WILLIAM’S P.O.V.
Pitch black. Zero visibility. Our BREATHING intensifies.
A car door OPENS and CLOSES, then FOOTSTEPS draw near.
More FOOTSTEPS approach from a different direction.
RICK (O.S.)
You’d better have a damn good
reason for draggin’ my ass out
here. I was working on, like, the
ultimate hangover.
A beat.
TRAVIS (O.S.)
The Whitmore’s are gonna perform
the ritual. Tonight.
RICK (O.S.)
This again!? Fuck, Travis. I
already told you, I checked --
TRAVIS
You’re wrong.
Another beat.
RICK (O.S.)
(annoyed)
Okay. I’m all ears.
TRAVIS (O.S.)
I’ll let him do the talking.
2.2.
A latch UNLOCKS, then the trunk lid is lifted up.
Two MEN, one very large and one of average build, stand over
us, silhouetted by harsh red moonlight behind them.
The big one, TRAVIS LILLARD, (38), has muscles on his
muscles, stares down at us with a stern look on his face.
The other one, RICK SPEARS, (45), about as physically
intimidating as his receding hairline, looks at us with wide
eyes. He recoils in disgust, turns to Travis.
RICK
Fuckin’ hell, Travis! Have you
completely lost your shit!?
Travis doesn’t respond, keeps his eyes focused on us.
Rick slowly looks back to us, repulsed.
RICK
Is he... ?
Travis doesn’t blink. His eyes seem to pierce through us.
TRAVIS
He’s alive. And conscious.
RICK
(disgusted)
Fuck.
TRAVIS
(to us)
Remember, the pain ends once you
tell my friend here what you told
me, and not a moment sooner.
WILLIAM (O.S.)
(weak, in pain)
Y-yeah... Okay...
Rick leans in closer, frowns. He takes a deep breath,
sickened by what he sees.
Travis watches on, unblinking.
END P.O.V.
TIGHT SHOT of WILLIAM WHITMORE, (59), beaten to a bloody
pulp, stuffed awkwardly into the trunk.
3.3.
His arms and legs have all been twisted and broken so that
his body can fit into the tight space. Swollen eyes stare up
at the two men standing over the open trunk.
WILLIAM
M-my brother... Hid his y-youngest
son from you... Otis... He’s of a-
age... The P-Potem... It starts t-
tonight...
(looks at Rick)
You fucked up...
WILLIAM’S P.O.V.
Rick straightens up, takes another deep breath.
Travis still stares daggers at us. The man does not blink.
RICK
Well, fuck.
Rick slowly turns to Travis, embarrassed.
RICK
My bad.
Travis doesn’t respond. Doesn’t blink.
Rick turns back to us, lets out a nervous chuckle.
RICK
Alright, then. Where’s your brother
now? Where’s Lon?
We SPIT a huge nasty glob of bloody mucus directly into
Rick’s face.
Disgusted, Rick scrambles away from the trunk, gags as he
wipes the bloody bile from his eyes.
RICK
(gagging)
Argh! What the fuck!?... Fuck!
Travis pulls out a handgun, chambers a round, aims it at us.
TRAVIS
(to US)
Lights out.
He cracks a smug smile, squeezes the trigger. BANG!
SMASH TO:
4.4.
BLACK
The GUNSHOT echoes over the --
TITLE CARD -- THE POTEM
FADE IN:
From the cloudless sky, a waxing crescent blood moon casts an
ominous red glow over the trees below.
A massive lake rests at the base of the hills.
LAUGHTER carries through the night air.
A bikini-clad blond, AMY, (26), is chased into the lake by
her buff boyfriend, KURT, (26).
She giggles as he picks her up, spins her around, and tosses
her further into the water.
Grassy flats rest beside the lake. Behind them, a trail leads
into a vast sea of dark woods, gradually elevating to the
hills beyond.
Kurt and Amy goof off in the lake.
Amy playfully splashes at Kurt, who grabs her breasts.
AMY
Quit it, you big dildo!
KURT
I’ll be your dildo.
Kurt reaches over, flicks one of Amy's nipples.
She gleefully splashes him in retaliation.
AMY
Ouch! That’s my titty, dickhead!
Kurt wraps his arm around Amy, pulls her in close.
KURT
Admit it. There’s no other place
you’d rather be right now.
5.5.
Amy smirks at her goofy boyfriend, then turns her attention
to the blood moon high up above them.
DEBBIE
I still can’t believe how red
everything is out here. It really
looks insane.
Kurt follows her gaze, soaks in the glowing red sky.
KURT
Pretty wicked, huh?
Uneasy, Amy stares at the blood moon.
AMY
Pretty creepy. And I swear that was
a gun shot I heard earlier.
Kurt shrugs.
