DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

INT. DONOVAN HOME – MORNING

A hardworking cop on his way to becoming a detective, Clay Donovan, is seen standing next to the kitchen sink where water is loudly splashing inside a glass enclosure.

The tap sputters and the pipes let out a jarring groan. He quickly turns off the water and then proceeds to pour the contents of the coffee pot into the back of the machine. Above, the lights flicker as he gazes out of his four-paned window at a murder of crows frolicking in his yard.

Suddenly, a haunting apparition appears on the glass – a woman’s ghastly face, with eyes as black as a demon’s soul, staring back at him. His breath catches.

He’s frozen, paralyzed by the terrifying sight. In an instant, he jerks his gaze away, and when he looks back, the apparition is gone, replaced by his reflection.

But as he looks down, he notices something off. The coffee had already finished brewing. Which wouldn’t be possible unless he had blacked out for a solid ten minutes.

He steps away from the sink and heads for the front door. It’s wide open, and the sun bleeds across the brown living room decor, creating a glow of golden light that dances over the worn leather couch and faded curtains, wrapping everything in a quiet, nostalgic warmth.

Dressed in uniform, ready for work, he carries a thermos in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. He pushes past the screen door, its squeaky hinges echoing in the open air, and clunks onto the porch.

Two rocking chairs have sat on the porch of this quaint ranch-style home for a few years, a cozy place illuminated by the wide, open glow of the warm spring sun.

In one of the chairs sits Brynn Hamilton-Donovan, a well-respected preschool teacher of Lockwood, Connecticut; a small, mostly unknown quaint suburb just outside of New Haven, with a close-knit community.

Her gentle smile and curious gaze have always made people feel safe and at home. Her presence has warmed the hearts of many, more than even the midday sun.

People often assumed she’d become a nurse when she was younger, but Brynn has always known her true calling and has followed it, regardless of what others had wanted for her.

Clay stands beside her, taking in a deep breath. The fresh scent of cut grass and clean air has reminded him how much he loves being away from the city, away from the smells of exhaust and questionable food trucks.

Brynn looks up with a smile as he hands her the tea.

BRYNN: (jokingly) Have you figured out a way to end bad guys once and for all, Mr. Superhero?

CLAY: Ha. Have you learned how to not worry so much about me yet?

BRYNN: Well, can you blame me? There’s all this craziness in the world.

CLAY: Is that so?

BRYNN: Yup! And while you’re being everyone else’s hero, I’m stuck fearing you’ll never have time to be mine when I need you.

CLAY: Hun… (leans in) You have nothing to worry about. Besides, you come first. Can’t call me a hero when I’d rather burn the world to save you than you for the world. (kisses her forehead) Can I ask what you’re so afraid of? You seem more anxious than usual.

BRYNN: You’ll find out later. I’ll save it for our date night tonight. (smiles) It’s good news. I promise.

She pecks him on the cheek and pats his chest. He leaves for work and she reenters their home.

She heads down the hallway and turns to a closed door. Opening it reveals–

A crib, covered in sunlight, white with light gray sheets has a way of turning a craft room into a baby room. A room they never thought they’d be able to use again…

The room is painted in a light gray color with blue chevron lines alongside a single wall where the crib sits.

Brynn, dressed in a cardigan sweater and tights, places a basket of folded baby blankets on a rounded ottoman next to the baby’s soon-to-be crib. She makes her way around to the changing table on the end and puts the blankets on its bottom open shelf.

Brynn’s nose crinkles as she considers moving the crib away from the sun and against the wall by the door. Shrugging it off as nothing more than pregnancy indecisiveness, she takes out a white pregnancy test from her pocket and places it gently upon the crib, plus side facing up.

INT. CLAY’S CAR – MOMENTS LATER

On his way to work, Clay immerses himself in one of his favorite pre-work tracks: “Hero” by Shaman’s Harvest. Fully absorbed in the chorus and singing along, he isn’t paying complete attention to the road.

Unbeknownst to him, an ominous figure lurks directly behind. A cold chilling smile breaks across its face as it quietly enjoys the fun Clay is having by himself. With a flick of its wrist, it dramatically adjusts the volume knob up and down.

Noticing the change, Clay tries to stop the knob from moving. He grips it tightly until it ultimately cracks and falls into his grasp. As he attempts to replace it, he glances at the road, momentarily distracted, only to quickly return his focus to the knob, before spotting a young woman standing in the middle of the road.

Reacting swiftly, he jerks upright, slams the brakes, and veers off to the side without hitting a single thing or person as far as he can recount.

He peers up and doesn’t see the girl anywhere so he climbs out of his cruiser and steps out into the road looking up and down the highway.

Nothing…

He rubs his eyes and shakes his head. He’s certain it was the same face he had seen that morning. But it couldn’t be. Because that face was of a victim he once had the displeasure of digging up a few years ago.

He climbs back in his cruiser, more hesitant than before, and drives the rest of the way to work in heavy silence.

From a distance, Anna watches as his taillights disappear over the hill of the road. Unable to speak or cry out to him, she whimpers in place.

A dark figure looms behind her watching as she does.