This screenplay has been gestating for a good while — one of those stories that’s been niggling and niggling at me to be told.
Like all too many of my stories, it started out with a misreading that turned into a pun. Don’t ask me at what point I looked at (or heard) “bed and breakfast” and kicked it a couple of consonants along into “dead and breakfast”.
And then of course the conjectures began. What kind of place is a “dead and breakfast”? Who lives there? Why? And what’s the nature of the “broken bone” that for me is the heart of fantasy fiction — the painful interface where the fantastic element rubs up against reality and causes the drama? This script is my answer to those questions.
It’s been kind of a hectic weekend here, so I wasn’t able to start ScriptFrenzy along with everyone else: but this screenplay will be going up here, five pages or so per day, until it completes at the end of April. (Complete with fantasy casting… as you can see from the poster.) 🙂

DEAD AND BREAKFAST
[scrippet]FADE IN:
INT. ERICKSON COMPUTERS, LONDON, NIGHT — ESTABLISHING
A WHOLE FLOOR of a high-rise office building, HQ of a big high-tech company. Evening CITY LIGHTS show through floor-to-ceiling windows. The complex of private and open offices is occupied by late-working white-collar EMPLOYEES of both sexes. It’s after end-of-business. Staff are leaving.
CAMERA MOVES THROUGH the outer office as ND EMPLOYEES say their good-nights, EXIT. Beyond desks and filing systems is a big office built against the outer windows — a glossy, tech-rich private corporate control center. Its walls are made of OPAQUE black glass. A door in the glass SLIDES open; a SECRETARY comes out.
SECRETARY
Good night, Mr. Erickson.
She EXITS. After a moment, behind her, the black glass walls FADE TO TRANSPARENCY. A MAN, ROBERT ERICKSON, handsome, fresh-faced and young-looking, sits inside. His feet are up on the desk, his hands behind his head: he talks animatedly on a headpiece phone, watching the departing Secretary. After a moment, he waves at the windows: they DARKEN TO BLACK again.
Off to one side is the floor’s master computer area, GLASSED IN to control temperature and sound. All around it, office lights TURN OFF, the main room DARKENS. Only the computer area remains lit as CAMERA PUSHES IN on it. A last OFFICE WORKER moves around it, turning things off. Terminals GO DARK: telltales BLINK OUT on the big blocks of supercomputers and server farms. The Office Worker moves to the biggest server stack, TOUCHES a switch on its side. It GOES DARK. The man EXITS: the room lights DIM behind him.
CAMERA PUSHES IN on the computers: still, dark… until suddenly one SMALL LIGHT SOURCE is visible. Red letters GLOW on an LED display on one computer. They form a word; then another. The letters display slowly, as if with an effort.
HELP. ME. HELP ME. A beat, and then: PLEASE. PLEASE HELP ME. The words SCROLL horizontally across the tiny display. PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP ME. HELP ME OH GOD PLEASE HELP ME HELP HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…..
— until nothing remains but the constantly repeating EEEEEEE, a silent electronic scream….[/scrippet]
(Click on “read more” to continue…)