KURT
It definitely was. We’re out in the
sticks, girl. Redneck country.
AMY
Bunch of hicks and perverts.
KURT
What’s wrong with perverts?
Amy gives him the side eye.
He flashes a shit-eating grin.
They share a laugh.
Harsh crimson moonlight shines through the thick tree tops,
down onto the uneven terrain below.
Various clusters of thin trees cast sinister shadows
throughout the area.
Something moves in the darkness.
OTIS WHITMORE, (18), very tall and broad-shouldered, with
innocent eyes, stumbles out of the shadows and down the hill
as fast as he can.
6.6.
He's dressed in ragged overalls and covered in sweat and
dirt. His hands are bound before him with duct tape, his
mouth gagged with a dirty rag.
CLOSE ON his wide, scared eyes as they dart back and forth.
A branch SNAPS somewhere in the darkness.
Otis peeks over his shoulder, back up the dark hillside.
Nothing but a bunch of trees.
He continues down the hill, picks up the pace.
A tree root catches his shoe, sends him careening into a tree
stump. He bounces off of the stump, spins awkwardly around,
lands hard on his side.
Otis grunts as he stands up on wobbly legs. He looks back up
the hill.
Still nothing.
He turns, moves farther down into the darkness below.
Dirty shoes pound against the ground as OTIS WHITMORE, (18),
tall and broad shouldered, runs wildly into the darkness.
He's dressed in ragged overalls and covered in sweat and
dirt. His hands are bound before him with duct tape, his
mouth gagged with a dirty rag.
Branches claw and scrape at his face and arms as he moves
through the thick brush.
A woman CACKLES somewhere in the woods. She sounds close.
Otis freezes in his tracks. Sweat beads up on his brow.
Something in the distance catches his eyes. He squints.
It's a flickering light. A campfire?
Otis' eyes light up with hope just as a tree branch SMASHES
across his face. He groans as he collapses onto his back.
SARA WHITMORE, (32), steps into view, stand over Otis. She
wears a red hooded robe.
The dirty rag stuffed in Otis' mouth overfills with blood,
which oozes out onto his cheeks and chin.
7.7.
Trembling, he looks up at the hooded figure.
Sara clenches a thick tree branch tight in her hands, snarls
down at Otis.
SARA
You look scared... That means you
ain’t a complete retard.
She spits on the cowering Otis.
SARA
Pig.
A sinister grin spreads across Sara’s face.
With pleading eyes, Otis looks up at her. He raises his
hands, begs for mercy.
Sara kisses her teeth, shakes her head.
SARA
Sorry, Otis. Ya know... I actually
used to be jealous of you... The
chosen one... Ya got a raw deal,
cousin... It’s a shame. Maybe if ya
hadn’t run away from us, this
wouldn’t have to be so painful.
But, unfortunately, you ran... So --
Sara lifts her boot high, brings it down on Otis' face. It
lands with a brutal CRUNCH.
Blood gushes out of Otis' smashed nose. Both of his eyes fill
with blood as he struggles to sit up.
Sara lets out a maniacal cackle.
SARA
You don’t quit easy, do ya!?
Frustrated, she brings her boot back up, STOMPS down on
Otis's mangled face.
CLOSE ON Sara as a few drops of blood speckle her pale face.
Her lips curve into a crazed grin. She licks the blood.
SARA
That’s better.
8.8.
A large tent is pitched just beside a large oak tree in the
middle of a grassy clearing. A perfect spot to camp.
Beside the tent is a lit campfire, with two lawn chairs
positioned near it.
The campsite is surrounded on all sides by dark woods.
Amy, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, giggles as she runs
out of the shadows.
Kurt, rocking some jean shorts, is hot on her tail. He
pinches her ass.
KURT
So juicy!
Amy playfully slaps his hand away.
AMY
Quit it, you monster! Go be useful
and check the fire. I’m gonna call
Erik, see if they got lost or
something.
Kurt moves for a machete that’s stabbed in the ground, grabs
it. He steps over to the fire, stokes it with the blade.
Amy heads over to the smaller tent, unzips the door flap,
reaches inside and pulls out a cellphone. She checks it.
There’s one bar.
AMY
(surprised)
Hot damn! Hell must be freezing
over or something.
Amy dials a number, holds the cellphone to her ear. It RINGS
for a beat, then --
ERIC (V.O.)
(cuts in and out)
Yo, Amy!
AMY
Eric, hey! My signal is shit out
here, so I might lose you. Are you
guys getting close?
9.9.
ERIC (V.O.)
Yeah, crossing the river now.
Should be there in about --
The line goes dead. Amy looks at her cellphone, frowns.
No signal.
— ①
INT. CAR TRUNK - PARKED - NIGHT
WILLIAM’S P.O.V.
Pitch black. Zero visibility. Our BREATHING intensifies.
