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Friday 13th / Friday 13:12 The Last Of The Year

It isn’t that we had no warning.

Hell, even Paw, the cat/kitten.

Black as Death with one white mitten,

Knew it was coming.

Knew (perhaps) before the rest of us.

And fishing boats, the last couple of days,

Have left notes in the Message Box,

Down on the Lighthouse dock.

One of the notes had been relayed

From the brigantine, HMS Buzzard,

Informing of this passage into the harbour,

And the night this would be done.

So,

As Lighthouse Keeper,

I await

On the Lighthouse dock,
In my navel uniform,

Which I am sometimes

Expected to wear,

Since I represent the might

Of Majesty,

As sole subject, yet overlord,

Of the Lighthouse on Partridge Island.

Waiting for the Red Ship to pass.


I feel the still on the sea.

I understand why they have awaited

This shroud of fog.

I have,

With my vantage point atop the Lighthouse,

Seen the approaching ship,

With each of its lanterns

Glowing through red glass.

I can imagine the unfurled red sails.

So, I stand,
And I wait,

With my own red lantern,

And wish I were hunkered down

With Paw, the cat/kitten,

Who chose his hiding place

An hour ago.

I wish for Sister Darling,

Of The Rarified Church Of The World (Reformed),

To be with myself and Paw,

On this night.

And this passage.

She could offer both physical

And Spiritual comfort,

To Paw and me.

Paw likes to nestle beneath

Her wealth of long hair,

And I would like to touch it.


But she,

With both the Bishop of the Roman church,

And the Bishop of the Anglican church,

In their simple cassocks,
Unrobed of their vestments,
And also, with the Mi’kmaq Shaman,
Await on the dock, 

On shore,

In the deserted port,
To move this cursed cargo
Of human decay and death.

They will sing and chant their

Religious words of hope.

While I, when the time is right,

Will curl up in my greatcoat

Beside Paw,

And wait out the night

While these folk of Faith
Do the dirty business of God.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2024 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

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#PitDark Horror Tales In Time For Halloween

“Darkroom” is made for #PitDark. Norman does not like people who offend him. Norman is easily offended. Norman’s solution is to become a serial killer. He is excellent at his task. Time after time after time.

*************

#PitDark They seek him here. They seek him there. They seek Satan everywhere. And they find him, time and time again. And do what they can to stop him in “There Has Been A Sighting” They have some success

*************

A Time awaits a world destined for punishment since man first walked upright. A decision must be made to remove all life. Who makes this judgment? In “The Fifth Corner Of The Earth” the decision is reached by five people fated to do so through their heredity. #PitDark

*************

Don’t let Satan deceive.Evil is everywhere.Weight of years isn’t necessary for the work of Satan, but Time deepens his imprint. My characters travel the world, attempting to erase the impact of Satan. In “Places of Evil”sometimes they succeed.#PitDark

*************

During bad times, Satan offers twisted salvation. When the offerings stop being subtle, no place is safe.”There Has Been A Sighting” keeps the supernatural one step ahead of the natural. What my human characters find is horrific. What they achieve is stunning #PitDark

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Kafka Takes A “Mistake” Train To Prague As The War Begins To End

In Kafka In The Castle, I fill in the ‘missing’ diary entries from Kafka’s real diary. He either did not fill in these days himself, or he destroyed them. There are some estimates that Kafka destroyed 70% – 80% of everything he wrote.

Franz Kafka did not shy away from writing horror, and you are forwarned.

14 February 1918

              The grip of evil showed tenfold times the horror.

               The train to Prague – late and slow because it had made a stop in Hell.

              “A mistake train,” said the Stationmaster. “But we had no other choice because of the shortages.” I looked through the windows, and hesitated. “There may be no other train today, if it’s Prague you want.” He rubbed off the chalkboard with the spittle on his finger. “No evening train. Perhaps there will be something after mid-night.” He wiped his hand on his soiled jacket. “Perhaps not.”  “You do not even dare look into the compartments,” I said. “And yet you expect me to enter.”

