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 1.
FADE IN :
1 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 1
A dull highway. A crappy sedan roars by.
2 INT. CRAPPY CAR - DAY 2
At the wheel, driving this piece of shit, is MIKE ENSLIN,
35, a grizzled, weary soul. He stares glassily at the road,
a cigarette behind his ear, a styrofoam cup of Exxon coffee
at his mouth.
A sign drifts by: "Woodfin, Rte 251 N - Asheville,
Interstate 240 E, Hwy 40, Next Right, Thru Traffic Merge”
Heh? Mike frowns.
3 EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DUSK 3
RAIN pours down on an unpaved country intersection.
Mike stands outside his car, soaked, checking a wet map.
He’s confused and annoyed. There are no road markings at
all. He checks his watch.
4 EXT. COUNTRY INN - NIGHT 4
A quaint rural inn, dark of night. The ambiance is
picturesque, but off-putting. Porch lanterns glow. Shadows
are deep. An ancient elm tree frames the banging weathered-
sign: "The Camden Inn"
Then, finally — headlights. Mike’s car pulls up in the mud.
5 INT. INN - NIGHT 5
Mike trudges into the homey, worn lobby.
MIKE
Hi. Mike Enslin, checking in —
The gregarious INNKEEPERS jump up, excited. They're country
folk, beaming.
MR. INNKEEPER
2.
Oh, Mr. Enslin! We were so worried
you weren’t gonna show!
MRS. INNKEEPER
It's such an honor to have you
here.
MIKE
(disinterested)
Yeah. Great. Uh, if I could just
get my key —
They ignore his exhaustion.
MR. INNKEEPER
You probably want to hear all about
our haunted history! Well, that
rear staircase is where the maid
reputedly hung herself in 1870.
MRS. INNKEEPER
There’s a picture —
MIKE
Can we do this in the morning?
MRS. INNKEEPER
(rummaging through
drawers)
Wait! It's printed in our brochure!
INSERT - BROCHURE
She thrusts out a brochure that says "HAUNTED!" There’s a
PHOTO of the lobby, and a faint white shape in a window.
MRS. INNKEEPER
Do you SEE her?
MIKE
Uh —
MRS. INNKEEPER
A guest took that photo in 1986.
You can sort of see Sylvia's
"ethereal apparition" reflected in
the window.
Mike stares, unimpressed.
MR. INNKEEPER
At least, Sylvia is what we call
her.
3.
MIKE
Terrifying.
(pause)
I’m ready to hit the sack. in your
letter, you mentioned the scariest
rooms were in the old attic?
MRS. INNKEEPER
That's right. The third floor is
the former servant's quarters.
People say all Sylvia's children
died up there of tuberculosis.
(spooky)
Right up there. Right above where
you and I are standing, right
now...
MR. INNKEEPER
Guests have reported strange
sounds. At the stroke of midnight,
there’s been weird noises. Creaks.
Moans.
(mysterious)
Our best advice... is to lock your
door from the inside.
CUT TO:
6 INT. INN - MIKE'S ROOM - LATE NIGHT 6
Mike lies on the antique bed, on a quilt, drinking mini-bar
BOOZE. He has an army of tiny Scotches, Gins, Vodkas. He's
bored out of his mind.
DISSOLVE TO:
LATER
The boozes are empty. Somewhere, a grandfather clock CHIMES
midnight. DONG, DONG, DONG! Mike groggily glances at a
bedside clock, Waiting. Listening. Alert to anything...
Suddenly a loud CRASH! Mike jerks, startled.
He jumps up, concerned... then realizes it's only THUNDER.
Oh.
DISSOLVE TO:
LATER
Mike is snoring, drooling, passed out.
4.
CUT TO:
7 INT. CRAPPY CAR - DRIVING - DAY 7
Mike is back in the car, driving another endless
interstate.
He speaks flatly into a pocket MINI-RECORDER.
MIKE
People spoke of the spectral
presence of Sylvia... though I
personally never encountered her.
(beat)
But in any case, the Eggs Benedict
were delicious, and Mrs. Clark says
if you have a party of four, she'll
make her famous flourless chocolate
cake.
(beat)
On a Shiver Scale of 1 to 10, I
award the Camden Inn seven skulls.
Mike clicks the recorder OFF. He puts it down — then has a
thought and turns it back ON,
MIKE
Fuck ’em. Six skulls.
CUT TO:
8 EXT. BARNES & NOBLE - NIGHT 8
A mall bookstore. The marquee shouts "GHOST SURVIVAL GUIDE
Author M. Enslin Tonight! 7 P.M."
9 INT. BARNES & NOBLE - NIGHT 9
Mike enters, disheveled. The store is sad and generic —- an
air of listlessness hanging over the shelves. Mike tiredly
approaches the busy CASHIER.
MIKE
Excuse me. I’m Mike Enslin.
CASHIER
Sorry?
MIKE
5.
I’m, uh... the "star” of your
booksigning tonight.
CASHIER
(a dawning awareness)
Oh, right. Right! Okay then!
The Cashier finishes his order, then flicks on a small P.A.
SYSTEM. He grabs a MICROPHONE and reads off a xeroxed
FLYER:
ASSISTANT MANAGER
Attention, book lovers! In the
Author’s Corner tonight, we have
noted occult writer Mike Enslin!
He’s the author of the bestselling
Ghost Survival Guides, with such
titles as "Ten Haunted Hotels,"
"Ten Haunted Graveyards,” and "Ten
Haunted Lighthouses"!
Around the store, people look up. Mike leans into the guy.
MIKE
You got a bathroom I can clean up
in, first?
CUT TO:
10 INT. BARNES & NOBLE - LATER 10
The event. It’s depressing — the sad reality of
booksignings. The back of the store has 30 or 40 folding
chairs, but there’s only FIVE SPECTATORS. Mike sits
alongside a pile of his paperbacks? discoursing.
MIKE
Sure f these pieces have colorful
histories. That’s the hook: The
wedding night murder. The caretaker
who leaped to his death. The
runaway horse that trampled the old
lady. The war widow who went crazy
and threw the baby down the well...
The people go wide-eyed. Mike lets this hang... then
deflates it.
MIKE
6.
But there’s never any
documentation! If you do one iota
of research, the tragic event never
happened1 It's just a marketing
hook invented by desperate hotels
when the interstate gets built too
far away.
The crowd doesn’t get it. One EMPHATIC MAN raises his hand.
EMPHATIC MAN
Have you ever seen a poltergeist?
MIKE
(he reacts)
See? That's exactly what I’m
talking about. You didn’t hear one
word I just said. I can type myself
sick debunking these places,
shooting arrows in the legends f
and it only makes people want to
stay there more.
LADY
(she raises her hand)
Well, my family's planning a trip
this summer. Would you say there's
a higher concentration of ghosts in
New England or in the South?
Mike wipes his face.
MIKE
I would say nowhere but no one’s
listening. You'll probably want to
pick-up my "Ten Haunted Antebellum
Mansions."
CUT TO:
LATER
Mike is signing paperbackst rote, the same autograph over
and over: "Stay Scared! Mike Enslin” "Stay Scared! Mike
Enslin"
MIKE
Of course, I try to be scientific.
I travel with an EMF meter, an
infrared camera... a full-range
spectrometer. But I’ve never had to
use them, because there's nothing
to record!
7.
Then — a HARDBACK enters frame. He looks up, surprised.
A NERVOUS WOMAN holds the book. It’s a dusty, faded copy of
Mike's early novel, "The Road Back Nowhere.” The artwork is
heartfelt: A watercolor of a boy holding a surfboard.
MIKE
Jesus. What rock did you find that
under?
NERVOUS WOMAN
Ebay.
MIKE
Wow. Haven’t seen one of these in
years.
(awkward)
How much did it... go for?
The woman bites her lip, preferring not to say.
NERVOUS WOMAN
Well, there weren't many bidders.
(she smiles)
But it's a lovely book. Are you
going to write another one like
this?
He glances at the back cover: A decade-old PHOTO of himself
■— young and optimistic.
Mike’s face falls.
MIKE
Nope. That was a different guy.
CUT TO:
11 EXT. FLORIDA BEACH - DAWN 11
The sun is peeking over the horizon. The pink sky is
lovely, breaking over a rocky inlet.
Mike drives into a beach parking lot. He glances over —
spotting a cluster of parked cars. Across the sand, a GROUP
of dedicated SURFERS in wetsuits ride the early morning
waves.
Mike stares — then keeps driving. A surfboard sticks out of
his car. He goes to the far end of the parking lot, off by
himself, then pulls over.
8.
12 EXT. OCEAN - LATER 12
Mike rides a wave. It's exquisite. For him, this experience
isn't about adrenaline, but tranquility. The weariness that
usually hangs over him is gone. He’s alone and perfectly
serene. Happy.
Mike enjoys the spray in his face. Until — he hears a
strange BUZZING. He looks around, then UP.
ABOVE
A small AIRPLANE flies over, towing a BANNER.
Mike squints, trying to read it.
The sky is too bright. The banner is silhouetted...
Mike focuses harder... distracted... when —
BAM!
A monstrous WAVE suddenly POUNDS him!
Crash! Mike gets slammed underwater.
UNDERNEATH
Mike gets pulled down.
He screams out, but only bubbles emerge.
The water BATTERS him. Everything swirls. He spins, losing
track of which way is up.
Mike struggles, desperate.,, trying to reach for sky...
getting sucked deeper toward the darkness...
When --
ANGLE -HIS SURFBOARD
suddenly appears from above. Like a godsend.
Startled, Mike grabs for it — when — it unexpectedly
pitches and HAMMERS him in the head.
CUT TO:
13 EXT. BEACH - LATER 13
9.
ECU - MIKE’S FACE
Mike lies mutely on his back, on the sand.
Hyperventilating.
Winded. Eyes glassy.
But alive.
CUT TO:
14 EXT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY 14
An overlit, bleached-white fluorescent hellhole. An
anonymous storefront of mailboxes, packing supplies, and
key-cutting.
Mike enters and goes over to his mailbox. He unlocks it,
removing a STARTLING AMOUNT of MAIL.
The friendly MAILBOX GUY nods.
MAILBOX,GUY
You've been gone awhile.
MIKE
(disinterested)
Yeah.
15 INT. PALM COFFEE SHOP - DAY 15
Mike sits in a corner booth, alone. His breakfast sits
abandoned, runny egg yolks congealed. He sips his eighth
cup of coffee.
The table is spread with months of opened mail. Dozens of
BROCHURES for HOTELS, INNS, B & Brs. Mike flips through
them. Some have macabre marketing - "Spirits! Strange?” A
few have even Photoshopped transparent phantoms into their
antique­laden lobbies. Mike glances at a Post-it: "Dear Mr.
Enslin, please consider our Motel for your next Ghost
Guide."
He stares — then tosses it. He rummages through more mail:
A bill from a nursing home. Skeptical Enquirer magazine.
The Weekly World News. He slashes an envelope with his
fancy LETTER OPENER. Inside is a childish greeting card --
a cartoon tiger says "You’re Terrrrrrr-rfic! Happy
Birthday!”
10.
Mike frowns, then throws it in the trash pile. He reaches
for a POSTCARD.
INSERT - POSTCARD
The back has but three scribbled words: "DON’T ENTER 1408"
ON MIKE
Hm. He gazes, then flips over the card. It’s a generic
giveaway HOTEL POSTCARD'. A montage of photos: Elegant
1920s exterior. Classy rooms. An overstuffed, lounge filled
with smiling, attractive rich people. A scrolling font
says: "When in New York City, visit the Dolphin Hotel!"
Mike fixates on the word "New York." His face darkens, and
he tosses the card in the junk pile.
He starts to move on — when something catches his eye. He
peers back at the card...
TIGHT - POSTCARD
Again, "DON'T ENTER 1408." We PUSH IN on the numbers, until
they fill the screen. 1408... 1408...
Mike thinks. He clicks a pen, then scribbles the digits as
a math column: 2 + 4 + 0 + 8 ......... 13.
A smile flickers across his face.
MIKE
Cute.
Mike is amused. He considers the card, then suddenly OPENS
HIS LAPTOP COMPUTER.
ANGLE - COMPUTER
Mike spins the mouse, clicking "Internet." He waits
patiently, while the green WI-FI icon scrolls. Searching...
searching... until — "NO SIGNAL AVAILABLE"
Mike groans.
MIKE
Goddamn corner booth.
WIDE
11.
Irked, Mike grabs the computer. He JUMPS from his booth and
starts meandering around the coffee shop, eyeballing the
computer screen like a hungry hawk.
A few steps — Ah! A glimmer of green, then red.
He marches toward the door — eyes glued to the screen. The
DINERS shoot him looks, but he is indifferent to other
people.
He lifts the laptop over his head, trying different
positions.
16 EXT. COFFEE SHOP - SAME TIME 16
Mike exits the building. Suddenly, he finds -a signal.
Ah-HA! The Internet opens, The WEB PAGE speaks:
INTERNET LADY VOICE
Good morning, Mike,
MIKE
(he smiles)
Good morning, Fake Voice Lady!
He quickly sits on a cinderblock wall and starts EXPERTLY
TYPING.
INSERT - COMPUTER
Mike goes to "GOOGLE." He types in "DOLPHIN HOTEL NEW YORK"
Beat. A page of text appears. Mike clicks on a link to the
Dolphin. A millisecond pause — then the DOLPHIN HOTEL’S
stylish HOMEPAGE APPEARS. It is exactly what one would
expect: Chandeliers. Clinking champagne flutes. Links to
"SPA" "DINING" "BANQUET FACILITIES" "RESERVATIONS"...
Mike knows this is a dead end. He clicks back to "GOOGLE,"
then tries "DOLPHIN HOTEL GHOSTS"
The computer responds, "NO RESULTS"
Mike backspaces and tries again: "DOLPHIN HOTEL
SUPERNATURAL"
The computer responds, "NO RESULTS"
Mike backspaces and tries yet again: "DOLPHIN HOTEL
HAUNTING"
12.
The computer responds, "NO RESULTS"
Mike stares. Unbowed, his face darkens. He tries a
different approach: "DOLPHIN HOTEL DEATH"
THE COMPUTER
pauses — then the SCREEN FILLS WITH ENTRIES.
MIKE
suddenly gasps, horrified.
MIKE
Jesus Christ...
CUT TO:
17 INI. RESEARCH LIBRARY - DAY 17
Mike sits in a musty library basement scrolling through
MICROFICHE rolls. On the amber screen is an ancient New
York Herald-Tribune: The headline screams "FACTORY OWNER
LEAPS FROM HOTEL.” There is a portrait of a stuffy-looking
rich man, then underneath a gory WEEGEE-LIKE PHOTO of a
bloody mess on a New York, sidewalk, the cops dourly
cleaning up.
For the first time, Mike seems affected. Truly bothered.
Shaken, he scribbles notes on a LEGAL PAD. Under the word
"DOLPHIN," we see the pad is filled with items...
A spooky pause... when suddenly — RING!! It’s his
CELLPHONE.
Mike jumps, startled. Embarrassed by the noise, he quickly
answers it.
MIKE
Hello?
But, nothing. Mike frowns.
MIKE
Hello! This is Mike Enslin. Is
anybody there?
No response. Just — a faint crackling STATIC.
Mike struggles to hear — when CLICK. The line goes dead.
13.
Weird. Mike looks back at his list of deaths...
CUT TO:
18 INT. MIKE'S OFFICE - NIGHT 18
CU on a jumble of old NEWSPAPER ARTICLES. A blizzard of
words and headlines: "SUICIDE”... "DROWNING"...
"ELECTROCUTION"... "HEART ATTACK." We slowly PULL OUT,
revealing dozens of Dolphin articles, tacked on a
corkboard. A blur of photos, nasty death images and old-
fashioned formal portraits. The victims look like solid
early 20th-century citizens: A walrus-moustached man in a
bowler. A prim woman in round spectacles.
We CONTINUE PULLING OUT, finding Mike on a ratty couch.
Surrounded by these horrors. He holds the Dolphin POSTCARD,
staring. Agitated. Suddenly he downs a shot of bourbon,
then dials the phone number. He waits. RING. RING —
OPERATOR (V.O.)
Good evening, Dolphin Hotel. How
may I direct your call?
MIKE
Hi, I’m calling about Room 1408.
A strange pause.
OPERATOR (V.O.)
I don’t believe we have such a
room.
MIKE
(long beat)
Don't you...?
Another pause.
OPERATOR (V.O.)
Er, one moment, please.
Mike gets out on HOLD. Sprightly MUSIC kicks in, and a
RECORDED ANNOUNCEMENT.
SMOOTH RECORDING
"When staying at the Dolphin, be
certain to enjoy New York’s finest
dining, at the fabled Blue Marlin
Restaurant on our Mezzanine lev—"
14.
HOTEL VOICE
(cutting in)
May I help you?
MIKE
Yes, I'd like to stay in Room 1408.
