A Film
PART 1: (UNTITLED)
FADE IN:
EXT. NEBRASKA HIGHWAY – DAY
A two-lane stretch of forever. Yellow grass, horizon endless. The only movement: a dust devil swirling in the distance.
A beat-up Toyota Camry cuts through the emptiness. Windows down. Music bleeding out—something nostalgic, 90s alt-rock.
Inside: SARAH HARLAN (early 30s), sharp eyes, restless energy, driving. She drums her fingers on the wheel, glancing at the map app on her phone. Beside her, TOM HARLAN (mid 30s), laid-back, good-natured, naps with his head against the window.
SARAH
(quiet, to herself)
Nothing but corn and God out here.
She smiles faintly. Then her phone loses signal. Map freezes.
INT. CAMRY – CONTINUOUS
Tom stirs awake.
TOM
Where are we?
SARAH
Somewhere between nowhere and… even more nowhere.
Tom stretches, yawns. Notices the fuel gauge.
TOM
We’re flirting with empty.
SARAH
I saw a sign. Market, couple miles.
Tom smirks.
TOM
Of course. Every horror movie ever starts this way.
They laugh. But beneath Sarah’s laugh is unease—a weight she doesn’t shake.
EXT. FARMERS’ MARKET – DAY
A roadside oasis. Quaint wooden stalls beneath hand-painted signs. Fresh produce, pies, crafts. Folksy, almost too perfect.
Sarah and Tom step out. Stretch. A local band plays bluegrass under a canopy.
They wander. Vendors smile warmly, almost rehearsed.
At the far end, a booth draws Sarah in: slabs of polished wood, each painted with delicate landscapes and inlaid with shimmering gemstones.
Behind the booth: ELIZA (early 30s). Ethereal, ageless, smile like sunlight.
AT THE BOOTH
Sarah picks up a pendant: a wooden disc, etched with faint runes, a garnet shimmering at its center. It seems to pulse, alive.
SARAH
This is… beautiful.
ELIZA
(soft, like she’s been waiting for her)
It’s meant for someone like you.
Sarah laughs nervously.
SARAH
Oh, I couldn’t—
ELIZA
(pressing it into her palm)
Wear it. It’ll bring you peace.
Sarah hesitates, but Eliza’s eyes—calm, kind, commanding—erase resistance. She slips it around her neck.
Tom watches, unsettled.
TOM
Guess we’re leaving with more than apples.
EXT. MARKET EXIT – MINUTES LATER
Sarah and Tom walk back toward their car.
VENDOR (O.S.)
Come back soon!
The cheer in the voice is almost too eager.
They get in the Camry. Drive off.
EXT. HIGHWAY – DAY
The car hums along. Sun lowering in the sky.
Sarah absently fingers the necklace. It warms against her skin. She shivers.
Then—
The engine sputters. Jerks. The car dies.
Tom swerves to the side of the road. Silence. The horizon stretches, indifferent.
TOM
Great. Out of gas?
Sarah shakes her head.
SARAH
It’s full.
A long beat. The necklace seems to pulse.
Tom stares at it.
TOM
Maybe you should take that thing off.
Sarah touches it, protective now, almost possessive.
SARAH
It’s fine. It’s just a necklace.
But she doesn’t unclasp it.
EXT. DUSK – COUNTRY ROAD
They walk, backpacks slung. The sun bleeds red across the fields. Silence heavier now.
Ahead: a cottage. Wooden. Whimsical carvings on the facade. In the yard, a strange sight—
A miniature 2D model of the town itself, built from the same carved wooden discs. Tiny houses arranged in perfect lines.
They stop, staring.
SARAH
What the hell is this place?
The door creaks open.
MAUD (70s) steps out. Bent but spry, eyes sharp.
MAUD
Evening. You two look like you need a roof.
Beat.
Sarah and Tom exchange a look.
The necklace pulses once more—faint, heartbeat-like.
FADE TO BLACK.
TITLE CARD: TOWN OF REST
PART 2: THE DESCENT
INT. MAUD’S COTTAGE – NIGHT
Warm lighting. Quaint country charm: crocheted blankets, jars of preserves, framed needlework. Too normal.
On the mantle, gemstones glimmer in neat glass jars. Beautiful, but unsettling.
Maud serves tea. Sarah and Tom sip politely.
MAUD
Mechanic’ll come first thing. You’ll be on your way before breakfast.
Sarah nods. Tom forces a smile, but wipes sweat from his brow.
INT. COTTAGE – LATER
Sarah changes in the small guest room. The necklace hangs heavy against her collarbone.
Tom lies in bed, shivering. His skin pale, clammy. He groans.
SARAH
Hey—what’s wrong?
TOM
(dazed)
Just… cold.
She touches his hand. It’s icy stiff. He pulls away, embarrassed.
INT. COTTAGE – ATTIC – NIGHT
Sarah, restless, explores. She discovers a dusty trunk filled with journals bound in brittle leather.
By lantern-light, she flips pages:
- Drawings of petrified faces—mouths open in silent screams.
- Sketches of a great tree aflame, villagers with torches.
- Runes etched into wooden discs.
