The New Howell Theater

presents

The Salem Horror

A Screenplay by

Ronald L. Ecker

and

Kyle Barnett


Copyright 2004, 2010 by Ronald L. Ecker
All Rights Reserved


Log line: (Horror.) A lovely psychic joins an alcoholic city councilor in trying to solve a series of murders by something supernatural in Salem, Massachusetts.




This online version has been divided into three Web pages.








               FADE IN:

               MONTAGE - SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS (MID-OCTOBER)

               -- EXT. STATUE - DAY -- The foreboding statue of Salem's
               Puritan founder Roger Conant, depicted in heavy cloak and
               hat, stands near Salem Common.     

               SUPERIMPOSE: "SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS."

               -- EXT. SALEM WITCH MUSEUM - DAY -- A sign above the entrance
               of the old Gothic Revival church building reads "Salem Witch
               Museum."

               -- EXT. THE WITCH HOUSE - DAY -- A sign in front of the old
               frame building identifies "The Witch House."

               END MONTAGE

               EXT. A LARGE PILE OF EARTH - DAY

               Some dirty white objects roll down the pile from the shovel
               of a backhoe.  It's a human skull and some bones.  The skull
               lands eerily facing CAMERA.

               EXT. DITCH-DIGGING SITE - DAY

               A "Witch City" logo, showing a witch on a broomstick, is on
               the door of a parked Salem police cruiser.

               An unmarked car parks by the cruiser.  Detective Lt. JOHNNY
               BAIER, handsome, mid-30's, gets out of the unmarked car.

               Johnny walks over to where COPS #1 and #2 stand by the pile 
               of excavated dirt near the backhoe.  The cops wear the Witch
               City logo as shoulder patches.  

               With the cops are a BACKHOE OPERATOR, his SUPERVISOR, and
               four other hard hats. 

                                   JOHNNY
                         Dug up some old bones, have we?

               Johnny squats down for a look at the skull and bones resting
               by the dirt pile.

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Yes, sir, we're putting in a new
                         water line.  The bones could be
                         old, but I don't know of a cemetery
                         ever being out here.

                                   COP #1
                         Is anyone missing in Salem?

                                   JOHNNY
                         If they are, they haven't been
                         missed yet.

               Johnny rises.  He and the others walk over to the ditch.

                                   COP #1
                         It's hell to be dead and not
                         missed.

               More bones are seen scattered in the dirt at the bottom of
               the ditch, about 6 feet down.

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         There's some old clothing down
                         there as well.  But no trace of a
                         coffin or nothing.

                                   COP #1
                             (to Johnny)
                         You think Terry can I.D. the bones?

                                   JOHNNY
                         Nah, they'll have to go to Boston.

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         The old water line didn't miss 'em
                         by far -- if the remains were here
                         when the old one got laid.

               Johnny gives Cop #1 an amused look.

                                   JOHNNY
                         "When the old one got laid."

                                   COP #2
                         You don't think it's a prank, do
                         you, with the Haunted Happenings
                         festival going on?

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         This is no Halloween prank.  Those
                         bones have been six feet under for
                         a while.

               CLOSE-UP - SKULL

               Creepy, its dark eye sockets seemingly staring at CAMERA.

                                   COP #1 (O.S.)
                         Hell, they could go back to the
                         witch trials of 1692.

               EXT. SKY - NIGHT

               A full moon with wisps of dark clouds.

               EXT. DITCH-DIGGING SITE - NIGHT

               In the darkness, the excavated ditch by the pile of dirt is
               pitch-black inside, as if some frightful secret lies shrouded
               within.

               EXT. STANFORD HOME - DAY (EARLY MORNING)

               A nice older New England home.  Misty, about 7:15 A.M. 

               INT. KITCHEN - DAY

               Husky JIM STANFORD, late 40's, in pajamas and robe, pours 
               a cup of coffee.

               He sits down at the table and looks at the front page of 
               the "Boston Globe."  He sips his coffee as he starts to read.  

               Stanford hears something BREAK -- a faint crashing sound,
               toward a side of the house, from below.  He rises.

               INT. HALLWAY - DAY

               Stanford enters the hallway.  He calls out,

                                   STANFORD
                         Kay?  

               He walks to a closed basement door.

               INT. BASEMENT - DAY  

               Stanford turns on the light.

               He descends the creaky stairs in the shadowy, cluttered
               basement.   

               Stanford sees a freshly broken window.  Walking toward it, 
               he suddenly stops as a RAT goes by his feet.

               Grabbing a 34-inch baseball bat propped nearby, Stanford 
               tries to run down the rat, but it hides.

                                   STANFORD
                         You little bastard.

               Stanford props the bat against the wall.  He proceeds to the
               window, through which his line of sight is just above ground.

               The rock that shattered the window lies amid broken glass on 
               the floor.  A piece of paper is tied around the rock with two
               rubber bands. 

               Stanford picks up the rock and removes the paper.  He reads
               the hand-printed message: "Fuck You, Stanford, A Haunted
               Happening, Ha Ha Ha".

               As Stanford looks at the piece of paper, he hears what could
               be a FOOT MOVE on leaves right outside the window.

               Looking toward the window, Stanford catches a fleeting
               glimpse of something dark as it moves away. 

               Stanford looks to the side out the window as best he can, but
               sees nothing.

               The sharp CLANK of something falling behind him startles him.  

               Turning, he sees the bat roll to a stop on the floor, having
               fallen over from the wall.

               Aggravated, Stanford sets the note aside, puts the rock on
               top of it, and heads toward the stairs.

