The Third Who Walks Beside You

A Short Romantic Horror Script meant to creep more than

                        crawl

FAM2011S

13 October 2015

FADE IN: 

INT. UNIVERSITY STUDY CENTRE – NIGHT

Dazed and dozing students speckle the grand room. The

presiding sounds are a diffuse scribbling and occasional

coughs. The entire place is lit bright enough so as to seem

hypnotic and insomniac.

BYRON – 18, kempt and virginal – and LAURA – 19, hair dyed

blue and wearing thick glasses – are busy working in

adjacent stalls. The books on their desks are stacked around

them like an accidental joint sculpture project. His mostly

concern 20th-Century Philosophy and Literature, hers Biology

and Maths.

He glances at her occasionally. She stays focused. After a

beat, she looks at her watch, sighs, gazes round the room,

then begins packing up her portable office.

He attempts to talk, coughs quietly, before whispering:

                    BYRON

          Calling it? It’s not even morning.

                    LAURA

          Yes, well it’s not like it’ll help

          to stay any longer.

                    BYRON

          Can we quickly talk about something

          other than papers? I don’t think we

          do that.

                    LAURA

          Don’t we? I’m sure we have…

                    BYRON

          We have, but only as like a

          side-effect.

                    LAURA

          I’m sorry, just happens that way.

          We’re not really that busy. But

          what would you you want to talk

          about?

                    BYRON

          I don’t know… How’re you doing?

          Just personally.

(CONTINUED) 

CONTINUED: 

2. 

                    LAURA

          No change, I keep steady really.

          Thank you. And you?

                    BYRON

          The same. Occasional collapses.

          Nothing scarring.

A long, only slightly awkward, pause.

                    LAURA

               (Grinning)

          Was that all you needed?

                    BYRON

          Yes, mostly. I’m sorry, you can go.

                    LAURA

          Sure? I can stay if you want.

                    BYRON

          I don’t, I mean, the morning-shift

          is not advisable at all.

                    LAURA

          Good thing I’m going then. Good

          luck By, see you tomorrow.

                    BYRON

          See you, looking forward to it.

          Good luck too.

Laura leaves the centre without looking back, exiting into

the darkness. Byron relaxes, settling his face into his

palms for a moment.

Gradually, STUDENT after STUDENT follows suit in vacating the room. The place is eventually left empty except for BYRON, asleep with his head resting on a copy of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. 

He floats into consciousness, seemingly woken by the sheer

surrounding silence. He lifts his head up to confirm it.

Indeed, not even ambient sound is present. A little uneasy,

he begins packing up his station. Just before finishing, he

puts on his headphones, setting Duke Ellington’s

’Sophisticated Lady’ to play him out.

Reassured and humming, he finally exits too.

EXT. UNIVERSITY CAMPUS – NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)

The campus passages are barren, gothic and noirish in this,

the witching hour. BYRON, of course, covers over the

possibility of fear by  maintaining his personal Big Band

soundtrack. He even walks in step to its rhythm, passing as

a small figure through inhumanly dark and overbearing

environs.

He glances around them every now and then to admire the

spectacle of an unpeopled and seemingly ancient institution.

EXT. MAIN ROAD – CONTINUOUS

BYRON comes out from a sloped side-road onto the pavement,

continuing his strolling metre. Although it’s a weeknight,

it’s still a surprise after a moment to notice no signs of

life beyond a few shadowed figures sleeping in corners.

His eye is caught by distant golden arches.

INT. MCDONALD’S – CONTINUOUS

Taking off his headphones, BYRON walks up to the counter,

behind which a uniformed ATTENDANT stands like a

somnambulist, rigid and open-eyed. They’re the only people

in the place.

                     BYRON

          G’morning, can I have a

          quarter-pounder medium meal with

          cheese, if you please?

The Attendant doesn’t respond at all for a moment. Then she

slowly offers out her hand.

Byron pays her, and in a series of automatic motions the

attendant registers the cash, reaches under the counter to

pull out a readymade quarter-pounder meal perfectly set on a

tray, presents it to him and states:

                   ATTENDANT

          Come again as soon as possible.

                    BYRON

               (Perturbed)

                 Thank you. 

Byron realizes he’s forgotten to specify his drink, but then

checks and finds he didn’t need to. He takes the tray and

goes to sit by the counter at the window.

3. 

Whilst chewing on chips, he studies the outside emptiness.

There really is only negative space observable in all

directions.

EXT. MAIN ROAD – CONTINUOUS

BYRON slips out the door, still slurping his drink, putting

his headphones on again. This time he plays Miles Davis’ ’So

What’. Then he throws his empty cup at the nearest bin,

managing to make the shot. He walks away in quiet triumph.