     “I’ve seen worse.” He wrote down a new time, and his hand did not shake. “In the dark of the night, these trains come through.” He put the stubby piece of chalk back into his coat pocket. “But -no. I don’t get used to it.” He looked in my direction, his face as expressionless as before. “I would advise you to try the coaches after the engine. Most of them there can at least sit up.”

     His advice was good.

     That is where the other civilians were clustered. Huddled – almost literally – away from the sounds and the stench. And they readily made room for me, moved even closer together so they could add me to their number. In my suite and tie, overcoat and hat, I was a Godsend of normality. The gentlemen nodded, and the ladies tried to smile. But then the train started, with its usual jumble of jolts, and the moaning which followed turned their faces blank and ashen.

     One of the soldiers, across the aisle behind me – a Hungarian captain with a weeping bandage obscuring his neck – gulped and slid to the floor. I looked around for a doctor, or an orderly, but there were none. I went back and placed him – as best I could – onto his seat. He mouthed some words – he obviously couldn’t speak – and I patted his hand. Further back still, I saw an Austrian corporal grabbing and grasping over his head. I went to him, and smelled the blood before I saw it. One leg ended in a jagged stump of bandages, the other ceased inches below the hip. He kept grasping at the air even as I steadied him, and he finally seemed to realize I was there. He made motions toward his mouth, gesturing with both hands. “Have you got a fag for us, Sir?” he said, and I realized what his movements had meant. “You’re bleeding,” I began, but he smiled with a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell them, Sir. Don’t tell them. A cigarette is all I need. I’ll keep quiet. I confessed that I didn’t smoke, but a voice behind me spoke with a shrill deliberateness. “I have some – a box of them.” I turned, and it was one of the men I had been sitting with. The soldier held out his hand, and I changed places with the man. “I’m going to find help,” I said. “It won’t do any good,” replied the man, lighting the cigarette. “We’ve tried.” Terror was trapped in his eyes. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

     And I should have listened to him.

     I can not – or perhaps, even now, I dare not – reveal the monsters which I saw. For that is what these men had become, by no choice of their own. Terrifying, repulsive creatures who were more frightening the more human they appeared. One man had his arm melted into his side by and explosion. Another had his ribs piercing through his chest. And what flame can do to faces. The last cars had sacks of dead – too many for the coffins. And any official, any officer, any nurse I met, would only say that they’ll be tended to in Prague.  Treated.  Looked after.  The best care available. 

     And I remembered something from my childhood – a saying perhaps even from my parent’s parents: “A dead man doesn’t care what suit he’s buried in.”

     But I did not tell them this.

0

Is it Putin, Is It Trump, Is It Musk Knock Knock Knocking On The Door?

he first claw was so faint upon the door he barely raised an eye from the page.

It could have been the wind – it sounded almost like the wind.

Wind at other times. and in other places, might blow such a sound – but not this night.

As his thoughts returned to what lay before him, the tiny scrabble, hesitant at floor level, moved slightly to the right, aligning itself more closely to the doorknob.

The noise skittered up the wood, making a metallic sound. His head swivelled toward the door.  The first thought he had was for the paint.

He could sense, by the sound alone, the movement was groping in the dark  It was unsure where it was. He closed the book on his lap, still keeping his place with a finger.

His eyes remained fixed on the door. He thought he saw the light of his lamp glint off something through the keyhole.

The doorknob twitched – a slight movement counterclockwise.  Then a brief turn clockwise. He let the book slide down the side of his chair as he put his hand into a pocket. He felt the key between his fingers. He held it tightly.

There was fumbling with the knob, muffled sounds as if a grip was hard to get. The knob turned once more, and then the pressure on the outside was released. He could hear shuffling against the wood. Then he saw, through the keyhole, light reflecting off a muddy iris.