Scrawled words: “Restoria burned… her curse bound in wood and stone… loved ones turned to rest…”
Sarah gasps.
INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
She returns to Tom. He thrashes in fever, muttering incoherently. His veins bulge beneath the skin—hard, glistening like crystal.
SARAH
Oh God, Tom…
His eyes roll back. He seizes, then stills.
She screams for Maud.
INT. COTTAGE – KITCHEN – NIGHT
Maud listens calmly as Sarah pleads.
SARAH
Something’s wrong! He’s burning up, his skin—
Maud stirs her tea, unhurried.
MAUD
It’ll pass. Town has a way of… taking care of its own.
Sarah freezes.
SARAH
What do you mean, “its own”? We’re not from here.
Maud just smiles—too knowing.
INT. COTTAGE – LATE NIGHT
Sarah wakes, disoriented. She hears a sound:
SHOVELS. EARTH TURNING.
She peers from the window.
Moonlight reveals: Eliza, sleepwalking, dressed in white, digging a grave in the yard.
Her movements are trance-like, ritualistic.
Beside her: jars filled with glowing gems.
Sarah watches, horrified, as Eliza exhumes a coffin. She sprinkles ashes over a fire pit, chanting softly. From the flames, she extracts a small, flawless gemstone—which flickers with faint human screams.
Sarah gasps, covers her mouth.
INT. BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
She runs to Tom. His arm is stiff as stone now, skin cracking like fractured marble.
SARAH
(whispering)
No. Stay with me. Stay with me.
The necklace grows hot, burning against her chest.
INT. COTTAGE – ATTIC – LATER
Sarah rifles the journals again, desperate. She finds one passage underlined, trembling:
“The curse may pass to another if they speak praise of the vessel. Gifted willingly, the burden moves on. To destroy the wood is to bind oneself forever.”
Her hands shake. She looks at the necklace. Then at Tom.
Her breathing quickens.
EXT. FARMERS’ MARKET – NIGHT (VISION SEQUENCE)
Sarah, in a trance, walks barefoot through the darkened stalls. Eliza follows behind her, whispering.
ELIZA
It’s simple. Someone admires it. You smile. You pass it on. Just one word, one touch, and you’re free.
Sarah clutches the necklace, trembling.
From the stalls, faces emerge in the shadows—villagers, all silent, all watching. Their eyes glisten like gemstones.
Eliza leans close, her breath cold.
ELIZA
That’s how you keep Rest… at peace.
INT. BEDROOM – MORNING
Sunlight. Tom lies unconscious, his chest shallow. His skin is half-petrified.
Sarah strokes his cheek, tears brimming.
She whispers:
SARAH
I won’t let them take you.
But her eyes betray doubt.
FADE OUT.
END OF PART 2: THE DESCENT.
PART 3: THE CONFRONTATION
INT. COTTAGE – NIGHT
A storm lashes outside. The walls of Maud’s cottage groan. Shadows ripple across the wood—like veins pulsing.
Tom writhes on the bed, his chest rising and falling in jagged breaths. His arms are nearly stone now, veins glittering like quartz.
Sarah paces, frantic. The necklace burns at her throat.
Suddenly—
A whisper, not in the room, but inside her skull:
“Give me another, and he lives.”
Sarah clutches her head.
INT. COTTAGE – PARLOR – NIGHT
Sarah storms downstairs. Maud rocks calmly by the fire.
SARAH
What’s happening to him?!
MAUD
Same thing that happens to everyone. Someone wears it, someone rests.
SARAH
You knew. You all knew.
Maud sips tea, serene.
MAUD
It’s not knowing. It’s surviving. We pay the price, or the price comes calling.
Sarah’s breath shakes.
SARAH
Then help me break it.
Maud’s eyes, sharp as razors.
MAUD
Child, if breaking it were possible, Rest wouldn’t still be here.
INT. COTTAGE – ATTIC – NIGHT
Sarah tears through the journals again, desperate. She lights a candle, reads by trembling flame.
A passage: “Burn the sacred tree’s heartwood, and Restoria’s tether will loosen. But only through sacrifice—the vessel must surrender more than life.”
Sarah stares at the words, her reflection flickering in the candle flame.
INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
Tom jolts awake. His voice rasps, cracked.
TOM
Sarah… help me.
She takes his hand—stone cold, literally. He tries to smile, but half his face is stiff, gray marble.
SARAH
I’m here. Always.
TOM
(weak)
If you can’t save me… don’t let me die in this place.
Tears burn her eyes.
EXT. TOWN OF REST – MAIN STREET – NIGHT
Sarah staggers through the storm, clutching Tom’s pocketknife in one hand, necklace in the other. The town is eerily alive—shutters bang open, figures move in windows. Silent watchers.
The farmers’ market glows faintly ahead—lanterns flickering though it’s long past closing.
EXT. FARMERS’ MARKET – NIGHT
The stalls are empty, but a single booth glows: Eliza’s. She stands there, serene, waiting.
ELIZA
You’re almost ready.
Sarah grips the knife.
SARAH
I’m not like you.
ELIZA
(laughs softly)
That’s what I said. The first time. The first stone.