EXT. DUSTY AVENUE – CONTINUOUS

Parallel to Main Road lies a linear grove drenched in street

light. BYRON walks through it, not a breath of wind about.

Apropos of nothing, the music fizzles out on his headphones,

leaving him confronted by heavy silence.

Perplexed, he takes them off and then takes out his phone

for inspection but quickly finds nothing ostensibly wrong

with either.

For a momentary relief, he dumps his heavy bag.

The phone’s screen CRACKS by itself.

Byron drops it and his headphones before edging away.

He breathes heavily, then looks around, wiping his face.

                       BYRON 

                         Shit. 

He starts stepping gingerly back to the dropped phone. More

regular FOOTSTEPS are now heard coming closer from behind

him. He turns around, trying not to look too urgent.

There’s no-one visible making the sound, but he hears the

footsteps more and more clearly. There isn’t even a shadow

approaching.

He stands arrested. His faltering breaths start to emerge in

puffs.

The footsteps stop. He’s in the very middle of the avenue.

A Huge BASS NOTE engulfs the world.

BYRON collapses on his knees, clasping his ears in shock.

(CONTINUED) 

4. 

CONTINUED: 5. 

He puts his head to the ground in prostration. He rocks his

body in spasms of pain. His face is quite contorted.

Darkness encroaches.

The BASS NOTE stops.

EXT. RHODES MEMORIAL – MORNING

In the same position, BYRON sighs in relief. He lifts his

head up only to be blinded by the dawn. The sun is coming up

directly opposite to the lengthy staircase. Byron is at the

very top of it.

He sits back befuddled. The sun rises too quickly on the

horizon. The light on his face shifts from blood red to

yellow.

He rises and leans against a near pillar. The day is

accelerating: it’s already almost noon.

He looks down the staircase, noticing strange occasional

blurs flitting up and down the monument. He realizes these

are speeded up tourists and visitors, oblivious to his gaze.

By now it’s early evening. Byron starts walking down the

staircase, reaching out occasionally for the passing

figures. The night finishes and whole days begin flipping

past. He runs now, as if he could save any time by it.

Finally reaching the bottom, he puts his foot down to the

final landing but does not touch ground.

EXT. CAPE TOWN BAY – DAY

The ground is replaced by the surface of the sea, and BYRON

steps from nowhere straight in.

The iconic front-on Table Mountain view stands solemn as the

backdrop. But, as before, Byron is seemingly stuck in a

permanent multi-day time-lapse.

He bobs to the surface, grasping for a deep breath.

EXT. SIGNAL HILL – NIGHT

Again, BYRON is teleported in mid-motion. Still drenched

from his dip, he falls on all fours on the tourists’

city-view balcony.

The city alternately glimmers and basks between its nights

and days.

(CONTINUED) 

CONTINUED: 6. 

Byron stands up, closes his eyes and begins to shed

occasional tears.

MONTAGE: 

In the same position at attention, BYRON, remaining

unnoticed, momentarily flits among a series of Cape Town

locations and scenes, each probably holding some personal

weight or memory for him, including:

INT. STUDENT DIGS – EVENING

 A circle of indifferent STUDENTS sit around toking in a

hazy, chintzy lounge.

EXT. KIRSTENBOSCH GARDENS – DAY

An acid-trip’s worth of kaleidoscopic flowerbeds and

deep-green grass patches spread out into the distance. The

shadows of clouds roll across the vista.

EXT. ADDERLEY STREET – DAY

COMMUTERS and PEDESTRIANS race up and down the length of the

city in the fading sunshine.

INT. NIGHTCLUB – EVENING

A shifting CROWD OF REVELERS convulses faster than usual

under the place’s epileptic light-show.

INT. UNIVERSITY LIBRARY – DAY

Hundreds of STUDENTS, LAURA the most stationary among them,

frequent the infinite rows of cubicles.

Finally, BYRON covers his face with his hands, blacking out

the morphing diegesis.

                    BYRON (O.S)

          Please stop.

EXT. CEMETERY – DAY

And the nightmare duly does. BYRON takes his hands away to

find himself standing on a grave. The sky is a surreal blue.

He looks around him.

Varied tombstones are spread out endlessly in all

directions. Byron, for lack of a better option, sits down

against his own unmarked memorial.

He takes a moment to revive a semblance of calm.

                  KAREN (O.S.)

          You alright, Byron?

A young, pretty girl with bobbed blonde hair and glasses is

now sitting atop the neighbouring tombstone.

Byron is tongue-tied.

