a short film written by myself and my 8-year-old son Srikanth
1 EXT. HOUSE – DAY
A modest house in a modest neighborhood. A ‘For Sale’ sign in the yard, a pickup loaded with boxes in the driveway.
2 INT. HOME – DAY
Slow pan through the home at child-level. Moving boxes stacked. This is a move-in, not a move-out, and obviously early in the process.
3 INT. BEDROOM – DAY
The camera continues into a child’s bedroom, specifically SRI’s (M, 9, Indian American). He’s sitting on the bed half-heartedly unpacking books. He seems morose.
His DAD (M, 40s, white) pokes his head in the door frame.
DAD
Hey bub.
SRI (not looking up)
Hey.
DAD
How’s it going in here?
Sri shrugs.
DAD (cont.)
I’m gonna finish up the truck, and then
I was thinking we could order a pizza.
How’s that sound?
SRI
Good.
Dad nods; he’s struggling for something else to say.
DAD
Okay, good. Then I’ll come back in a little
bit and we’ll … do that.
SRI
Okay.
Dad lingers another moment then reluctantly leaves. Only then does Sri look up; in a floor length mirror behind him, his reflection looks up in unison.
4 EXT. HOUSE – NIGHT
Same shot as 1, only at night.
5 INT. KITCHEN – NIGHT
A darkened room. The only light comes from the background, the diffuse flickering of a television, MUMBLING unintelligibly. On the counter a pizza box, slightly ajar with only a few slices of pepperoni left inside. A pair of paper plates next to it, crust on them. A half-empty kid’s glass of flat Coke. Two cans of Miller Lite, presumably empty.
6 INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
Perspective of Dad asleep sitting up on the couch, TV flickering off his skin in an otherwise dark room. On the coffee table in front of him, a few more empty beer cans.
Reverse angle reveals Sri looking in on his father from the hallway, coldly expressionless.
7 INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
Sri in bed on his back looking up without focus toward the ceiling, covers pulled to his chin. He is wide awake.
SRI (whispering)
It’s ugly brown. Like poop. And it smells
funny. And my room is small. But the
closet is big enough for ninjas to hide.
And the carpet is ugly.
(beat)
Dad is weird. He’s not sad but I know he’s
sad. He’s pretending. It’s rude.
(beat)
This house is weird. I don’t like it. It smells
funny.
Beyond his profile in bed, the mirror reflects him.
8 INT. KITCHEN – MORNING
Dad standing at the table pouring milk into a bowl of cereal as Sri, dressed for the day, enters.
DAD
Hey bub. Good sleep?
Sri shrugs, takes his seat. Dad waits for more, realizes more isn’t coming, then replaces milk in the fridge.
DAD
Excited for your first day?
SRI (eyes on cereal)
I guess.
Dad SIPS coffee.
DAD
New schools are tough, I know that,
but this isn’t the first, and you always
make friends, right?
SRI
I guess.
Dad starts to say something else, but realizes there’s nothing else to say, so stays silent and fills his mouth with more coffee instead.
9 EXT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL – DAY
Sri walking up the sidewalk towards a throng of other students waiting to enter the building. While all eyes are on him, his are on the ground, not even trying to connect with others. Eventually the others ignore him.
10 EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD – DAY
After school, Sri walking alone on the sidewalk, other kids ahead and behind him but none with him nor paying him any mind.
SRI (whispering)
…meaner than Missus Flood, dumber than
Missus Flood, she was even uglier than
Missus Flood. And the boys were rude. They
were butt-faced rude boys and I did not like
them.
WHISPER (o.s., faint)
Did not like them.
Sri halts abruptly, looks around as though the Whisper came from right behind him. Naturally, there’s no one there. He is silently alarmed.
11 INT. BEDROOM – DAY
Sri in his bedroom, still populated by boxes, playing with Legos, building a house. Beyond the room, outside the window, there is heard CHILDREN PLAYING BASKETBALL.
Dad pops his head in the doorframe.
DAD
Hey.
SRI (not looking up)
Hey.
DAD
You hear those kids? They’re right across the
street playing basketball. You wanna go see if
they need one more? I bet they do.