A car door OPENS and CLOSES, then FOOTSTEPS draw near.
More FOOTSTEPS approach from a different direction.
RICK (O.S.)
You’d better have a damn good
reason for draggin’ my ass out
here. I was working on, like, the
ultimate hangover.
A beat.
TRAVIS (O.S.)
The Whitmore’s are gonna perform
the ritual. Tonight.
RICK (O.S.)
This again!? Fuck, Travis. I
already told you, I checked --
TRAVIS
You’re wrong.
Another beat.
RICK (O.S.)
(annoyed)
Okay. I’m all ears.
TRAVIS (O.S.)
I’ll let him do the talking.
2.2.
A latch UNLOCKS, then the trunk lid is lifted up.
Two MEN, one very large and one of average build, stand over
us, silhouetted by harsh red moonlight behind them.
The big one, TRAVIS LILLARD, (38), has muscles on his
muscles, stares down at us with a stern look on his face.
The other one, RICK SPEARS, (45), about as physically
intimidating as his receding hairline, looks at us with wide
eyes. He recoils in disgust, turns to Travis.
RICK
Fuckin’ hell, Travis! Have you
completely lost your shit!?
Travis doesn’t respond, keeps his eyes focused on us.
Rick slowly looks back to us, repulsed.
RICK
Is he... ?
Travis doesn’t blink. His eyes seem to pierce through us.
TRAVIS
He’s alive. And conscious.
RICK
(disgusted)
Fuck.
TRAVIS
(to us)
Remember, the pain ends once you
tell my friend here what you told
me, and not a moment sooner.
WILLIAM (O.S.)
(weak, in pain)
Y-yeah... Okay...
Rick leans in closer, frowns. He takes a deep breath,
sickened by what he sees.
Travis watches on, unblinking.
END P.O.V.
TIGHT SHOT of WILLIAM WHITMORE, (59), beaten to a bloody
pulp, stuffed awkwardly into the trunk.
3.3.
His arms and legs have all been twisted and broken so that
his body can fit into the tight space. Swollen eyes stare up
at the two men standing over the open trunk.
WILLIAM
M-my brother... Hid his y-youngest
son from you... Otis... He’s of a-
age... The P-Potem... It starts t-
tonight...
(looks at Rick)
You fucked up...
WILLIAM’S P.O.V.
Rick straightens up, takes another deep breath.
Travis still stares daggers at us. The man does not blink.
RICK
Well, fuck.
Rick slowly turns to Travis, embarrassed.
RICK
My bad.
Travis doesn’t respond. Doesn’t blink.
Rick turns back to us, lets out a nervous chuckle.
RICK
Alright, then. Where’s your brother
now? Where’s Lon?
We SPIT a huge nasty glob of bloody mucus directly into
Rick’s face.
Disgusted, Rick scrambles away from the trunk, gags as he
wipes the bloody bile from his eyes.
RICK
(gagging)
Argh! What the fuck!?... Fuck!
Travis pulls out a handgun, chambers a round, aims it at us.
TRAVIS
(to US)
Lights out.
He cracks a smug smile, squeezes the trigger. BANG!
SMASH TO:
4.4.
BLACK
The GUNSHOT echoes over the --
TITLE CARD -- THE POTEM
FADE IN:
EXT. HILLS - NIGHT
From the cloudless sky, a waxing crescent blood moon casts an
ominous red glow over the trees below.
A massive lake rests at the base of the hills.
LAUGHTER carries through the night air.
EXT. LAKESIDE
A bikini-clad blond, AMY, (26), is chased into the lake by
her buff boyfriend, KURT, (26).
She giggles as he picks her up, spins her around, and tosses
her further into the water.
Grassy flats rest beside the lake. Behind them, a trail leads
into a vast sea of dark woods, gradually elevating to the
hills beyond.
Kurt and Amy goof off in the lake.
Amy playfully splashes at Kurt, who grabs her breasts.
AMY
Quit it, you big dildo!
KURT
I’ll be your dildo.
Kurt reaches over, flicks one of Amy's nipples.
She gleefully splashes him in retaliation.
AMY
Ouch! That’s my titty, dickhead!
Kurt wraps his arm around Amy, pulls her in close.
KURT
Admit it. There’s no other place
you’d rather be right now.
5.5.
Amy smirks at her goofy boyfriend, then turns her attention
to the blood moon high up above them.
DEBBIE
I still can’t believe how red
everything is out here. It really
looks insane.
Kurt follows her gaze, soaks in the glowing red sky.
KURT
Pretty wicked, huh?
Uneasy, Amy stares at the blood moon.
AMY
Pretty creepy. And I swear that was
a gun shot I heard earlier.
Kurt shrugs.
KURT
It definitely was. We’re out in the
sticks, girl. Redneck country.