HOTEL VOICE
That room is unavailable.
Mike raises an eyebrow.
MIKE
I didn't tell you which date.
No response.
MIKE
How 'bout Saturday?
HOTEL VOICE
It’s unavailable.
MIKE
Tuesday?
HOTEL VOICE
Unavailable.
MIKE
(ticked off)
Next month?
HOTEL VOICE
Unavailable.
MIKE
Next summer!
HOTEL VOICE
(beat)
(Thank you for calling.)
CLICK. The man HANGS UP.
Mike is stupefied.
CUT TO:
19 INT. MANHATTAN LITERARY AGENCY - DAY 19
15.
A busy New York agency with million-dollar views. SAM
FARRELL, a gregarious old-school gentleman agent, yells
out.
SAM
Hey! Where's good Chinese, near
48th? I gotta have lunch with that
idiot from Random House.
SECRETARY
(on the phone, gesturing)
It's Mike Enslin, calling from
Florida again.
Sam winces. He looks around, then hails a bookish LAWYER.
SAM
Clay! You got a sec' for Mike
Enslin?
LAWYER
Uh — sure —
SAM
Great.
Sam PULLS him into his leather-bound office.
20 INT. SAM'S OFFICE 20
Sam slams the door and lowers his voice.
SAM
Now look, this guy tends to get a
little morose, so try to keep the
energy up. Otherwise, he stews in
his own funk.
Sam PUNCHES his speakerphone,
SAM
Mike!!!
MIKE (V.O.)
Sam —
SAM
Read the first five chapters last
night. Spooky shit. Couldn’t sleep
a wink. It's gonna make a bundle —
MIKE (V.O.)
16.
So did you -—
SAM
You better believe I did! And I got
our top lawyer here right now!
(he winks)
Mike, Clay. Clay, Mike. Mike, talk
fast. This guy's $400 an hour.
MIKE (V.O.)
So, about the Dolphin —
SAM
Yes, the Dolphin! That stick-up-
its-ass relic on 61st. Too posh for
a free plug! Well, you're gonna
LOVE what Clay cooked up: He dug
around and found you a Federal
Civil Rights law! Ain’t that a
hoot?
(he chuckles)
Like somebody would discriminate
against you: A well-to-do white
man!
(amused)
But the law’s the law: If the
room's not occupied, they have to
give it to you.
MIKE (V.O.)
Good.
CLAY
So we'll book it, and if they
refuse, we'll rattle our saber and
file suit.
A pause. Sam turns quiet, leaning into the speakerphone.
SAM
But Mike... on a more personal
note: Are you really sure you want
to come here?
MIKE (V.CA)
(tentative)
S-sure. It'll make a solid closing
chapter for the —
SAM
Yeah yeah. I know the routine.
(sincere)
17.
But seriously... buddy. It's New
York. All that happened...
(pause)
Do you really want to put yourself
through that...?
INTERCUT:
CLOSEUP - MIKE
His face clouds. He considers his past, then whispers.
MIKE
I'll be quick. And it's a different
part of town...
SAM
Are you gonna call Lily?
MIKE
N-no. It's a job.
(his voice cracks)
I’ll be in, and out.
We hold on Mike, brimming with uncertainty...
Then — a loud SHRIEEEEEKI
CUT TO:
21 EXT. SKY - DAY 21
An A.IRPLANE descends into New York.
22 INT. AIRPLANE - DAY 22
Mike looks out the window. The grid of New York is below,
neatly geometric. Until — the plane suddenly banks,
swooping in. The whole view spins.
Mike recoils, nauseated.
23 EXT. NEW YORK - DAY 23
Blackness. Then — a TAXI emerges into the light, We’ve been
looking into the Holland Tunnel.
24 INT. CAB - DRIVING 24
18.
A carved crucifix swings from the mirror.
Mike rides in back. Face wan. New York's a jumble. He peers
about — everything seems discordant. Canal Street is a
collection of unsettling images:
Smoke curls from a grate. It clears, revealing a MAN lying
motionless on the sidewalk.
Sparks arc inside an open factory door.
A snarling DOG barks behind bars.
Seafood decomposes in a fish market.
The CABBIE HONKS furiously at the congestion.
CABBIE
This traffic's a fuckin’ nightmare.
I'm gonna cut up Eighth.
MIKE
(woozy)
N-no. Please. Don’t go that way...
Canal's fine...
CABBIE
Just lemme drive.
The Cabbie hooks left.
Mike blanches in back. The cab drives uptown, and the sense
of DREAD grows. Crumbling buildings block out the sun. Mike
grimaces, anxious. Knowing something is approaching...
OUT THE WINDOW
An old brick school comes into view. On the PLAYGROUND,
CHILDREN RUN AROUND.
Mike shudders. Distraught, he averts his eyes.
CUT TO:
25 EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - NIGHT 25
A sumptuous refugee from the Jazz Age, A STATUE OF A
SMILING DOLPHIN dominates the portal. It leers a happy
greeting.
Mike's cab arrives. He gets out, carrying a duffel.
19.
26 INT. DOLPHIN LOBBY - NIGHT 26
Swanky and archaic, but beautifully maintained. The last
time it was hip, Dorothy Parker got drunk in the coatroom.
The DOORMAN opens the door for Mike. Mike's sweating, his
usual insouciance rattled. He glances around the small
lobby: On the mezzanine, a PIANIST plays Gershwin. Chic
GUESTS in evening wear cavort. A RICH"OLD COUPLE walks a
poodle. A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN in a gown casually breastfeeds a
baby.
Mike goes up to Reception. The DESK CLERK smiles formally.
DESK CLERK
Welcome to the Dolphin, sir. Are
you checking in?
MIKE
Yes. Mike Enslin, staying for one
night.
Hmphh? The Desk Clerk suddenly tightens up, awkward.
DESK CLERK
Uh... could you excuse me one
moment?
She hurries off. Mike raises an eyebrow.
We follow the Clerk as she scurries down the counter. She
reaches a rigid ASSISTANT MANAGER and whispers. He listens,
giving Mike a discreet glance. The Assistant Manager
whispers something back, then rushes out a rear door.
Beat
Mike waits. Biding his time...
Pause — then the rear door opens, and out glides the
Manager, MR. OLIN. Olin, 60, is a precise man of European
air, his" tailored suit, carefully-parted hair and
manicured nails only made bearable by his clipped dry wit.
TIGHT - OLIN
He nods professionally and extends his hand.
OLIN
20.
Mr. Enslin, I’m Gerald Olin, the
manager of the Dolphin. If there’s
any way I can be of assistance
while you’re here — dinner
reservations, theater, anything at
all — please know that I’m
delighted to be at your service.
MIKE
Uh, that's great.
(chirpy)
If I can just get my key to 1408,
I'll stay out of your hair.
Beat. Olin’s eyes narrow.
OLIN
You wouldn't prefer an upgrade? An
executive suite with complimentary
breakfast?
MIKE
(hostile)
1408, please.
OLIN
So insistent.
(his voice lowers)
Mr. Enslin, could you humor me with
a more... private conversation?
27 INT. OLIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT 27
An impeccable Edwardian study. Oak paneling. Fine books. An
antique desk with a lozenge-shaped green lamp.
Olin opens a humidor.
OLIN
Cigar?
MIKE
No, thank you. I don’t smoke.
Olin's eyes shift to the cigarette behind Mike's ear. Mike
sees this.
MIKE
I quit years ago.
(he starts to explain)
21.
The cigarette behind the ear is...
I dunno. Habit. Part affectation,
part superstition. A writer thing.
OLIN
Well, then, do you drink?
MIKE
Of course! I just said I'm a
writer.
Olin smiles thinly. He opens a liquor cabinet and removes a
fine BOTTLE OF COGNAC.
OLIN
Remy 1939. Exquisite, Runs about
$800 a bottle, when you can find it
—
MIKE
(he raises his hand)
I appreciate the bribe, but I
intend to stay in that room.
OLIN
(put off)
How long?
MIKE
How long? Er, my usual is
overnight.
OLIN
Oh. I see.
(he purses his lips)
Nobody has ever lasted more than an
hour.
Mike takes this in, then cracks up, PARODYING Olin with a
silly Transylvania accent.
MIKE
Oooo! Bleh! "Nobody has ever lasted
more than an hour. When the clouds
pass over the moon, the spirits
rise from the family graveyard to
haunt the ballroom. "
Olin stares, unamused.
OLIN
22.
I don’t know why you’re mocking me.
I am genuinely, to the best of my
ability, trying to help you.
MIKE
No, you're just playing a little
game, which frankly I find
tiresome, You're "selling the
mystique." But eventually, we both
know you’ll give me the key, I’ll
write my story, and your bookings
will go up 50%.
Olin is repelled. Mike smirks and pulls out his mini-
recorder.
MIKE
Do you mind if I record our
conversation ?
(he waits; beat)
Good. I'll take that as a yes.
Mike hits "RECORD.” The LED glows red, like an eye, and the
little wheels start spinning...
Olin glares, his politeness fading.
OLIN
Sir, you completely misunderstand
the situation. The Dolphin may not
have the cachet of the Plaza or the
Carlyle... but we run 90%
occupancy.
(emphatic)
This isn't about my concern for the
hotel, OR about my concern for you.
Frankly -- selfishly --- I don’t
want you to enter 1408, because I
don’t want to have to clean up the
mess.
Olin lets this chilling thought hang.
Mike’s eyes widen.
OLIN
Hotels are all about presentation
and creature comforts.., though
behind the scenes, we witness quite
the bit of nastiness.
(heavy)
23.
But my training is as a manager,
not a coroner! Under my watch there
have been four deaths. Four! After
the last one, I said enough. I
forbade any guests from ever
entering again.
MIKE
And that last suicide was...
Randolph Hyde? 1996? An
orthodontist who slit his wrists
and cut off his genitals?
OLIN
Yes. You've done your homework.
Grievously, since the hotel opened
95 years ago, there have been seven
jumpers, four overdoses, five
hangings, three m --
MIKE
Three mutilations. Two stranglings
(into the MINIRECORDER)
"Manager Gerald Olin is well-versed
in the hotel's tragic history,
dryly reciting the docket of
carnage like a bookkeeper
discussing his ledger.”
OLIN
(he frowns)
You think you're clever?! Well in
your investigation, did you
discover the twenty-two natural
deaths?
Mike leans forward, interest piqued.
MIKE
"Natural"? Uh, no. What —
OLIN
You didn’t find them, because
they're not reported in newspapers.
But all told, 56 people have, died
up there.
Mike is momentarily speechless.
Olin pulls out a small key and opens his desk bottom
drawer.
24.
He removes a BULGING FILE and brings it around to Mike.
Olin stares a moment —- then sits next to him.
OLIN
You know nothing. 1408's guests
have died of heart attacks,
strokes, drownings —
MIKE
"Drownings"?
OLIN
Yes. Mr. Grady Miller died drowning
in a bowl of chicken soup.
MIKE
(taken aback)
H-how?
OLIN
How indeed? Isn't that interesting?
Well, it's all in the file:
(he PATS the folder)
And you're welcome to read all of
it. Every word! I'll even give you
my office! You can peruse the
materials to your heart's content.
You can take notes. Put it all in
your book!
(pause; he turns somber)
In return, my only condition... is
that you don't stay in the room.
Mike eyeballs the file.
Considering. Then —
MIKE
I never got that drink.
Olin smiles a flicker, then gets up for the Cognac. He
takes out a crystal snifter, wipes it clean, carefully
pours...
Mike notices a silver DESK FRAME. He furtively cranes
around... to check out who's in it. And — it’s a calendar.
Olin hands Mika the drink. Mike gratefully snorts it,
enjoying the flavor, the spreading warmth. Then, he looks
up.
MIKE
No.
25.
OLIN
Dammit to HELL!
Olin BLOWS UP and angrily THROWS the file at Mike.
OLIN
Fine! READ the blasted file! Read
it anyway!
(livid)
Once you see it, you won't WANT to
go in the room!
Mike is stunned at this outburst. Hesitant, he opens the
TOP FOLDER. Inside is a pile of wrinkled yellow newsprint.
Olin testily narrates from memory.
OLIN
The first victim! Kevin O'Malley. A
sewing machine salesman who checked
into the hotel opening week,
October 1912!
MIKE
(he winces at the photo)
He... cut his own throat?
OLIN
Yes. But that's not the horrific
part. Afterward, in a fit of
insanity, he tried to stitch
himself back up with a sewing
needle before he bled to death.
Mike makes a face.
MIKE
Jesus...
OLIN
Mr. Enslin! No one needs to know
you didn't go in. I’ll give you a
fake receipt1 You can take
photographs in 1404: The layouts
are identical, nobody will know the
difference.
MIKE
Hey, my readers expect the truth —
OLIN
No, your readers don’t expect much
of anything — except grotesquerie
and cheap thrills:
26.
(snide, from memory)
"The headless ghost of Eugene
Rilsby, forever walking his
deserted farmhouse. The Barking
Phantom of Mount Hope Cemetery "
MIKE
(surprised)
How do you know that?!
OLIN
I've done my own research! Your
books are easy to find — in the
cheap paperback section.
(beat)
And they are completely cynical.
The work of a talented, intelligent
man who doesn't believe in anything
but himself.
Mike reacts, pissed.
MIKE
Where the fuck do you get off
(hurt)
This meeting's over —
OLIN
Oh please. Quit acting like a sore
schoolgirl.
(calming)
I said you were talented. There was
that first book... I -— I rather
enjoyed that. It was popular.
Hardback. Er... what was it called?
"The Road To Nowhere" --?
MIKE
(uneasy)
"The Road Back Nowhere."
OLIN
That was sort of... a gilded
memoir? Travels of a young man -—
MIKE
(defensive)
Only parts of it were true -—
OLIN
The father seemed like a real
s.o.b. —
27.
Mike seethes. He hits "STOP” on the recorder. He jumps up.
MIKE
Give me my key.
OLIN
Mr. Enslin --
MIKE
Give me my key! Do you know why I
can walk into any spooky old room?
Because I know that ghoulies and
ghosties don’t exist.
(dark)
And that’s good, because I also
know there's no God to protect us
from them, if they did.
CUT TO:
28 INT. DOLPHIN LOBBY - NIGHT 28
Behind Reception, a wall of old-fashioned mail slots. Olin
carries over a little stool. He steps up to 1408's mailbox,
reaching his hand far... far back into the shadowy recess,
He fiddles around, then pulls out a TARNISHED KEY on a long
brass paddle. Embossed are the numbers 1408.
Mike reacts, surprised.
MIKE
You still use actual keys? That's a
nice touch. Antiquey.
(beat)
Most hotels use magnetic cards.
OLIN
So do we. 1408 is the exception.
(beat)
Electronic devices don't work
properly in there. Computers...
cellphones... wristwatches ...
(pause)
You don't happen to have a
pacemaker, do you, Mr. Enslin?
Mike shoots him a look. He speaks into his mini-recorder.
MIKE
"Manager claims phantom in room
interferes with
28.
OLIN
I didn't say "phantom,"
MIKE
Uh, "spirit." "Specter."
OLIN
You misunderstand. What’s in 1408
isn't that kind of presence.
MIKE
Then what is it?
WIDE
Olin pads away. He crosses the rococo lobby, guiding Mike
to the ELEVATOR. He presses "UP,” then turns and whispers.
OLIN
It's an evil fucking room.
Mike's eyebrows raise.
DING! The elevator arrives. The shimmery doors open.
Olin gestures: After you. Mike enters. Olin starts to
follow — when a MAITRE'D in a tux comes running over. He
interrupts Olin and quickly MUTTERS something in French.
Olin nods and MUTTERS back. He scribbles his signature on a
form. The Maitre'd bows and runs off.
29 INT. ELEVATOR - SAME TIME 29
Olin enters. It's an old-fashioned cage. Olin hits "14,"
and the doors rattle closed. They stand in silence.
OLIN
Do you enjoy traveling alone?
Mike ignores this. He stares at the panel: Rows of BUTTONS,
with the customary lie: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12... 14 15
16
MIKE
Why do hotels think they can just
make the number 13 disappear?
Olin chuckles. They lurch upward, lights ticking:
5...6...7...
MIKE
29.
How filthy's the room? The sheets
haven't been changed in a decade.
OLIN
No, no, no. This is a professional
establishment. Our maids give 1408
a light turn once a month.
(beat)
But I supervise, and they work in
pairs. We treat the room as a
chamber filled with poison gas. We
stay only ten minutes, and I insist
the door be kept open.
Olin's face tightens, regretful.
OLIN
Even then... last year, a young
maid from El Salvador found herself
locked in the bathroom. Just for a
moment. When we pulled her out, she
was —
MIKE
Dead?
Olin stares.
OLIN
No. Blind. She had taken a pair of
scissors and carved out her eyes.
DING’ The elevator hits 14. The doors open.