She gestures to the necklace.
ELIZA
Let it go. Pass it on. One word, one smile, and Tom breathes again.
Sarah’s hand trembles. She sees flashes—Tom alive, laughing, whole. Then the opposite: Tom cracking apart, dust and crystal.
INT. FARMERS’ MARKET – CONTINUOUS (VISION)
The villagers surround her, faces pale, eyes glowing faintly. Their silence is suffocating.
A TRAVELER enters—backpack, camera, lost. He pauses, spots Sarah.
TRAVELER
That’s beautiful.
He gestures at the necklace.
Time stops. Everyone waiting.
Sarah grips it, sweating, lips trembling.
If she smiles, if she thanks him, the curse passes. Tom lives.
But someone else dies screaming.
CLOSE ON SARAH
Tears cut through rain on her face. She can’t speak.
Instead—she rips the necklace off, clutching it like a wound.
SARAH
No. No more.
The villagers hiss. Eliza’s face contorts, mask of rage.
ELIZA
Then you’ll take her place.
EXT. SACRED TREE REMNANTS – NIGHT
Dragged by unseen force, Sarah stumbles to the outskirts: the blackened husk of an ancient tree. Burned to its roots, its stump still smolders in rain.
The necklace pulses violently in her hands.
She remembers the journal: “Burn the heartwood. Surrender more than life.”
She throws the necklace onto the stump. It ignites instantly, screaming—a chorus of trapped souls shrieking in unison.
The fire roars unnatural, towering.
Sarah steps closer.
Maud appears from the shadows, eyes sorrowful.
MAUD
You’ll have to give it something of yourself. Something that can’t be returned.
Sarah shakes, torn apart.
SARAH
Take me.
The flames surge, wrapping her. She doesn’t burn—but something inside her does. A scream rips from her chest, silent yet eternal.
The necklace shatters. The gems implode. The souls—Tom’s among them—scream free into the night sky, dissolving into ash and stars.
EXT. SACRED TREE – DAWN
Silence. Smoke drifts. Sarah lies collapsed, barely breathing.
Tom is gone. Not stone, not flesh—just gone.
She clutches at her chest. Where her necklace burned, her skin is petrified—gray marble, creeping veins that will never fade.
Her eyes open, hollow.
EXT. TOWN SIGN – MORNING
“WELCOME TO REST – STAY AWHILE.”
The sign stands at the edge of the empty highway.
A breeze rattles the wood.
On the ground beneath it: a single shard of gemstone, faintly glowing, whispering…
FADE OUT.
END OF PART 3: THE CONFRONTATION
PART 4: RESOLUTION & EPILOGUE
EXT. HIGHWAY – MORNING
The storm is gone. The land is still, drenched in pale sunlight.
Sarah staggers along the shoulder, clothes torn, body battered. Her steps are uneven. She clutches her chest where the petrified veins have spread.
Every movement is slow, half-human, half-stone.
In the distance: the dead Camry.
She collapses against it, sobbing.
INT. CAMRY – CONTINUOUS
She lowers herself into the driver’s seat. The car purrs to life instantly.
She stares at the wheel in disbelief. Tears slip down her cheeks.
The passenger seat is empty. Tom is gone.
She touches the stone on her chest, whispering.
SARAH
I tried… I tried.
The silence answers.
EXT. HIGHWAY GAS STATION – DAY
Sarah pulls into a small station miles away. She stumbles inside. The clerk, a cheerful teen, looks up.
CLERK
Morning. You okay, ma’am?
Sarah nods weakly, avoiding eye contact. She pays for gas, leaves quickly.
As she turns back—
The clerk watches her go, gaze caught on the faint glow beneath her shirt collar.
The shard. Embedded in her chest. Pulsing.
INT. CAMRY – DRIVING – AFTERNOON
The road stretches endlessly ahead. Sarah’s grip on the wheel tightens. Her breathing steadies.
But her eyes—cold, distant—betray something broken.
For a moment, her reflection in the mirror isn’t her. It’s Eliza. Smiling faintly.
She jerks, shakes her head. The image is gone.
EXT. TOWN OF REST – DAWN (INTERCUT)
The town sits silent, empty, as if it never existed.
The market stalls rot. The wooden model of the town in Maud’s yard collapses in on itself.
The sacred tree smolders, blackened to dust.
Yet—
Among the ashes, a single new sprout pushes up, impossibly green.
INT. CAMRY – SUNSET
Sarah drives west into the fading light. The necklace is gone, but the curse is not.
Her hand trembles. Veins of stone creep further up her neck.
She whispers to herself—half prayer, half curse.
SARAH
Please… just let me rest.
The engine hums. The horizon swallows her.
EXT. GAS STATION – NIGHT
The cheerful clerk finishes his shift. Locks the door. Walks toward his beat-up pickup.
He hums. Carefree.
Stops.
On the ground by the pumps, he notices something glinting: a tiny gemstone shard.
He bends down, picks it up. Holds it to the light.
It pulses.
He smiles.
FADE OUT.
TITLE CARD: TOWN OF REST
SILENCE.
Then, faintly—a scream, trapped in stone.
END
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