Signs Page #13

Graham watches her for a few moments, and THEN TURNS AND

LOOKS DIRECTLY AT US FROM ACROSS THE YARD.

WE PULL BACK INTO THE DARKNESS OF THE CROPS.

CUT TO:

EXT. BARN - EVENING

Graham stands frozen looking across his yard. Isabelle, the

dog turns in desperate circles behind him. Graham's eyes

stay focused on the same point in the darkness. He talks to

no one.

GRAHAM:

You know something? Even entertaining

the possibility of this for a minute

has been exciting.

Beat. Graham starts to move.

GRAHAM:

I can see how people can get carried

away with this type of thing.

Graham reaches the barbecue area. There's a flashlight on

the picnic table. Graham TURNS THE FLASHLIGHT ON. A NARROW

BEAM FALLS ON THE GRASS FIVE FEET AHEAD OF HIM.

Graham starts toward the crops.

GRAHAM:

It's a kind of faith. It's an

intoxicating thing to believe in

something you can't see.

THE BEAM OF LIGHT FALLS ON THE WALL OF CORN CROPS LINING THE

BACKYARD. Graham steps right up to them. He hesitates and

then steps into the field of CORN CROPS.

We can't see two feet in any direction. Six foot stalks of

corn line Graham on all sides. THE FLASHLIGHT THROWS A

WAVERING BEAM ON THE CROPS AHEAD OF HIM.

GRAHAM:

You were always good at that...

THE BEAM OF HIS FLASHLIGHT FINDS A NARROW PATH. Graham starts

following it. His shoulders brush crops on either side.

GRAHAM:

Believing in things you couldn't

see.

(beat)

You would have been the first person

on that station wagon wouldn't you?

You and Morgan would have been

wrestling for that baby monitor.

SOMETHING MOVES UP AHEAD.

Graham stops. HE SHINES HIS LIGHT DOWN THE PATH. Nothing but

crops disappearing into darkness.

GRAHAM:

It'll be secretly kind of sad for

everybody, when this turns out to be --

all just make believe.

THERE'S MOVEMENT RIGHT NEXT TO HIM. Graham spins and aims

the FLASHLIGHT AT THE CROPS TO HIS RIGHT. THE LIGHT ONLY

PENETRATES A FEW FEET INTO THE CROPS.

GRAHAM:

(yelling)

You're wasting your time here! I'm

not going to report this or anything

you do to me crops, to the news or

TV or anybody! You're not going to

get famous!

Beat. There is no response. GRAHAM CAN HEAR HIS OWN

BREATHING... IT SOUNDS HEAVY, ECHOISH... LIKE THERE'S TWO OF

HIM.

Beat. Graham holds his breath. THE SOUND OF SOMEONE ELSE

BREATHING CONTINUES BEHIND HIM.

Graham turns and drops the FLASHLIGHT at the same time. THE

BEAM OF LIGHT TURNS OFF WHEN THE FLASHLIGHT HITS THE GROUND.

GRAHAM IS IN DARKNESS NOW. HE LOOKS IN THE DIRECTION OF THE

BREATHING. BUT CAN'T SEE ANYTHING. HIS OWN BREATHING IS FAST

AND LOUD NOW.

Graham kneels down and gropes in the darkness. His hands

search over the ground in all directions. They finally touch

the flashlight. Graham quickly fumbles with it to find the

"on" button. He does.

A BEAM OF LIGHT SHOOTS ACROSS THE GROUND. SOMETHING POWDERY

WHITE STANDS FIVE FEET AWAY.

It instantly moves into the darkness. Graham tries to get

up. He stumbles backwards into the crops. He's tangled in

crops as he struggles to rise. He gets up and starts running.

Leaves and stalks slap him from all directions. He panics.

He doesn't know where he is. THERE IS SOMETHING COMING BEHIND

HIM.

Graham makes a sudden right turn. He puts his hands in front

of him to protect his face and eyes. He's running as fast as

he can. HE HEARS STALKS OF CORN BREAKING BEHIND HIM.

Another sudden turn, this time left. Graham emerges into his

BACKYARD.

Graham keeps running across the yard. ISABELLE BARKS

FRANTICALLY.

When Graham reaches the porch stairs, he stops and turns.

There is no one behind him. The wall of crops fifty feet

away sway in the gentle night breeze.

Graham gains control of his breathing. He turns and walks to

the screen door, slowing his breathing down with each step.

CUT TO:

INT. KITCHEN - EVENING

Graham steps into the kitchen. His hair is messed. His shirt

has a few leaves from corn stalks stuck to it. He locks the

back door.

The children don't notice his presence. They're splashing

each other at the sink as they clean the dinner dishes.

Graham looks through the kitchen doorway to the family room.

He sees Merrill there.

Merrill's hands are in his pockets as he stares at the WOODEN

BASEBALL BAT mounted above the fireplace. Merrill doesn't

notice him either.

Graham takes two steps to the kitchen table and slowly takes

a seat. His breathing is a slow controlled pant. He runs one

shaky hand through his hair as he gathers himself and thinks.

His kind eyes stare down at the ground as he slows his mind.

Beat.

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