Double Lock

It seems that most of my short inspirations these days are coming directly from deadlines and calls for scripts. I've been busily at work on a feature for some time now, so it's actually quite relaxing to be called away to scribble down a tidbit as a short script.

This script was devised in a semi-black mood. Enjoy.

DOUBLE LOCK
by Kyle Patrick Johnson
Represented by: Registered with:
Canton Literary Management (CLM) Writers Guild of America,
Contact: Eric Canton West, Inc.
(866) 429-3118 Registration #1393970
ECanton@Prodigy.net
www.CantonLiteraryManagement.com
FADE IN:
INT. HANNAH’S DOOR - NIGHT
CLOSE UP on a wooden door, the stained grain deep and faded.
An ornate, curved handle on the right side.
Slouched against the door, head lolling back, tear-streaked
cheeks and balled-up fists: HANNAH (30s), fair skin and
gorgeous flowing hair and sparkling eyes on a good day. This
is not a good day.
HANNAH
I told you not to do it.
INT. PETER’S DOOR - NIGHT
CLOSE UP on another wooden door, looks the same as the first,
but the handle is on the left.
Crouched against the door, head drooped, breathless: PETER
(30s), rumpled hair, rumpled shirt, stubbled chin.
PETER
I was wrong, all right?
HANNAH (O.C.)
You were wrong, you were wrong!
PETER
I can’t help what I love.
INT. HANNAH’S DOOR - NIGHT
Hannah reaches a hand up, tests the handle. Locked. She
shakes it a couple times, echoes a defiant rattle.
HANNAH
Oh? Oh! You don’t love us, then.
PETER (O.C.)
You know that’s not what I meant.
HANNAH
I think I know you better than--
PETER (O.C.)
Stop it, Hannah. Stop it.
Hannah looks down at an open cell phone in her hand. The
backlit display reads “911” before the backlight turns off.
Hannah flips the phone shut.
HANNAH
It’s your fault, it’s all your
fault. She can’t hear--
PETER (O.C.)
Would you cut it out? She might be
all right.
Hannah bursts into tears, pounds the door behind her with a
fury born of desperation.
HANNAH
(screams)
Why do you always lie to me?
INT. PETER’S DOOR - NIGHT
Peter’s lips press tight, anger in his eyes.
HANNAH (O.C.)
You said you were done with them.
Peter hefts a fearsome shotgun.
PETER
I didn’t know she knew how to lock--
HANNAH (O.C.)
Then you said it was safe around
kids.
Peter loads the shotgun.
PETER
It was.
INT. HANNAH’S DOOR - NIGHT
Hannah shakes her head, cold eyes shimmer with disgust.
HANNAH
“They’re just for breeding.” Can
you buy her back again? Can you?
PETER (O.C.)
I didn’t know it’d go after--
HANNAH
Did you even care?
2.
INT. PETER’S DOOR - NIGHT
Peter rises, determined chin, angry at Hannah’s insinuation.
He points the shotgun at the door handle.
HANNAH (O.C.)
(sweet, hope)
Abby? Abby, honey? Can you hear me?
Peter fires. The handle disintegrates, the door swings open.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL Peter and Hannah in a home hallway, each
outside two doors into a large Master Bathroom. Hannah,
surprised by the blast, curls into a tiny ball.
PETER’S POV
A large ROTTWEILER, growling lips tinged with white foam
specks, stands over the still body of a LITTLE GIRL.
Peter pumps another shell into the chamber.
FADE OUT.