Short screenplay for the Apr 2018 "Turn someone's world upside down" contest.


DEVIL INSIDE

FADE IN

EXT. COASTAL TOWN - DAY

Establishing shot, a cold-looking place, maybe on the cusp
of winter. Seagulls shriek.


EXT. TOWN STREET - ROW HOUSES - DAY

FLANNAGAN, middle-aged and weary, wearing a coat with the
collar turned up, walks past house after house.

He stops outside a house with a green door.


EXT. HOUSE - FRONT DOOR - DAY

He walks up the path, raps his knuckles on the flaking
green paint.

He waits... nothing.   He raps again.

Loud clumping footsteps from inside. Angry footsteps.

A bolt thumps as it's drawn open.

The door opens and Flannagan looks up at JOSEPH, who could
be mid teens, but is solidly made. Joseph glares down at
Flannagan, openly hostile.

A woman hurries along the hallway, drying her hands on her
apron, KATE BUNNING, 40-ish, tired housewife.

                      KATE
          I'll deal with this, Joseph.

                      JOSEPH
          I'm not leaving him alone with
          you. I know his kind. A load of
          waffle and then he's conning you
          out of five pounds for the church
          roof repair fund.

                      FLANNAGAN
          If that big mouth of yours keeps
          flapping open, something's going
          to fly into it.

Joseph reacts with surprise, then anger.   He bunches his
fists.

                      FLANNAGAN
          Better men than you have tried,
          sonny boy. Don't make the biggest
          mistake of your life. Best let me
          talk to your mammy, hey?

Kate frowns.   She looks Flannagan up and down critically.

                      KATE
          You don't look much like a priest.
          Or talk like one.

                      FLANNAGAN
          That's because I'm not. It's a
          cold wind out here, Mrs. Bunning,
          I'd appreciate being invited in. I
          wouldn't say no to a cup of tea
          either. Is that fresh bread I smell?

Joseph opens his mouth to say something but Kate puts her
hand on his arm and jerks her head, directing him into the
living room.

Joseph gives Flannagan another glare but does as he's told,
he moves into the living room.

                      KATE
          Come in, then.

She steps aside so Flannagan can enter.


INT. HALLWAY - DAY

Flannagan watches as Kate sticks her head outside and looks
up and down the street. She closes the door and slides the
bolt shut.

                      FLANNAGAN
          Always best to be cautious these
          days.

                      KATE
          If I was being cautious, you
          wouldn't be here.

                      FLANNAGAN
          How about that cup of tea, and you
          can tell me all about your little
          problem?

A banging noise comes from upstairs. Someone cries out. A
child? Flannagan looks upstairs but it's dark up there on
the landing.

                         KATE
          This way.

She walks the length of the hallway and enters the kitchen.

Flannagan follows her.    He pauses at the living room door,
looks in.


INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Joseph stands by the fireplace, scowling at Flannagan.

Behind him, sitting on the fireplace, is a framed B/W
photograph of a FISHERMAN standing on a harbor wall, with
boats tied up alongside. He resembles Joseph. The fisherman
looks anything but happy.


INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Flannagan enters the kitchen, there's a small table with
two chairs. Kate gestures for him to sit down, he does.

He watches as she reaches for a cup on a shelf -- but her
hand hesitates, as if she doesn't want to touch it.

She takes the cup down and wipes its lip clean with her
apron. She fills the cup with tea from a pot. She puts
it on a saucer and carries it to the table.

                         FLANNAGAN
          Thank you.

He takes a sip, nods approval.

                      FLANNAGAN
          Now, Mrs. Bunning, does it bother
          you most? By which I mean, is
          there a particular hour of the
          day, or night, when--

                      KATE
          She gets worse after sunset.

She sits down in the other chair, facing him.

                      KATE
          Up until then it's a mad chuckling.
          But once it's dark, the laughter
          starts. And the cursing is not far
          behind. Oh but I can't even tell
          you the foul language that's used.
          It would make a sailor blush. But
          come the morning, she's quiet again.

                         FLANNAGAN
          Is that so?

                      KATE
          You sound as if you don't believe
          me.

Flannagan shakes his head.

                      FLANNAGAN
          On the contrary, Mrs. Bunning, I
          do believe you. I've been doing
          this for some time. I've learned
          how to spot the fakes, the ones
          who are just looking for a bit of
          attention, for notoriety. Maybe
          hoping their story reaches the
          right ears and a reporter from the
          big town pays them a visit and
          writes it down, so they can use it
          in a spooky article on a quiet
          news day.

Kate listens, expressionless.

                      FLANNAGAN
          If they feign fright and hold back
          because the story's too awful to
          tell, or if the telling would
          involve admitting an older relative
          has lost their marbles, then maybe
          a financial incentive will be
          offered, sixpence perhaps, or a
          shilling if they're lucky. Enough
          to feed the family for a week. And
          what's wrong with that? Nothing,
          if you ask me. Kids have to be
          fed, don't they?

He takes another sip.   She watches silently.

                      FLANNAGAN
          And when did it start?

                      KATE
          Seven nights ago.

Flannagan reaches inside his coat and pulls out a dog-earned
book. The cover says POCKET ALMANAC, 1952.

He thumbs through the pages. The page he settles on tells
him, with words and illustrations, that seven nights ago
there was a Full Moon and it was also a high Spring Tide.

INSERT CLOSE SHOT OF THE FRAMED PHOTOGRAPH

The fisherman looks even less happy than before.

STORMY WEATHER SFX. WIND HOWLS. ANGRY SEAS CRASH.

BACK TO SCENE

More banging comes from upstairs, loud, angry. Flannagan
looks up at the ceiling.