               INT. HALLWAY - DAY 

               Stanford comes out of the basement, closing the door behind
               him.  He listens.  The house seems almost too quiet.

               Stanford starts toward the kitchen, then stops.  He glances
               behind him.  

                                   STANFORD
                         Kay?  Are you here?

               INT. KITCHEN - DAY 

               Stanford talks on the phone at the counter,

                                   STANFORD
                             (into phone)
                         Seven one nine Oakwood, right.

               Stanford hangs up.  

               The newspaper lies spread open on the table as Stanford goes 
               over and sits back down.

               Stanford starts to sip his now lukewarm coffee.  About to get
               up for a hot cup, Stanford senses something odd, unsettling --
               something under his spread newspaper.  

               Stanford seems almost afraid to look.  Peeking down by the
               side of the table, he sees what looks like a piece of rope --
               or even a huge rat's tail -- hanging down from under the
               paper.

               Slowly rising, Stanford takes hold of the newspaper.  He  
               snatches it away from the table and steps back.

               Lying neatly on the table is a noose, the rope hung over 
               the table edge to the floor, where it lies in a coil. 

               The newspaper is suddenly snatched out of his hands.  

               Stanford is hurled backward -- CRASHING into the wall like a
               big rag doll - by some invisible force.

               He scrambles up from the floor to flee, but is thrown
               forward, landing on his stomach.  Something BANGS his face 
               on the floor, busting his nose.

               Stanford rises, again trying to flee.  The table lifts up and
               is thrown at him, knocking him right out the door.

               INT. HOUSE - DAY 

               Stanford, dazed, nose bleeding, stumbles and falls over
               furniture.  The invisible something snaps the noose around
               his neck, and drags him choking to the staircase.

               He tries to loosen the noose and struggles to get to his feet
               at the foot of the steps.  He is thrown tumbling up the steps,
               and is smashed down on the landing at the top of the stairs.

               Stanford lies gagging in terror on the landing.  The noose 
               is snatched tighter.

               EXT. REAR OF THE HOUSE - DAY 

               Attractive KAY STANFORD, late 40's, returns from jogging in 
               a sweatsuit.  She enters a back door of the house.    

               INT. KITCHEN - DAY

               Entering, Kay stops, alarmed at the sight of the table lying
               upended near the other door, a broken cup, spilt coffee, and
               drops of blood on the floor.

               Kay starts to back out.  She grabs a cell phone from the
               counter and heads out the way she came.

               EXT. REAR OF HOUSE - DAY

               Kay punches 911 on the cell phone as she runs out of the
               house.  She starts moving toward the front.

                                   KAY
                             (into phone)
                         I think my home's been invaded.  
                         They may still be inside.  
                             (listens)
                         Kay Stanford.  Seven one nine
                         Oakwood.  Please get someone 
                         here.
                             (listens)
                         Yes, my husband's in there, and
                         there's blood.  

               Kay moves to a thinly curtained window.  Trying to see inside,
               she is startled by what looks like a YOUNG BLACK WOMAN'S FACE,
               staring calmly from behind the curtain.

               Kay emits a cry and steps back.  She is startled again as she
               backs into someone or something.

               Turning, Kay sees that it's a 50-ish male NEIGHBOR.  Wearing
               pajamas and robe, he holds his morning newspaper still in its
               wrapper. 

                                   NEIGHBOR
                         What is it, Kay?

                                   KAY
                         There's someone in my house.  Look
                         in that window.

               The Neighbor goes to the window.  He peers inside through the
               thin curtains.  

               To his horror, he sees Stanford hanging from the staircase
               landing.

               INT. STAIRCASE AREA - DAY 

               Lt. Johnny Baier stands looking in awe at the crime scene.

               Stanford lies dead on the floor, in a pool of blood, below
               the staircase landing.  The rope has been cut, the loosened
               noose still around his neck.

               On the wall above the corpse is a large, intricate design,  
               some kind of symbol, drawn in blood. 

               Crime scene investigator TERRY MEYERS, 30-ish, being assisted
               by COP #3, takes a last picture of the body.  COP #4 is also
               present.

                                   JOHNNY
                         So what do you figure on the weapon
                         he was cut with, Terry?

                                   MEYERS
                         I'd say a knife with a good twelve
                         inch blade.  When she's able, have
                         the wife check the kitchen, to see
                         if there's a butcher knife missing.

               Johnny gazes at the bloody design on the wall.

                                   JOHNNY
                         I want to keep this quiet -- this
                         thing on the wall.  Any idea what
                         it means?

                                   MEYERS
                         You tell me.  Satanic?  Could be
                         gang-related.

               Meyers snaps a picture of it, Johnny staring at the symbol.

               INT. VAN - MOVING - DAY

               JAIME ROMERO, 25, casually dressed, talks to someone unseen
               in back as he drives through Salem.  A rock tune PLAYS low 
               on the radio.

                                   ROMERO 
                         Salem is the place, man.  They've
                         got things like the Witch Museum,
                         then every October they have this 
                         Halloween shit all month.  I was
                         here two years ago, had my fortune
                         told by this lady at a psychic
                         fair.  She said I was going to meet
                         someone really cool.  

               Jaime glances back and laughs.

                                   ROMERO
                         Get it?  "Really cool."

               EXT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY 

               A sign identifies a Salem funeral home, as Romero's van,
               which has a state government tag, pulls in and stops under
               the awning at a side entrance.

               INT. ROMERO'S VAN - DAY

               Romero opens his door and glances back.

                                   ROMERO
                         Stay put.  I'll let them know you
                         are here.