He stared back through the keyhole, only to see the eye blink and move slowly away. He started to rise from his chair, but was stopped by a thump near the floor, as if a clumsy foot had bumped the wood by mistake.

He realised all the sounds he  heard seemed uncoordinated. The doorknob was once again twisted, but the motion seemed to lack an ability to grasp.

He was wondering whether to turn out the lamp, when a hesitant, hollow knock came upon the door.

~ DE

0

Is it Putin, Is It Trump, Is It Musk, Knock Knock Knocking On The Door?

The first claw was so faint upon the door he barely raised an eye from the page.

It could have been the wind – it sounded almost like the wind.

Wind at other times. and in other places, might blow such a sound – but not this night.

As his thoughts returned to what lay before him, the tiny scrabble, hesitant at floor level, moved slightly to the right, aligning itself more closely to the doorknob.

The noise skittered up the wood, making a metallic sound. His head swivelled toward the door.  The first thought he had was for the paint.

He could sense, by the sound alone, the movement was groping in the dark  It was unsure where it was. He closed the book on his lap, still keeping his place with a finger.

His eyes remained fixed on the door. He thought he saw the light of his lamp glint off something through the keyhole.

The doorknob twitched – a slight movement counterclockwise.  Then a brief turn clockwise. He let the book slide down the side of his chair as he put his hand into a pocket. He felt the key between his fingers. He held it tightly.

There was fumbling with the knob, muffled sounds as if a grip was hard to get. The knob turned once more, and then the pressure on the outside was released. He could hear shuffling against the wood. Then he saw, through the keyhole, light reflecting off a muddy iris.

He stared back through the keyhole, only to see the eye blink and move slowly away. He started to rise from his chair, but was stopped by a thump near the floor, as if a clumsy foot had bumped the wood by mistake.

He realised all the sounds he  heard seemed uncoordinated. The doorknob was once again twisted, but the motion seemed to lack an ability to grasp.

He was wondering whether to turn out the lamp, when a hesitant, hollow knock came upon the door.

~ Dale Estey

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When The Ghosts Escape

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When ghosts escape
Where
(quite frankly)
Do they go?
 
A question that is
(quite frankly)
Only slightly more
Problematic
Than
Where do they
Come from?
 
It’s a grave question
Worthy to be
Unearthed.
 
And how,
When the ghosts
Escape,
Do we
Find them?
 
Where do we look?
 
How will we see
What we can’t see?
 
For ghosts,
Once they escape,
Like to sneak up
Behind you
&
Look over your shoulder.
 
They want to see
What you are doing.
 
They want to
Make comments.
 
They want to go
“BOO!”
And scare
The living shit
Outta you.
 
Because
(let’s face it)
That’s just
The way
Ghosts
Are.
0

Kafka Travels In His Dreams

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Franz Kafka recorded many dreams in his diaries. Thus, I gave him many dreams in my novel, Kafka In The Castle. The novel ‘fills in’ all the days where there are no entries in his actual diaries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

04 April 1917

Dreamed I was to take a train journey.

I tried to find my travel papers, but all the drawers were jammed shut. The cupboard doors refused to open. My wallet was stuffed with money – colourful bills worth thousands of marks – yet no passport, no police clearance.

I could find no proof of who I was, and no permission to cross borders. I feared I was going to be late, so I put on an overcoat, grabbed a small bag off the bed, and hurried from the room.

The door led directly to the station platform, and I was quickly caught in lines of people. A man in uniform  harshly requested to see our tickets, but when I explained I had been unable to find any of my documents, he pointed to my case.

Inside were passports and papers from every country in Europe. I handed him one, but over my name was a photo of hog. Another had a picture of a donkey. A third showed sheep. Rodents, insects, and finally an ape, all appearing over my name and signature.

“You are Doktor Kafka?” he demanded.

“Yes,” I answered. I was terrified – what face did I have now?