INT. HALLWAY - DAY

Joseph stands in the living room doorway, also looking up
at the ceiling. He turns his head at looks at Kate in the
kitchen.


INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Kate shakes her head, telling him no.

Flannagan puts his book back inside his coat. He stands.

                      FLANNAGAN
          Well, if you don't mind, I'll head
          upstairs and see what's to be seen.

                      KATE
          Are you sure you want to?

                      FLANNAGAN
          Someone's got to. Might as well be
          me. I've done this sort of thing
          before.

He steps into the hallway.

                      KATE
          You won't harm her, will you?

                      FLANNAGAN
          I'm an exorcist, Mrs. Bunning, not
          an executioner. I expel evil spirits
          from those unfortunate enough to
          be possessed by them. I don't go
          about harming people.

She nods, reassured.

                      FLANNAGAN
          You know what would be nice? If
          there was a slice of that fresh
          loaf waiting for me when I come
          back downstairs. These things
          sometimes leave me feeling drained.


INT. HALLWAY - DAY

Flannagan moves to the foot of the stairs. The banging
noise continues. He puts his foot on the bottom stair. The
banging noise suddenly stops.

He climbs the stairs, step by cautious step.


INT. LANDING - DAY

Flannagan steps up onto the landing.

He pauses and listens. He hears a faint crying from behind
a closed door. Child-like and yet not a child.

He touches the door handle -- but snatches his hand away
as if shocked.

He cups his hands to his mouth and exhales hot breath,
trying to warm his fingers. He rubs his hands. Cold!

He pulls out a handkerchief and wraps this around his
fingers. He touches the handle again, and turns it.

He slowly pushes the door open, revealing a darkened
bedroom, inch by inch. There's a wardrobe. And a dressing
table. And the foot of a bed.

Lengths of rope are tied to the bed's corner posts, they
stretch further up the bed. As if someone's been tied down.

Flannagan opens the door further.

He stares at the bed, bewildered.


INT. BEDROOM - DAY

A brown and orange striped cat lies on its back on the
bed, spread-eagled, exposing white belly fur.

Ropes are knotted around each of its four legs and tied to
the four bed posts so the cat is trapped, unable to free
itself. Its tail lashes left and right, agitated.

It tugs furiously against the ropes so the bed frame bangs
against the wall, producing the noises we heard downstairs.
It YOWLS in rage.

The cat suddenly stops struggling and is silent.

Flannagan holds his breath.

The cat slowly raises its head and looks at Flannagan. Its
gold-flecked eyes seem to glow.

                      THE CAT
          What's the matter? You never seen
          a fvcking cat before?

Flannagan lurches against the door frame as if his legs
have lost strength.

The Cat laughs, a creepy-weird not-human laughter.

                      THE CAT
          Untie me, mortal. Untie me now.

Flannagan takes a jerky half-step toward the bed, as if
someone's pulling his puppet strings.

                      THE CAT
          Yes, do my bidding. Hurry, fvcker.

But Flannagan is resisting, he gasps between clenched teeth.
His hand slips into his coat pocket. He pulls out a silver
flask. Unscrews the cap.

                      FLANNAGAN
          Holy Father, vanquish this foul
          beast back to the pits of Hell
          from which it came.

He flicks the flask.

Water droplets fly through the air in slow motion.

The water splashes over the cat, making a SIZZLING NOISE.
The cat lets out a horrendous SCREECH.

Flannagan quickly steps back out onto the landing and slams
the door shut behind him.


INT. LANDING - DAY

Flannagan gasps for breath as he leans against the door.
Hissing, yowling, growling, banging noises come from inside
the bedroom.

And suddenly, silence.

Flannagan puts his ear against the wood and listens.
Nothing.

He hesitantly touches the handle again. He jerks his hand
away... but then goes back to it. He's able to touch it.

He opens the door an inch. Then another inch. He peeks
into the bedroom.


INT. BEDROOM - DAY

Flannagan opens the door further.

The ropes are still on the bed but they're untied. There's
no sign of the cat.

He warily looks around the room, checking the shadows.
Can't see anything.

He hurries to the window and yanks the curtains open. Light
floods the room.

There's the cat, sitting under a chair, cleaning itself.

Flannagan takes a wooden crucifix from another pocket and
advances on the cat, holding the cross before him.

He bends down so the cross is inches from the cat's face.

The cat looks up at him, then bends over and licks its own
butt.


INT. HALLWAY - DAY

Flannagan comes downstairs.

Kate and Joseph are waiting in the kitchen. They stare at
him expectantly.


INT. KITCHEN - DAY

Flannagan sees there's a slice of bread, spread with yellow
butter, on a plate, on the table. He picks the bread up
and eats it. He closes his eyes. Nothing ever tasted so
good.

                      KATE
          Will you not say anything?

                      FLANNAGAN
          I'm sorry, forgive my manners. I
          thought it was your husband, Mrs.
          Bunning, returned from the sea.
          When there's a full moon and a
          spring tide, sometimes flotsam
          gets dragged up off the ocean floor
          and cast upon the shore. But I was
          wrong.

He picks up his tea cup and drains it.

                      FLANNAGAN
          Bloody cats. Never did like them.

He puts the cup down.

                      FLANNAGAN
          Thank you for your hospitality,
          Mrs. Bunning, it's very much
          appreciated. I'll see myself out.

He walks along the hallway, to the front door.


EXT. HOUSE - FRONT DOOR - DAY

Flannagan steps outside and pulls the door closed behind
him.

Thumping footsteps from inside the house, as Kate and Joseph
hurry upstairs.

Flannagan smiles, shakes his head, and walks away.

FADE OUT
                                                        Apr 2018