Alis Pastry: Alis meets the wall
By ██████ ███████
Final draft.
Enter scene one
The space is dark and smells of mold and rot. Office desks sit in various states of dust and decay, with a mix of abandoned personal and professional artifacts scattered around. Florescent lights flicker, painting the scene sickly green. There are, however, three desks that stand out.
A panning shot shows each desk
One holds an ancient looking box of a computer. Nearly organized and clinical with one photo frame, a small desk toy, a fountain pen set in a stand and a simple note pad. A desk lamp gives it a cool blue light.
One has a drawing tablet set to the graphics for a bright new show. There's a clutter of colourful trinkets and a half-eaten tart. There is a multitude of picture frames. It is lit by fairy lights and a small soft moon lamp. A more cream tone light
One has a sleek laptop, some notebooks, worn paperbacks and hardcover fiction books sit on a small shelf. There are no photo frames but there is a small painting on a tiny easel. A green-shaded lamp illuminates it a cozy yellow.
All is still, the only sound is the soft buzz of the lights and the whirring of the ancient cube of a computer. The silence goes on.
Suddenly, a loud thump sends the space into a flurry of action. Papers and dust fly up with urgency. A bright, bright silhouette is shown clashing with a fizzling crackling glitched out the beast. The glitched beast ducks it's head at the bright figure's neck. A loud high pitched tone is heard and the bright figure struggles violently. TV static plays loud and harsh as the glitch beast pulls back, light dripping approximately from where one would assume its mouth is.
The Light: F̧̝̣̪͘O͉̻̖͎̲̣͔̗͉͢O̷͏̬͈͇̱̤L͏͚̩̻̖̣̰̬͍͝I̷̤͖̳̘͠S̵̛͕̟̫͢ͅH̴͖́.҉̷̶̞̝̝̲͍͎̭ ͙̥̤̖͙͉̤̺F̝̤̞̟Ų̴͙̫̼͈͢T̷͖̣̘I̴̛̭͎̫̘̱͎͚ͅL̶̖͓͇̘͔E̢̯̞͈̦̗̮̦͕̦.̲͖̗̤̤ ̬̰̫̠̦̞̬A̫̩̟ ̶͖̖̞̺̮̣̣Ẉ̡̺A̖͕͠S̪͉̘͞͠T̘̺͘͢Ḛ̼̺͕̞̪ ̪̥̞̪O̪͔̺͔̹̹F̨͖̹̦̮̖͔͓̫̟̀ ͍͈̳͈M̻̭͓̠̲̺͟Y̩͡ͅ ͙͙̗̬̣̜̕͘͘E͖̜͡͡ͅF̧̰̘̰̺̪͎͖F̷̗̮̜̮̬̰̱͠O͇̮R̯̤̗T̡̛̯̲͔̭͎͔̠̕
Her: 01000010 01101111 01101100 01100100 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110111 01100101 01100001 01101011 00100000
The struggle continues. The silhouette rakes violent claws across the glitches back and the static turns to a roar. The high pitch tone crackles. Viscous neon goo spills from gashes in the beasts back. It seems to grow more Savage with pain.
Her: 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110010 01110010 01101001 01100100 00101110 00100000 01001110 01101111 00100000 01100110 01100001 01101101 01101001 01101100 01111001 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100101 00100000
The Light: Í̪̬̼͈̻͍͙̰Ņ͏̜̖̬̖S̸̨̞̟͕͈͉̠͠ͅO̮͇͈̟L̞̟̤͟E͏̺̯̪̱̥̹̖N͙̠̹̣̥̯̕ͅT̲̙̫͕̤̻̳̀ ͍̫̰͠C̗̦H̶̩͓͙̹̕Í̷͏̰̮͇̻̥̺̩̰L̨͍̥D͚͔͍͙͕̯͍̫
The fight becomes an indistinct mess as light tangles with neon signal loss. The camera drifts up to a vent and fades to black as the sounds of struggle continue
Enter scene two
The space is still dark but the light of a microwaves time creates a small spot of green. Three figures sit at a table. One with patches of dripping fuzzy rainbow static. One with black and white fuzz. One with no static or light at all. All humanoid. The distant sounds of the struggle are far off here.