AMY
Bunch of hicks and perverts.
KURT
What’s wrong with perverts?
Amy gives him the side eye.
He flashes a shit-eating grin.
They share a laugh.
EXT. WOODS - HILLSIDE - NIGHT
Harsh crimson moonlight shines through the thick tree tops,
down onto the uneven terrain below.
Various clusters of thin trees cast sinister shadows
throughout the area.
Something moves in the darkness.
OTIS WHITMORE, (18), very tall and broad-shouldered, with
innocent eyes, stumbles out of the shadows and down the hill
as fast as he can.
6.6.
He's dressed in ragged overalls and covered in sweat and
dirt. His hands are bound before him with duct tape, his
mouth gagged with a dirty rag.
CLOSE ON his wide, scared eyes as they dart back and forth.
A branch SNAPS somewhere in the darkness.
Otis peeks over his shoulder, back up the dark hillside.
Nothing but a bunch of trees.
He continues down the hill, picks up the pace.
A tree root catches his shoe, sends him careening into a tree
stump. He bounces off of the stump, spins awkwardly around,
lands hard on his side.
Otis grunts as he stands up on wobbly legs. He looks back up
the hill.
Still nothing.
He turns, moves farther down into the darkness below.
EXT. WOODS - BRUSH - NIGHT
Dirty shoes pound against the ground as OTIS WHITMORE, (18),
tall and broad shouldered, runs wildly into the darkness.
He's dressed in ragged overalls and covered in sweat and
dirt. His hands are bound before him with duct tape, his
mouth gagged with a dirty rag.
Branches claw and scrape at his face and arms as he moves
through the thick brush.
A woman CACKLES somewhere in the woods. She sounds close.
Otis freezes in his tracks. Sweat beads up on his brow.
Something in the distance catches his eyes. He squints.
It's a flickering light. A campfire?
Otis' eyes light up with hope just as a tree branch SMASHES
across his face. He groans as he collapses onto his back.
SARA WHITMORE, (32), steps into view, stand over Otis. She
wears a red hooded robe.
The dirty rag stuffed in Otis' mouth overfills with blood,
which oozes out onto his cheeks and chin.
7.7.
Trembling, he looks up at the hooded figure.
Sara clenches a thick tree branch tight in her hands, snarls
down at Otis.
SARA
You look scared... That means you
ain’t a complete retard.
She spits on the cowering Otis.
SARA
Pig.
A sinister grin spreads across Sara’s face.
With pleading eyes, Otis looks up at her. He raises his
hands, begs for mercy.
Sara kisses her teeth, shakes her head.
SARA
Sorry, Otis. Ya know... I actually
used to be jealous of you... The
chosen one... Ya got a raw deal,
cousin... It’s a shame. Maybe if ya
hadn’t run away from us, this
wouldn’t have to be so painful.
But, unfortunately, you ran... So --
Sara lifts her boot high, brings it down on Otis' face. It
lands with a brutal CRUNCH.
Blood gushes out of Otis' smashed nose. Both of his eyes fill
with blood as he struggles to sit up.
Sara lets out a maniacal cackle.
SARA
You don’t quit easy, do ya!?
Frustrated, she brings her boot back up, STOMPS down on
Otis's mangled face.
CLOSE ON Sara as a few drops of blood speckle her pale face.
Her lips curve into a crazed grin. She licks the blood.
SARA
That’s better.
8.8.
EXT. CAMPSITE - NIGHT
A large tent is pitched just beside a large oak tree in the
middle of a grassy clearing. A perfect spot to camp.
Beside the tent is a lit campfire, with two lawn chairs
positioned near it.
The campsite is surrounded on all sides by dark woods.
Amy, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, giggles as she runs
out of the shadows.
Kurt, rocking some jean shorts, is hot on her tail. He
pinches her ass.
KURT
So juicy!
Amy playfully slaps his hand away.
AMY
Quit it, you monster! Go be useful
and check the fire. I’m gonna call
Erik, see if they got lost or
something.
Kurt moves for a machete that’s stabbed in the ground, grabs
it. He steps over to the fire, stokes it with the blade.
Amy heads over to the smaller tent, unzips the door flap,
reaches inside and pulls out a cellphone. She checks it.
There’s one bar.
AMY
(surprised)
Hot damn! Hell must be freezing
over or something.
Amy dials a number, holds the cellphone to her ear. It RINGS
for a beat, then --
ERIC (V.O.)
(cuts in and out)
Yo, Amy!
AMY
Eric, hey! My signal is shit out
here, so I might lose you. Are you
guys getting close?
9.9.
ERIC (V.O.)
Yeah, crossing the river now.
Should be there in about --
The line goes dead. Amy looks at her cellphone, frowns.
No signal.