30 INT. 14TH FLOOR - SAME TIME 30
Mike peers out. It's a perfectly uneventful corridor — red-
and-gold carpet, drab end tables, old-tyme light fixtures.
OLIN
Your floor.
Mike waits for Olin to take a step — but the man is
immobile.
OLIN
I'm afraid this is as far as I go.
The room is at the end of the hall
to the right.
Mike nods, a tad apprehensive. He exits — on legs that seem
heavier. Mike takes a few steps, then turns.
30.
AT THE END
Olin stands framed in the elevator, an ordinary man in a
plain suit. Hands clasped, face withdrawn, he sighs.
OLIN
Good luck.
Olin pulls out the bottle of Cognac and tosses it.
Startled, Mike catches it. He starts to respond — but the
doors SHUT.
Olin is gone.
is now alone. He hoists his duffel, then walks slowly down
the hushed hallway. Past 1401... 1402...
Mike examines Olin's file.
INSERT - FILE
A grisly PHOTOGRAPH marked "KEVIN O'MALLEY." He lies dead
in the bathtub. His eyes are wide, his throat gashed open,
a sewing needle protruding from raw flesh.
MIKE
grimaces. He walks past 1404... past a moldering room
service tray. On the plate are remains of a beef burger
soaked in red ketchup. A fly buzzes...
INSERT - FILE
Back to the photos. Mike flips to a nasty half-covered BODY
in bed. The sheets are soaked.
IN THE HALL
Mike is getting rattled. He makes a turn. 1406 goes by...
1407... wood-paneled doors and elegant wallpaper...
Mike finds a scratched NOTE on hotel stationery.
INSERT - FILE
Frantic writing: "My brother was eaten by wolves on the
Connecticut Turnpike”
IN THE HALL
Mike stops, considering this oddity.
31.
He looks up — and realizes he's in front of 1401.
Huh?
Mike looks around, confused. Somehow, he's back at the
elevator.
MIKE
What the fuck?
Mike slowly shakes his head. Then, he packs up the file and
marches away. Pay attention!
WIDE
Mike watches the numbers go by. Get to that room! 2, 3, 4,
5, 6, 7. He swings around a corner. And there, unassuming
and anonymous, is 1408.
Finally.
Mike pulls out his brass KEY. He starts to insert it —
when, he's startled by WHIMPERING.
AT THE NEXT ROOM
is a YOUNG MOTHER turned away from us. She holds a sobbing
BABY* She fumbles with her mag card, then disappears
inside.
BACK ON MIKE AT THE DOOR
Okay. He takes a breath, then inserts the key in the lock.
MICRO-CLOSEUP - INSIDE THE LOCK
The vintage mechanism looks like a GIGANTIC DARK CHAMBER,
filled with crazy angles of cold steel.
The key enters like a medieval battering ram. It slowly
turns. The tumblers RUMBLE with echoing CLINKS and CRICKS.
The sound rises ominously LOUD...
BACK TO MIKE - NORMAL PERSPECTIVE
And, the sound becomes a teeny CLICK.
The door unlocks.
Inside the next room, the Young Mother's VOICE leaks out:
32.
YOUNG MOTHER (O.S.)
(singing softly)
"Mama loves her baby, baby,
baby..."
The knot in Mike's stomach grows.
He grips the doorknob. He lifts up his recorder.
MIKE
"It's 7:52 p.m., and I'm about to
enter Room 1408 of the Dolphin
Hotel. If something happens to me,
I, Michael Enslin, being of sound
mind, do hereby leave all my
earthly belongings, and whatnot to
my ex-wife Lily."
He hits STOP.
Then, he slowly turns the knob —
The tension builds —
The wooden door opens —
And...
31 INT. 1408 - SAME TIME 31
It's — just a hotel room.
A two-room suite, pleasant and banal. Pastel sitting area,
beige carpet, forgettable furniture.
Mike sees this — and gasps, relieved. He starts LAUGHING.
MIKE
That1s it?
(he LAUGHS harder)
That's friggin' IT?
Astonished, he enters and throws his stuff down. He
defiantly SLAMS the door shut and SHOUTS.
MIKE
All right, Olin!! You win Round
One!
(annoyed with himself)
33.
You had me goin'! Where's the
spiderwebs, the lightning, the
river of blood?! This is just... a
room!
Mike gives himself a tour.
There's a couch. A coffee table. A desk with various items:
A fax machine. A glass ashtray. An old-fashioned rotary
telephone. A book of matches, with a Norman Rockwellish
sketch of a smiling Doorman at the hotel.
On the wall are three framed paintings. In the carpet below
is a water stain.
The wall THERMOSTAT says 80. Mike clicks the "down" arrow.
32 INT. BEDROOM 32
There's a queen-size bed with fluffy pillows. A TV. A
nightstand Bible. Mike picks it up... then tosses it aside.
33 INT. BATHROOM 33
Mike flicks on the bathroom lights. It’s bright and
sparkling — a pleasing glow of luxury.
There's a tub. A bidet. Baskets of soap.
The toilet paper roll is folded in a fancy little triangle.
Mike tears off a sheet and wipes his nose.
34 INT. LIVING ROOM 34
Mike opens an armoire and finds the MINI-BAR. , He peruses
the sodas, booze and chips. He glances at the price sheet.
MIKE
Eight dollars for Corn-Nuts? This
is an evil fucking room.
CUT TO:
35 INT. BEDROOM - LATER 35
Mike lies on the made bed, eating Corn-Nuts and swigging
Olin’s Cognac. He narrates into his recorder, from memory:
34.
MIKE
"The living room has two chairs, a
sofa, a writing desk, and a faux-
antique armoire. The carpet is
beige and unremarkable, except for
a stain beneath a thrift-store
painting of a sailing ship."
TIGHT - THE PAINTING
We FOCUS ON the painting, as Mike describes it from memory.
MIKE (O.S.)
"The work is executed in the always
dull Currier & Ives fashion —
sailors on a white schooner."
We MOVE TO the SECOND PAINTING — an old lady in a rocking
chair.
MIKE (O.S.)
"The second painting is an old
woman, a la Whistler's mother,
smiling down as small children play
at her feet."
We MOVE TO the THIRD PAINTING — a British hunting scene.
MIKE (O.S.)
"The third and final, painfully-
dull painting is the ever popular
"The Hunt" — horses, hounds, and
constipated British lords.
(beat)
"These paintings have been here a
long time. If I lifted them, I'm
sure I'd see light patches. Or
squirming bugs like when you turn
over a rock."
BACK ON MIKE
MIKE
"The bedroom has a queen-size bed,
two nightstands, and butterfly
wallpaper.
(beat)
"Some smartass spoke of the
banality of evil. If that’s so,
then we've entered the seventh ring
of Hell."
Mike gets up and walks to the window. He opens the drapes.
35.
OUTSIDE, another building completely fills the view. Below
are cars and a huge lit-up BANK CLOCK. Mike opens the paned
window. TRAFFIC NOISE rises in.
MIKE
"The panorama is a typical cramped
New York view of nothing: A gray
building, and honking traffic
below,"
The clock outside clicks from 7:59 to 8:00 PM.
Suddenly, LOUD MUSIC.
Mike jumps, startled.
36 BEHIND HIM 36
The clock RADIO has gone off. The CARPENTERS sing:
THE CARPENTERS (O.S.)
(singing)
We’ve only just begun"
Mike laughs. He turns it OFF, flicking the alarm switch.
MIKE
Silly,..
Mike turns — then suddenly freezes.
THE BED
is turned down. The sheet is folded, and there are little
mint chocolates on the pillows.
MIKE
gapes, stupefied.
MIKE
Holy shiiit!
Mike blinks, as if this will make the mints disappear.
But they don't.
He strolls over and picks up a mint. He peers...
MIKE
36.
Bravo, Olin. That is VERY
unsettling.
Mike opens the candy, then EATS it. He thinks, his wheels
spinning. Until he suddenly stops, mid-chew.
MIKE
That means someone’s in the room..!
Mike whirls.
WIDE
Emboldened, Mike RUNS to the CLOSET. He slams open the door
and — it's empty.
Hm. Mike looks around. Ah! Suddenly he drops to his knees
and peers under the BED. Buz... there’s nothing.
Hm! Mike thinks. He bolts into the bathroom. He grabs the
shower curtain, takes a breath, then YANKS it aside.
And — nobody. Huh?!
Mike wracks his mind. Tantalized.
MIKE
Come out, come out...
Detective-like, he starts RAPPING on the drywall.
RAP! RAP RAP!
He RAPS his way toward the door... when... something
catches his eye.
TIGHT - TOILET PAPER
The toilet paper roll has returned to its original state.
Once again, it has a folded triangle.
ANGLE - MIKE
His eyes bulge.
MIKE
Whoa. Bizarre.
(beat)
A ghost that offers turndown
service.
37.
He gawks at it. Then, he pulls out his recorder, CLICK!
MIKE
"Okay, let’s Encyclopedia Brown
this fucker. I was facing the
window. Then I saw the mints, ran
to the closet which would leave
time for Houdini to get in the
bathroom, do the paper trick —
(he stops)
"No, I would've seen him —
(beat)
"No. Unless he started in the
bathroom, so when I turned my back,
he did the mints and escaped
into... the living room!"
Mike barrels into the
37 INT. LIVING ROOM 37
He lopes around — searching... searching. Until, he spots -
the AIR VENT up in the ceiling.
Ah! Mike runs up — and thinks he sees movement inside.
Or, does he?
He stands on his tiptoes and SHOUTS up into it.
MIKE
Hellooo! -Hello, asshole! You're
gonna have to try harder!
(he smirks)
Nice and HOT up there??
Mike wipes his brow. He realizes he's sweating.
Mike runs to the THERMOSTAT and checks it. It’s now 84.
MIKE
Oh, for God's sake.
Mike pushes the "down" arrow again. Nothing. He BANGS it.
Irked, he grabs the clunky telephone, peers at the archaic
dial, then sticks his finger in the hole and dials "O."
It spins. Click-click-click-click-click. Then —
MIKE
38.
Hello! This is Mr. Enslin in Room
1408.
OPERATOR (V.O.)
Good evening. Are you ready to
check out?
MIKE
"Check out"?!
(he chuckles mordantly)
Why would I do that, when there a
such wonderful maid service?
(beat)
And so discreet!
(beat)
No, I just need someone to fix my
thermostat. This room's on fire.
OPERATOR (V.O.)
Of course, sir. We'll send an
engineer right up.
MIKE
Thanks.
Mike hangs up.
Beat. Through the wall, the baby CRIES. Waaah! Waaah...!
Mike considers it all. He sits on the sofa, then starts his
recorder.
MIKE
"Hotel rooms are naturally creepy.
I mean, how many people have slept
in that bed before you? How many
were sick? How many lost their
minds?
(beat)
"How many died?"
Mike thinks. He unzips his duffel, slides over his LAPTOP,
and carefully removes a small EQUIPMENT CASE. Inside is
assorted gear: An EMF meter, microphones, a UV black light.
ACROSS THE ROOM
Mike dims the room. Then, he turns on the UV light. It
HUMS, emitting a weird blue glow. He holds the tube over
the carpet stain, and it GLOWS, vivid and brackish.
39.
Hm. Mike waves the UV light around the room. Things are
revealed, the past becoming otherworldly and
phosphorescent:
Spatters on the drapes.
Multicolored blotches on the couch.
Drips across the walls.
Soiled puddles in the bed.
MIKE
is repelled. Ugh. He feels sick.
Unable to bear any more, he FLICKS ON the lights.
Normalcy is restored. Mike rubs his eyes, then returns to
the living room. He glances at
THE THREE PAINTINGS
Which are... askew. Just slightly... tilted.
The ship’s crooked horizon is unpleasantly vivid...
CU - MIKE
A strange, sealike sensation. He staggers, a bit nauseous.
A SOUND of pounding waves. The painted water seems real...
Mike is losing his equilibrium.
MIKE
God, I feel like I smoked some
cheap dope!
He straightens the three paintings, then turns away.
Mike takes a step — then — suddenly gets a look.
He spins!
The paintings are still straight.
Hm. Mike queasily sits, putting his head between his legs.
Overheated, he fumbles for his recorder,
MIKE
40.
What did Olin say?
(dizzy)
Something about poison gas...?
A woozy, unclear contemplation.... when — BZZZZ!
WIDE
Mike jerks. BZZZZZ! It’s the door, He pops from his trance.
MIKE
W-who is it??
GRUFF VOICE
Engineering. You got a problem with
your heat?
Mike scurries to the door. He peers through the EYEHOLD.
DISTORTED POV
Through the glass, a hairy New York ENGINEER in overalls.
BACK ON MIKE
Good enough. He goes to open the door. He pulls — and it’s
stuck. It won't budge.
Mike struggles with the handle.
MIKE
The door’s stuck! Can you give it a
shove?
GRUFF VOICE
(beat)
I ain’t touching it.
Mike reacts, irritated. He tugs harder, wrenching with all
his might — when, it suddenly releases and SLAMS open. BAM!
Mike tumbles, off-balance.
THE DOOR
opens wide. Revealed is the ENGINEER, a huge, heavyset man.
He carries a steel toolbox.
ENGINEER
Is it too hot or too cold?
41.
MIKE
Oh, it’s definitely too hot. C’mon
in. The box is right here —
Mike strides over to the thermostat. He starts to gesture
to the panel — when he realizes — he's... alone.
Confused, Mike turns.
The guy is still standing in the doorway.
Mike gestures again, for emphasis.
MIKE
I said... the box is here.
ENGINEER
know where the fuck it is. But I
ain’t going in that room.
What! Mike glowers, put-out.
MIKE
You just have to walk seven or
eight feet —
ENGINEER
I said I’m not goin’ in! You know
what happened in there?
MIKE
Yes, I'm quite aware -—
ENGINEER
Look, I'll talk you through it. Any
jackass can fix that thing.
(beat)
Just remove the panel.
The Engineer waits, feet planted.
Mike stares in disbelief. Then, beaten, he pulls off the
thermostat PANEL. Inside are springs and levers.
ENGINEER
Okay. Now -- inside, you see a
coil?
MIKE
Yes.
ENGINEER
42.
Good. Now above that coil is a
little tube filled with mercury.
That's supposed to activate the
contact switch, but this hotel's so
old, half the shit don't work.
(beat)
Just give the tube a little tap.
Mike glares, unsure.
ENGINEER
Just tap the thing!
Mike relents. He FLICKS the tube. The mercury suddenly
emits a blue SPARK, then rolls downward.
The system CHURNS, then the air-conditioning BLOWS on. Mike
smiles t relieved.
MIKE
You're a genius. Let me get you a
tip —
Mike turns to thank the man — and he’s GONE.
Huh? Bewildered, Mike runs to the door. He peers out.
HIS POV - DOWN THE CORRIDOR
The hall is empty. The elevator doors glide closed.
MIKE
frowns. Odd...
A discombobulated beat, then he pulls his head back in.
Haltingly, he shuts the door.
38 INT. ROOM 38
Mike's alone. He paces about , convincing himself he’s
okay...
When — sudden jarring MUSIC.
THE CARPENTERS (0.S.)
"We’ve only just begun..."
Mike whirls! The CLOCK RADIO has turned back on.
43.
THE CARPENTERS (0.S.)
“To live..."
MIKE
Christ, you again!?
AT THE RADIO
Mike marches over. He once again CLICKS OFF the radio.
The digital clock flickers, then switches to "60:00."
Suddenly, it starts counting backward: "59:59... 59:58..."
Mike leans closer, mesmerized. "59:55... 59:54..."
CLOSEUP - MIKE
A dawning awareness. Slowly, he gulps.
In his mind, he remembers Olin's warning from before...
OLIN'S VOICE
"Nobody has ever lasted longer than
an hour..."
Hm. Mike glances worriedly at the clock ticking down.
Silence.
He realizes something odd. The SILENCE is ABSOLUTE. The
traffic noise is gone.
Perplexed, Mike walks to the window. He sticks his head
out.
OUTSIDE
It looks exactly as before, The New York street is filled
with a crush of traffic, buses, people, Except,
disconcertingly, there is literally no sound,
Mike can't hear anything. It's as if we're watching a TV
show with the volume turned off.
A fire engine races by, lights flashing. Dead silent.
MIKE
is confounded. The lack of noise is highly disturbing. He
stares, then pulls his head in...
44.
When CRASH! The WINDOW VIOLENTLY SLAMS DOWN on MIKE'S HAND!
MIKE
AAAGGHHHHH!
Mike SCREAMS, agonized. An animal caught in a trap.
MIKE
GODDAMN!! FUCKI!!!
Mike struggles, fighting to use his good hand to crack the
window open. Finally he tears his broken hand out.
TIGHT - HAND
It's a mess. The skin is ripped, bleeding.
Panicked, Mike runs into
39 INT. BATHROOM 39
He turns on the sink. Water streams out, as he puts his
wounded hand under the flow.
But then — the faucet SPUTTERS and dies.
