm not ready yet, but there's one more story I want you to hear.
He holds out a journal and she hesitantly takes it.
ANNABELLE
Okay. But it better not be anytime soon.
Bill smiles and looks back at the water.
ANNABELLE (CONT'D)
We should go back inside.
BILL
Just a few more minutes.
EXT. DOCK - DAY
Annabelle sits alone on the dock. She takes a deep breath before opening the journal in her hands. She notices a photo sticking out in the back and flips to it. The photo is of two young soldiers. The back reads "Autry and Worsham, 1943." She reads the final entry: "He was transferred to another unit today. I wish I could've said goodbye." She turns to the first page.
EDDIE (V.O.)
I think I've met my new best friend.
(1942)
WORSHAM and AUTRY (20s) race through an obstacle course with their UNIT. SERGEANT MILLER (male, 40s) watches and yells as they run. The men run through the woods, dropping to their stomachs and army crawling under barbed wire.
SERGEANT MILLER
Hustle ladies!
AUTRY
Coming from the one just standing there.
A couple unit members chuckle and Worsham rolls his eyes.
SERGEANT MILLER
Autry! Cut the chatter or I'll have you doing this 'til you puke! Worsham, pick up the pace!
They stand at the end of the barbed wire and run to the next obstacle, swinging from platform to platform by a rope.
EDDIE (V.O.)
He was a complete knucklehead. I wasn't sure if he was brave or stupid, mouthing off about the sergeant like that.
Worsham and Autry make it up and over a wooden wall, dropping down on the other side and running to stand at attention.
SERGEANT MILLER (CONT'D)
You degenerates enjoy that?
AUTRY (smirking)
Yes, Sergeant.
SERGEANT MILLER
Good. 'Cause you're doing it again. Go! Go! Go!
The men take off running back towards the barbed wire.
WORSHAM
Do you ever shut your trap?
AUTRY
Where's the fun in that?
WORHSAM
I'm not dying before I make it to the front.
COLTON, Autry, and Worsham crawl under the barbed wire.
COLTON
If this kills you, maybe you're not cut out for the army. You better hope the Jerry's wait for you to catch your breath.
Worsham ignores Colton, getting up to run to the next obstacle.
AUTRY
That's enough, Colton.
COLTON
Oh come on. He can distract 'em while we run. Up for martyr duty?
Autry grabs Colton's shirt and pushes him against a post.
AUTRY
Keep talking and I'll make you the martyr.
COLTON
Easy, easy! The enemy's out there, not here!
SERGEANT MILLER
What are you three standing around for? Move!
Colton growls, pulling away and taking off running. Worsham pats Autry on the shoulder.
WORSHAM
Guess that mouth is good for something.
Autry smiles.
EDDIE (V.O.)
From that moment on, we were inseparable.
Annabelle sits on the couch, paperwork scattered around her laptop. She looks at an advertisement for "War Stories with Eddie." She clicks 'Buy Ticket.'
A camera flashes as MANSON (unit member, 30s) takes a photo of Worsham and Autry at their tent.
EDDIE (V.O.)
Manson was a photographer before the war, so he insisted on taking everyone's picture to send home.
Manson walks away and Autry and Worsham go into their tent.
AUTRY
My mom's gonna love that.
WORSHAM
I don't know if my ma would want to see me in uniform.
AUTRY
I'm sure she'd want to see you smiling serving your country.
WORSHAM
She didn't want me here. I didn't want to come either.
AUTRY
When I enlisted, my mom was scared, but she knew I needed to do this. Your ma understands too. Doesn't matter how we got here. We're here now and we've got each other.
EDDIE (V.O.)
Having each other was the only reason we were able to survive. (MORE)
EDDIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Each other and letters from home.
Worsham and Autry sit around the fire, reading letters.
EDDIE (V.O.)
I reread them over and over until the words were smudged. Those letters kept us sane in a place that tried to strip away every part of you that made you human. But what's more human than goofing off with your friends?
Worsham and Autry laugh as they jog away from a tent.
EDDIE (V.O.)
Our Sergeant wasn't a big drinker, but he always kept a flask with him. At least he did.
WORSHAM (laughing and out of breath) I can't believe we did that.
AUTRY
We? I was just the lookout. Who knew you could be a rebel?
They sit down on the rocks over the water, hands shaking from the cold as they open the flash. Worsham drinks first, cringing at the taste, but takes another sip.
WORSHAM
You're a bad influence. He passes to Autry who drinks next.
AUTRY
You sound- Dangnabbit!
The flask slips through Autry's shaking hands, dropping into the water and Worsham bursts out laughing.
WORHSAM (patting Autry's back)
That's okay, Autry. That's okay.
EDDIE (V.O.)
The next morning, Sergeant Miller questioned us all about his missing flask. I think he made us walk longer that day than any other.
Annabelle packs her bag, throwing clothes and a stuffed dog into her backpack, placing the journal at the top.