Sri keeps his eyes down and shakes his head vigorously.
DAD (cont.)
You sure? Cuz–
Sri looks up finally, the motion echoed in the mirror.
SRI
I’m sure.
Dad hesitates but once again has no counter so begrudgingly leaves his son alone.
Sri watches him go, then looks again to his Legos; in the mirror, his reflection does not.
12 INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
A closeup of the TV screen showing a TBD clip from another public domain film/series of relevance.
Pulled back from this we see once again Dad is asleep sitting up on the couch, a few empties on the coffee table along with a half-empty pint of brown liquor.
13 INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
Sri in bed, lying on his back and barely awake, struggling against sleep, in fact.
SRI (whispering)
…stupid school, stupid house, stupid
everything. I don’t like it, I don’t want
to be here anymore or ever again.
WHISPER
Anymore or ever again.
Sri bolts up in bed.
In his POV scanning the shadowed room. No one there.
Out of his POV, the one place Sri isn’t looking is in the mirror. We see, however, that therein he has no reflection.
14 INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
Back with Dad, who comes awake himself, though not as suddenly or shocked as Sri. His expression says maybe he heard something, but this is either quickly dismissed or forgotten.
He stumbles upright and off the couch, CLICKS off the TV. He then walks DOWN THE HALL in darkness to Sri’s door.
15 INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
From inside we see the door open and Dad poke his head in.
In his POV Sri is asleep, though his sheets betray restlessness. Asleep is good enough for now, so Dad exits.
16 INT. OTHER BEDROOM – NIGHT
Dad’s room is the adult version of Sri’s – basic, unadorned, cluttered with boxes and, in his unique case, piles of dirty clothes. He leaves the main light off – the room lit only by the harsh red glow of a bedside alarm clock, 2:13 – and passes through the room to the small, adjacent bathroom.
17 INT. BATHROOM – NIGHT
The light CLICKS on, harsh and yellow. Dad winces. He stands over the toilet; the sound of him URINATING. Done, he FLUSHES, then turns to the sink and RUNS the water while he washes his hands, then pools water in them, then leans over to SPLASH the water on his face. We stay with the mirror, which is shot so none of Dad or the sink is shown, only the mirror.
Dad comes up with his eyes closed, facing the camera. Water dripping down his cheeks, chin. He opens his eyes.
In his POV, looking into the mirror, where he sees a crazed, raging Sri, mouth stretched open in a scream that makes no sound, clinging to him from behind, legs and arms wrapped tight around his torso, fingers clawing at his t-shirt, head right next to his own. Dad YELPS and stumbles backwards.
Close-up of Dad’s back and head SLAMMING into the wall right behind him.
He slumps to the floor, dazed by the blow but still fueled by terror and adrenaline. Looking around, though, there’s no sign of Sri, nor any sign he was ever here. This frightens him even more.
18 INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
Dad BURSTS into Sri’s room, not even trying to be quiet. He’s panting, wide-eyed and drenched in cold sweat. The boy is in bed, just as he was a few minutes earlier when last Dad looked in. He wasn’t even stirred by the loud entrance; he continues to sleep.
Dad is beyond confused, beyond confounded, beyond scared: this doesn’t make any sense.
19 EXT. BACKYARD – DAY
Sri is in the backyard with a few Hot Wheels, his hand on one in particular, driving it across the porch-boards.
SRI (whispering)
[car noises]
WHISPERING
[car noises]
Sri stops. He is not afraid, though.
SRI
Who’s doing that?
WHISPERING
Who’s doing that?
SRI
Where are you?
WHIPSERING
Where are you?
Sri looks around. He is alone.
SRI
I’m not scared of you.
WHISPERING
I’m not scared of you.
But Sri is scared, he’s just trying really hard not to show it. He goes back to playing with his Hot Wheels.
SRI
[car noises]
WHISPERING
[car noises]
Sri tries to ignore this, he makes his NOISES louder, hoping to drown out the other. The Whisperer matches his pitch for a short bit then dies away to silence. Once Sri is sure he’s “alone” again, he stops playing, looks around once more, then stands up and heads inside, leaving his toy car on the porch. The camera stays with the car. Off-screen we hear the sliding glass door OPEN and CLOSE. Seconds later, the car starts rolling on its own, as though controlled by an unseen hand.