Mike angrily turns the handles. Nothing. Livid, he punches
the sink.
MIKE
You son-of-a...
FWOOOOOOSH! Suddenly SCALDING HOT WATER spews out!
Yeow!!!! It BURNS Mike’s hand.
Mike CRIES OUT. He yanks away his hand, now bloody AND
burnt.
The radio goes off.
THE CARPENTERS
"We‘ve only just begun..."
Mike SHRIEKS.
MIKE
Fuck YOU, radio!!
40 INT. BEDROOM 40
45.
Incensed, Mike lunges in, grabs the electrical cord, and
PULLS it from the wall!
And — nothing changes. The song keeps playing. The timer
keeps clicking down: ”56:24... 56:23..."
Mike gasps in disbelief. Flummoxed, he staggers back to
41 INT. BATHROOM 41
He grabs a towel and wraps it around his bleeding hand.
42 INT. BEDROOM 42
A gust of wind blows in, ruffling the curtains. We follow
the breeze across the room... to the BIBLE on the
nightstand.
The wind flutters the pages. They flip by... then stop.
CLOSEUP - BIBLE
The page is covered with SCRAWLED, MANIC WORDS:
"DON'T LET ME DIE HERE"
WIDE
Suddenly, RINGGGGG!!!
Mike jumps. Surprised, he runs to the phone. He grabs it.
MIKE
YES??!!
HOTEL VOICE
Sir, I'm sorry, but there was a
miscommunication in the kitchen.
There’s going to be a ten-minute
delay on your sandwich.
Mike's eyes bug out.
MIKE
What sandwich?! I didn't order a
sandwich!!
MIKE
(crazed)
46.
But as long as we're on the phone
let's talk about the window that
just broke my hand, and the water
that burned me alive!!
A long pause. Then —
HOTEL VOICE
I'm sorry. You're welcome to
substitute a side dish for your
french fries. We have cottage
cheese, macaroni salad —
MIKE
Are you croddam LISTENING to me?!
My hand needs STITCHES —
HOTEL VOICE
I understand. If you leave your dry
cleaning out by 10 a.m., we'll have
it pressed and returned by 5 the
same day.
Mike gapes.
MIKE
FUCK! Fuck YOU! I want you to call
me a cab to the nearest hospital!
The Hotel Voice turns sour, ruffled.
HOTEL VOICE
Sir, I will not tolerate you
speaking to me in that tone of
voice —
MIKE
You’re a fuckin' IDIOT!
HOTEL VOICE
If you wish, I can connect you to
our manager, Mr. Olin.
MIKE
GOOD! Olin it is! Put him on!!
Pause —- then the line goes on HOLD. Sprightly MUSIC kicks
in. The RECORDED ANNOUNCEMENT we heard before repeats:
SMOOTH RECORDING
47.
"When staying at the Dolphin, be
certain to enjoy New York's finest
dining, at the fabled Blue Marlin
Restaurant on our Mezzanine level."
Mike waits, stewing.
He watches his blood dripping out of his hand. The red
droplets hitting the carpet...
SMOOTH RECORDING
"Muscles tense? Then make an
appointment to visit our deluxe
spa, on the Coral level. With full
massage, facial, and aromatherapy
facilities, it'll leave you feeling
relaxed and revitalized."
Mike’s hand keeps bleeding.
His temper is growing.
SMOOTH RECORDING
"Your call is important to us.
Please stay on the line—”
CLICK — BEEEEEEEP!
It’s a DIALTONE.
Mike has been disconnected.
He stares in amazement.
MIKE
You are kidding.
Furious, Mike throws the phone.
He grips his wounded hand and stomps into the
43 INT. LIVING ROOM 43
Mike's fed up. He rushes to the door, going to open it -—
And... the deadbolt's locked.
Huh? Uncertain, Mike fumbles in his pocket for the big ROOM
KEY. He angrily jams it into the lock, thrusting it through
the oversize hole.
48.
And — PLIP! The key slips from Mike’s fingers — plunging
into the door! It disappears, gone.
MIKE
Wha—?!
Mike fiddles with the keyhole, trying to find the key.
Frustrated, he slams his EYE up against the hole.
HIS POV
Blackness. Hollow. A gentle whisper inside...
MIKe'S EYEBALL
bulges, peering up... down...
WIDE - MIKE
He scowls. He spins and looks around... thinking. Mike runs
to his bag, unzips a pocket, and pulls out his LETTER
OPENER.
Mika jams the metal blade into the keyhole. He wiggles
it... trying... desperately... to engage the mechanics...
MIKE
C’mon...
He struggles to nick the lock. Forcing it around... when —
CLUNK! The DEADBOLT UNLOCKS!
MIKE
Yeah!
Mike smiles victoriously. He triumphantly turns the handle
--
AND —
CRACK! The DOOR HANDLE BREAKS OFF IN HIS HAND.
CLOSEUP - MIKE
His face goes ashen. This is unconceivable.
The door is now unopenable from the inside.
WIDE
49.
Mike goes rabid, furiously KICKING the door! He PUNCHES it
with his bruised hand. He claws crazily at the handle
stump.
He's TRAPPED.
Losing it, Mike whirls and careens across the room. Passing
THE THERMOSTAT
which now reads 75 degrees. 74...
AT THE WINDOW
Mike runs to the pane and throws it open. He SCREAMS.
MIKE
HELLO?!!
OUTSIDE
It's utterly silent, like before. Not a sound from the busy
traffic.
Mike screams louder.
MIKE
Up here! HELP!!!
Mike's VOICE ECHOES, the only noise in the world,
ECHO
HELP... HELP... HELP...!
This is very disturbing.
Mike peers around — then spots a lit window across the
street. There is a SILHOUETTED MAN.
Mike gasps, a ray of hope.
MIKE
Hey! Sir!!
No reaction. He SCREAMS louder.
MIKE
CAN YOU SEE ME?! OVER HERE, IN THE
DOLPHIN??
Mike waves his right arm.
ACROSS THE STREET
50.
The Man waves his right arm.
MIKE
MIKE
YES, HERE! I NEED YOU TO CALL THE
POLICE!!
Mike jumps, excited.
ACROSS THE STREET
The Man jumps, too. An exact rhyming movement.
MIKE
suddenly halts, horrified.
THE MAN
freezes.
MIKE
slowly... worriedly... shifts from side to side.
THE MAN
mirror-like, shifts from side to side.
MIKE
trembles. Fearful, shaking, he leans toward the lamp.
THE MAN
leans toward a lamp. Revealing... he... is... Mike.
MIKE
freezes, stunned. He is watching himself.
CLOSER VIEW - THE MAN
is Mike, standing in a parallel version of the hotel room,
h Staring blank-eyed at us.
A chilling beat — and then an INSANE MANIAC with a
clawhammer comes rushing into view. He swings the hammer
straight at the doppelganger's head.
51.
ANGLE - MIKE
He SCREAMS and spins in fear.
WIDE
And — the Maniac isn't there. Mike is alone.
Mike's chest heaves, overcome. Panicked, whirling about.
Off-balance, he spins back to the view outside.
ACROSS THE WAY
The man is gone. The lit window is gone, It's just
darkness.
Mike is befuddled.
MIKE
What the f-—?
He stares, shaking and impotent. Then, he notices the
PEOPLE below on the street. Silent, but — real.
Desperate, Mike suddenly goes deranged.
He picks up a LAMP -
MIKE
HELP ME!!!
WIDE - THE WINDOW
Mike unplugs the lamp and THROWS it! It flies out the
window and soars outward!
Mike lurches out, to watch what happens--
The LAMP drops. Down... down...
MIKE
waits eagerly, wild-eyed.
THE LAMP
drops closer to the street... then...
Dissipates.
Like mist, it just... disappears. The lamp is gone.
52.
MIKE’S EYES
bug out.
MIKE
Jesus, I'm losing my mind. I'm
hallucinating.
44 INT. LIVING ROOM 44
Unsteady, Mike collapses. He feels helpless, like the walls
are closing in...
Then — an ethereal LITTLE GIRL'S VOICE.
Wispy, faint...
GIRL’S VOICE
Daddy... Daddy.......
We suddenly PUSH IN TO MIKE. He CLUTCHES for breath.
ALLI color bleeds from his face. He holds his head,
gasping.
MIKE
Stop it. Get ahold of yourself.
You're letting your mind run to
places that aren’t real.
(he works to calm
himself)
It’s just a classic haunted house
power of suggestion: Gaslit
fixtures. Faded rugs. Like that
motel in Kansas. There’s a reason
for everything...
The radio continues its ominous countdown: 46:25.,. 46:24.
Mike peers around, scoping — then sees something. Maddened,
he hobbles up to the AIRVENT.
ANGLE - VENT
There is... something inside the vent. A tiny black TUBE?
MIKE
Is that a camera? A spycam?
(accusatory)
Hello?! Who are you, the perverted
owner of the hotel? Some rich
sadist, enjoying my terror?
53.
(beat)
Or perhaps it's just punctilious
Mr. Olin, whacking-off in his
leather chair.
ANGLE - MIKE
He is cracking. Paranoid.
MIKE
Wait a second..! He gave me booze,
(trying to focus)
Was it laced? Did Olin take a
sip...? Can't remember...
Mike eyes are glazed. He spots the Cognac bottle. He runs
over and uncorks it, taking a sniff...
Hm. Something else catches his eye.
ON THE NIGHTSTAND
are the mint wrappers. Mike gasps, remorseful.
MIKE
Agh! The mystery chocolate. Shit!
Never take candy from a stranger.
Mike's mind ratchets into overdrive, freaking. Until —
GIRL'S VOICE
Daddy, pay attention!
Mike whirls.
ANGLE - TV
The TV is ON. Onscreen is a flickering old HOME VIDEO;
Mike's daughter GRACIE, 5, sits on the carpet playing
dolls. She laughs and motions urgently.
GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
Daddy, sit down!
BACK TO - MIKE
He gapes in disbelief.
MIKE
Grade...?
IN THE HOME VIDEO
54.
A YOUNGER MIKE enters frame. Cheerful and buoyant. He sits
on the floor with Grade. She hands him a rotund little
doll.
GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
Okay, you be the daddy, and I'm
going to be the mommy.
YOUNG MIKE (ON VIDEO)
But I don’t want to be the daddy. I
want to be — the dog.
GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
(outraged)
That's silly! You can't be the dog!
You have to be a person!
BACK TO - MIKE
He shudders, disturbed.
MIKE
W-where1d this come from...?
IN THE HOME VIDEO
Mike's former wife LILY, 30, enters. She's pretty, aloof.
LILY (ON VIDEO)
Hey, what are you scoundrels up to?
GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
We're busy. Daddy and I got
married.
LILY (ON VIDEO)
(feigning shock)
What?!
They all giuole.
YOUNG MIKE (ON VIDEO)
Ism very popular around here!
ANGLE - MIKE
His face falls. Sad and traumatized.
Wanting to hang onto this memory, he slowly reaches out to
the screen'... wishing... in some way... he could touch it
—
ZAPPP!! It violently SHOCKS him.
55.
OW! Mike tumbles back. The screen blazes, then goes to
STATIC. Grade is gone.
WIDE - THE ROOM
Mike is alone, hurt. Not understanding. He senses
something, then turns...
ANGLE - NIGHTSTAND
Sitting there are the two little DOLLS from the video.
MIKE’S
eyes widen with fear.
The figures are a tiny man and woman. Here in the room.
Mike gulps, then picks them up. Yes, they are real. Mike is
overcome with feelings. He tenderly cradles the dolls.
Staring into their painted faces...
Until — he glimpses movement in the room. He turns.
AT THE WINDOW
A quick FLASH of the rich FACTORY OWNER who killed himself:
He steps to the ledge and jumps.
MIKE
is stunned.
AT THE WINDOW
Another apparition. A PORTLY LADY in a 1950's flowered
dress.
She sobs, then pulls a chair to the window. She lashes out
at the air, then leaps.
MIKE
cries out, shocked.
Mike cradles the dolls closer. Wanting to cling to
something good...
When — a FAINT SOUND. Soft and muffled.
Mike freezes.
56.
From the next room over is the SOUND again. A BABY CRYING,
Then, the gentle murmur of the Mother.
What?!
WIDE
Mike JUMPS to attention. He drops the dolls and frantically
runs to the wall. He KNOCKS on It.
MIKE
Ma’am? Ma'am! Can you hear me??
The baby CRIES louder. Drowning him out.
MIKE
Quiet, kid.
(he BANGS harder)
Ma’am?! Please! I need your help!!
The baby CRIES harder. Mike realizes she can’t possibly
hear him.
Frenzied, he grabs a nearby CHAIR.
Mike swings the chair, then SMASHES it into the wall!
Bam! BAM!!
The baby SCREAMS louder.
Mike swings harder, brutally.
CRASH! The chair splits apart.
MIKE
HELLO?!
suddenly — SHRRRRRIIIIEEEEEKK! The baby SCREAMS like it's
being BURNED ALIVE.
Agh! Mike pulls back, holding his ears.
The SCREAM GETS MAGNIFIED, LOUDER, like the volume on a
stereo being cranked.
Mike winces, shutting his eyes, trying to block it out —
When, it. suddenly STOPS.
TIGHT - MIKE
57.
opens his eyes quizzically. It's all quiet,
He sits there. Forlorn.
MIKE
...Isn't there anyone?
Slowly, a SHADOW crosses his face.
ABOVE
A quick FLASH: A natty MAN in Jazz Age suspenders hangs
himself from a noose on the chandelier.
MIKE
grimaces. He yelps and backs away. Frightened, he makes his
way to the bathroom.
45 INT. BATHROOM 45
Mike enters — then shudders.
The bathroom is TRANSFORMED. It's no longer the lush,
comforting boudoir of luxury — but a STERILE, FLUORESCENT-
LIT NURSING HOME BATHROOM.
Sitting in a wheelchair is a decrepit OLD MAN. He peers up,
eyes rheumy and lost, then shouts:
OLD MAN
I wish I was dead!
Mike freezes. An endless pause.
Then, he whispers.
MIKE
Dad?
FATHER
Where's mv garden?
(foggy')
I can't smell anything!
Mike is shaking.
MIKE
Dad, it's me — Michael.
FATHER
58.
Who?
MIKE
(trembling)
Your... son.
FATHER
(suddenly LOUD)
I HATE this place!
(enraged, confused)
How'd I get here?
Mike starts crying.
MIKE
I'm sorry...!
Mike drops to his knees and hugs him. Holding the old man
tight, his face against his Father's scratchy, unshaven
cheek.
WIDE OVERHEAD
We look down on weeping Mike.
MIKE
I'm so sorry...
We slowly PULL OUT... revealing that Mike is back in the
hotel bathroom. He’s on his knees, hugging the toilet.
There's no Father.
Mike moans, shaken. He looks around in bewilderment.
MIKE
He was so real.
(upset)
As real as me.
Wobbly, Mike stands. He looks in the mirror, examining his
haggard face.
Then — he peeks back at the imagined camera in the vent.
Hm.
MIKE
This is more than special effects.
Mike takes out his MINI-RECORDER. He speaks into it:
MIKE
59.
"Maybe I’m not real. Maybe I'm...
just having a dream. An incredibly
vivid, lucid dream."
He paces around, thinking.
MIKE
"When's the last time I remember
going to bed?”
Beat.
MIKE
"Today I flew in. Or... was that
yesterday?
(unsure)
"God, what happened yesterday?
Can’t remember anything. Was I on a
train?
(wracking his brain)
"I must've woken up and had
breakfast. Somewhere. But... where
was I? Where did I eat...?"
Mike is getting nervous.
He glances at the wall he bashed, then does a take.
THE WALL'S CRACK
has grown. The crack has spiderwebbed larger. Clear,
viscous FLUID seeps out...
Mike grimaces, afraid. He shivers and backs away.
MIKE
"People say you can't die in your
sleep. Is that true??"
THE THERMOSTAT
now reads 60 DEGREES. 58. 55.
MIKE
rubs himself. Panic grows across his face.
MIKE
"They say the shock wakes you up.
If your mind thinks you're about to
die
60.
Freaking, Mike makes his way to the WINDOW. He clicks off
the recorder, then starts to climb out --
OUTSIDE
The wind BLOWS. Mike shudders and prepares to jump. He
looks down —
MIKE’S POV
A dizzying, spinning view of the STREET.
MIKE
Suddenly, a SLAP of reality. He GASPS and tumbles inside.
MIKE
What the fuck am I doing?
(dawning)
This is what the room wants!
Mike's eyes shift about, wary.
A shadow. He spins.
Behind a chair, a MAN peeks over the pillow.
Mike GASPS and crawls away.
MIKE
There’s gotta be a way out!!!
WIDE
Mike looks for options — then notices the FLOOR MAP on the
inside of the door.
Ah! He darts over and scrutinizes it.
TIGHT - MAP
It indicates the building layout. Rooms, halls, exits...