                         KAREN

          Sorry about all that. You’re

          supposed to be shocked by it a

          little. You can understand why it

          has to be a pretty violent

          transition.

Byron still can’t speak. Karen comes over to sit with him.

She picks up his hand and kisses his cheek.

                  KAREN (CONT’D)

          Happy to see me?

                    BYRON

          I… I always wanted you to do

            that. 

                    KAREN

          Why didn’t you tell me? I followed

          you for three and a half years and

          you hardly ever mentioned me.

                    BYRON

          I didn’t think you could hear me,

          before or after.

                    KAREN

          Well I’m glad you’re here. At least

          you’ll always have company now. And

          you get to spy on the living, which

          I can tell you is always

          entertaining.

(CONTINUED) 

7. 

CONTINUED: 

8. 

                    BYRON

          Can you tell me what actually

          happened to me?

                    KAREN

          I don’t know, so many ways to go…

          Drunk driver, late-night hold-up,

          poisonous burger… Let’s say a

          quota had to be fulled, and it was

          nothing personal.

                    BYRON

          That’s reassuring.

                    KAREN

          It really is, By. You’ll get used

          to the fact that the timing doesn’t

          matter. You’ll see everyone again.

                    BYRON

          Are we ever going to wake up from

          this? 

                    KAREN

          Maybe, don’t think that way.

          Anyway, come on, let me show you

          the neighbourhood.

Karen gets up and offers her hand to him. Byron takes it,

rises and looks round to find that most of the tombstones

now have their own seated RESIDENTS. They each look quite

indifferent to their surroundings.

INT. LAURA’S BEDROOM – MORNING

LAURA wakes up quietly. Her eyes are a little red from sleep

and recent tears. Her hair is now back to its original

brown.

She rubs her face, checks her phone, looks out the window

and, with some effort, gets up. The day outside her digs is

gloomy and wind-blown.

INT. UNIVERSITY SHUTTLE – DAY

LAURA is standing, holding onto the rail, stuffed tightly

into the careering bus.

She puts in her earphones and sets ’Sophisticated Lady’ as

the day’s first serenade.

The opening notes play as the people and scenery outside the

windows zoom past.

INT. BIOLOGY DEPARTMENT – DAY

A crowd of STUDENTS spew out of the lecture hall. Among

them, walking together, heaving notes, are LAURA, JAMES –

her hirsute, 20-something boyfriend – and REBECCA – her

redhead contemporary.

LAURA quickly kisses JAMES goodbye before he heads up a

diverting staircase. She and REBECCA head off to lunch.

EXT. FOOD COURT TABLES – DAY

LAURA and REBECCA sit on the same side of one of the tables,

each eating some kind of pasta from respective tupperwares.

They’re oblivious as could be to the generally crowded

ambience.

                  REBECCA

          What does it mean for you, that you

          saw him like that?

                    LAURA

          He was at peace I think, as they

          say. I don’t know if that was just

          wish-filfullment.

                    REBECCA

          You were the last to see him, maybe

          your mind needed to full in the gap

          between then and the moment. My

          dreams are only ever plain old

          weird.

                    LAURA

          I don’t think it meant anything. I

          just hadn’t thought of him for a

          while. I was guilty or something.

          It felt nice to be convinced for a

          moment he was back and alright.

(BEAT) 

                    REBECCA

          He always had a great crush on you,

          you know that?

BYRON is now sitting across from them, invisible, reacting

to the conversation.

(CONTINUED) 

9. 

CONTINUED: 

10. 

                    LAURA

          Yeah, I did. But I wasn’t going to

          say anything until he did, and he

          didn’t, so nothing happened.

Laura looks away, like she’s finished reading a prepared

statement.

                       REBECCA

          In a way, I think he’d be happy

          knowing you knew. But maybe he’d

          just want us to move on, but not

          forget him. That’s what everyone

          says though.

Rebecca sighs naturally. She checks her phone.

                  REBECCA (CONT’D)

          Anyway, Psych’s now, we’ll talk

          about it more later. Sorry to go,

          have a good afternoon Laura.

She gets up to leave.

                    LAURA

          Yeah, you too Becks.

After a moment alone, Laura is joined by Byron on her side

of the bench. He watches her face as she packs up her meal

and leaves in turn.

EXT. CAMPUS CORRIDOR – CONTINUOUS

LAURA walks through an empty side-corridor, her face pensive

and elsewhere. Byron follows at a steady distance.

After a moment, she seemingly hears nearby FOOTSTEPS other

than her own. She pauses, as does Byron.

The noise stops.

She looks back at Byron but notices nothing different.

She carries on, putting in her earphones again, and pressing

play.

FADE OUT: