This is the first draft of the script i have written for our thriller.


Death. What is death?
Is it that moment where everything becomes over-exposed. Your vision blurs and your mind flashes to memories that you once felt were beautiful. What is beauty?
The comfortable village of Orwell, surrounded by vast, green fields. This obscure village, was the place I called home.
The gentle brushing of leaves in the summer… the sky so vivid it felt like it was falling, the whole village teeming with life and energy. The houses pretty, the neighbours friendly. This village was the perfect place to live.
The night, however, is a frightening place to be. Not because of increased risk of stumbling on unseen ground, Or even the shadows cast by ordinary objects that scare young children. No, the dark is frightening, The darkness of night is madness, for what once was safe, Has reflected your insanity.