MIKE
Okay, okay! Look at our options..!
Guest rooms on both sides...
emergency exits... stairwell...
Mike's eyes gleam manically. Suddenly —
MIKE
The next window!
61.
He looks back fearfully, then heedlessly calculates.
MIKE
This room's fifteen feet across, so
the next window... is just... five
feet past that wall!
Mike dashes across the room. He paces toe-to-heel,
measuring.
Yes! Hope returns to his face.
He runs back to his window, then climbs back up.
Invigorated, he CLICKS ON the recorder .
MIKE
"If I slip and fall, and this tape
gets found among my splattered
remains on 61st Street, let it be
known that it was an accident.
(beat)
"The room did, not win. It did not
possess me to leap! I was just an
arrogant self-hating bastard who
Suddenly, he STOPS. Puzzled by these words.
MIKE
Why did just say that?
A strange dislocation. Then, he pockets the recorder.
MIKE
This fuckin' room. It's polluted my
mind!
Defiant, he STEPS OUT.
MIKE
But I can do this!
46 EXT. BUILDING LEDGE - SAME TIME 46
Mike gingerly climbs outside, the wind blowing his clothes.
He peeks downward, then — stifling his fear, tentatively
lowers one foot onto the ledge.
His fingers claw the brick, then find a decorative cornice
to grab onto.
62.
He takes a breath... then gingerly swings out his other
leg.
Both feet are out. He gulps, then glances down.
HIS POV
Busy traffic, thirteen stories down.
MIKE
tries to stay calm.
MIKE
Just ignore it.. Don’t worry...
He presses his face to the wall, then... carefully, starts
to inch along the ledge.
He slides his left toot. Beat. He slides his right...
He doesn't dare lean back. He blindly reaches out, gripping
the next section of cornice.
Okay. He slides his left foot. Then his right.
His face is sweating. He reaches... fingers slipping...
then, his hand finds the next cornice.
Good. He slides again. He reaches — and still no window.
CU - MIKE
Cheek pressed to the dusty brick, he is confused,
MIKE
Where the hell is it?
Mike slides his left leg over. His right leg over.
Starting to jitter, he reaches again. And — no window.
MIKE
(getting worried)
Where is it?!
He reaches further... straining... then slides again.
Nothing.
MIKE
WHERE IS IT??!
63.
Daring gravity, he leans back, to get a look --
SUPERWIDE - THE BUILDING
And, THERE ARE NO OTHER WINDOWS. THE ENTIRE BUILDING IS ONE
CONTINUOUS SURFACE OF BRICK, EXCEPT FOR MIKE AND 1408.
Mike SCREAMS, horrified.
MIKE
NOOOOO!!!
He flounders, stunned. Mike slips.
MIKE
AGGHH!
Mike falls, BANGING his face on the wall.
He DROPS, about to plummet, desperately clambering,
scratching his fingers into the old brick/when —
BAM! One hand snags the ledge as it passes by.
Chest heaving, hysterical, Mike catches his breath.
The wind pelts him.
Mike whimpers.
Then, he resignedly starts shimmying back to 1408. Slowly,
then, faster... his expression despondent...
TIGHT - MIKE'S HANDS
pull him along, Struggling to return to the hell he was
escaping.
AT THE WINDOW
Mike finally reaches his room. Quivering, sucking in all
his strength, he LIFTS HIMSELF UP onto the ledge. A shaky
beat — then, he looks back inside.
FAST ZOOM
across the room, RIGHT UP TO THE MAP on the door.
ZOOMING TIGHTER, until the MAP FILLS THE FRAME. And — it's
alive, the black lines slithering around like worms. The
map rearranges itself, doors and walls moving about.
64.
MIKE
goes pale.
Suddenly -- the Portly Lady steps out into the window. She
is sobbing.
PORTLY LADY
May Jesus forgive me...
(beat; she scowls
hatefully)
And FUCK YOU, HENRY SMITH!
She starts to jump -- when she suddenly sees Mike. A
bizarre discombobulation, then she lashes out at him,
punching at him like the movements we saw earlier.
Freaked out, she leaps.
PORTLY LADY
Ahhhhh!
She hurtles past.
Mike gasps and jerks away. Scared, he tumbles back inside.
47 INT. 1408 - SAME TIME 47
Mike lands on the room floor, covered in sweat, terrified.
Shaking, huddled in a fetal position.
He rocks back and forth... then hears a strange CLINKING
sound. Click-clack click-clack click-clack...
The room darkens...
Wearied, he looks up — and FREEZES.
THE WINDOW
has been BRICKED-UP. Completely solid.
MIKE
moans, unnerved. He peers in disbelief, then runs and
pounds on the brick.
It's old. Like it's been there forever.
Despairing, Mike tears into the
65.
48 INT. BEDROOM 48
And — the BEDROOM WINDOW IS GONE. The WALL IS SOLID
DRYWALL.
No trace there ever was a window.
Mike starts hyperventilating.
MIKE
No — that's impossible —
He starts feeling the wall. Searching for anything...
MIKE
It can't... I know...
Mike is losing it. On the edge of sanity* He grapples for
his minirecorder and hits REWIND.
We HEAR Mike's voice speed by, chipmunk-like. He hits PLAY:
MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
"What did Olin say something about
poison gas —"
No* Mike speeds further. PLAY.
MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
"Hotel rooms are naturally creepy—"
No. He speeds further. Then:
MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
"The bedroom has a queen-size bed?
two nightstands and butterfly
wallpaper.
(beat)
"The room has no window."
HUH?
A chilling beat.
MIKE
No...
Shaking, he hits rewind. Play.
MIKE’S RECORDED VOICE
"The room has no window."
66.
Mike CRIES out, scared. He hits rewind. Play.
WOMAN’S RECORDED VOICE
(whisper)
"Your daughter was eaten by wolves
on the Connecticut turnpike."
MIKE
AHH!
Mike DROPS the recorder, like he's been electrocuted.
He trembles, pained.
CLOSEUP - CLOCK
The unplugged clock continues ticking down: 32:14... 32:13.
MIKE
shuts his eyes. Until — a TORMENTED SOBBING.
What now? He opens his eyes. The SOBBING is in the next
room. It sounds like two people...
Afraid of what he’ll find — he peeks into the next room.
49 INT. LIVING ROOM 49
There is a VISION. A FLASHBACK FROM THE PAST:
A MAN and WOMAN are locked in a tight embrace, in a doctor'
office. We can't see their faces. They both cry, the man
hugging and comforting the woman.
MIKE
stares anguished. All color drains from his face.
FLASHBACK VISION:
The couple looks up — and they’re Young Mike and Lily. Both
have tear-streaked faces.
LILY
I can’t accept it...
YOUNG MIKE
(bereaved)
But he said —
67.
LILY
Maybe he's wrong! Doctors don't
know everything!
(beat)
There are experimental
treatments...
Young Mike shakes his head.
YOUNG MIKE
She's doomed.
LILY
Don’t say that!
We REVEAL Grade in a hospital bed, listening behind a
curtain. She's nine, pallid and thin.
LILY (O.S.)
She'll only get through this if she
believes. We need to give her hope!
YOUNG MIKE (O.S.)
Why? So she can spend the end of
her life being LIED to?!
Grade’s eyes widen.
ANGLE - MIKE
He recoils, shocked she heard this. He's crushed.
MIKE
Gracie...
Mike feebly extends his arm —
When —
BLACKNESS!
The room goes COMPLETELY DARK.
Mike gasps, confused.
MIKE (V.O.)
H-hey —
He stumbles. CRASH! A lamp FALLS and breaks.
MIKE FV.O.)
Ow!
68.
We hear Mike's breathing accelerate, getting heavy.
Suddenly, a TERRIFYING VOICE. The VOICE OF THE ROOM,
rasping, non-human, coming from everywhere:
VOICE OF THE ROOM
ARE YOU A MEAT EATER, MR. ENSLIN??!
MIKE (V.O.)
(furious)
W-what? Who are you?!! How the fuck
do you know about my daughter??
We HEAR Mike trip around. He reaches for the LIGHT SWITCH.
He frantically FLICKS it — up down, up down -—
50 INT. LIVING ROOM - NORMAL 50
BLINK! The lights go on.
The room is back to normal. Mike is gasping, heaving.
Looking about. Okay. Okay. Everything seems alright...
He turns — and, AGHH!
HIS POV
A terrifying SKINNY LADY lunges at him! Grabbing his
throat!
MIKE
screams, startled. Fighting her off.
THE SKINNY LADY
grips harder, snarling.
MIKE
staggers back, trying to push her bony hands away —
When he glances sideways into a MIRROR. In the reflection,
he is alone. Staggering back, choking himself.
What?!
Mike yelps and releases his own grip. He coughs, struggling
for breath. He peers around. He is alone.
69.
MIKE
JESUS...
He shivers, stupefied, Suddenly —
VOICE OF THE ROOM
READY TO LEAVE?!!!
MIKE
(he jumps, startled)
NOT YOUR WAY!!
Dazed, Mike rubs himself for warmth.
THE THERMOSTAT
clicks to 50.
MIKE
runs to his duffel. He rummages for a COAT and quickly puts
it on. Underneath is his CELLPHONE.
Desperate, he flips it open — but it flashes: "BATTERY LOW”
What?! Mike growls, livid. Suddenly he glimpses something
else — his LAPTOP.
Hmm..! His eyes light up. He nervously glances back, then
quickly covers the, computer. Mike grabs a shirt.
AT THE VENT
Mike runs to the vent, cool air blowing down.
Suddenly, he pushes the desk over, WHUMP! Everything on it
CRASHES down. Mike drags the desk to the wall, then climbs
up. He glances suspiciously at the little black tube inside
the vent... then hooks the shirt over the grate, blocking
it.
Mike jumps down. He runs to his
COMPUTER
Mike grabs it and snaps it open. The SCREEN lights up.
MIKE
Good, good...
Mike spins the mouse, clicking "Internet."
70.
MIKE
C'mon, this crappy old hotel
must've popped for wireless —
He waits patiently. The WI-FI icon scrolls, Searching...
searching. .. then —
"NO SIGNAL AVAILABLE"
Mike groans.
WIDE
Irked, he grabs the laptop and starts stalking around the
room. Holding it over his head. Hunting for a sweet spot.
The icon flashes red... green... red. Mike glances at the
bricked-over window.
MIKE
Maybe there's a signal outside...
Mike stands on a chair, holding the laptop up against the
brick. And... with a little jiggling — the icon turns
GREEN.
MIKE
AHH!!!
The screen flashes. An INTERNET WINDOW OPENS.
INTERNET LADY VOICE
Good evening, Mike.
MIKE
YEAH! Good evening, Fake Voice
Lady!!!
Mike gleefully dances about. He FLIPS the Bird.
MIKE
And FUCK YOU, Mr. Scary Room Voice
Guy! I’m connected!!
INSERT - COMPUTER
Mike goes to his contacts. He quickly clicks on "BUDDY
LIST."
And — one name is there: "LILY_ENSLIN"
MIKE
71.
Ah, shit.
Mike winces — he has no choice. He steels himself, then
types into the Instant Message Box: "LILY, I NEED HELP"
Na response.
Mike types again: "EMERGENCY!”
Long beat. Then, a WINDOW OPENS UP as a REAL-TIME WEBCAM
LINK. A woman's face stares back at us: Mike’s ex.
WEBCAM CU - LILY
She's more weary than pretty these days. Just hanging on.
She looks dryly at Mike.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Look what the internet dragged in.
MIKE
Lily! Thank God —
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
How about "hello."
MIKE
I don't have time —
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Yeah, well neither do I.
She goes to sign off.
MIKE
Wait! Wait! Please --!
She stops.
MIKE
1 need you call the cops, send 'em
to West 61st and —
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
You’re in the City?
MIKE
Er... yeah. 61st and —
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
72.
You're in the City, and you didn't
tell me?!
MIKE
I... uh, I was only supposed to be
here a few hours —
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Jesus I Since the divorce, you've
been like a phantom! Now suddenly
you show up, you need a favor —
MIKE
Lily, shut up!! I'm in danger.
Lily freezes, shocked.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
What?!
MIKE
I'm locked in a hotel room! There’s
someone... something... trying to
kill me.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Mike, back up! Who?!
MIKE
I can’t explain. Just call the
cops! Tell ’em Dolphin Hotel...
Suddenly, an unexpected HISSING. Mike looks up.
ABOVE
The EMERGENCY SPRINKLERS go off! Water RAINS DOWN upon Mike
and the computer!
MIKE
No — NO!
Mike tries to cover the laptop, but it’s too late. Water
falls through the keys and into the electronics.
Lily’s IMAGE over the screen begins to BREAK UP.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Mike... I... can’t hear...
MIKE
Oh Christ! Lily, Dolphin Hotel!
1408! Bust down the door!
73.
PSSSTTTT! The computer screen goes BLACK.
MIKE
FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!
Raining droplets are everywhere, falling into the electric
LAMPS.
The LIGHTS begin to flicker, creating a slow strobe effect.
FLASHES OF LIGHT
illuminate the painting of grandma in the rocking chair.
Darkness. Then FLASH!
The painting changes; Grandma is now standing, staring out.
FLASH!
The old lady turns into THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN from the lobby.
Her breast is bare, BLOOD drips from her nipple, down, into
her baby’s open mouth. The baby’s face is blue, dead.
FLASHI THE PAINTING OF THE SAILORS
turns into a ROTTING GHOST SHIP. They sail into a roiling
sea, covered in black clouds. The seamen's faces are pale,
starving, staring hopelessly.
Mike turns, shaky. FLASH!
THE PAINTING OF THE HUNT
The British men in red coats and hats get pulled off their
horses by the dogs. The dogs RIP the men apart, tearing
their flesh.
MIKE
whimpers. Around him, rain pours harder. WHOOOSH1 A
TORNADO­LIKE SOUND roars. A liquid churning, growing
louder...
Mike covers his ears and careens through the sopping mess,
shivering, looking for a way out. His feet smoosh in the
soaking carpet.
Mike passes the Thermostat. It's dropped to 48 DEGREES.
He pounds on the closed-up windows.
74.
He tugs on the door.
Wind BLOWS fiercer. A BLAST OF COLD gushes from the AIR
VENT, blowing the shirt down.
Mike’s eyes narrow, thinking. Intrigued, he takes a step
closer to the VENT...
MIKE
Ho ho. That goes somewhere. Maybe I
can just pull a Bruce Willis.
Mike CLAMBERS UP onto the desk. He's right beneath the
grate. He takes out his PENLIGHT and shines it up through
the opening.
INSIDE THE VENT
It's dark, foreboding. In the shadows is the: black tube.
Mike puts his face up to it.
ANGLE - MIKE
MIKE
Hello, perv. I'm coming to get you.
He tugs the grate -— it's fastened with four bolts. Fine.
He hurriedly pulls out his trusty LETTER OPENER and starts
to use it as a screwdriver...
MIKE
Okay. Here goes nothin'.
Mike unscrews the first bolt. It falls to the ground.
An anxious pause — then he quickly unscrews the second
bolt.
The third.
The fourth.
Wary, Mike reaches and slowly pulls the grate off the
ceiling.
He drops it, watching it hit the floor with a CLANG.
Beat — then he slowly turns back to the now-open vent.
Suddenly, he LUNGES at the tiny black tube and GRABS it.
75.
MIKE
HA!!!
Mike squeezes it in his fist -- then reacts, surprised.
CLOSEUP - MIKE'S HAND
He's holding a roll of DUCT TAPE. That’s all.
ANGLE - MIKE
A bewildered silence.
MIKE
There's... nobody watching me??!
(long pause; confused)
Why am I disappointed?
A halting moment. He gathers his wits, then stares into the
open VENT.
INSIDE THE VENT
It's metal DARKNESS. Air WHOOSHES sinisterly.
Mike gulps, then waves his pathetic letter opener. He
SHOUTS.
MIKE
I've got a knife!
No response.
Mike steels himself, then painfully lifts his body up
into...
51 INT. AIR-CONDITIONING VENT - SAME TIME 51
Mike clangs onto the hard cold surface. He pulls his legs
up.
Inside, it's black. We can’t see a foot ahead.
Mike aims his penlight, but it’s just a dull glow. Shadows
and rat droppings.
Mike takes a breath, then squirms forward.
It's murky and unsettling. The air BLASTS. Mike slithers
along... unsure, creeped-out. Until, his penlight reveals
76.
A JUNCTION AHEAD
A "T" split. Shafts go left and right.
Mike stops — not sure where to go. He shines the tiny light
both ways... but the beam disappears into dimness.
Then — faint VOICES.
Mike's eyes bulge.
The VOICES are from the right.
Mike gets excited. Other people! He scrambles down the
vent.
MIKE
Hey! Hey!!
Not far, he sees LIGHT. It's coming from a GRATE in the
floor of the shaft!
Mike hustles faster. He reaches the grate — then looks
down.