Worsham and Autry sit in the carved out trench on a beach, playing cards and laughing with other unit members.
EDDIE (V.O.)
We made our own moments of fun, but they were often cut short.
Their laughter is cut off by the sound of a plane approaching.
SERGEANT MILLER (O.S.)
Get down!
The soldiers drop to the ground, covering their heads as nearby bombs drop, sand spraying everywhere.
SERGEANT MILLER
Men, we're moving out! Let's go!
Worsham notices Autry still on the ground.
WORSHAM You good?
AUTRY (shaken)
Swell.
Autry gets up and grabs his nearby gear.
EDDIE (V.O.)
And soon, we realized the war wasn't as grand as we thought. The shine wore off. Fear was constant and shoved all other thoughts aside.
Battle for the airfield. Soldiers run while tanks roll across the field, firing and exploding.
EDDIE (V.O.)
Days started to blur together, battles never ending.
Medics tend to the wounded. Dead men lay on the field.
EDDIE (V.O.)
There was so much smoke and blood... so much blood.
The unit retreats down the hill, but Worsham turns to go back.
EDDIE (V.O.)
And soon, not every fight was between enemies.
AUTRY
What are you doing?
WORSHAM Manson's still up there!
Worsham goes to climb back up the hill, but Autry pulls him down, both ducking as there is an explosion nearby.
AUTRY
It's a suicide mission!
WORSHAM
We can't just leave him!
AUTRY
We'll die if we don't!
WORSHAM
He'll die if we do!
AUTRY
You didn't even want to be here and now you're playing hero?
WORSHAM
Since when are you a coward, Autry?
AUTRY
Since it means keeping us alive! Our job is to survive. This is how we do that. We have to go!
There's another explosion, closer this time. As soon as he can, Autry grabs Worsham's jackets and pulls him down the hill.
EDDIE (V.O.)
You had to keep moving. No matter what. Keep moving.
Annabelle sits on the bed in her hotel room. She puts down the journal. She hesitates, but decides to keep reading.
EDDIE (V.O.)
Keep moving. But at what price? It became too much for some of us to pay.
Autry sits alone on the beach, staring at the water. Worsham walks up to him, not sitting and refusing to look at him.
WORSHAM
We could have saved him. We could have gone back.
AUTRY
We would've just gotten ourselves killed too.
WORHSAM
You don't know that.
AUTRY (standing up)
Don't I? How many have died in this war? How many sons? Husbands? Fathers?
WORSHAM
At least they died doing something! At least they ran towards the fight, not away from it.
AUTRY
Running? You think running towards death is noble? You think your mother would thank you for coming home in a box?!
WORSHAM
My ma already thinks I'm dead! And now Manson's ma has to live with the fact that he is! You pulled me down because you were afraid.
AUTRY
If fear keeps me alive, then fine. We're survivors, not heroes.
WORSHAM
I don't want to survive if it means feeling like this.
Autry watches as Worsham walks away.
EDDIE (V.O.) We never spoke again.
Annabelle leans back in bed, setting the journal down. She looks out the window, staring at the beach.
Annabelle sits down at the edge of the water and lets the waves wash over her feet. She closes her eyes.
Annabelle fishes off the dock while Bill fixes a crab pot.
ANNABELLE
I thought you told Nana you were gonna throw that one out?
BILL
Throw it out back into the water.
ANNABELLE
But it's broken.
BILL
Few things in life break that can't be fixed. The catch is, you have to fix it while you still can. If I just let it sit here, it would rust. If I threw it away... well, then there's no chance of mending it at all.
He stands up and tosses the crabpot off the dock.
BILL (CONT'D)
Some things are worth trying to fix. Otherwise, we'll always wonder what if.
EXT. BEACH - DUSK
Annabelle opens her eyes, reading the last page of the journal.
BILL (V.O.)
He was transferred to another unit today. I wish I could've said goodbye.
ANNABELLE
Let's try to mend this one, Granddaddy.
EXT. AMERICAN HERITAGE MUSEUM - DAY
Annabelle walks up to the American Heritage Museum, looking at the event poster with Eddie's name and face.
INT. AMERICAN HERITAGE MUSEUM - DAY
Annabelle walks through the World War II exhibit of the museum.
EDDIE (V.O.)
The war didn't end for another year. I lost more friends. To unit transfers, to death... But eventually I made it home.
Annabelle turn the corner to find EDDIE WORSHAM (70s) sitting on a stage with a microphone, a small crowd in front of him.
EDDIE
I never reached out to Bill again and neither did he. But the friendship we built never left me. War isn't just the battles and bullets, it's the people who remind you you're still human. We survived by holding on to each other. That's the part I'll never forget.
The crowd claps and starts to disperse as Eddie puts the microphone down. A few of the attendees shake his hand before wandering off in the museum. Annabelle takes a breath and steps forwards.
ANNABELLE
Mr. Worsham? I'm Annabelle Autry. This is for you.
She hands him the photo and the journal open to the last page.