               EXT. VAN - DAY

               A stretcher has been rolled out to the van, and an undertaker
               and an assistant remove a corpse in its body bag, while
               Romero calmly looks on.  He glances at the threatening sky.

                                   ROMERO
                         Can you guys tell me how to get 
                         to the police station?  I have to
                         take some bones back to Boston.

               EXT. MIDDLE SCHOOL - DAY

               A sign identifies "Salem Middle School."  It's raining. 

               INT. PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE - DAY

               Handsome WES COVINGTON, 45, stands in thought at the window
               of his office, gazing morosely out at the rain.

               EXT. ROMERO'S VAN - DAY

               In the back, a transparent plastic bag holds the skull and
               bones from the ditch-digging site.  

               It rains as Romero closes the back door and hurries to get 
               in behind the wheel.

               INT. PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE - DAY

               Seated at his desk, Wes opens a drawer.  He stares for a
               moment at a thin manila envelope, lying on top of other 
               items in the drawer.

               EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY

               Romero's van pulls out from the rear parking lot in the rain.  

               A dark-red 10-year-old Chevy with the tag number "RGL 124" 
               is parked across the street.  It follows Romero's van.  

               INT. PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE - DAY

               Wes slowly takes the manila envelope from the open desk
               drawer.  He gazes at the envelope as if wondering whether to
               take out its contents, or dreading to.

               His SECRETARY, 55, steps in with a look of concern.

                                   SECRETARY
                         Wes, have you heard?  Jim Stanford
                         was murdered this morning.

               Wes gives her a stunned, speechless look.

               EXT. HIGHWAY 107 (SALEM) - DAY 

               Rain pours down now, as Romero stops his van at a stop sign
               where the street meets Highway 107.  

               The tailing Chevy pulls up behind the van.  There are no cars
               behind the Chevy.

               INT. ROMERO'S VAN - DAY

               Romero, trying to see through the downpour, waits for a
               chance to pull out into highway traffic.  

               He hears someone open the back door of the van.

               EXT. VAN - DAY

               Romero gets out in the rain and looks incredulously as a
               THIEF in a hooded raincoat, all his or her features unseen,
               removes the bag of bones from the van.

               As Romero starts toward the Thief,

                                   ROMERO
                         Hey, what do you think you're
                         doing?  You can't --

               The Thief's gloved hand slits Romero's throat with a knife.

               Romero, unable to speak, grabs his throat, spurting blood. 
               The Thief heads for the Chevy with the bag.

               EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 

               The Thief gets into the Chevy.

               Romero, holding his throat, blood pouring over his hand,
               leaves the van and staggers onto the highway, despite the
               blinding rain, to try to flag down help.  

               Behind the van the Chevy backs up, turns around and drives
               away.

               In the downpour, DRIVER #1 suddenly sees Romero ahead, hits
               the brakes, but the car SLAMS into Romero, flinging him into
               the neighboring lane.  DRIVER #2's car runs over him.

               EXT. COVINGTON HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 

               Answering the front door, Wes, with a drink in hand, lets in
               RALPH WILKINS, cultured-looking, about 60, in a business suit
               and overcoat.

                                   WES
                         Hi, Ralph, come on in.

                                   WILKINS
                         I guess you've heard about Jim
                         Stanford today.

                                   WES
                         Yeah, I went by a little while ago
                         to pay respects to Kay and the kid.

                                   WILKINS
                         And a guy from the Boston morgue
                         gets his throat cut here.  What's
                         going on?

                                   WES
                         I don't know.  Would you like a
                         drink?

                                   WILKINS
                         No, thank you.  Let's look at what
                         you called me about.

               INT. DEN - NIGHT 

               Wes and Wilkins stand at a table by a wall of the nice den. 
               On the table are a large old family Bible, open on a book
               stand, with historical family documents beside it.

               Wes gazes sadly at a picture on the wall above the desk.  It
               shows Wes, a pretty 30-ish woman, and a teenage boy together,
               apparently in happier times.

               Wilkins reads one of the documents with fascination.

                                   WILKINS
                         This is some interesting history. 
                         But I'm going to wait before I
                         accept it for the library.  I want
                         you to think about it a while.  
                         I don't want you to regret parting
                         with old family heirlooms.

               Wes looks at the manila envelope from his office desk, now
               lying by the Bible.  Wes picks it up.

                                   WES
                         There's another document, Ralph, 
                         that I haven't kept with the others.

               Wes takes an old document, handwritten in ink, from the
               envelope and hands it to Wilkins.

                                   WES
                         I've kept it tucked away in my
                         office at school.  My son knows
                         nothing about it.

               Wes waits as Wilkins reads.  Wilkins looks appalled.

                                   WILKINS
                         I can't believe my eyes.
                             (beat)
                         May I have a copy of this?

               Wes hands Wilkins the envelope.

                                   WES
                         I thought you might ask.  There's 
                         a copy inside.

               Wilkins returns the document to Wes, who puts it on the table, 
               underneath the others.

                                   WES
                         What do you plan to do with your
                         copy?

                                   WILKINS
                         I have no idea.  What would you
                         like me to do?

                                   WES
                         Nothing.  I just wanted you to know.

               A pause as Wilkins gazes at the copy.

                                   WILKINS
                         I'm not sure it's something that I
                         wanted to know.

               EXT. DITCH-DIGGING SITE - DAY

               The Backhoe Operator refills a ditch section containing new
               water pipe.  

               The hard-hat Supervisor watches, other hard hats in b.g.

