The Sixth Sense Page #6

COLE:

Hi, Mr. Marschal.

MR. MARSCHAL leans over his gate and stares at Cole for a few

seconds.

MR. MARSCHAL

Guten Tag, Cole.

Mr. Marschal has a thick German accent. The old man squints down

the block with a concerned expression.

COLE:

What's wrong?

MR. MARSCHAL

Mrs. Marschal. She went food

shopping. She's running late.

Beat.

COLE:

Ich Habe Durst.

Malcolm's eyes dart to Cole.

MR. MARSCHAL

Wunderbar! Where did you learn to

speak German?

COLE:

I just know a couple lines.

MR. MARSCHAL

Yes, you may have a drink. What

would you like?

COLE:

Lemonade, please.

Mr. Marschal smiles at Cole before walking back inside his house.

Cole turns back to Malcolm.

COLE:

(sad)

Mr. Marschal gets real lonely.

MALCOLM:

What about Mrs. Marschal?

COLE:

(whispers)

She died a long time ago.

CUT TO:

INT. MR. MARSCHAL'S LIVING ROOM - MORNING

This brownstone has been home to the Marschal's for many, many

years. It's filled with a lifetime of memories. Memories shared

by two people.

Two rocking chairs sit side by side near the windows that

overlook the street... A corner table displays fancy wooden

chess set. The game half-finished, frozen in a layer of dust...

An easel stands before a piano. The incomplete water color

painting of a smiling elderly woman sitting on the piano bench

sits sadly on the faded yellow paper.

Malcolm takes in the living room silently. He stands near the

open door.

Cole walks through the room. Tiny eyes searching carefully. He

leans behind the sofa looking for something. Malcolm watches

Cole with a crinkled brow.

Cole peeks behind the old piano crammed against the wall.

MR. MARSCHAL

Maybe Jill will play for us when

she gets back.

Cole turns to find Mr. Marschal standing with a glass of

lemonade. Cole takes it from his shaking hands.

COLE:

Thank you.

Mr. Marschal shuffles over to the sofa. Takes a seat.

Cole begins surveying the room again. Beat. His eyes finally

come to rest on a plant seated in the corner. He stares at it...

THE LEAVES OF THE PLANT SHAKE SLIGHTLY FROM A BREEZE.

Cole puts down his glass on a table and walks over to the plant.

Cole kneels down and starts to push the potted plant aside. THE

POT SCREECHES ON THE WOODEN FLOOR.

Malcolm calls to Cole under his breath.

MALCOLM:

Cole--

MR. MARSCHAL

What's going on there?

Mr. Marschal strains to see across the room.

Cole doesn't answer either of them. Instead, he continues to

push the plant aside revealing AN AIR VENT. Cole gently reaches

over and takes off the metal face. It slips right off.

Cole's hands disappear into the darkness of the vent. They

reemerge holding a STACK OF NOTEBOOKS.

Malcolm becomes very still.

Cole rises to his feet and carries the notebooks over to Mr.

Marschal. Cole carefully places them on his lap.

MR. MARSCHAL

Is this for me?

Mr. Marschal fingers the notebooks then reaches for his thick

glasses hanging from his neck. He places them on the tip of his

nose and inspects the notebooks six inches from his face.

MR. MASCHAL

What's this? Jill's keeping a

diary.

Malcolm takes an involuntary step forward.

Mr. Marschal starts flipping through the notebooks.

MR. MARSCHAL

She's full of surprises...

He gets to the last book. His hands become still as he stares at

the final page of writing.

MR. MARSCHAL

(whispers)

She hasn't written anything for

some time.

Beat. Mr. Marschal slowly looks up from the notebooks. Looks up

to Cole. Cole just stands quietly.

Mr. Marschal's eyes slowly fill with tears of realization. They

gently spill down his weathered face.

MR. MARSCHAL

Oh no...

Cole takes a deep breath. Trying hard not to cry himself. The

sight of Mr. Marschal weeping shakes Cole.

Cole softly lays his hand on Mr. Marschal's silver hair. Mr.

Marschal reaches up and clutches his small hand.

They stay like that for a while. Beat. Mr. Marschal lets go and

brings the notebooks tighter to his body.

Cole quietly walks to Malcolm who stands motionless. He stares

down at Cole in a daze.

Cole turns his head, crying.

COLE:

(softly)

Stop looking at me.

CUT TO:

INT. BASEMENT OFFICE - NIGHT

Malcolm sits still in his office chair. His eyes are fixed at a

point in space. He brings a slim, black tape recorder to his

mouth.

CLICK.

MALCOLM:

April or March of Eighty-seven.

Two weeks into sessions with

Vincent Gray. I was treating a

couple, Donald and Robin Wagner,

who had lost their child to

Leukemia. They were waiting with

Vincent in the reception room of

the downtown clinic. They were

alone together maybe fifteen

minutes. When I entered the room,

all three were crying. The

Wagner's progress from that

afternoon was dramatic and sudden

.... As if some door had been

opened for them.

(beat)

I'm not at all clear what happened

in those fifteen minutes. But I

now believe Vincent tried to tell

me something, show me something and

I didn't listen.

(beat)

Cole Sear allowed me to witness

something today.

(beat)

This time I'm going to listen.

A long silence. CLICK. The tape recorder turns off.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BROWNSTONE - NIGHT

Lynn holds a laundry basket on her hip as she fiddles with the

thermostat in the hall. The house is cold. Lynn wears a winter

jacket in the house.

Lynn turns and moves into the shadowy hallway. No lights. The

house seems somewhat ominous. Beat.

Lynn's eyes dart to an open guest room like she just saw

something. She stares in the doorway until a SOUND TURNS HER IN

THE DIRECTION OF THE FAMILY ROOM.

She picks up balled-up boy's sweat socks and dirty T-shirts

laying on the carpet. When she reaches the end of the hall, she

HITS A LIGHT SWITCH. The hall LIGHTS UP REVEALING A WALL OF

PHOTOS. Lynn forms a tiny smile.

Snapshots of Cole and Lynn's life hang before her eyes.

Cole's birthday parties... Lynn and Cole at an amusement park...

Cole under the Christmas tree... Cole on Lynn's shoulders in a

pool... Cole with a group of neighbors at a barbecue...

Lynn takes a step forward. Lynn's face betrays the fact that she

notices something she never noticed before. She touches a photo

of three-year-old Cole.

WE MOVE INTO THE PHOTO -- COLE'S FACE SMILES AT US. LYNN'S

FINGER GENTLY BRUSHES A THIN STREAKS OF LIGHT THAT CURVES IN THE

BACKGROUND BEHIND COLE. THE STREAK OF LIGHT IS BLURRED, LIKE

SOMETHING CAUGHT IN MOTION.

Lynn looks to the adjacent photo -- the barbecue photo --

Everyone stands with hot dogs and sodas. Lynn searches the

picture. Her eyes suddenly stop at the TINIEST BLUR OF WHITE

LIGHT STREAKING AROUND COLE.

WE MOVE FROM FRAMED PHOTO TO FRAMED PHOTO -- EACH THE SAME --

SOMEWHERE HIDDEN IN THE FRAME, SOMEWHERE NOT EASILY SEEN, LYNN

FINDS A BLUR.

Lynn takes it all in curiously.

CUT TO:

INT. COLE'S BEDROOM - AFTERNOON

Rate this script:2.9 / 11 votes