20 INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
Sri is in bed with the lights off, trying to sleep. In turning over, he COUGHS.
The Whisperer copies his COUGH.
Sri opens his eyes.
SRI (whispering)
Go away.
WHISPERER
Go away.
SRI
I mean it, stop, go away.
WHISPERER
I mean it, stop, go away.
Sri is angry, he’s whispering through clenched teeth now.
SRI
Go away! Stop copying me!
WHISPERER
Go away! Stop copying me!
Sri throws back his covers and sits up, SCREAMING.
SRI
STOP COPYING ME!
In response, his mirror, which still doesn’t reflect him, shatters on its own.
21 EXT. HOUSE – DAY
Same establishing shot.
22 LIVING ROOM – DAY
Sri sitting on the carpet in his pajamas watching TV, cartoons or something, while Dad watches from the kitchen, sipping coffee concerned.
The TV goes to commercial and Dad walks over.
DAD
Got a second, bub?
Sri disinterestedly picks up the remote and turns off the TV. This is his only reply.
DAD (cont.)
I think we should talk about last night.
I let you stay home from school cuz you’re
tired and all, but we need to talk about
why.
Dad sits on the floor next to Sri and sets a gentle arm on the boy’s shoulders, which Sri allows though he’s yet to acknowledge his father with his eyes.
DAD (cont.)
I know this has been the hardest– It’s
been tough, I mean, and I know that.
Everything that happened, then the new
house, a new school, new teachers, new
friends, it’s a lot to deal with all at once.
And just like it’s easy to be sad right now,
it’s easy to be mad, too. It is, believe me.
I get it. I’m mad, too, sometimes. Shit, a lot
of the time.
Dad chuckles without mirth. This causes Sri to look at him, the slightest hint of a smile, albeit a surprised one, on his lips.
SRI
You said a bad word.
DAD
I said an adult word, and you know what?
You’re grown up enough to hear it. Not to
say it, but to hear it. You’re more grown up
than most kids. And I’m sorry for that. But
this is where we are, and we have to find a
way to accept it, you understand, bub?
Sri looks back to the remote. He nods.
SRI
I understand.
DAD
Good. Part of accepting that, then, is accepting
being mad, and not lashing out instead. You
could have really hurt yourself last night breaking
the mirror, you–
Sri is suddenly angry and sad at once. He bucks off Dad’s arm and turns to face him.
SRI
No! I did not break the mirror!
Dad, remembering the night before, is more startled than he should be. He actually backs off a few feet.
DAD
I’m not angry, bub, I’m just worried you–
SRI (angrier, crying)
No! I did not do it!
WHISPERER
I did not do it!
Now it is Sri who is startled and alarmed. He looks to Dad to see if he has heard the Other in the room.
DAD
Okay, bub, it’s okay, I hear you, everything’s
all right–
Dad has not. Sri stands up and starts to leave the room. Dad stands and gently bars the boy’s way with his body.
DAD (cont.)
Sri, no, bub, I can’t let you go when you’re
this angry. You can’t just keep all this stuff
inside, you have to talk about it, Mom, Biram,
all of it, you–
Sri pushes with all his might against Dad, barely budging him. He is on the verge of hysterical.
SRI
It’s not about Mom and Birim!
WHISPERER
Mom and Birim!
SRI
No!
WHIPSERER
No!
SRI
Stop it!
WHISPERER
Stop it!
During this brief exchange Sri’s intensity has been mounting, he’s losing it, and Dad isn’t really sure why, he’s got his hands in the air like he’s at gunpoint, not touching Sri except where the boy is pressing against his legs and torso, clawing and pounding on his chest without mercy. Dad just takes it, in a fashion that is both accustomed and caught off-guard at once.
DAD
Sri, I’m not doing anything, please, just
calm down, take a breath, bub, take one
deep breath, come on, now…
Dad tries to demonstrate by drawing a deep, slow, exaggerated BREATH.