               The Operator looks curiously toward something further along
               the ditch, about where the bones were dug up.  He looks at
               the Supervisor and nods toward it.

               The Supervisor turns to look.

               A mysterious BLACK HUMAN FIGURE kneels or squats by the pile
               of dirt from the ditch, its back to the Supervisor.  It seems
               to be handling something in the dirt.

               The Supervisor walks over and stops behind the figure.

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Is there something I can help you
                         with?

               The figure immediately rises and turns.  

               It's a 30-ish, one-eyed black man (his name is MONTOUT), in 
               all-black garb including fedora.  His one eye is riveting,
               the other one closed or missing under shriveled skin.

               Montout shows the spooked-looking Supervisor what he holds.   
               It's a white styrofoam cup, full of dirt.   

               Without a word Montout walks away.  The Supervisor steps over
               to the Operator on his backhoe.  They watch Montout walk
               toward town.  

                                   OPERATOR
                         Who was that?

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Beats the shit out of me.  Why the
                         hell would he come take some dirt?

                                   OPERATOR
                         Maybe he's going to roll it and 
                         smoke it.  We've got plenty of dirt
                         here to spare.

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Get back to work.

               EXT. SALEM STATE COLLEGE - LIBRARY - NIGHT 

               Students leave the library.  

               SUPERIMPOSE: "SALEM STATE COLLEGE."

               INT. HEAD LIBRARIAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT

               A LIBRARIAN, 25, looks in as Wilkins sits working at his
               desk.

                                   LIBRARIAN
                         We're all closed up.  Are you going
                         to work here all night?

                                   WILKINS
                         I'll be a few minutes yet.  I've
                         almost got this report wrapped up.

                                   LIBRARIAN 
                         Well good night.

                                   WILKINS
                         Good night.

               As the Librarian leaves, she closes the office door, on which
               a plaque reads "Ralph Wilkins, Head Librarian."

               INT. CLOSED LIBRARY - NIGHT 

               Dark and spooky.

               INT. WILKINS'S OFFICE - NIGHT 

               Wilkins, still not finished work, sits in troubled thought. 

               He looks again at his work.  Sighing, he picks up a note with
               a book call number on it.

               INT. CLOSED LIBRARY - NIGHT 

               Dark.  Wilkins, note in hand, turns on the lights in one of
               the aisles between bookstacks.  He heads down the aisle.

               Almost at the aisle's end, Wilkins looks for a book.

               Taking hold of a book, Wilkins stops, to look with concern
               toward the dark entrance of the aisle, as if sensing that
               someone or something is there.

               Wilkins seems to dismiss the feeling.  He takes down the 
               book and opens it.  He looks in the book for a moment, then
               he looks again toward the aisle entrance.  His eyes widen.  

               Something barely visible moves slowly, eerily out of the
               darkness toward the entrance to the aisle.

               Its features become discernible as the figure moves into the
               aisle's light and stops at the entrance.    

               It's a BLACK WOMAN, fairly attractive, about 25, in a dark
               hooded cloak.  She stares at Wilkins with an unsettling lack
               of expression.  Wilkins stares back.  

                                   WILKINS
                         Who are you?

               The Woman doesn't move or speak.  

               Wilkins looks scared as he closes the book and returns it to
               the shelf.  His eyes momentarily on the shelf, Wilkins looks
               again toward the entrance.  

               The Woman is gone.

               There's a metal footstool in the aisle, close by one of the
               bookstacks.  Wilkins watches as something, like an invisible
               foot, slowly ROLLS the footstool to the center of the aisle.

               Wilkins stares at the footstool.  Suddenly something KICKS 
               it through the air, Wilkins ducking as the footstool CRASHES
               against the wall behind him and bounces off his back.

               Wilkins turns and hurries to the end of the aisle, as if to
               flee around the corner between the bookstack on the left and
               the wall.

               Before Wilkins can get to the corner, the whole bookstack on
               the left is shoved -- the noise is SCREECHING -- till its end
               HITS the wall, blocking Wilkins's way.

               Now the same thing happens on the right -- something
               incredibly powerful shoves the entire right bookstack till
               its end SLAMS against the wall.  

               Trapped in the aisle, Wilkins backs up against the wall, his
               eyes on the frighteningly vacant aisle entrance.

               Then the aisle entrance is no longer vacant.  The Black Woman
               in the cloak again stands there, staring without expression
               at Wilkins.  He trembles with fear. 

                                   WILKINS
                             (haltingly)
                         What do you want?

                                   WOMAN
                             (after a moment)
                         Wilkins.

               Wilkins stares.  Then the Woman is gone.    

               On a shelf near Wilkins, as he watches in horror, one of the
               bent-wire book supports, suspended from the shelf above, is
               methodically TORN OUT as if by a powerful invisible hand.

               Wilkins tries to run, but something shoves him back powerfully
               against the wall.

               Before Wilkins's eyes the wire book support is bent straight
               in midair.  

               As Wilkins is pressed against the wall, the length of wire 
               is PLUNGED into Wilkins's right eye, through his head, and 
               into the wall.

               As Wilkins, pinned to the wall by the wire, screams in agony,
               another bent-wire book support is TORN from its shelf.  

               Bent straight, the length of wire is PLUNGED into the wall
               through Wilkins's left eye.

               Wilkins, dead and bleeding, hangs from the wall by the two
               straightened wires through his eye sockets.

               Blood, pouring down the wall from the back of his head, pools
               on the floor at his feet.

               On the wall above Wilkins's head, the same design that was
               seen at Stanford's is already drawn in blood.