“You are the veterinarian,” he said, finally satisfied. “Down to the end of the train.” He pointed the way, and I hurried along.

I walked and walked, but the train just became longer. Box cars and cattle cars were filled with the most terrible animal clamour, and reeking of filth. And I wondered, as I searched in vain for the end of this endless train, where would my destination finally be?

[Image] https://farm1.staticflickr.com/145/424520905_d05592a972_z.jpg

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On the Other Side of the Door

kafka-metamorphosis

The first claw was so faint upon the door he barely raised an eye from the page. It could have been the wind – it sounded almost like the wind. Wind at other times and in other places might blow such a sound – but not this night. As his thoughts returned to what lay before him, the tiny scrabble, hesitant at floor level, moved slightly to the right, aligning itself more closely to the doorknob.

The noise skittered up the wood, almost a metallic sound. His head swivelled toward the door, and the first thought he had was for the paint. Then he could sense, by the sound alone, that the movement was groping in the dark, that it was unsure of where it was. He closed the book on his lap, still keeping his place with a finger. His eyes remained fixed on the door, and he thought he saw the light of his lamp glint off something through the keyhole.

The doorknob twitched, a slight movement counter clockwise, and then a brief turn clockwise. He let the book slide down the side of his chair as he put his hand into a pocket. He felt the key between his fingers, and held it tightly. There was more fumbling with the knob, muffled sounds as if a grip was hard to get. The knob turned once more, and then the pressure on the outside was released. He could hear some shuffling against the wood, and then saw, through the keyhole, light reflecting off a muddy iris.

He stared back through the keyhole, only to see the eye blink and move slowly away. He started to rise from his chair, but was stopped by a thump near the floor, as if a clumsy foot had bumped the wood by mistake. He realized that all the sounds which he heard seemed fuddled and uncoordinated. The doorknob was once again twisted, but the motion seemed to lack the ability to grasp.

He was wondering whether to turn out the lamp or not, when a hesitant, hollow knock came on the door.

[Image] https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/kafka-metamorphosis.jpg

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Burning In Berlin / A Horror Movie

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[From my long-ago time in Berlin this movie script (and two novels) emerged. Here is the beginning sequence.]

EXT. BARREN FIELD WITH AUTUMN GRASS – DAY

Traffic sounds comes from the four streets bounding the field.

EXT. HILL IN FIELD – DAY

An information sign is at the foot of the hill. A newly-painted Linden tree grows beside it.

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

THE INFORMATION SIGN READS Fehurer Bunker

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

A middle-aged TOUR GUIDE stands by the front seat, facing the passengers.

TOUR GUIDE

The Berlin police don’t

want us any closer.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Tourist faces peering from the windows.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Tourists from the far side of the bus bend and peer over those seated.

EXT. LINDEN TREE ON HILL – DAY

One raven flutters and lands on a tree limb.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Two or three faces are pressed in each window.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide is pointing through the window.

 

TOUR GUIDE

All of a sudden, the city says it

is unsafe. (laughs) They don’t want

to see all you rich tourists being

swallowed.

 

2.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Peering faces, and Tour Guide’s finger pressed to window.

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

A second Raven settles upon the sign. It hops about until it

stops over the word ‘Fehurer’.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

A BOY and GIRL, both slender and twelve, are staring from a window. A MAN WITH AN EYE PACH, in his forties and muscular, wearing a suit from the Salvation Army and a work shirt, bends over them, peering.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy and Girl have their heads together. The girl moves her

hand, and points through the top of the window.

EXT. LINDEN TREE – DAY

A third crow is landing on one of the branches. The other two

are agitated, but quickly settle.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch hastily puts his hand over the

girl’s mouth.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Shh.

 

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The girl moves her hand from the window. The childrens’

faces move back.

EXT. LINDEN TREE – DAY

The two Ravens in the branches descend to the Information

Sign.

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

The Three Ravens shuffle together, and stand shoulder to shoulder.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide has his head pressed against the window.