BELOW - HOTEL ROOM
It's the next Hotel Room. From above, we see the Young
Mother holding her CRYING baby.
YOUNG MOTHER
Shh, shh. Mama loves her baby...
The Baby WAILS harder.
The Mother turns — REVEALING SHE'S LILY. Young Lily, from
the PAST.
LILY
C’mon, Grade. Stop crying.
(frazzled)
No, I don’t know where your daddy
is. Probably boozing it up...
MIKE
goes ashen.
MIKE
N-n-no...! Honey, I’m here...
YOUNG LILY
77.
can't hear him. She carries Baby Grade into the next room.
MIKE
is tormented. He scurries to follow her. He rushes along
the vent. Banging himself on the sharp metal —
MIKE
Ow! Wait —
He spots the next GRATE. Braced, he rushes over to it --
then GASPS.
BELOW
is a PARK. Trees, a path.
Then two men walk by. Young Mike from the PAST, arguing
with his Father. Father is younger, healthy.
FATHER
Mike, don’t do this! She needs you.
(reticent)
She lost a child, too.
YOUNG MIKE
(enraged)
Why do you always lecture me?
FATHER
I'm not --
YOUNG MIKE
I’m an adult! I can make my own
decisions!
Mike storms away.
MIKE IN THE VENT
His face collapses* Pained by the memory.
He stares mutely, then feels something strange. Icky. He
turns the penlight on his hand...
And crawling across his fingers is a COCKROACH.
MIKE
Ugh...!
Mike brushes away the bug. The penlight’s beam swings —
revealing HUNDREDS OF ROACHES. The VENT IS FESTERING.
78.
MIKE
YEOGGH!
Grossed-out, Mike hurriedly BACKS UP. Rushing backwards
through the vent.
Hurry!
The beam rolls, grazing across skittering bugs.
Mike rushes faster. His breathing echoes through the
claustrophic metal.
Suddenly, he reaches a junction — and DROPS.
Aggh!! He's plunged down a
VERTICAL SHAFT
Mike plummets into blackness, falling backwards!
He flails, then SLAMS his hand, just catching the edge.
Hanging on for dear life.
Mike glances down. It’s ABSOLUTELY BLACK below.
With a rush of adrenaline, Mike struggles to pull himself
out Straining, muscles clenching... he lifts himself up.
Okay. Mike sucks in air. Resolved, he whirls about to race
forward —
And — BANG!!!
CLOSEUP
Pasty KEVIN O’MALLEY is face-to-face with him! Kevin's eyes
are wild, his skin bloated and blue.
Mike SCREAMS, startled.
Kevin gazes crazily, his mouth a pinched grimace.
MIKE
Kevin... ?
(trembling)
Kevin O'Malley??
Kevin stares, unspeaking. His breathing a HORRIBLE WHEEZE.
79.
Then... he slowly lifts his head. Revealing his THROAT IS
SLICED OPEN, ear to ear.
His bloody windpipe is visible, raspy. Kevin’s mouth opens
and shuts, puppetlike, but only a moist gurgle comes out.
Mike recoils, terrified.
ON THE MEN
Kevin O’Malley raises a 6-INCH NEEDLE AND THREAD. He points
and gurgles a barely intelligible phrase.
Then, again: "Fix it."
Hikes J Mike pulls back in disgust and fear.
Kevin O'Malley suddenly lunges forward.
HELP! Mike spins away. Kevin CHASES. Freakily gurgling,
"Fix it! Fix it!"
MIKE
barrels through the tiny space. Rushing for his life.
Kevin O'Malley SKITTERS after him. Mike races, reaching
THE T-JUNCTION
He squirms down the RIGHT VENT.
He makes it a few feet, when --
CRUNCH! THE.VENT COLLAPSES. RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!! As if a
giant hand has squeezed it like a Coke can.
Mike yelps and jolts back.
The Vent continues CRUSHING IN, moving closer! He turns —
DOWN THE LEFT VENT
comes Kevin, his face a horrible rictus, waving the needle.
MIKE
crawls like hell! Faster, towards the
MAIN VENT
80.
Where in the distance he can see the OPENING to 1408! A
slim square of light —
THE OTHER VENT
keeps CRUSHING! Metal SMASHING closer —
MIKE'S FEET
scurry as fast as they can.
SLAM! Kevin O'Malley STABS his needle into Mike's leg.
Mike SCREAMS, pained.
He KICKS backward. His foot SHUSHES through Kevin's head,
like a sponge. Kevin O'Malley collapses, the CRUSHING VENT
SQUEEZING him out of view.
Mike speeds faster. Room 1408 visible —
The CRUSHING, TWISTING METAL is now inches away —
As Mike HURLS himself forward...
52 INT. 1408 - SAME TIME 52
...and falls through the vent into the room.
SLAM!!! He bounces off the desk, hitting the ground —
as the sheet metal Vent BUCKLES CLOSED. BAM!!!
TIGHT - MIKE
He lies there, overwhelmed. Breathing in fits, face
drenched in sweat, absolutely dumbstruck.
He looks up at the ceiling... then around the room. Beat.
MIKE
I need a drink.
Mike staggers over to the Mini-Bar. He whips open the
little refrigerator door - then gasps.
INSIDE THE MINI-BAR
is a MINIATURE SET of OLIN'S OFFICE. A TINE LITTLE OPEN
SIDE IN HIS WING-CHAIR, sipping Cognac.
81.
Mike grimaces, flabbergasted.
MIKE
What are yon doing in there??
(vexed)
Where’s my BOOZE?!
Olin stiles? unruffled.
OLIN
I was just checking, sir. Are your
accommodations exceeding your
expectations?
MIKE
You know GODDAMN WELL they are:
What do you want from me?!
OLIN
No no no. What do you want? What do
YOU want, Mr. Enslin? You sought
this room.
MIKE
I was doing my job!
OLIN
(like he misheard)
Sorry?
MIKE
My job! I'm a writer! I tell people
the truth!
Hm. Olin swirls his Cognac.
OLIN
That's right, you don't believe in
anything. You like shattering
people's hopes.
MIKE
That's bullshit!
OLIN
Why do people believe in ghosts?
For fun? No. They want the promise
of something after death...
A COLLAGE of tearful VOICES...
SORROWFUL VOICE #1
She’s in a better place, Mike...
82.
SORROWFUL VOICE #2
She was in so much pain ,..
SORROWFUL VOICE #3
I'm sure she's smiling down at us
right now...
Mike winces, agonized.
OLIN
How many spirits have you broken?
MIKE
AAAAAAH!
Enraged, Mike SLAMS shut the Mini-Bar.
MIKE
I WANT MY DRINK!!
WIDE
Mike spins. He looks around, then spots the Cognac in the
bedroom. Ah! He beelines for the bottle, then snatches it
up. He uncorks it and thirstily chugs the drink.
Pause — then he calms. He glances down at the hotel Bible.
Curious, Mike picks it up, then flips through.
INSERT - BIBLE
The PAGES are all now blank.
Weird.
MIKE
frowns. Then, a faraway voice...
GRACIE (V.O.)
Why is our bible purple?
Mike looks up.
There is a spectral
FLASHBACK VISION:
The Enslin family’s old apartment, set-up as a grim
hospice.
83.
Gracie lies in bed, in a pink butterfly nightgown, in the
final, terrible stages of cancer. She’s skeletal. Waxen.
Lily sits by her, gripping a purple BIBLE. She laughs
awkwardly.
LILY
I — I dunno. It was a wedding
present.
(she caresses it)
But it's nice. The cover is real
leather...
GRACIE
Are there people where I'm going?
LILY
You're not going anywhere.
GRACIE
That isn’t what Daddy said.
We reveal Young Mike sitting in the window, smoking a
cigarette. He stubs out the smoke.
YOUNG MIKE
Daddy says a lot of stupid things.
(he comes over to the
bed)
You're too young to understand, but
when you grow up and become an
adult...
(he forces a smile)
you'll realize I'm crazy.
Grade giggles. Mike gently brushes her cheek.
GRACIE
Daddy, everyone dies.
A tense pause.
Lily glances at Mike. He struggles to be consoling.
YOUNG MIKE
Y-you're right. Everyone dies...
LILY
(she jumps in)
And then you'll go to a better
place. And lots of people will be
there...
(her voice cracks)
84.
All your friends.... And you’11 be
able to run around again... play...
Grade looks up at Mike.
GRACIE
Do you believe that, Daddy...?
A profound silence. He stammers, stuck.
YOUNG MIKE
I... I...
Grade stares pleadingly.
Waiting. Then —
YOUNG MIKE
Yes. I do.
GRACIE
(she breaks into a smile)
Good. Then I do too.
We hold on her heartfelt face.
CUT TO:
ANOTHER VISION
Flames RAGE. It1s a cremation.
A tiny coffin enters the burning fire.
PRESENT - MIKE
He sobs, pained. Wincing at this memory.
FLASHBACK VISION
The crematorium glows white, then blazes piercingly hot.
The casket disappears into the heat.
CUT TO:
ANOTHER FLASHBACK
Young Mike sits on Grade's bed, weeping. He's unshaven,
distraught, clinging to her old pink nightgown.
Grade is gone.
85.
Lily can't even look at him.
YOUNG MIKE
She could have hung on. But we had
to fill her head! With all those
fucking stories about the glorious
afterlife...
LILY
(crying)
Why do you have to blame anyone?!
Mike throws down the nightie.
YOUNG MIKE
I gotta get out.
He jumps up and charges out of the apartment. SIAM!
CUT TO:
53 INT. 1408 - PRESENT 53
Mike breaks down, devastated.
He slumps back against the wall, whispering to himself.
MIKE
Grade... Grade...
He holds his gut, a terrible ache that will never leave.
A sorrowful silence... an emptiness... until —
CLICK.
Mike turns, startled. His MINI-RECORDER has clicked into
PLAY. Its wheels spin...
MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
"Heyz there's nothing to feel
guilty about. When a couple loses a
child, 80% of the time, they end up
divorced --"
MIKE
No... I should’ve stayed —
MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
86.
"And those bad doctors weren’t your
fault. You worked freelance. You
couldn’t help If you were stuck
with a crappy HMO...
MIKE
Stop —
MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
"And that b.s. about second-hand
smoke? Chon! It’s not like puffing
a couple cigarettes gives your
daughter cancer...”
MIKE
Jesus! Shut up!
Mike grabs the recorder and hits STOP.
INSERT - RECORDEr
A pause — then the wheels suddenly lurch into motion, by
themselves.
The grating? scary voice of the Room SCREECHES out.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
(over tape recorder)
SHUT up YOURSELF, ASSHOLE! YOU
WALKED OUT, LIKE A SNIVELING LITTLE
PUSSY! WALKED OUT ON YOUR WIFE,
YOUR FATHER, YOUR FRIENDS...
MIKE
(bitter)
I was sparing them —-
VOICE OF THE ROOM
YOU’RE A MISERABLE LIAR!
Mike stares desolately.
MIKE
I — I was searching...
VOICE OF THE ROOM
SEARCHING FOR WHAT? FOR SOMETHING
THAT COULD PROVE YOU WRONG?
MIKE
Mike sighs. Beaten.
87.
MIKE
Yes.
Suddenly — RIIIIIINNGG!
He spins.
THE FAX MACHINE
starts whirring. It's LCD screen says, "Receiving”.
PAPER begins feeding.
Mike peers, confused.
TIGHT - FAX MACHINE
Something begins coining into the output tray.
Not a piece of paper.
But his daughter's PINK BUTTERFLY NIGHTGOWN. Stained with
mucus, blood, all the liquids of her dying.
SHOOMI It's ejected from the machine, into Mike's hands.
MIKE
AHHHHH!!!
Mike tries to push it off, freaked, but the mucus on the
nightgown clings to his hands.
Mike shakes it, revulsed. He desperately races away —
54 INT. BATHROOM 54
Into the. bathroom. Mike throws the nightie in the sink,
violently turning on the water.
FWOOSH! Water pours out, everywhere.
Mike shudders to tear the nightgown away. It comes loose,
discolored fluids floating in the sink...
Frightened, Mike backs out, SLAMMING the door.
55 INT. LIVING ROOM 55
Mike bolts back in, shivering. He can SEE HIS BREATH.
88.
The Thermostat has dropped to 32 degrees.
Water droplets are FROZEN AROUND THE ROOM. A weird, almost
Christmas-like atmosphere.
Mike blinks. He stares up.
THE WALL'S CRACK
has grown. The fissures cover the walls, ceiling and floor.
Like a spiderweb.
THE CLOCK
keeps ticking down. 16:41... 16:40... 16:39...
MIKE
seems lost. Eyes blank. Surrendered, he lies on the floor,
spreading his arms in the frost like a child making an ice
angel...
Then, a distant voice, like a dream...
LILY (O.S.)
Can you hear me...?
Mike bolts up, dazed. He wheels around.
ANGLE - HIS COMPUTER
is working again! Lily’s glitchy IMAGE is on the SCREEN!
MIKE
Lily?!
Mike rushes over, astonished. She smiles to see him.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Mike! Jesus! I've been trying you
to get through...
MIKE
Did you call the police?
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
They're at the hotel.
MIKE
They're... w-why aren't they here?
89.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Didn't you say the Dolphin —
MIKE
Right! Yes —
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
You're sure?
MIKE
Of course I’m sure! Please! Send
them to 1408!
Lily bites her lip, scared.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Mike, they're in 1408. The room's
empty.
We PUSH IN TO MIKE. His blood freezes, terrified.
MIKE
Th — that’s impossible.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Mike, where the hell are you?!
Mike looks all around.
Suddenly everything in the room looks more menacing.
Jagged.
Mike’s face collapses to a whisper.
MIKE
I... don't know,
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Don’t panic! We can figure this
out.
Mike blanches. Hands shaking, he picks up the room FILE.
Vintage PHOTOS of grisly 1408 DEATH SCENES; A MILITARY MAN.
A YOUNG EXECUTIVE IN A DERBY. A CUTE WOMAN.
All bloodied and gone.
MIKE
No, we can't.
(morose)
I'm going to die.
90.
ON THE COMPUTER
Lily goes frantic.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
You 1 re freaking! Look, don 11
move! I can get there in fifteen
minutes -—
Mike glances at the CLOCK. 14:51... 14:50...
He shudders.
MIKE
That’11 be too late.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
No it WON'T! I'll check every room!
M-maybe you got the numbers mixed-
up. You're in 1480, or 1804...
MIKE
(emphatic)
Lily, please stay away! I don't
want anything to happen to you —
This admission catches them both by surprise.
Beat — then she flashes a tender smile.
LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
Well... I feel the same way. See
you soon -
CLICK! She signs off.
MIKE
Lily? Lily!!!
He shakes the computer...
When suddenly — WHUMPIJ The ENTIRE ROOM SHAKES, as if by a
huge EARTHQUAKE.
WIDE
PLASTER falls from the ceiling. Furniture and lamps CRASH.
The entire FLOOR begins to buckle and crack.
Mike loses his footing and stumbles to the ground. His head
strikes the floor with a sickening CRACK!
91.
CLOSEUP - MIKE
THUD.
His eyes shut —- then reopen, dazed. He looks up,
disoriented and childlike.
ABOVE
A light frost is falling. ICE CRYSTALS form on his hair.
Then, the ARMOIRE swivels into view... and comes DOWN.
Yikes!! Mike LURCHES out of the way, as — SMASH! — the
massive cabinet crashes to the floor, splintering.
Mike groggily leaps to his feet. He gazes around.
THE SUITE
is a complete wreck. Broken furniture, collapsed ceiling
and walls.
The floor has BOWED around the bed, which lies at a slant.
Mike's feet are in liquid. A sludgy half-frozen muck. His
eyes follow the source of the water. Puddled in the
corner... then up... trickling down the wall... leading to
THE PAINTING OF THE GHOST SHIP
Which is now PHOTO-REALISTIC and ALIVE. Tossing in the
waves!
The jaundiced, starved faces of the sailors are MOVING.
They SCREAM, frenzied. They're all now the VICTIMS FROM
1408: The Natty Man in suspenders. The Factory Owner. And
most prominently, Kevin O’Malley, hands on the tiller, his
eves boring straight at us.
Chilled, Mike turns —
THE PAINTING OF THE HUNT
The dogs are ravenous, BARKING! Tearing their masters to
pieces. The men moan. The horses run off.
THE PAINTING OF MOTHER AND CHILD
The blue baby’s mouth is twisted, teeth filed to RAZOR
SHARP POINTS. The mother weeps with despair as the baby
HISSES and attacks her.
92.
Mike covers his eyes, unable to take it.
ON THE PAINTINGS
The CRIES grow louder, more insistent. The ship rocks
harder.
The ocean pounds.
The SHRIEKING grows.
MIKE
Stop! STOP!!
Unhinged, Mike SLAMS his fist at the painting, trying to
stop it. His knuckles BREAK the glass, ripping the canvas.