               EXT. SALEM CITY HALL - DAY (SUNSET) 

               "City Hall" is engraved above the entrance of the stately
               building.  A taxi arrives in front.

               ANGELA THEOBOLD, 30-ish, black, wearing an overcoat with
               purse, gets out of the taxi.

               Angela is lovely, with something of a mysterious aura.  (She
               doesn't resemble the black Woman seen earlier.)  Standing
               before the steps, she looks up at the mahogany double doors.

               Angela starts up the steps as the taxi departs.

               INT. CITY COUNCIL MEETING - DAY (SUNSET)

               A large number of concerned citizens are present, as CITIZEN
               #1 addresses council president Wes and his fellow councilors. 

               Lt. Johnny Baier and uniformed POLICE CHIEF PARHAM, 50-ish,
               sit near the front.

                                   CITIZEN #1
                         I think I speak for most of the
                         folks here tonight.  We think
                         there's some kind of connection
                         between these terrible killings. 
                         There has to be, in a town as 
                         small as Salem.

               As Citizen #1 continues, Wes notes Angela as she quietly
               enters the chamber and takes a seat in the rear. 

                                   CITIZEN #1
                         This celebrating of witches and all
                         has drawn some kind of deranged
                         cult or serial killer to Salem.
                                   (MORE)
                           
                         A lot of us think it would be a
                         good idea if the Haunted Happenings
                         festival was cancelled at once.

                                   CITIZEN #2
                         That's nonsense.  All you're going
                         to do with cancellation is hurt the
                         town's economy.

                                   CITIZEN #3
                         That's right.  If Halloween has
                         lured a killer or cult here, well,    
                         the killer or cult is already here.                   
                         No need to cancel the festival.

               Johnny, turned in his seat to watch the argument, notices
               Angela, and their eyes briefly meet.  They seem to have met
               before and are not on friendly terms.

                                   CITIZEN #1
                         You want to encourage this beast,
                         or beasts, or whoever it is?

                                   CITIZEN #2
                         What you want to do is let the town
                         go broke.

                                   CITIZEN #1
                         This town gets by for eleven months 
                         a year without Haunted Happenings.

                                   CITIZEN #3
                         That's right -- thanks to the one
                         month a year that we have it.

               As Wes raises a hand for quiet,

                                   WES
                         Okay, let's not get out of order
                         here, please.  The police chief 
                         is here to address our concerns. 
                         So at this point, I'll ask Chief
                         Parham to say a few words.

               Parham rises to address the citizens.

                                   PARHAM
                         Thank you, Mister Covington.  My
                         fellow citizens, there is no need
                         to cancel our annual festival, as
                         there is nothing at all to suggest
                         that Halloween and these killings
                         are somehow related.

               Johnny smugly exchanges looks again with Angela.

                                   PARHAM
                         I want to assure you that we are
                         doing everything possible to get 
                         to the bottom of these cases. 
                         The guilty parties will be
                         apprehended.  We can't divulge 
                         all we have yet.

               The Supervisor from the ditch-digging is among the citizens
               present.  He looks intrigued by the chief's words.

                                   PARHAM
                         But if anyone has information 
                         in connection with these recent
                         tragedies, then please share that 
                         with us, as well as any suspicious
                         behavior that you may observe, 
                         just to be on the safe side.

               LATER 

               The meeting over, Angela approaches Wes, who puts papers in a
               briefcase.  Some citizens and councilors are leaving, others
               staying to converse. 

                                   ANGELA
                         Mister Covington?

                                   WES
                         Yes?

                                   ANGELA
                         I'm Angela Theobold.  May I speak
                         with you?

                                   WES
                         What about?

                                   ANGELA
                         Well, would you laugh if I told you
                         I'm a psychic?

                                   WES
                         No, but if you're looking for a job
                         at one of the psychic fairs, you
                         need to talk to --

                                   ANGELA
                         No, Mister Covington.  I don't
                         charge for my work, and I'm not
                         into card games.

                                   WES
                         What are you into?

                                   ANGELA
                         With regard to the recent murders, I
                         think I can be of help.

               Wes gestures toward Chief Parham, who with Johnny speaks with
               some citizens.

                                   WES
                         The police chief is right over
                         there.  That's his bailiwick.

               Angela's and Johnny's eyes again meet.

                                   ANGELA
                         I know.  I talked with him earlier
                         today.  Along with the lieutenant
                         there with him.

                                   WES
                         And?

                                   ANGELA
                         They told me that my help wasn't
                         needed.

                                   WES
                         They were skeptical.

                                   ANGELA
                         To say the least.

                                   WES
                         Well so am I.  Maybe you should
                         talk to the mayor.

               Wes starts to go.

                                   ANGELA
                         The mayor's unavailable.  I hear
                         he's quite ill, as you know.  That
                         leads me to you, sir, as city
                         council president. 

                                   WES
                         Well I don't know what you expect
                         me to do, Ms... 

                                   ANGELA
                         Theobold.  Call me Angela.  

                                   WES
                         I'm going to level with you.  I
                         don't believe in psychics.  The
                         fairs in town are a show.  Now if
                         you will excuse me...

                                   ANGELA
                         You seem troubled.  I sense a
                         great sadness... You have lost
                         someone, recently.

               Wes glares at Angela.

                                   WES
                         Look, I'm not going to stand here
                         and listen to your act.  I find it
                         invasive and insulting.  I've also
                         had a long day.  So goodbye.

               Wes moves off.

               INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 

               As they are leaving, along with the last of the citizens, the
               Supervisor from the ditch-digging stops Johnny and Parham. 