3.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide, bent against the window, speaks loudly.

 

TOUR GUIDE

Too big for crows. They’re ravens.

 

EXT. INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

The three Ravens flutter down to the ground. They hop

erratically on the brown grass.

 

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide reluctantly leaves the window, and faces

the tourists.

 

TOUR GUIDE

Maybe the ground is dangerous, and

they feel it. Hitler’s original

bunker is still down there. Even the

Russians didn’t dare blow it up. It

would have caved in a dozen

surrounding blocks.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

There are now so many faces in the windows that some

jostling is going on. A few heads turn, speaking

angrily.

EXT. FOOT OF INFORMATION SIGN – DAY

The three Ravens no longer hop erratically. They are

obviously moving in a ritualized formation. Their

dance finishes with them lined up, staring at the

Tour Bus.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide is standing at the top of the steps,

facing a YOUNG MAN with a Movie Camera around his

Neck.

 

YOUNG MAN

I gotta get a picture for my

Gramps. He fought Hitler and

still hates him.

 

 

4.

TOUR GUIDE

I’m not supposed to let –

 

YOUNG MAN

One guy won’t make it cave in.

 

TOUR GUIDE

But the others –

 

YOUNG MAN

I’ll be off and back in a minute.

The YOUNG MAN hold up the Camera to the Tour Guide.

 

YOUNG MAN

I’ll use the zoom. I won’t even walk

on your precious field.

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Three Ravens are stock still. The one in the middle cocks

his head toward the bus. The Other Two close their eyes.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY.

The door of the Tourist Bus opens.

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Two Ravens with closed eyes cock their heads in the same

direction as the middle bird.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man steps from the bus.

 

YOUNG MAN

Gramps will kick my ass if I

don’t.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The man With the Eye Patch pushes the Two Children onto the seat,

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Two Ravens with closed eyes open their eyes in unison.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With The Eye Patch stands in the aisle.

 

 

  1.          MAN WITH THE EYE PATCH

Stop him!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide takes one step along the aisle of the bus.

 

TOUR GUIDE

It’s just a frigging picture.

 

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man walks across the sidewalk to the edge of the field.

He holds the Camera in front of his face.

 

YOUNG MAN

Cement twenty feet thick. It

can’t cave in.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With The Eye Patch sits with the Two Children.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man looks behind him at the bus, then starts to walk

across the field.

 

YOUNG MAN

There’s something written on the

sign, but the zoom can’t get it.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide is standing on the bottom step.

 

TOUR GUIDE

Hey!

EXT. FOOT OF SIGN – DAY

The Three Raves silently take flight

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man is adjusting the Camera when he hears the Tour Guide. He turns around with a scowl.

6.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is standing outside the open door. He is beckoning with his hand.

 

TOUR GUIDE

I can get fined. Come back here!

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man is adjusting his Camera, his back to the field. He doesn’t look up as he yells to the Tour Guide.

 

YOUNG MAN

They’re not going to fine you

for two more minutes.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Middle Raven starts to dive, while the others fly on.

EXT. TOUR BUS – DAY

The Tour Guide starts crossing the sidewalk.

 

TOUR GUIDE

I’ve already got one guy

complaining.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens fly in unison, side by side.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

 

The Young Man finishes adjusting his Camera. He looks up to see

the Tour Guide at the edge of the field. He holds up his Camera.

 

YOUNG MAN

It’s new. I got it for this

trip.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is on the grass. He stops, and puts his hands on

his hips.

 

TOUR GUIDE

You said a minute. I’ll have to

leave you here.

7.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens start into a steep dive, one above the other.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man lets go of his Camera. It swings on the neck strap,

bouncing against his chest.