Doc: please dear you're OK, we're here. She has a plan on how to escape she's been working very hard on it for a long time and we have Her
Harlot: won't work won't work too late too late too long. The Light is here. Too strong, too just. No no no this won't-
Bug: and. If we fail what then? We become part of it. But I want to hedge my bets on escape. If we lose we just cease. I'd rather go out on my own terms than its.
Harlot: punished. Will be punished violently with no mercy, no remorse. No end. Hell. On earth, there will be hell
Doc: I trust Her. She hasn't failed yet, she's too strong for it. That's how she escaped.
Harlot: let Her. Let go let go as deception-
Harlots' eyes start to glow. Doc slips his glasses off fast and presses them gently onto Harlots' face. The glow dims back to black and white fuzz
Harlot: won't make the cut won't make the cut won't make the cu-
Bug: is that reality or what The Light wants you to think
Harlot: don't know don't know. Too long here. Reality is fuzzy indistinct. Burnt burning ash
Doc: they could have lied to you
Harlot:...
The sound of an old TV cracking as it cools is heard
Harlot: possibly
Bug: we need to take what time we can and run while Her has The Light occupied
Doc: but, what about Her? She can't do it herself shes strong but-
Bug: she's aware of this.
Doc: No we can't, no she'll be alone-
Bug: I said we're leaving
A soft sniffle is heard as the regular human figure starts to cry.
Harlot: oh...
Doc: oh... Oh no, I'm so sorry. Yeah come on we can go.
The three figures stand and leave the table. The regular one takes the lead out the room sniffing and reading a rudimentary weapon. The one with patches of static holds the black and white fuzz's hand. The black and white fuzz holds a small tin lunch box. A pop is heard as they leave, along with a suddenly very loud high pitched tone. The camera goes to black as the microwave shorts out
Enter scene three.
Too dark to see anything but vague shapes. The camera is moving, following three running figures. The footsteps are loud and there's panicked breathing. The sound of a computers fan starts stuttering in.
Doc: come on dear just a little further then we'll reach the fire exit
Harlot: I know I know
Bug: shut the fuck up
The figures continue sprinting. With a sudden turn, the space is lit by a green emergency exit sign. The sound of static and the high pitched tone are soft but getting louder. The figure in the front gestures back making a grabbing motion. The figure at the backhands a tin lunch box forward. With the box in its hand, the leader crouches flipping it open violently. A loud pop and the static, the high tone become deafening. The bright silhouette and the glitch beast fly into the scene from seemingly nowhere.
One of the dark silhouettes screams, the crouching leader grabs something out of the tin and hurls it at the bright silhouette. Black spots appear on it and the high pitched tone becomes sporadic. The static roars again. The leader lets out a muffled sob and throws the lunch box at the two battling figures. The figures freeze. Then with the same pop that came as they entered they vanish and the lunch box falls to the ground glowing, and everything falls silent. The closest figure walks to it and flips it shut, closing the latch fast. The middle figure goes to the crouched leader and rubs their back mumbling soft apologies. Bug: I wish it could be different I wish we could have-
Doc: I know me too. But this is what she wanted. I don’t know what Her life would have been like if she had made it out. The leader sniffs and nods. The figure that closed the lunch box picks it up and walks to the fire exit door quietly, skirting around the two crouched figures.
Harlot: We should go...
Bug: Yes, sorry. Would you like to do the honours
Harlot: No.
The leader and the figure by the door turn to the final figure, who nods with a sigh and gets up. They stand up and walk to the door, reaching out and pressing the handle.
It opens with a click, daylight floods in.