Script Extract: GHOSTS! Prelude


A typical dilapidated apartment block corridor but darker and creepier, with sparse, flickering, lighting.


STACY in skinny jeans and dark polo shirt is walking down to her apartment, exhausted.

The noise grows as she approaches a plain light wood door numbered 113 in mock brass. She fumbles for a key from her pocket and puts it in the lock. Turning it quickly, opening the door fast.


CUT TO: STACY’s lower body slamming the door behind her, leaning her back against it.


STACY’S POV: We see the dark room. The furniture barely visible. A sofa, arm chair, TV on a cabinet, a few bookcases. A window in the background with heavy, purple curtains.

CUT TO: Her body and she moves forward, turning to the wall, reaching for the light switch.

CUT TO: The light switch. Her hand approaches from the bottom left and presses it.

STACY’S POV: As the light turns on. CHARLIE, FRED and other GHOSTS appear from behind the furniture with party hats, streamers, poppers etc.


As the confetti flies, CUT TO Stacy dropping her handbag.

FOLLOW: She walks over to the armchair, sits down, picking up the TV remote, turning it on.


Everything droops. The ghosts look defeated. Charlie mostly. The last piece of confetti falls.

PAN TO: the front door as another ghost, JACK phases through the door, carrying a huge stack of ghost pizza.

I brought pizza!

(firing party popppers)

Party continues. Streamers. Confetti.








Recycled Lyrics #2: ‘Softly Weeping’

In the corner
fixing up my mind,
you can find me
most of the time
softly weeping
safely inside
my cage

And in the kitchen
somewhere down the hall,
I can capture us
standing straight and tall
sweetly dreaming
stealing to the sky

clutching on to this
cockeyed good-bye kiss.
Darling you’ve been missed
Darling, I’ve been

In the corner
most of the time
you can reach me
leeching off my mind,
softly weeping
safely inside
my brain.

‘Cause now and then
I remember my place.
Heavy drinking
blinking into space
softly sleeping
slipping away
to your cage

clutching on to this
cockeyed good-bye kiss.
Darling you’ve been missed
and darling, while you’re sleeping
I’ll be softly weeping

Rhyme Exercise: End Times

Some GCSE kids write rock songs about living in ‘the end times’,

fumbling over syllables and the length of lines,

soul searching for the most desperate rhymes.

One of them heard Tom Waits for the very first time.

Now everything’s the devil in disguise,

and that waitress,


she’s got marmalade thighs

but he doesn’t know why

or whether it’s a good thing, besides,

his lyrics are still sticky and adolescent inside.

Like the tissues hiding down his bedside

This is the kid who learnt how to make love and socialise

By repeatedly watching those Central Perk guys.

His favourite has changed from Joey to Ross.

S’pose he feels like he can empathise.

‘I prefer Seinfeld anyway’ he lies

Still forgetting to dot his ‘I’s

But he pretends to prefer anything his friends

don’t know

don’t like

or even despise.

It justifies him feeling marginalised.

Heck, maybe these are the end times

But who ever promised him otherwise?

Undone v.II

But you’re stuck


Watching the caught up Sun

come undone

for you.

Watching it strip

itself of colour

and cry

for you.

And wash

out the sky

for you.

But you’re stuck


Watching the colour ooze

from the easel

from the earth

as it gives birth to excuses

for you.

From the sea

from your poetry

from you.

from me.

Till all you see are

Fleeting glimpses of the nothings

that flash

through the peeking spaces

of closed blinds

in that timeless space

where you’re ‘trying’.

But you’re stuck.


And when the Sun flicks the switch

and finishes itself

You’ll lay the blame

on somebody else.

So that you might find

yourself un


for the shortest time.

Recycled Diary Entry #2: ‘Honesty vs Imagery’ v.2 By Steve O’Key

The Awkward Boyfriends

Honest vs Imagery

Good mood.


Trying to sleep.

pictures crying blood weep.

Tell me I’ve misunderstood.

You know it’s not real.

It’s alright.

curse gets worse children dying set alight.

screaming. Crying.


Switch the light on.

Shared bed.

Shaking. Scared.

Getting late. Wide awake.

Try to sleep.

Stuck too deep.


bodies moving breaking

wasting exhausting holocaust

gas mask straight back she.


Sh-She tries to calm me.

With pictures

of Us.


A quiet room.

That calm, commercial hotel art.

A cold stone hearth

for feet to escape

a huggable heat.

Mahogany walls that cradle

a crooning fireplace

to light up

an empty space a starved face

severed head single bed

rotting corpse staring upwards




self-harm air raid alarms bleeding arms

sprayed red.

It’s in your head.




Sleep with the light on.

T-shirt too tight on.

Awake with…

View original post 12 more words

Recycled Diary Entry #1

A good mood.


Trying to sleep.

Then pictures. Crying. Blood. Weep.

Tell myself I’ve misunderstood.

I AM happy!

So why?

Curse. Gets worse. Children dying. Screaming.


Switch the light on.

Shared bed.

Shaking, scared.

Very late. Wide awake.

Try to sleep.


Bodies moving.

Breaking. Wasting. Exhausting. Holocaust. Gas mask. Straight back. She.


Sh-She tries to calm me.



A beautiful room.

A big fireplace.

An empty face. Severed head.

Single bed. Rotting corpse. Staring upwards.



It’s in my head.

Sleep with the light on. T-shirt too tight on.

Awake with the light on.

Too bright. Too much.

Too dark to sleep tonight.