28 March 2019

Scared Stiff (A Fragment)


When I was in the 7th or 8th grade (1999-2000/2000-2001), I read Scared Stiff, pictured above. I read it but once, yet for one reason or another, the contents' imagery stuck with me down through the years. A couple months ago, I found it was available to borrow from archive.org, so I figured I'd read it again to see how it stood the test of time. Well, great literature it certainly ain't  — the dialogue isn't the most naturalistic, and it has a Gainax Ending — but I enjoyed it for what it was.

After finishing Scared Stiff, I got to thinking about how I'd go about adapting it for film. Naturally, I'd age the main characters up a tad, dial down the childishness, and insert a healthy dose of melancholy (as for the Gainax Ending, I'd retain it 'cause I love that shit 😋). The story beats would remain pretty much the same, though it'd be quite different, tonally, from the novella.

I started writing a Scared Stiff screenplay, but didn't get very far on it. At some point, I'd like to return to it (preferably after I get my hands on a physical copy of the book, which I can consult at my leisure, without having to rely on pesky digital files and deal with arbitrary due dates). But for now, here's a fragment for your reading enjoyment:

* * *

FADE IN

On Anderson Mortuary.

A large Shingle Style mansion, painted and panelled in dark gray and off-white, two large dark windows in the upstairs, the mortuary has an unsettling aura even in this sunny weather.

SUPERIMPOSE: 1984

INT. ANDERSON MORTUARY/FOYER — DAY

Travelling down a staircase, we come to the foyer. Travelling through the foyer, we come to the doorway of the chapel.

INT. ANDERSON MORTUARY/CHAPEL — DAY

Past the doorway, past the pews, at the back of the room, stands an altar, draped in crisp white linen, a brass cross gleaming atop it. Before the altar rests a casket of polished copper. Before the casket stands KELLY ANDERSON, a cherubic six-year-old girl with light blond hair and large brown eyes.

The casket lies open. Nestled within its narrow confines is MR. BROWN. Attired in a brown suit, Mr. Brown lives up to his name. In his seventies, Mr. Brown has no eyebrows, but a wreath of fine cinnamon hair frames the sides of his head. His frame is rail-thin, the skull-like contours of his aged face accentuated beneath his parchment-like skin.

As Kelly looks upon Mr. Brown, staring intently, she sees an eyelid flicker.

KELLY: Jahnna!

INT. ANDERSON MORTUARY/STUDY — DAY

JAHNNA ANDERSON sits in an armchair, absorbed in a hardcover novel. A reedy thirty-something woman with sandy hair worn in a tight bun, she reads the hardcover through a pair of large, steel-rim glasses.

Kelly bursts into the room.

KELLY: (shouting) He's still alive! You can't let them bury him!

JAHNNA: (closes book) What are you going on about?

KELLY: Mr. Brown! He moved! He's alive!

Jahnna rises. Setting her book down, she steps over to her cousin-in-law and takes her hand.

INT. ANDERSON MORTUARY/CHAPEL — DAY

Entering the chapel, Jahnna leads Kelly back to Mr. Brown's casket. They peer into the casket. Mr. Brown, hands crossed over chest, is perfectly still.

JAHNNA: Touch him.

KELLY: Huh?

JAHNNA: Touch him.

Apprehensive, Kelly reaches out and touches one of Mr. Brown's hands. The child is repulsed by the feel of the cold, rigid flesh.

JAHNNA: You see, Kelly, this is just the shell of what used to be Mr. Brown. Our machines have removed his blood and replaced it with embalming fluid to preserve him.

Kelly takes her hand away.

KELLY: But he moved.

JAHNNA: Your imagination.

Jahnna turns and leaves; Kelly watches her go. Once the woman is out the door and out of sight, Kelly turns her attention back to the casket.

Mr. Brown's eyelids fling open, exposing the spiky plastic caps which had been holding them closed. Reaching for his eyes, the cadaver removes the caps, then turns his head to face Kelly, milky orbs staring into her soul.

Kelly SHRIEKS.

TITLE: SCARED STIFF