 

YOUNG MAN

Then you’ll have another guy

complaining.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Single Raven adjusts its dive. Its eyes blink.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man glares at the Tour Guide. He grabs his Camera again,

then turns back toward the Sign, raising the Camera to his face.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens shift position, the bottom one moving to the top.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide just starts to look up as the Lone Raven strikes

him on the side of the head.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens are in a steep dive. The top one gets behind

the other.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is rolling on the ground. The Raven’s claws are

clamped to his ear, and its beak is in his eye.

EXT. TOUR BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens enter the door of the bus.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Single Raven tears off the Tour Guide’s ear.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Bus Driver holds his hands protectively in front of his

face as the Ravens fly past.

8.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man turns toward the bus. He starts filming.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide attempts to get up. The Raven has its beak in his

mouth.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens fly along the aisle, amid screaming passengers.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With The Eye Patch grabs the two children. He shoves them

onto the floor between the seats.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Stay down!

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide has managed to stand. The Raven is fluttering in

front of his face. It has the Tour Guide’s tongue in its beak.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man continues taking pictures.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

Panicked, screaming faces are in the windows. Many passengers are

beating their hands against the glass.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens keep a steady course, but get side -by- side.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch is taking off his suit coat.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Not fucking again.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens skim the roof of the bus. They both look down.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch glances at the Two Children.

9.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Children huddle on the floor. The Boy lies on the Girl.

stretching over her. He turns his head toward the Man With the Eye Patch.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch yells at the Boy.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Hide your face!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens dive simultaneously.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

 

The Man With the Eye Patch holds up his suit coat in front of him.

The two Ravens fly right into the suit coat, pulling it from the Man’s hands. The Birds, entangled in the suit coat, hurtle against the window. One Bird gets free, while the other, still encased in the suit coat, falls on the Children.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy shoves the Girl under the seat in front of them.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The freed Raven flies up toward the Man With the Eye Patch.The Man

crouches into the stance of a boxer, and punches the bird directly

on the side of its head. The stunned Raven tumbles over the

seat back.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy scurries under the seat where he had been sitting.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch grabs his suit coat with the trapped

Raven, and throws it to the far side of the bus.

 

MAN WITH THE EYE PATCH

(yelling)

All of you – get down!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Raven is half out of the suit coat when it hits the window.

10.

It spirals to the roof of the bus.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The raven which the Man With the Eye Patch hit, teeters on the

top of a seat back.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch grabs for his suit coat.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Raven on the seat back lifts into the air.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Boy finally manages to squeeze completely under the seat.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The two Ravens start flying to the front of the bus.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch holds his suit coat in front of him

again.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Stay down!

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Ravens reach the front of the bus. The Bus Driver is crouched

on the floor, jammed under the steering wheel.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch lowers his suit coat. He glances at the

two Children.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens fly out of the door of the bus.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Tour Guide is sprawled on his back. The Raven’s claws are

gripping either side of his neck, and its beak is jabbing into

his other eye.

11.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Two Ravens wobble in their flight as they raise into the air.

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Young Man is walking toward the Tour Guide, filming. He

hesitates, stops walking, and looks up.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch is reaching between the seats.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

Come on out.

EXT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Young Man raises his Camera and steps back, aiming into the

sky.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch helps the Girl from under the seat.

As she gets up and stands by the window, he assists the Boy. When

The Boy is standing, the Man With the Eye Patch puts on his suit

Coat.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

You two knew about this, didn’t

you?

The Girl taps her finger against the window.

 

GIRL

Look!

EXT. BARREN FIELD – DAY

The Two Ravens swoop toward the Third Raven on the ground.

INT. TOURIST BUS – DAY

The Man With the Eye Patch and the Children look out the window.

The Boy glances up at the Man.

 

BOY

You said we’d be safe.

The Man With the Eye Patch stands straight.

 

MAN WITH EYE PATCH

You’re safe, ain’t you?

(Image)https://i.pinimg.com/originals/3f/33/98/3f3398e10b275d21c698e4918748f790.jpg

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