Young Writers Society

E1,

Blackmail

OPEN SHOT.

Open shot with a normal looking street with two houses. One house is a  great blue color with white shutters and a carefully manicured garden. The other house is black, almost melting into the shadows of the street, dark and foreboding. With an overgrown garden and and the occasional crow cawing, it's like a scene from a horror movie, right when the girl walks in and the door shuts behind her with a creak.

Now the camera zooms into the perfect-looking house and enters the attic room. Its colorful, with LED lights lighting up the room and a colorful bedspread. Posters with pictures of boy bands and cute baby animals line the walls. Show a 15-year old girl with short blond hair and dressed in a rainbow of colors. She's sitting on the bed, practically covered in various stuffed animals, staring at her phone.

text messages rush across bottom of screen.

MESSAGES: heyyyyyyy girl how are youuuuuu? 🤯

Girl typing back, text messages continuing rapidly. MESSAGE: I'm fine thx for asking BFF how are YOU? 

MESSAGE REPLY: wanna go chill at my crib? We can play Dance Dance Revoloutin (rated "F"... for funky!) 🥳

Girl [reply]: Suuuuuuuure let me ask mum first!!!!!! [show picture of a dancing gif of a panda bear saying, "Sup"

door opens 

A mother walks in and stares at the girl, before walking up and leaning at the phone curiously.

Mother: Sylverianne, what are you doing? 

Sylverianne: well, I am texting with Kay-kay, duh! 

Sylverianne has a high and perky voice. Just to be clear. Anyway, the mother sighs and puts her hands on her hips. Sylverianne looks up from her phone finally, and asks,

Sylverianne: What are you still doing?

Mother: remember? It's...

cue heavenly choir

Mother continuing: friday fun family reunion dinner tiiiiiiiiiime!

Sylverianne (We'll just call her Sylvie for short right now to save time and stuff) gasps and drops her phone on the bedspread, staring at her evil, evil mother. So evil. 

Sylvie: WHAT?! [Sylvie drops to her knees] no please, PLEASE! I really say, my cousin Beatrice is a total psycho! You know how awkward these are! Pleaaaaaaaaaase, please, please, I beg you!

Mother: Really, darling? That's what you think about your cousin? That is just CRUEL, really, dear.

Sylvie, hyperventilating, imagines a picture of her creepy cousin: dark sunken eyes, a pale face, dressed in all black and purple, holding a dark purple umbrella in the rain with a black cat with dark green eyes, glaring at the camera creepily. 

Sylvie: really, mum? really? It's not cruel, you should have heard her last week!

show flashback, inside the creepy house at the dinner table, the house somewhat represents the haunted mansion on Toca World. Sylvie, trying to start small talk, asks a simple question.

Sylvie: Hey, uhhh, Beatrice, am I right?

Beatrice: I suppose. Do continue.

Sylvie: [visibly shaking]: so, uh, what's your favorite color?

Beatrice lets her black cat she was petting fall to the ground, which it stalks away with an unsavory glance, now hold onto her open purple umbrella, even though it is not raining. 

Sylvie: (continuing): 'cause mine is pink, and, uh, yellow! Like unicorns and ducklings! What about you?

Beatrice (coldly, but that is how she always talks, really.): I like the colors black, purple, and red. Dark red, like blood.

Sylvie lets out a small yelp of horror.

Back to the present.

Mother: okay, that was somewhat.... creepy, but it will be different now! I'd come if I were you, darling. Not unless you want that phone in the desk drawer for a couple of weeks.

Sylvie groans, gets off the bed, and stalks to the door.

Sylvie: muttering: Jerk.

LATER SHOT,

Both of the families are sitting across each other at a large circular table, an awkward silence filling the room. Nobody is speaking, just the occasional phone tapping from one of Sylvie's older sisters. One side of the family is happy, and covered in eyeball-scorching bright colors. The other side is pale, with dark hair, and dressed in depressingly dark colors. The other side of the family isn't goth or anything. They aren't trying to look and act all emo-like, you see. They just like creepy things.

Finally, someone starts speaking.

Mother #2: This casserole is divine. You made it, Susan?

Susan (Sylvie's mother) nods enthusiastically.

Susan: Yes, actually. Tell me, if we make the food and such, why do we all eat at this house instead of ours?

Mother #2: (Charlene, in case you were curious): because, well, your house is so... colorful.

The whole family on the other side of the table make collective retching noises.

Charlene: [continuing] whereas our home is so dull and boring, not doing any damage whatsoever. Hmm?

Charlene and Beatrice's family all make collective sounds of agreement.

Sylvie: really? 'cause all this emo-ness is really getting contagious.

More retching noises from the other side of the table.

Beatrice: [glaring even more]: We. Are. Not. Emo. Don't say it again. Or else. 

Sylvie gulps. 

Charlene: Now, dear, let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? 

Beatrice spears a couple of unfortunate peas onto her fork menacingly, continuing to glare ominously, and silently.

Susan: It has really been a wonderful time here, hasn't it? But let's eat at our house next time?

Harry: (Beatrice's nerdy older brother): I found so many grammatical errors in that sentence.

Beatrice: Shut up.

Sylvie and Susan's part of the family slowly stands up from the table cautiously, before making their way to the door. They slowly walk across the street, and open the door.

Sylvie: Color! Finally! We're out of that creepy house! I have never missed you more, house!

Sylvie runs up the stairs and flings the door open to her bedroom, before skidding to a stop right by her bed, a note lying on it. The note says:

Sylverianne Yarrow,

We know your secret. At exactly 1:15 in the morning tomorrow night, you are to go to the Salworth Cemetery and leave exactly fifteen jack-o-lanterns on the steps of the biggest grave. exactly ten of the jack-o-lanterns are to have screaming faces, and the other five to be inscribed, over and over again, "Don't come back." If you do not, we will contact the Salworth City police force to issue a Dark Witch hunt. You have been warned.

                                                                           From, You'll never know

-To be continued