SRI
No, it’s not–
WHISPERER
No, it’s not–
SRI
STOP COPYING ME!
Sri slugs Dad in the gut with all his might, knocking the air clean out of him and dropping the man to his knees, allowing the boy to run past and not to his room but straight out the front door.
23 EXT. HOUSE – DAY
Sri running, crying, at the camera from the house, the door open behind him.
DAD (o.s., distant)
Sri! Stop!
Sri runs across the street then follows the sidewalk around the corner and out of view.
24 EXT. PARK – DAY
Sri runs into Nelson Park, across the bridge and past the playground, down the hill and follows the trail into the trees.
DAD (o.s., distant)
Sri!
Once in the shadow of the canopy, Sri leaves the paved trail for the trees, running a dozen yards in then circling behind a large trunk and squatting with his back to it, shivering, crying, breathless, and terrified.
DAD (o.s. but closer)
Dammit, Sri! Where are you? Answer me!
Sri ignores this and deals with the more pressing issue at hand.
SRI (whispering)
Please leave me alone, please, I’ll do
anything, I’ll be good, I won’t be angry,
I’ll be whatever you want just please
go away!
WHISPERER
GO AWAY!
Sri recoils but then a loud SNAP distracts him from being scared. He looks up.
A branch, large and thick, has broken from the trunk and is falling towards him.
Sri rolls out of the way, just avoiding the branch as it crashes to the spot where he was sitting. He’s shocked silent.
DAD (o.s., but barely)
Sri!
He swoops into scene and drops to his knees, grabs Sri and looks him over.
DAD (cont.)
Are you all right? Talk to me! Are you
okay?
Sri doesn’t answer but to CRY.
25 INT. KITCHEN – EVENING
Sri and Dad sitting across the table from one another. Sri has a can of soda in front of him, Dad a mug of coffee. From the open-mouthed expression on Dad’s face, Sri has told him everything.
DAD
Okay … so … okay.
Dad can’t believe this, but he can’t not believe it, also. He opens his mouth again to speak, then closes it, shakes his head, opens his mouth again, but has nothing, so sets down his mug and rises from the table, turns to the fridge and OPENS it.
Fridge POV on him, desperately confused and legitimately scared, things he can’t show his son.
His POV. There’s other stuff in there, but the only thing he’s looking at is the half-gone sixer of beer.
Fridge POV. He wants it. This shit is nuts. But that’s exactly why he knows he can’t have it.
Dad closes the fridge empty-handed and turns back to the table, sits down again and picks up his mug, sips, sets it down.
SRI
You okay?
DAD
That’s not the … let’s … okay. I need you
to listen to me, bub, and I need you to
try and understand. You’re having some
kind of … episode, you’re hearing things
that aren’t really there.
SRI
I’m not–
DAD
LISTEN TO ME, DAMMIT!
Sri is startled. Dad is exasperated.
DAD (cont.)
I’m sorry, but you have to listen to me
now. This is serious. You need a doctor,
Sri, this is fixable, this is very fixable, bub,
I promise, but we need help, okay?
Sri doesn’t say anything; Dad doesn’t believe him, there’s nothing more to say. Dad stands up and pulls his phone from his pocket.
DAD (cont.)
Okay. So just hang out here for a minute,
try and keep calm, and let me see what I
can figure out.
Dad turns away and exits the room, dialing his phone. Sri remains at the table, feeling abandoned.
SRI
He doesn’t believe me.
WHISPERER
He doesn’t believe.
Sri looks up slowly but angry. There, in the window across from him, is his reflection, sneering maliciously back at him. Sri, though, is not frightened. Instead he swiftly grabs his soda can and flings it at the window, splattering it with soda. Then, GROWLING, he climbs over top the table and launches himself at the window with a THUD and begins POUNDING on it with both hands, making guttural GRUNTS/SHRIEKS.
Dad rushes into the room, sees what’s going on and pulls Sri away from the window.
DAD
Sri! Stop! Stop!
This struggle fades to silence and black, but its intensity never lessens.
