Oculus Page #3

the Hill Trust Bank in San Diego.

A ten-year teller, Marcia Wicker,

locks her manager in the bank vault

and then chews through

a live power line.

- 1975, Marisol Chavez...

- Kaylie...

dies in her bedroom of

hemorrhaging due to a miscarriage.

In her nightstand, they find

every single one of her teeth

in a little plastic bag and

a pair of bloody pliers.

- 2002...

- There's a huge difference

between causation and correlation.

I know the difference, thank you.

OK then. In 2001, Mom and

Dad bought that new couch.

Same year, Grandpa had a heart attack,

Robbie Schultz got hit by a car.

And our cat ran away.

How much of that do you

blame on that couch?

Can I get back to this now?

Sure, but let's get to it, Kaylie.

Let's talk about why

we're really here.

Let's.

The Lasser Glass adorns the

home office of Alan Russell.

Software designer.

Husband to Marie.

Father to Timothy and Kaylie.

Within two weeks of its arrival,

Marie suffers an intense

psychological breakdown

and is tortured and murdered

in the family home.

By whom?

By her husband.

So say the police reports.

And her husband was shot

to death by her own son.

Right in front of her daughter.

I intend to prove that none of

the people I've just described

were responsible for their actions.

Alan Russell was not a

murderer. He was a victim.

One of many, as it turns out.

Victims of the supernatural force

that resides in that mirror.

So why don't we just end it right

now and smash the goddamn thing?

You really don't remember, do you?

Remember what?

Please, smash it, by all means.

Okay.

You know, I've learned a lot about what

happens to people when they can't...

can't process something horrible.

The mind creates all kinds of

protections to help them cope.

And once that belief's taken root,

the mind takes random information and

forces it to support that narrative.

How many thousands of records

did you have to pore through

to find 12 or 13 that

support your case?

Why did you put the stool down?

Because I'm trying to have

a conversation with you.

Uh-huh. Only one person I

know of was ever documented

trying to break the mirror.

Oliver Jeffries. 1971.

A teacher at Manhattan's

Duhame Academy,

where the mirror hung in

the central lecture hall.

One morning he reportedly ran at

the mirror with a fireplace poker,

shouting about how it

needed to be destroyed,

but he never struck a blow.

According to the students,

he stood there quietly

for almost a minute

before walking out of the

hall and into traffic.

It's clearly capable of

defending itself, and...

I think it just disarmed you.

You know why I didn't

smash the mirror, Kaylie?

Besides you getting fired or charged

with destruction of property?

It isn't mine to break.

No one can break your

delusion for you.

You have to do it yourself.

Which leads me to my

final precaution.

You're looking at a

20-pound Danforth anchor.

Another 20 pounds added with barbells,

attached to a modified ballast rail

and a spring pin lock connected

to a mechanical kitchen timer.

No electricity, which is important,

and we're about ten seconds away.

If the timer is not manually

reset every 30 minutes,

that is, if no one is

here to stop it...

The mirror goes right there. And

the only thing to prevent that

from happening again is

our continued survival.

You know why we don't have to

wait for it to come out and play?

Because we've got a

loaded gun to its head.

And I expect it'll be

eager to defend itself.

Aah!

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt.

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt.

Hey guys?

Come into my office for a second.

I thought I was pretty clear about

you guys not messing around in here.

We don't.

I don't like it in here.

All right, well, what is this?

We didn't do that.

OK.

You know, I can hear you guys at

night, messing around in here.

I was a kid once, too. I get it.

I know the move has been difficult.

This isn't gonna happen anymore.

OK?

And if you're messing around

with your mother's plants,

you're gonna cut that out, too.

You know what dead plants

are evidence of to me?

Problems with the water

supply and maybe a bad tank.

I seem to remember drinking

out of a Brita filter.

Oliver Jeffries, dead

plants in the classroom.

Tobin Capp, dead

plants in the bedroom.

Garden service at Hill Trust

Bank couldn't understand

why they had dead plants

all over the place.

Live plant.

Live plants in the living room.

Live plants, plants that have life.

- These are your rules, by the way.

- Give it time.

It always starts with

the low-hanging fruit.

It wasn't just the plants

it fed on, though.

There was another variable, too.

Dog!

Sorry, Dog.

Hydrate.

- Come on, boy.

- Come on, Mason. Go fetch.

- Come on. Mason.

- Go fetch.

Chase the stick. Chase the stick.

Come on. Go. Go.

I mean, the whole

reason I got this thing

was because you were freaked

out that we weren't safe.

Said you saw somebody down here.

Yeah, but that doesn't

make me feel safer.

Quite the opposite, actually.

OK, I will lock it up, unloaded,

where I'm sure it'll come in very

handy in the case of an emergency.

Grotesque cow.

What did you just say to me?

I didn't say anything.

Ow! Jesus!

Alan!

I'm working!

Who are you talking to?

Were you gonna do something

about the damn barking?

There's something wrong with

the dog, Alan. He bit me.

Are you OK?

I'm fine.

You know, you are just lost

in your own world in here.

I'm not lost in my own

world! I'm working!

I know that.

I've supported that.

This isn't you working hard.

When you start your own

business, it's all on you.

- I know that, Alan!

- I have to do this!

Guys. Listen, you got to do

me a special favor today.

I have a golf session

with a client.

And I'm gonna need you to

stay out of my office. OK?

OK, Dad.

All right. I love you guys.

Fine. You wanna go

in, you're going in.

Go sh*t on the CEO's carpet.

Sh*t.

Why can't we let him out?

Mom says Mason's grounded.

Hey, squirts. Why are you, uh...?

We have got to do something

about that damn dog.

A hello would be nice.

He was a wrecking ball all day.

I had to lock him in your office.

Well, tether him up.

Where is he?

Well, there's the problem.

You're remembering it wrong.

I promise. I'm not

remembering it wrong.

- You are, though. Mason...

- Alice Carden's Australian shepherd,

Tobin Capp's Dalmatian, the pets

were never found. None of them.

Do you remember Mason

toward the end?

Vomiting, accidents

all over the house.

My therapist had me

research Parvo virus.

- Oh, my God.

- It's a fatal canine illness,

flagged by nausea, aggression,

infected urine and stool,

which, incidentally,

can kill plants.

Mason was sick.

All right, I'll take him

to the vet tomorrow.

Bad news. I don't think

we're both coming home.

Mom, where's Mason?

Uh, he's grounded.

Are you saying you remember

it happening that way?

- Are you really saying that?

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