Suddenly — FLOOOOOOSH! SEA WATER BLASTS FROM THE PAINTING!
LIKE THE FORCE OF A HUNDRED FIRE HOSES.
MIKE
gets SLAMMED against the wall.
The ROOM FILLS with water, at an incredible speed. Higher,
higher —
WIDE
Mike struggles to float above. Furniture bangs around —
Mike fights the current. Debris swallows him up. Fatigued,
delirious, he starts muttering the Act of Contrition:
MIKE
"0 my God, I am heartily sorry for
having offended Thee, and I detest
all my sins...
Mike's will gives out. He gets pulled under.
56 INT. 1408 - UNDERWATER 56
All is grim, like slow-motion. Murky and green.
Underwater, Mike turns, and sees the back wall has
vanished.
In its place is the GHOST SHIP. Sinking downward toward a
black abyss.
93.
Mike gapes, his eyes bulging from lack of air.
Everything swirls. He spins, getting sucked deeper...
His arms tire. Bubbles pap from his mouth, as he begins to
breathe in water. Mike's body goes limp. He’s pulled into
the ocean's darkness...
All seems lost... the end imminent, when —
A strange object unexpectedly appears.
Foggy, Mike looks up.
Then — he gasps.
IT’S MIKE'S SURFBOARD
Hovering above him, like a godsend.
Mike is startled, confused — but grateful. He lurches and
grabs it — hanging on — his last chance for life. When, it
unexpectedly pitches and HAMMERS him in the head.
CUT TO:
57 EXT. BEACH - DAY 57
ECU - MIKE'S FACE
Mike lies mutely on his back, on the sand.
Hyperventilating.
Winded. Eyes glassy.
But, alive.
He's back in the beach scene from., the beginning.
Then... a faint BUZZING. Mike looks up.
IN THE SKY
The small AIRPLANE flies overhead, towing the BANNER. It
passes through the brightness, in sharp silhouette.
Mike squints, trying to read it.
The plane crosses a cloud, and the banner becomes readable:
"CHEAP AUTO INSURANCE CALL 1-800-222-1408"
94.
MIKE'S
eyes widen.
TIGHT THE BANNER
The four numbers: ”1408"
MIKE
trembles, everything spinning, his memories collapsing.
Nothing making any sense...
His chest tightens. His brain feels like it's going to
explode. Then —
A wet LIFEGUARD thrusts his head into view.
LIFEGUARD
Sir! Can you breathe? Is there any
water in your lungs?
(beat)
Can you focus??
Mike’s jaw quivers, but forms no words. Utterly drained, he
passes out.
DISSOLVE TO:
ECU - MIKE
His head is bandaged and his face drawn, but his breathing
is even.
Slowly, he opens his eyes.
58 INT. HOSPITAL ROOM ~ DAY 58
Mike is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. A tree
is outside the window.
LILY (0.S.)
He's alive...!
Mike turns. Sitting in a chair, watching him, is Lily. she
stands, relieved. Smiling anxiously.
MIKE
W-w-where am I?
95.
LILY
You're in a hospital.
Mike wipes his eyes, confused.
MIKE
In New York?
LILY
New York??
(puzzled)
No — Miami. You got hit in the head
with your board. You've been out
for a day.
Mike tries to takes this in, uncomprehending. She comes
over.
LILY
They called me, so I flew down,
(awkward shrug)
Guess I'm still listed as your next
of kin...
MIKE
So I’m not in New York?
LILY
No! Why do you keep saying that?!
MIKE
Because I thought... God, it was so
vivid. I must've gotten banged in
the brains so hard, all my circuits
fried.
(trying to focus)
I was trapped... I was dying... in
this weird hotel. The Dolphin —
LILY
The what?
MIKE
The Dolphin. The one on the
southeast corner of 61st and 8th.
LILY
(beat)
Mike, that's a Banana-Republic.
His expression falls.
She trembles, then starts weeping.
96.
MIKE
Hey. Why are you crying?
LILY
Because — I haven't seen you for so
long. And then -- we’re here, like
this:
(soft)
In another hospital.
His eyes get watery. She gets emotional, then suddenly
hurries into the bathroom.
IN THE BATHROOM
Lily grabs a tissue and wipes her face. She stares in the
mirror. A final sniffle, then she tentatively returns,
BACK AT THE BED
LILY
Do you know it's been three years?
MIKE
Since —
LILY
Since...
They both trail off. She peers at him, still terribly hurt.
Her voice drops to a hush.
LILY
Mike, why’d you leave?
MIKE
(somber, he whispers)
Because... every time I looked at
you, I saw her face.
Lily shudders, silent.
Mike reaches out... straining... and takes her hand.
MIKE
I'm sorry. Sorry I blew it... sorry
for everything...
LILY
Everything?
97.
MIKE
For — Grade...
LILY
You had nothing to do with Grade.
He looks in her eyes, seeing the truth of his life.
MIKE
Then — I'm sorry for running away.
For making mistakes. For abandoning
everyone...
CLOSEUP - LILT
She nods, acceptingly.
LILY
You should get some rest.
CUT TO:
59 INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATER 59
Lily huddles by herself, talking on a CELLPHONE.
LILY
(on cellphone)
I think I'm gonna stay a couple
extra days.
(beat; embarrassed)
No, nothing's going on. But Mike
had a concussion and he's talking
kind of strange. Almost
hallucinatory...
(beat)
He might need a little help.
CUT TO:
60 INT. RENTAL CAR - DRIVING - DAY 60
Lily drives a white rental car. Mike sits in the passenger
seat staring, a large bandage across his temple.
The boulevard is quite uninspiring: Overgrown palm trees,
graffitied Cuban markets, faded pink motels.
LILY
Remind me again. Why do you live
here ?
98.
MIKE
I can be anonymous.
She laughs.
61 EXT. BEACH PARKING LOT - DAY 61
Lily drops Mike off at his car. It has two parking tickets.
He peers out at the turquoise water. In the distance, a
dolphin jumps in the waves.
CUT TO:
62 EXT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY 62
The same fluorescent craphole we saw before. The scene
plays just like last time? Mike enters and goes to his-
mailbox. He unlocks it, removing a startling amount of
MAIL.
The MAILBOX GUY nods.
MAILBOX GUY
You've been gone awhile.
MIKE
Yeah.
A disinterested beat — then Mike reacts, offput.
63 INT. PALM COFFEE SHOP - DAY 63
Mike sits in his corner booth, alone. He's going through
months of OPENED MAIL. The table is spread with brochures
from haunted hotels and inns... a bill from Saint Joseph's
Nursing Home... the Weekly World News...
Mike slashes an envelope with his letter opener, removing a
childish GREETING CARD. It has a cartoon monkey saying "No
Monkeying Around! Happy Birthday!"
Mike reacts, strangely. The oddest sensation...
He frowns — then suddenly wades through all the hotel mail.
Frantically digging through photos, flyers... searching...
searching...
99.
64 INT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY 64
The door SLAMS open. Mike barges back in, a bit frenzied.
MIKE
Did I drop a postcard??
The Mailbox Guy stares.
MAILBOX GUY
Uh... nope.
Perturbed, Mike scans the floor. Then his eyes drift... up,
up... to the CEILING. Up there is an AIR VENT.
Mike is bothered.
65 EXT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - SECONDS LATER 65
Mike runs out, punching "411" into his CELLPHONE. He paces
the sidewalk, bristling with nervous energy.
MIKE
Yes! In New York City, can I have
the number for the Dolphin Hotel??
Long beat. Then;
OPERATOR (V.O.)
I have no such listing.
Mike can't accept this.
MIKE
Are you sure?
OPERATOR (V.O.)
Sir ? X have no such listing.
CUT TO:
66 INT. RESEARCH LIBRARY - DAY 66
Mike RUNS up to the research desk. He flags down a
LIBRARIAN.
67 INT. LIBRARY MICROFICHE ROOM 67
100.
Mike frantically scrolls through MICROFICHE, pages blurring
by. Suddenly, he finds the ancient New York Herald-Tribune
front page. He leans in — but the headline has changed.
Now it says "FACTORY OWNER LEAPS OFF BRIDGE." Underneath is
a PHOTO of some cops at a riverbank.
Mike gasps, disturbed,
MIKE
No way —
A moment of dislocation... when he remembers something.
Mike whips out his LEGAL PAD. But — now the pages are all
EMPTY.
A spooky pause... when suddenly -— RING!! It’s his
CELLPHONE.
Mike jumps, startled. Quickly, he answers. The screen says
"LILY."
MIKE
H-Hey.
LILY (V.O.)
I'm just checking up. How are you?
MIKE
Uh... tell you the truth, I’m
questionable...
LILY (V.O.)
(concerned)
Let's grab a bite.
CUT TO:
68 INT. BEACH RESTAURANT - NIGHT 68
Mike and Lily have dinner at a nice beachfront cafe. Waves
crash in the b.g.
MIKE
It's fuckin' weird. This hotel
thing feels so real...
LILY
Maybe I should drive you back to
the hospital -—
MIKE
101.
No, no — I'm not ill. It’s just...
this powerful sense of deja vu. The
feeling of something so immediate —
yet you know it didn't happen.
He stares, entranced.
MIKE
I can’t believe I'm sitting here
with you.
She slowly smiles.
A WOMAN in a flowered dress passes by. Mike glances — and
for a FLASH she’s the Portly Lady from 1408.
Huh?
Mike turns — and now she's a CUBAN LADY.
He wipes his eyes, on edge. Questioning himself. He leans
in to Lily, his voice tremulous. We MOVE IN on the couple.
MIKE
Did I tell you that Grade was
there?
LILY
(off-guard)
No...
MIKE
Yeah. Can you imagine how strange
that is... the sensation that I saw
her just a few hours ago?
Lily blinks back tears. She grabs for her wine,
LILY
S-sounds like one of your books.
MIKE
I know. Except usually I have to
pretend the haunted house is scary.
(beat)
This time, my trip was imaginary...
and it's the most terrifying place
I've ever been.
AT THE NEXT TABLE
Two GUYS get up and leave. Left on a plate are the remains
of a beef burger soaked in red ketchup. A fly buzzes...
102.
Mike doesn’t notice.
LILY
You should write about it.
MIKE
What? The dream?
LILY
(she slowly nods)
If it means something to you.
Maybe, you've been given a second
chance.
Mike thinks.
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
69 INT. MIKE’S OFFICE - DAY 69
TIGHT on Mike, rapidly TYPING AWAY at his computer.
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
The computer screen FILLS WITH WORDS. Mike is on fire,
ideas pouring out. His face ablaze...
MIKE’S VOICE
"I grabbed my overnight case. Mr.
Olin. I've never seen a ghost and I
don’t believe I ever will."
(beat)
"Olin smirked. I'm afraid you don't
believe in anything. But in 1408 f
your unbelief will only render you
more vulnerable.”
DISSOLVE TO:
LATER
It's dark outside. The desk is littered with potato chip
bags.
MIKE’S VOICE
"The man wore a 1920's brown wool
suit. Suspenders, He pulled the
noose round his neck — then
jumped...”
Mike types faster.
103.
MIKE’S VOICE
"The window vanished. All evidence
of its existence erased..."
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
MIKE’S VOICE
"Kevin O'Malley's throat gushed a
sickly rich red..."
Mike slurps a coffee.
MIKE’S VOICE
"My narration on the tape recorder
became fragmentary, a loop of
unease. No longer the voice of a
man at work... but of a perplexed
individual losing his hold on
reality."
70 INT. SAM’S OFFICE - DAY 70
Sam grins at his speakerphone. He shouts.
SAM
Mikey! You sound happy.
MIKE (V.O.)
(giddy? on phone)
I can't believe it! The work's just
pouring out of me! I think I’ve
invented some new literary form:
The fiction memoir. Autobiography
of a nightmare. It's sort of like
Capote meets Whitley Strieber.
SAM
I love it! "In Cold Blood" with
aliens!
(gleeful)
I wanna put it out to auction —
start a bidding war! When can I
read it?
MIKE (V.O.)
Any day. I’ll send it to you the
second it’s done.
CUT TO:
71 EXT. MIAMI AIRPORT - DAY 71
104.
Mike is dropping off Lily. She has her bags. A tender smile
between them.
MIKE
I'll see you soon.
An awkward pause — and then they kiss.
72 INT. MIKE’S OFFICE - DAY 72
The laser printer is WHIRRING. Pages come speeding out,
crisp and clean.
Mike reads them proudly.
LATER
Mike neatly stacks the sheets. He slides them into a fat
manila ENVELOPE.
73 INT. CRAPPY CAR - DAY 73
Mike jauntily climbs in his car, clutching the package. He
sweeps a pile of junk off the seat, onto the floor. A shred
of paper catches his eye — the nursing home bill.
Hmm. He thinks...
74 INT. SAINT JOSEPH'S NURSING HOME - DAY 74
An airless lobby. VERY OLD PEOPLE sit unmoving, some in
wheelchairs. ORDERLIES silently clean. A TV plays
unwatched.
Mike bursts through the doors. He looks around, lost. All
the WOMEN look alike — wrinkled emaciated figures with big
glasses and white hair. All the MEN are huddled in
bathrobes, faces unshaven, eyes vacant.
Mike studies the men, trying to decide if one is his
father.
Butithen... he notices his dad in a wheelchair, rolled over
by a window. A shell of a man, gazing out...
Mike’s face falls. Then, he girds himself and hurries over.
MIKE
Dad?
105.
FATHER
doesn't react. Mike gently approaches.
MIKE
I haven't... seen you in awhile...
No response.
Mike pulls up a chair. He takes his father's veined hand.
MIKE
Are you doing okay?
Nothing. No reaction at all. Mike whispers.
MIKE
Well... I’m actually pretty good.
I'm speaking to Lily again...
The old guy keeps staring out the glass.
MIKE
And... I've written a new book.
(a careful beat)
I think you'd like it.
A beat. Then —- a brief flicker crosses Father's face. His
eyes widen.
FATHER
Michael...??
CU - MIKE
He trembles, touched. A pang of emotion, this briefest of
connections meaning so much to him.
CUT TO:
75 INT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY 75
Mike strides back into the mailbox store. The place is
cluttered, WORKMEN busy on ladders. The clock says 4:55.
Mike slams the big envelope down on the counter.
MIKE
Hi! 1've got a package I need to
overnight.
106.
The Mailbox Guy is turned away from us. He doesn't move.
Mike glances nervously at the clock.
MIKE
Um — where are the forms I've got
to fill out? I really need this in
New York tomorrow.
MAILBOX GUY’S VOICE
I'm sorry, we're closed.
MIKE
Huh? No! That's wrong.
(he points at the clock)
It's only five of. I — still have
five more minutes!
The Mailbox Guy turns... revealing HE IS ACTUALLY MR. OLIN.
OLIN SMIRKS, OMNISCIENT and ALL-POWERFUL. He takes the
package.
OLIN
I’m sorry, Mr. Enslin. Your time is
up.
Mike GASPS, stupefied.
MIKE
Wha...?!!
A WORKMAN
scrapes away some drywall, revealing BUTTERFLY PAPER
UNDERNEATH.
MIKE
spins, bewildered.
MIKE
Noooo...!
OLIN
Oh come, Mr. Enslin. You didn't
really think it was just a dream?!
WIDE
107.
Another WORKMAN turns, revealing he's the ENGINEER from the
hotel. He slams the floor, unveiling BEIGE CARPET
underneath.
ON MIKE'S FACE
All color drains.
His expression goes from fear... to realization ... to
madness.
The room starts SPINNING.
AROUND HIM, the SOUND of CONSTRUCTION BUILDS. Louder,
LOUDER, a CRUSH of activity,
THE ROOM
spins faster. Every revolution transforms us back to 1408.
The WALLS all become wallpapered.
A WORKMAN leers, in a blur becoming Kevin O'Malley.
Mike staggers, terrified.
The room spins faster. The Mailbox Store is vanishing.
The CEILING tile crashes down, revealing 1408's VENT.
The FURNITURE appears around us.
The WHIR builds to a high-pitched, painful SHRIEK —
And THEN —
76 INT. 1408 - SAME TIME 76
The howl suddenly STOPS.
And Mike is left, collapsed onto the carpet of 1408. Curled
in a fetal position, whimpering, confused.
He slowly lifts his head... and a horrible guttural MOAN
passes from his lips.
He's back.
THE ROOM IS JUST AS HE LEFT IT. RAVAGED. DRENCHED. LIKE A
HURRICANE BLEW THROUGH.
108.
The unplugged clock keeps ticking down: 4:55... 4:54...
Mike unsteadily rises. He shouts plaintively.
MIKE
No. NO! I was OUT —
VOICE OF THE ROOM
WRONG! YOU NEVER LEFT!
Mike jerks, startled.
The voice is behind him. Unnerved, Mike slowly turns. And
back there... is...
A DOOR
Standing all by itself in the middle of the room.