26 INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
Some time later. Sri is in bed, covers to his chin, almost like he’s trapped. Dad is sitting beside him pouring NyQuil into a dosage cup.
DAD
Doctor’s gonna see us first thing, bub,
so to help you sleep, you’re gonna take
just a little bit of this, okay?
Dad finishes pouring and offers the cup to Sri, helps him sip it down.
DAD (cont.)
Atta boy. Just close your eyes, let the
medicine do the rest.
Sri nods without looking at Dad. Dad rises.
DAD (cont.)
You want me to stay in here tonight?
I don’t mind.
Sri shakes his head, again, without looking at Dad.
DAD (cont.)
Okay, well, you know where I am.
Sri nods. Dad smiles without any warmth and backs out of the room, CUTTING the overhead light, leaving only the bedside lamp to dimly illuminate the space.
Sri is naturally tired, and the NyQuil isn’t helping. He knows he only has a few minutes.
SRI (whispering)
Are you there?
He waits. Looks around the room. The only reflective surface is his window, but he’s not in its reflective range. He’s getting drowsy.
SRI (whispering)
What? Are you scared?
He waits…
Just when it seems like he’s going to have to try again…
WHISPERER
Are you scared?
This wakes Sri a little.
SRI (whispering)
Are you scared?
A slightly shorter pause than before.
WHISPERER
Are you scared?
Sri is so sleepy.
SRI (whispering)
Are you scared?
The pause this time is longer, like before.
WHISPERER (whisper–screaming)
ARE YOU SCARED!
Now it’s Sri who waits. Longer than the Whisperer did, while struggling to keep his eyes open. It almost seems as though he’s fallen asleep, but then…
SRI (whispering)
Are. You. Scared.
There’s a glass of water on Sri’s bedside. It, along with the bedside itself, RUMBLES. Sri only glances at it; he’s waiting. Then, suddenly, his entire bed shakes violently, in unison with:
WHISPERER (actually screaming)
STOP!
Sri, so very drowsy, smiles.
SRI (whispering)
Stop.
The glass of water on his bedside flies from it across the room and SMASHES into the opposite wall.
WHISPERER (screaming rawer)
STOP!!!
DAD (o.s.)
Sri?
Distant FOOTSTEPS, Dad running. Sri’s bedroom door, on its own, SLAMS shut.
Sri pushes himself – with much weary effort – onto his elbows, semi-sitting up, just enough to see his bedroom window; the Other Sri is waiting for him in it, SNARLING and feral.
SRI (defiantly)
Stop.
His reflection SHRIEKS and leaps towards him. The window SHATTERS.
Dad BANGS on the bedroom door.
DAD (o.s.)
Sri! Open this door! Let me in!
Sri, sluggish like a drunkard, struggling against the medication, looks around the room. Dad’s BANGING persists.
Suddenly, from the foot of his bed launches his reflection, in the flesh, a pale doppelganger: it GROWLS; Sri SCREAMS.
The screen goes black.
27 EXT. MEDICAL COMPLEX – DAY
Establishing shot.
28 INT. WAITING ROOM – DAY
Sri and Dad sitting side-by-side. Dad looks exhausted in every single sense of the word: physically, mentally, emotionally. Sri seems fine, if still and silent; he could almost be described as “peaceful.”
A long, uncomfortable minute passes.
NURSE (o.s.)
Shir – is it? Shruh…
Dad perks up best he can.
DAD
That’s us. C’mon, bub.
Dad stands, offers Sri his hand. Sri takes it without hesitation, stands and follows.
28 INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE – DAY
Sri on the exam table, sitting up. Dad in a chair against the wall. They sit in silence.
The door OPENS. A DOCTOR (female) enters, studying her clipboard.
DOCTOR (addressing Dad)
Good morning, I’m Dr. Browning. Mr. Harden?
DAD
That’s right. Hello, Doctor.
Dad stands and shakes her hand. She turns to Sri.
DOCTOR
And you must be Srikanth. I hope I said
that right.
Sri smiles. He’s standing with the room’s only window is beyond his profile. Dad is reflected in the window. Sri is not.
SRI
Said that right.
THE END
the flawless frame 