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1. |
FADE IN : |
1 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 1 |
A dull highway. A crappy sedan roars by. |
2 INT. CRAPPY CAR - DAY 2 |
At the wheel, driving this piece of shit, is MIKE ENSLIN, |
35, a grizzled, weary soul. He stares glassily at the road, |
a cigarette behind his ear, a styrofoam cup of Exxon coffee |
at his mouth. |
A sign drifts by: "Woodfin, Rte 251 N - Asheville, |
Interstate 240 E, Hwy 40, Next Right, Thru Traffic Merge” |
Heh? Mike frowns. |
3 EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DUSK 3 |
RAIN pours down on an unpaved country intersection. |
Mike stands outside his car, soaked, checking a wet map. |
He’s confused and annoyed. There are no road markings at |
all. He checks his watch. |
4 EXT. COUNTRY INN - NIGHT 4 |
A quaint rural inn, dark of night. The ambiance is |
picturesque, but off-putting. Porch lanterns glow. Shadows |
are deep. An ancient elm tree frames the banging weathered- |
sign: "The Camden Inn" |
Then, finally — headlights. Mike’s car pulls up in the mud. |
5 INT. INN - NIGHT 5 |
Mike trudges into the homey, worn lobby. |
MIKE |
Hi. Mike Enslin, checking in — |
The gregarious INNKEEPERS jump up, excited. They're country |
folk, beaming. |
MR. INNKEEPER |
2. |
Oh, Mr. Enslin! We were so worried |
you weren’t gonna show! |
MRS. INNKEEPER |
It's such an honor to have you |
here. |
MIKE |
(disinterested) |
Yeah. Great. Uh, if I could just |
get my key — |
They ignore his exhaustion. |
MR. INNKEEPER |
You probably want to hear all about |
our haunted history! Well, that |
rear staircase is where the maid |
reputedly hung herself in 1870. |
MRS. INNKEEPER |
There’s a picture — |
MIKE |
Can we do this in the morning? |
MRS. INNKEEPER |
(rummaging through |
drawers) |
Wait! It's printed in our brochure! |
INSERT - BROCHURE |
She thrusts out a brochure that says "HAUNTED!" There’s a |
PHOTO of the lobby, and a faint white shape in a window. |
MRS. INNKEEPER |
Do you SEE her? |
MIKE |
Uh — |
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