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Excuse me, Chief.  Lieutenant.
                             (to Johnny)
                         Remember me?

                                   JOHNNY
                         Sure.  What do you need?

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Well, something's been kind of
                         bothering me.  After what you said
                         tonight, Chief, I thought I should
                         mention it.

                                   PARHAM
                         Please do.  What is it?

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         A weird black guy with one eye, and
                         wearing all black, took some dirt
                         from the ditch where those bones
                         were dug up.  I mean this guy fell
                         out of the ugly tree and hit every
                         branch going down.

                                   JOHNNY
                         There's no law against being ugly.  

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         No, sir, I just can't forget it,
                         the way the guy looked.

                                   JOHNNY
                         How much dirt did he take?

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Just a styrofoam cupful.

                                   PARHAM
                         He didn't say what it was for?

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         He didn't say a damn thing.  He
                         just looked at me with that one
                         good eye and walked off with his
                         cupful of dirt.  He gave me the
                         creeps.

                                   JOHNNY
                         We'll be on the lookout.  Let us
                         know if you see him again.

                                   SUPERVISOR
                         Sure will.  Thanks, Lieutenant. 
                         Chief.

               The Supervisor moves off.  Parham and Johnny proceed toward
               the exit.

                                   PARHAM
                         Sounds like a person of interest.

                                   JOHNNY
                         Could be.  What'll we call him?

                                   PARHAM
                         How about the One-Eyed Dirt Man?

               They stop as they reach the exit.

                                   PARHAM
                         Johnny, our festival is getting
                         national publicity this year.  But
                         not the kind that we want.  Let's
                         catch these people, okay?  That's
                         the right kind of publicity.  I'm
                         counting on you. 

               Parham walks on out.

               EXT. COVINGTON HOME - NIGHT 

               The house is dark.  There is rain, THUNDER, and lightning.

               INT. WES'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 

               Wes lies asleep on his side in the dark.  An empty drink
               glass sits on the bed table.  Intermittent lightning and
               THUNDER outside.

               Wes opens his eyes.  

               SARAH COVINGTON, early 40s, lies facing Wes on the bed.  
               Nude, she looks hauntingly beautiful in the flashes of
               lightning.

               Wes looks at her with wonder and desire.  

                                   WES
                         Sarah...

               He moves to her, and they kiss.

               As their lips part, there is rotten flesh on Wes's mouth.  
               To his horror, Sarah is a hideous decomposing corpse.

               Turning away, Wes starts to leap up from the bed.  Standing
               over him by the bed is Angela, in a white nightgown, on her
               face a look of pure evil. 

               Angela raises a long butcher knife.  She comes down with the
               knife, blood splattering on her gown.

               Wes bolts up in the bed from his nightmare.  He plops back
               down in the lonely lightning-illumined dark.

               INT. BEDROOM - DAY 

               A clock reads 9:40, bright sun shines through the window, as
               the bedside PHONE RINGS. 

               The ringing gradually wakes up Wes. 

                                   WES
                         Oh God...
                             (answers phone)
                         Hello.

               INTERCUT WITH:

               INT. SCHOOL - SECRETARY'S DESK - DAY

               Wes's Secretary is on the phone.  A female clerk, 25, listens
               as she files at a cabinet.

                                   SECRETARY
                         I was calling to make sure you're
                         all right.

                                   WES
                         I'm okay... Overslept again.  I'll
                         be in in an hour.

               The Secretary hangs up.  She exchanges looks with the clerk.

               EXT. RESTAURANT #1 - NIGHT 

               A nice eatery in Salem.

               INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT 

               Wes walks in and gets a friendly greeting from a WAITER.

                                   WAITER
                         Good evening, Mister Covington.

                                   WES
                         Good evening.

               The Waiter grabs a menu.  Wes follows him toward a table for
               one or two, other patrons dining at tables.

                                   WES
                         What's the special tonight?

               Wes exchanges waves with a couple he knows.

                                   WAITER
                         All the boiled shrimp you can eat.

               About to sit down, Wes notices Angela, sitting alone at a
               table for two with a salad and glass of wine. 

                                   ANGELA
                         Would you care to join me?  No
                         sense in both of us dining alone.

               Wes hesitates, then walks over to her table, the Waiter
               following, and sits down across from Angela.  Wes declines
               the menu.

                                   WES
                         I'll have the shrimp with a baked
                         potato.  And a Bloody Mary first.

               The Waiter moves off.  Wes and Angela look at each other.

                                   WES
                         What a coincidence.

                                   ANGELA
                         Someone recommended this place.

                                   WES
                         You knew I was coming here, right? 
                         You being a psychic and all.  You
                         even knew I would order the shrimp.

                                   ANGELA
                         We psychics don't know everything,
                         Mister Covington.  Wouldn't it be
                         nice if we did?

                                   WES
                         You can call me Wes.  And your name
                         once again?

                                   ANGELA
                         Angela.  Theobold.

                                   WES
                         Angela.  So tell me about myself. 
                         We'll get to you later.

                                   ANGELA
                         Do you find me a joke?

                                   WES
                         No, really, tell me about myself. 
                         You're the psychic here.

                                   ANGELA
                         Your name is Wes Covington, and
                         you're head of the city council.

                                   WES
                         Oh, that's good.

                                   ANGELA
                         I am sorry for your loss, Wes. 
                         Your wife, I presume.  And for
                         whatever's wrong now in your
                         family.

               Wes looks a bit irked, as if Angela has stepped out of
               bounds.

                                   WES
                         What do I do for a living?

