Enfys Holmes Film Studies Coursework

Written in Freescreenwriting.com INT. CLASSROOM - DAY A pen scrawls on paper. We move up to a girl (CASSIE). She is small and mousy, not seeming to fill the space she exists in. She sits pulled into herself, arm cramped into her side as she writes. She pauses, and looks out to the side, caught by something unseen. From her perspective, a shadow slips out through the window of the door. Looking through the window, she gets up, moves towards the door. Steps into an empty corridor and looks around. There's nothing, not even a sound. Pulling out a notebook, she scribbles something down. She reenters the classroom, a quick apology. We stay in the corridor, empty and quiet. INT. KITCHEN - DAY Cassie pulls out a huge chest, covered with dust. A thick padlock weighs it down. She places a key into the lock, and is about to turn it, when she pauses. On the wall, a photograph of her, SALLY (17) and a third girl, TALIA (17). They look happy, the dictionary definition of close...

Written in Freescreenwriting.com INT. SCHOOL CORRIDOR Black, well-polished shoes move through the corridor. Each step resounds with firm clarity. We move upwards, revealing the owner of the shoes. TANIA GROVES (17). Her glossy hair is pulled in a strict ponytail, not a single hair out of place. A blazer, embroidered with a logo of a lion, rests on her shoulders A dangerous smirk plays in the corners of her lips. Her eyes land on a boy in the far corner. CONNER MARTIN (17), half hidden behind his open locker door. A large leather jacket swallows his thin form. His eyes widen in horror as he spots Tania approaching from behind his locker door. He ducks down and attempts to move away, but Tania has already arrived. One perfectly manicured hand slams his locker shut. TANIA The maths work due today. I want your extra copy. CONNER Why? Your parents not happy with your failing grades so you had to come to me? TANIA I don't want your psychoanalysis, just your paper...

Written in Freescreenwriting.com INT. SCHOOL CORRIDOR - DAY LILY PATTERMOLE (17) shoves books into her locker. Her hair is pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. Strands of hair drift beside her face. Deep bags surround eyes holding the depths of sadness. Trauma rests unbidden below the surface. She is tired, so very tired. One finger rests on a book. Her head turns slightly, peeking at a group of boys whispering together. Some glance over at her, then look away, guilty. She watches them, gaze hungry. The bell rings. The group scatters, the corridor filling with people. Lily doesn't move, staring into her locker even as people stampede behind her. The corridor clears and Lily breaths out. She slams her locker shut and storms down an empty corridor. EXT. CEMETERY - DAY Rain patters down around the grave site. Lily stands, a black monolith against the grey sky. The grave stone reads ROBERT PETTIGREW, born 2002 deceased 2019. LILY Why couldn't you just no...