Wes Craven’s Page #8

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Heather bites her lip and nods.

HEATHER:

Yes.

CHASE (FILTER)

(instantly)

I'll be there in three hours.

HEATHER:

Don't speed, Chase. It's not...

He's already hung up.

CUTTING TO CHASE

jumping off the tailgate and running for his pickup. CAMERA

HOLDS ON HIM A BEAT, THEN MOVES UP AND INTO THE BACK OF THE

TRUCK AGAIN.

And the place on the workbench where the glove was is now

empty.

EXT. HEATHER'S HOUSE - NIGHT

Storybook peaceful.

INT. DYLAN'S ROOM - NIGHT

Heather sits next to the bed, one elbow on the quilt, reading

from the age-old fable of Hansel and Gretel. Dylan's

scrunched under the blankets, only his head visible. Calm as

you please. The sole light comes from the child's bedside

lamp.

HEATHER:

"...as soon as the sun was up the witch

made Gretel fetch the wood and kindle a

fire. 'We will bake cookies first,' she

said. 'I have heated the oven and

kneaded the dough. Crawl in and see if

the fire is blazing high enough now.'

And she pushed Gretel toward the oven.

The witch meant to shut the door and bake

her once she was inside."

(makes face)

Dylan, this is too violent. I don't know

why you like these stupid old tales.

DYLAN:

Finish, please!

HEATHER:

This is going to give you nightmares.

DYLAN:

I like this story.

Heather sighs. Picks the book back up.

HEATHER:

"But Gretel guessed what the witch was

planning. 'I don't know how to get in,'

Gretel said. 'How am I to manage it?'

'Stupid girl!' shouted the witch,

rushing up to the oven. 'The opening is

big enough. See, I can fit myself.'

Then quickly Gretel came behind and

pushed with all her might. Plunging the

wicked old woman headlong into the

flames, banging the door shut and bolting

it tight. The witch howled..."

(shakes her head)

That's enough.

Dylan stares off into the night.

DYLAN:

"The witch howled like a scalded cat, but

Gretel ran away and left her there to

perish nonetheless."

Heather looks at Dylan in surprise, then at the page.

EXACTLY as Dylan said, the words are there. He turns and

says the rest straight to her, eyes glittering, almost

entranced.

DYLAN (cont'd)

"She ran to her brother as fast as she

could and flung open the door. 'Hansel!

Hansel!' she cried. 'We are saved. The

witch is dead!'"

His face is lit with a fierce radiance. Heather licks her

lips.

HEATHER:

Time for sleep.

DYLAN:

Say how they find their way back home.

She turns out the light.

HEATHER:

Tomorrow night.

DYLAN:

No. Tonight. It's important!

Heather looks at him in the moonlight. Wide awake, tugging

at her sleeve. She has to laugh.

HEATHER:

Dylan, you know as well as I do, they

follow the trail of bread crumbs back to

their house.

Dylan sinks back with a smile.

DYLAN:

"Then their father covered them with

kisses and they were safe."

HEATHER:

They were safe and could sleep.

She tucks him in. Then notices something. A bump under the

covers, down by Dylan's feet. She pats it, curious.

DYLAN:

Rex.

He picks a flashlight off his night stand, pokes his head

under the comforter and motions for her to follow. She smiles

curiously and sticks her head under too.

UNDER THE COMFORTER, a colorful tent. Dylan aiming the beam

towards the bottom of the bed and the large stuffed T-Rex

there. Snarling in the center of the sheet, its back turned

to them. It's been sewn together again, but the body looks

much worse for the wear.

DYLAN (cont'd)

Rex keeps him from coming up.

HEATHER:

Who?

DYLAN:

The mean old man with the claws.

He points past the creature to the bottom edge of the 'tent'.

DYLAN (cont'd)

(matter-of-factly)

He wants to come up from down there.

While we sleep. I keep my feet up

here...

(indicates 'safe' area)

Rex keeps him down there. He's my guard.

(looks at her solemnly)

You should have a guard, too.

Heather inexplicably feels light-headed.

HEATHER:

Dylan, there's nothing down there.

Look...

She reaches past the dinosaur and lifts the blankets,

exposing the bottom edge of the bed and the floor beyond.

HEATHER (cont'd)

See?

Dylan stares at it a long moment, then shrugs.

DYLAN:

It's different when you're gone.

OUTSIDE THE BLANKETS AGAIN

Heather tucks him in, turns off his night light.

DYLAN (cont'd)

On, please?

HEATHER:

(turns it back on)

Okay, sweetie, night, night, sleep tight.

DYLAN:

(with her)

Don't let the bedbugs bite.

She kisses him gently and leaves the room. But not before

his voice catches her in the doorway.

DYLAN (cont'd)

Daddy coming home?

HEATHER:

He's on his way.

DYLAN:

He can follow the breadcrumbs, right?

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