MIKE
gulps.
Tentative, shaky, he crosses closer...
The door waits. Mike forces himself. Sweating. Heart
pounding crazy.
Valiantly, hands trembling... he reaches to the handle.
Grimacing with dread, he starts to turn it —
When — his courage lets out. He lets go.
The VOICE snickers.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
MICHAEL..! YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR
SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN. FOR A LIFE
AFTER DEATH! WELL, HERE I AM.
THE DOOR HANDLE
starts turning by itself.
Mike shudders.
THE DOOR
slowly opens. Through the crack, we SEE a DEEP, BLACK SPACE
of a place that exists somewhere other than 1408.
109.
MIKE
seizes up, aghast.
A DARK SHADOW falls over him...
We DON’T SEE what is revealed behind the door. But Mike
does.
His FACE beholds a horror no sane person can endure.
His eyes widen. His mouth opens in a silent scream.
His legs buckle under him.
MIKE
GODDDDDDDDDDDD!!!
Beat.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
YOU SAID GOD DOESN’T EXIST!
Mike crumples in on himself, finished.
He's cowering, beaten.
He covers his head, preparing for a fatal blow. We MOVE
CLOSER... CLOSER... until his FACE IS IN TIGHT CLOSE-UP.
Readying himself for an unimaginable fate.
The tension of the moment builds to a climax. The end
imminent. And then —
A melancholy MUSIC.
KAREN CARPENTER'S VOICE
(singing)
"We've only just begun... "
Huh? Mike looks up.
IN FRONT OF HIM
The door has DISAPPEARED.
In its place is
GRACIE
110.
Dressed in her dirty pink nightgown. She's pale, skeletally
thin, her hair falling out.
She looks at Mike and smiles. A smile that makes her face
look even more skull-like.
GRACIE
Daddy...?
MIKE
(anguished)
You’re not real!!
He backs away. Hurt, she weakly reaches to touch him...
GRACIE
I need help.
MIKE
You're not Grade!!
GRACIE
(soft)
I wet myself.
Tears spring to Mike's eyes.
Fighting this, he steps back.
100,
GRACIE
Please. I'm cold.
Mike can’t stand this.
She shivers, her little body wispy...
GRACIE
So cold...
Mike’s face caves. Suddenly overpowered by feelings, he
RUSHES FORWARD and GRABS her tightly.
MIKE
Oh Grade, Grade, Grade...
TIGHT - MIKE AND GRACIE
His eyes are shut, clinging to her tiny body. The most
electric thing he’s ever felt.
111.
She speaks, barely a whisper.
GRACIE
It won’t let me stay.
He looks up, as she convulses violently. Her face damp with
sweat. He touches her forehead — it's burning up.
MIKE
No! Honey, no one’s gonna take you.
Her eyes brim with tears of pain.
GRACIE
Do you love me, Daddy?
MIKE
You know I do!
GRACIE
I wish we could stay together. You,
me, Mommy —
MIKE
We can! I promise we CAN!
Happy, she brushes her hand to his cheek.
CLOSE ON - MIKE'S CHEEK
As she withdraws her hand, it leaves a TRAIL OF ASH.
GRACIE
unexpectedly collapses like a balloon that's lost all air.
MIKE
Grade?
She falls back, eyes frozen. She's stopped breathing.
MIKE
GRACIE?!
Mike shakes her, but she is still.
MIKE
NO!!!
Mike immediately begins CPR. He puts his mouth over hers,
breathing air into her lost lungs.
112.
MIKE
Not again! Goddammit, NOT AGAIN!
He furiously begins CPR. He begs, between breaths.
MIKE
Stay... stay...
MIKE
keeps pressing on her chest. Through his face, we see vain
hope. Despair. And finally... loss.
Shaken, he pulls his hands away. They are COVERED IN ASH.
ABOVE
Grade's body has TURNED TO DUST. She is gone.
Mike is immobile. Hands gray with the remains of his child.
His heart is empty. Absolute sorrow. Grieving, eyes sunken,
he looks up. Just wanting it to end.
THE CLOCK
ticks down. 00:10... 00:09... 00:08...
MIKE
slowly reacts, sobbing.
THE CLOCK
reaches the finish: 00:03... 00:02... 00:01... 00:00.
And —
MIKE’S EYES
go wide. And??
THE CLOCK
starts FLICKERING. The LED numbers flash randomly...
MIKE
waits despondently. Around him, the ash disappears. The
gray dust dissipates, like a dream, into nothingness.
113.
Mike stares, uncomprehending. Until he peers up — and
GASPS.
WIDE VIEW OF THE ROOM
1408 has RETURNED TO ITS OPENING STATE. No water damage.
Windows back. Everything restored to when we first entered.
The cloak radio RESETS TO 60:00. It begins counting down
again: 59:59... 59:58... 59:57...
MIKE
goes into shock. Dumbstruck. His voice cracking.
MIKE
Why don't... you just kill me?
VOICE OF THE ROOM
BECAUSE ALL THINGS COME DOW TO
CHOICE.
Mike trembles, utterly desolate.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
YOU GET TO RELIVE THE SAME HOUR.
AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.
The THERMOSTAT starts rising: 85... 90... 95...
Mike’s skin gets clammy. He staggers, lightheaded.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
UNLESS, YOU CHOOSE TO END IT.
Something FALLS right behind him. Mike turns —
A ROPE NOOSE
hangs, attached to the ceiling. Below it is a chair.
IKE
nods, acquiescing.
The TEMPERATURE is getting hellish: 115... 120... 125...
Mike is weeping. Confused. Unable to think clearly, he
steps onto the chair. He slowly draws the rope around, his
neck.
114.
Mike stands there, eyes glassy. Pondering his fate.
But — not jumping. Emotions and regrets pound through his
body.
He grips the rope tight... then suddenly pulls it off,
crying.
MIKE
I... can’t.
(distraught)
I'm sorry! I just... can't do it.
The VOICE booms, furious.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
THEN YOU LEAVE ME NO OPTION!
The TV suddenly turns on.
ON THE TV SCREEN
We see Lily, guilelessly entering the Dolphin lobby.
MIKE'S FACE
face falls, horrified.
MIKE
Lily...?
VOICE OF THE ROOM
(mocking)
YES, "LILY"! I'LL TAKE HER IN
TRADE.
MIKE
N-NO!
ON THE TV
Lily's cellphone sharply RINGS. She answers.
LILY
Hello?
We hear MIKE'S SIMULATED VOICE.
MIKE’S VOICE
(over cellphone)
Lily, it’s me.
115.
LILY
Mike?
MIKE’S VOICE
Hurry! Come up to my room.
THE REAL MIKE
gapes in horror.
MIKE
Leave her out of this!!!
ON THE TV
Lily enters the elevator. The doors shutting...
MIKE
starts freaking out. He spins, then notices his CELLPHONE
on the floor. Its screen flickers.
Ah! Mike looks around, paranoid, then grabs the phone. Its
power blinks. Frantic, he hurriedly DIALS Lily. He bites
his nails. KING! RING...!
ON LILY
She rides up the elevator, oblivious.
ON MIKE
MIKE
C' mon, c’mon...
More RINGING. Then — a MAN answers, through garbled STATIC.
MAN (V.O.).
Hello?
A discombobulated beat. It’s a wrong number, but...
strangely familiar.
MIKE
Hello?! Who -- who is this???
INTERCUT:
77 INT. RESEARCH LIBRARY - THE PAST 77
116.
It's Mike back in the microfiche room, in the past,
receiving the call. All he hears is STATIC.
MIKE
Hello! This is Mike Enslin. Is
anybody there?
CUT BACK TO:
78 INT. 1408 - PRESENT 78
Mike blanches, realizing. He shouts deliriously.
MIKE
My God! Don't come to the Dolphin!
Stay out of 140—
His phone suddenly SPARKS, shorting. It FLAMES, burning
him.
He cries out and drops it. Mike turns worriedly to
THE TV
Lily is still in the elevator, rising. Floors go by: 8...
9...
MIKE
gets a galvanized look.
MIKE
I won't let you have her.
Incensed, he runs toward the door.
CRAZY ANGLE
Suddenly — the ROOM PIVOTS, slanting to 45 DEGREES!
Mike trips, falling. SLAM!
The floor is crazy. Mike tries to get up, attempting to
climb. His naked hands fall on hot carpet, singeing him.
Mike SCREAMS in pain. But he keeps going.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
YOU CAN'T SAVE HER. SHE'S DOOMED!
ON THE TV
117.
The elevator opens on the 14th floor. Lily steps out...
WIDE - THE ROOM
Mike crawls upward, his equilibrium reeling.
The SLANT is now INSANE. The floor is practically vertical.
Mike hangs onto the furniture, like a rock climber.
Using all his might, he hoists himself.
The thermostat keeps rising. 140. 145...
Mike struggles to move. He can barely breathe through the
sweltering heat. He looks up — and the living room has
LENGTHENED. The DOOR now seems a football field away. Just
a speck.
MIKE
moans. His feet STICK to the hot melting carpet. He wants
to move, but collapses. The fabric burns into his hands.
The door is hopelessly far away.
In anguish, unable to crawl, he weakly glances at the TV.
ON THE TV
Lily walks down the hall. Approaching...
CLOSEUP - MIKE
In a final gasp at salvation, Mike whispers.
MIKE
Lily. Go...
ON THE TV
Lily takes a step, then suddenly stops.
Like she heard him.
She contemplates this sensation, her face a mix of strange
emotions. Then — she suddenly turns and LEAVES.
MIKE
sobs, relieved.
118.
LILY
runs. Fast, faster.
THE ROOM
THUNDERS, furious.
Mike is overwrought. Volatile, rapturous. He slowly looks
up... and then his expression darkens.
MIKE
I know I’ve lived the life of a
selfish man...
(pause)
But I don’t have to die that way.
Mike reaches for the fallen BOOK OF MATCHES.
He stares — then rips out a match and STRIKES it against
the covert with its funny little doorman.
An instant, TINY FLAME.
MIKE
Maybe this room isn’t real. Maybe
I'm not even real.
(wheezing, desperate)
But this fire... is real.
Mike crawls across the floor. Holding the match out,
straining to touch it to a CURTAIN...
When — WHOOSH! A HUSH OF WIND from the air conditioning
vent blows it out.
VOICE OF THE ROOM
YOU’D JUST BE KILLING YOURSELF.
Mike considers this... then nods.
MIKE
As long as I kill you too, I can
rest in peace.
Suddenly, Mike grabs Olin’s.
COGNAC BOTTLE
Mike pops the cork, then lights the ENTIRE BOOK OF MATCHES.
119.
The FLAME BLAZES bright, a crazy glow under his face. Mike
shoves it in the bottle, lighting the flammable liquid.
Mike spins and HURLS the MOLOTOV COCKTAIL.
BLAMMMM!!! The entire ROOM explodes in flames.
WIDE
The FIRE instantly spreads, igniting the carpet and
furniture.
FSSST! The SPRINKLERS COME ON — the room's desperate
attempt to save itself. Mike laughs manically.
MIKE
Too LATE! You’ll never hurt anyone
again.
The CURTAILS flare up, blindingly orange. The blaze SEARS,
the walls erupt.
Mike stands inside the inferno, seething. In a final act,
he clicks on his recorder:
MIKE
"The decor is tattered and the
staff surly... but on a Shiver
Scale, I award the Dolphin Hotel
ten skulls."
The flames congeal, then DETONATE.
79 EXT. HOTEL WINDOW - SAME TIME 79
KABOOM! A thundering FIREBALL blasts out the window.
80 INT. 1408 - SAME TIME 80
Mike is obliterated from view.
The raging flames scorch the ceiling, then get sucked into
the AIR VENT.
81 INT. VENT 81
Pulsing FIRE courses through the vents. Splitting in all
directions.
120.
82 INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - SAME TIME 82
Fire ALARMS go off.
Hotel doors start SLAMMING open. Frantic GUESTS rush toward
the exits, SCREAMING, pushing each other.
83 EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - UPPER STORIES - SAME TIME 83
Flames POUR OUT of the top stories. Smoke fills the sky.
84 EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - AT THE STREET - SAME TIME 84
Sirens WAIL. GUESTS come flying out the doors, many in
pajamas, furiously racing for the street.
85 INT. 1408 - SAME TIME 85
Flames ripple. In the broiling heat, the room begins to
MELT.
The walls sag, sinking into strange, unpleasant curves.
The paintings begin to bend. Moans cry out.
The chandelier droops like a glob of spit.
The clock radio melts into the floor.
The yellow-orange LIGHT brightens almost painfully hot —
and then, for a final second — we glimpse Mike.
GRACIE5S VOICE
Daddy, everyone dies.
Mike's eyes glisten. A brief, satisfied smile... and then
he’s swallowed by the fire.
86 INT. DOLPHIN LOBBY - . SAME TIME 86
The ceiling COLLAPSES, burning. -SHOUTS and SCREAMS, as the
last GUESTS shove- their way out. We MOVE THROUGH the
blazing debris. Past the ash, through the charred
furniture, toward the Reception counter...
87 INT. OLIN’S OFFICE - SAME TIME 87
121.
The beautiful oak paneling is ablaze. Shelves fall, rare
books crumbling into dust.
Sitting amid the devastation, perfectly calm at his desk,
is Olin* Like the captain of the Titanic, he is unruffled.
He leans back in his chair, at peace, enjoying a cigar. Am
amber brandy in his hand.
OLIN
Well done, Mr. Enslin. Well done!
He swirls the brandy in its snifter, then takes a slow sip.
Ahh...
Until, oddly RING! It’s an interrupting PHONECALL. Olin
stares quizzically, then begrudgingly puts down his brandy.
INSERT - THE SNIFTER
It gets placed on the desk upon a PILE OF POSTCARDS. The
same Dolphin Hotel postcard that Mike received.
ANGLE - OLIN
He answers his phone, crisp and professional.
OLIN
Good evening. Dolphin Hotel.
Olin listens, then shrugs.
OLIN
No, I'm so sorry. We're not
accepting reservations at this
time.
Olin gently hangs up the phone. Then he takes a puff of his
cigar.
Behind him, the walls CAVE IN.
CUT TO:
88 EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - LATER 88
The FIRE DEPARTMENT is in front, spraying the building
down.
Hook-and-ladders fill the street.
122.
POLICEMEN hold back the shivering guests. We TRACK PAST
their bewildered faces — cold, frightened, tired —- until
we land on one woman, off to herself.
Lily. She gazes up at the Hotel. Then, she sadly speaks.
LILY
Goodbye, Mike.
DISSOLVE TO:
89 EXT. CEMETERY - DAY 89
A small funeral, under gray skies.
A DOZEN people are huddled around a fresh grave, watching
the coffin get lowered into the ground.
Lily’s face is withdrawn. Not overwrought... but utterly
drained. She stares, then drops a flower on the casket.
S’am gives her a supportive hug.
CUT TO:
90 INT. MIKE’S OFFICE - DAY 90
The grubby office is filled with boxes. Sam and Lily are
silently packing up Mike's belongings.
There are hundreds of books. Cameras. A sound meter. A
chipped Edgar Allen Poe award. Lily sighs.
LILY
You live a life, and all that's
left behind are boxes of junk.
Sam closes a box.
SAM
At least he went out in a blaze,
LILY
That's not funny.
SAM
No, I'm sorry. I — I wasn’t trying
to be funny.
(genuine)
123.
What I meant was — he went out like
one of his characters.
(he sighs)
It’s just a shame he won’t be
around to write about it.
On the desk is a cute framed PHOTO of Lily, Mike and Grade
in happier times. Lily stares, then takes it for herself.
CUT TO:
91 EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN - DAY 91
A bustling New York street. Sam shuffles up, looking a bit
weathered. He enters a gleaming office building.
92 INT. LITERARY AGENCY - SAME TIME 92
Sam enters his office, in a haze. His Secretary looks up.
SECRETARY
How was the trip?
SAM
(he shoots her a look)
It was a funeral.
Sam goes to an overflowing INBOX on her desk, piled with
mail.
He grabs the mail and drifts aimlessly away.
He flips through the papers. Publishers Weekly...
catalogs... New York Review of Books. Sam goes into his
office —
93 INT. SAM’S OFFICE 93
and wades to the end of the mail. Suddenly he reaches a big
manila envelope — and freezes.
INSERT - ENVELOPE
The return address is "ENSLIN"
ANGLE - SAM
124.
He gapes in disbelief. A moment of dislocation...
struggling to process what this means... then he kicks the
door shut.
Shaking, Sam sits at his desk. He stares at the package,
then slowly, with utmost care, unseals the flap. He
tremblingly reaches inside... and pulls out Mike's
completed pages.
Sam gasps, overcome, and drops them. We SLOWLY PUSH IN TO
the pile of laser-printed pages, crisp and elegant. The
cover page is simple:
"14:08"
by Mike Enslin
FADE OUT.
THE END