                                   ANGELA
                         I sense children.  A large group.
                         You're a teacher?

                                   WES
                         Middle-school principal.  And you
                         didn't already know that?

                                   ANGELA
                         No, I didn't.
                             (beat)
                         Listen, I'm here to try to help,
                         Wes, before another person dies.  
                         I always know when I'm called,
                         though I never know why, except 
                         to assist where I can.

                                   WES
                         You said you went to the police and
                         they turned you down.

                                   ANGELA
                         Yes.

                                   WES
                         Have you ever done any psychic work
                         for a police department before?

                                   ANGELA
                         Yes.  I worked on a couple of
                         murder cases for Boston P.D.  
                         What I was able to give them was
                         helpful.  So I do have a track
                         record.  On that and non-criminal
                         matters.  

               The Waiter serves the Bloody Mary and leaves. 

                                   WES
                         Let's get back to me.  What else
                         can you tell me?

                                   ANGELA
                         You knew the last victim quite well.

                                   WES
                         Yes.  Salem, for all its fame -- or
                         infamy -- is still a small town.

               Wes takes a swallow of his Bloody Mary.  

                                   WES
                         And I drink too much too.  Right?

                                   ANGELA
                         I didn't know that.  But I'm not
                         surprised.  Shall we keep playing
                         games?

                                   WES
                         No.  What exactly is it you want?

                                   ANGELA
                         I want you to help me be of help.

                                   WES
                         How?

                                   ANGELA
                         I need you to let me in.  No one
                         will talk to me.  If I could be
                         introduced, if you could get me
                         into a crime scene, I can help put
                         a stop to this mayhem.

               A beat.  Wes seems to give in under Angela's gaze.

                                   WES
                         I'll have to make a call.  It won't
                         be up to me.

                                   ANGELA
                         I understand.

               INT. STANFORD HOME - NIGHT 

               Kay, wearing black, moves listlessly to the front door.

               She peeks out through the curtains.  She opens the door, 
               and Wes and Angela enter.  Wes takes Kay's hand.

                                   WES
                         Hello, Kay.  This is Angela.

               Angela shakes Kay's hand.

                                   ANGELA
                         Hello, Mrs. Stanford.  Thank you
                         for letting me come here.

               Kay closes the door.  She and Wes watch as Angela walks
               forward, looking over the house.

               Angela walks toward the kitchen.  Wes and Kay follow.

               INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT 

               Angela, looking around, stops by the table, and touches it. 
               Wes and Kay watch. 

                                   ANGELA
                         My God.  It's so strong.  This is
                         where it attacked him...
                             (moves toward the door)
                         But he didn't die here.

               INT. THE HOUSE - NIGHT

               From the kitchen, Angela follows the path that Stanford took
               in his struggle.

               She stops where the noose got him, then she moves to the
               shadowy area under the staircase landing.  Wes and Kay
               follow.

               Standing in the death area, Angela folds her arms, rubbing
               them with her hands, as if she has entered an ice box.

                                   ANGELA
                         It's cold...

               Angela steps to the wall, freshly painted where the bloody
               symbol had defiled it.

               Angela puts the palm of her hand to the wall, and slides the
               hand slowly downward.  Her hand stops at the center of where
               the symbol was. 

                                   ANGELA
                         Oh... Something was here -- on the
                         wall.  I see blood on the wall.
                         A design... drawn in blood.

               Kay looks awestruck, tears filling her eyes.

                                   KAY
                         Yes.  The detective asked to keep
                         it a secret, and the wall was
                         repainted.  Do you know who did it?

                                   ANGELA
                         Not yet.

                                   WES
                         You said "it" attacked him.

                                   ANGELA
                         Yes.  It may not have been human.

               Angela suddenly looks a bit faint.

                                   WES
                         Are you all right?

                                   ANGELA
                         Yes.  This takes a lot out of me. 
                         If you could drive me to my hotel,
                         I --

                                   KAY
                             (anxiously)
                         Don't go.  Can you come and stay
                         here?  Please.  My son has gone
                         back to school, and -- I don't know
                         why, but I feel close to Jim with
                         you here.

                                   ANGELA
                         I will come back tomorrow, and
                         stay, if you wish, while in Salem.

                                   KAY
                         Thank you.

               INT. WES'S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

               Wes drives, Angela on the passenger side.  Light rain begins
               falling.  Wes turns on the wipers.  

               As Wes stares ahead, the rain and wipers seem to stir a dark
               memory.

               EXT. A LATE-MODEL CAR - NIGHT (FLASHBACK) 

               In darkness and rain, with lightning and THUNDER, the car,
               lights on, sits on the shoulder of an interstate highway.  

               Wes, getting soaked, opens the car trunk.  He glances back 
               as bright headlight beams approach.

               INT. WES'S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

               Angela looks knowingly at Wes as he drives, staring ahead.

               Becoming aware of Angela's gaze, Wes seems to come back to
               the present.

                                   WES
                         I hate to drive in the rain.
                             (beat)
                         I have to apologize.  We didn't
                         talk much about you over dinner.
                         What is it you study at Boston U?

                                   ANGELA
                         Boston College.  Psychology.  

                                   WES
                         Psychology.  I might have guessed.  
                         Shouldn't you be going to classes?

                                   ANGELA
                         I'm working on my thesis.  Or I was
                         until this.

                                   WES
                         And what do you think killed him? 
                         If you think it was something non
                         human.

               Angela shakes her head that she doesn't know.

                                   ANGELA
                         Have there been any suspicious
                         deaths recently, besides the three
                         murders, in Salem?

                                   WES
                         Well, some human bones were found,
                         a few days ago.  Whoever it was
                         didn't die recently.  But you know
                         what?  Those bones disappeared
                         while in the custody of the second
                         murder victim -- Jaime Romero from
                         Boston.  He worked for the medical
                         examiner.

               Angela looks intrigued.

                                   ANGELA
                         I don't remember any mention of 
                         bones.

                                   WES
                         But you're a psychic.

                                   ANGELA
                         Wes, those stolen bones have to
                         mean something.  They're a key.
                             (beat)
                         You need to do something for me. 
                         The police will have photos of the
                         symbol, the killer's mark, on the
                         wall at the Stanfords'.  I need to
                         see that mark.  

                                   WES
                         I'll help you get moved in the
                         morning, then I'll go see the
                         lieutenant.

               EXT. OLD LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT

               A sign identifies "Salem Wine and Spirits" on a shadowy
               downtown street.

               INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT

               Behind the counter the STORE CLERK, a world-weary lady about
               50, alone in the rather dimly lit, old-fashioned store, takes
               a cigarette from a pack.  

               A BELL RINGS as someone enters the front door.  Not looking,
               the Clerk lights her cigarette.

                                   CLERK 
                         I'll be right with you.

               The Clerk takes a drag, then leaves the cigarette on an ash
               tray and steps to the counter.  She registers unease at the
               person standing there.

               It's one-eyed Montout, all in black as before, looking eery
               and menacing though he may not intend it.

                                   CLERK
                         May I help you?

                                   MONTOUT
                             (Haitian accent)
                         Do you have any Barbancourt? 

                                   CLERK
                         Barbancourt?

                                   MONTOUT
                         It is a fine Haitian rum.

               EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT 

               A police cruiser with its Witch City logo slows to a stop.  

               Behind the wheel, COP #5 looks over through the store's front
               window.  He sees the Clerk bagging a quart bottle for Montout
               at the counter.

               As Montout turns to go, the Cop sees that he's one-eyed.

               The Cop pulls over to the curb across the street.  He gets on
               his radio.

                                   COP #5
                             (into radio)
                         Salem, this is one six.

               Moments later, Montout, his purchase in hand, walks toward
               his dark-red 10-year-old Chevy, parked at the curb.  Cop #5
               approaches him from his cruiser.

                                   COP #5
                         Wait a minute, fella.

               Montout stops as Cop #5 walks over.

                                   COP #5
                         Is this your car?

                                   MONTOUT
                         Yes, it is.

                                   COP #5
                         Could I see your driver's license 
                         please?

               The Cop takes out a little note pad and steps to the rear of
               the car.

                                   MONTOUT
                         What is this about, sir?

               The Cop jots down the tag number ("RGL 124").

                                   COP #5
                         We may need to ask you some
                         questions, that's all.  May I 
                         see your license?

               There is the sound of a SIREN approaching in the distance. 
               Montout takes out his wallet and hands it to the Cop.

               As the siren gets closer, the Cop seems to find only money 
               in the wallet.

                                   COP #5
                         Where's the license?  You've got no
                         kind of -- ?

               Montout clubs the Cop across the face with the bagged quart
               bottle, knocking the Cop down in a daze.

               Montout grabs up his wallet and jumps into the driver's seat
               of the Chevy, the downed Cop fumbling for his sidearm.

               Montout takes off in the car, just as a police cruiser, SIREN
               BLARING, comes around a corner.  

               Cop #5 FIRES at the fleeing Chevy.

               EXT. CAR CHASE - NIGHT 

               Montout's speeding car SCREECHES around a corner and heads
               down a side street.

               INTERCUT MONTOUT AND PURSUERS AS NEEDED 

               Montout drives his speeding car.

               The police cruiser, SIREN BLARING, turns the corner in
               pursuit.  INTERCUT COP #6 driving.

               INTERCUT WITH:

               EXT. HAUNTED HOUSE - NIGHT

               A sign identifies a "Haunted House" as two ladies exit with 
               a group of children. 

               Montout's car speeds toward them as the ladies are escorting
               the children across the street.  All desperately get out of
               the way, some screaming, Montout BLOWING HIS HORN.

               A second police cruiser, elsewhere in town, turns on its
               bubble light and turns to go join the chase.

               Montout's car runs a red light, and dodges its way between
               two cars in the crossing traffic.

               The first police car is in pursuit.  Elsewhere a third police
               car falls in behind the second one.

               INT. COVINGTON HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

               Wes pours a refill of scotch on the rocks.

               EXT. CAR CHASE - NIGHT

               Montout's car runs a stop sign and SLAMS into another car.

               Montout's car spins out with front-end damage, but takes off
               again.

               INT. COVINGTON HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

               Wes sits in despair, alone with his drink.

               INT. MONTOUT'S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

               Montout in his speeding car looks in his rear-view mirror at
               the pursuing light of the first police cruiser.

               Looking ahead, Montout sees a white-railed fence looming in
               his headlight beams.  He's approaching a dead end where the
               road intersects with another.

               EXT. ROAD AND WOODS - NIGHT 

               Tires SQUEALING as he brakes, Montout's car swerves and
               overturns, CRASHING through the white-railed fence.

               Montout crawls out of the car in pain.  As headlight beams
               approach, SIREN BLARING, Montout scrambles through the thicket
               and disappears into the night.

               INT. COVINGTON HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT  

               Wes, drink in hand, sits filled with painful memory.  

               OVERLAP SOUND of rain.



     
Go to Part 2

Return to beginning of script