Alice in the Dark

INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT - NIGHT

The jarring sound of a ticking clock that abruptly stops.

A low-frequency industrial hum vibrates through the dark. Wet, rhythmic dripping echoes.

An ultra-wide 12mm lens, heavy with gritty digital noise and chromatic aberration, tracks inches above a pool of stagnant, muddy water.

ALICE (19) lies face down in the filth. She is frail, wire-thin, her deathly pale skin smeared with black grime. Her torn, blood-stained blue hospital gown clings to her shivering frame.

She flinches. A sharp gasp escapes her lips.

TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER ON ALICE

She pushes herself up, her bare, cut feet slipping on the slick concrete. Her wide blue eyes, framed by hollow dark circles and tangled, dirt-caked blonde hair, dart around in panic.

A flickering green fluorescent tube high above casts harsh, high-contrast chiaroscuro shadows across the wet concrete walls and exposed, rusted rebar.

Alice pulls her left arm from the muck. She winces, letting out a ragged, desperate breath.

ALICE

(guttural whisper)

No... no...

Wired directly into her wrist, piercing through her pale flesh with thick, rusted copper filaments, is a heavy brass pocket watch. The glass face is cracked. The hands do not move.

A sudden, violent METALLIC SCRAPING sound screeches from the darkness above. It is a wet, heavy slide of iron against iron.

Alice freezes. Her breath hitches.

ALICE'S POINT OF VIEW - LOOKING UP

The camera tilts straight up into the towering, vertical concrete tomb. Rusted elevator cables hang like severed veins.

High above, clinging to a thick, greasy cable, a massive silhouette twitches.

THE RABBIT.

He stands an unnatural six feet five inches tall, his emaciated frame jerking violently. He wears a tattered, moldy tweed suit. His head is encased in a grotesque, decaying rabbit skull mask, its empty sockets staring down.

Surgically fused into his chest, a rusted brass clock mechanism whirs, its gears grinding in sync with his wet, erratic wheezing.

The entity slides down the cable another ten feet. The metal-on-metal screech is deafening, accompanied by a wet, organic squelch.

Alice scrambles backward through the mud, her breath dissolving into terrified, guttural whimpers.

The jarring sound of a TICKING CLOCK echoes loudly.

It ABRUPTLY STOPS.

INT. VENTILATION DUCT - NIGHT

The camera is locked in a TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER TRACKING SHOT, mere inches from the back of ALICE'S (19) head. The ultra-wide 12mm lens warps the edges of the frame with heavy chromatic aberration and gritty, high-ISO digital noise.

Alice’s wire-thin frame, clad in a torn, blood-stained blue hospital gown, is wedged violently into the narrow, square ventilation duct. The metal walls are coated in thick, wet grime and flaking rust.

A low-frequency industrial hum vibrates through the steel, accompanied by the wet, organic sound of Alice's bare, cut-covered feet scraping against the metal. She crawls frantically, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

ALICE

(desperate whisper)

Please... please...

Behind her, a harsh, metallic screeching tear echoes.

From ALICE'S POV, looking back over her shoulder through the fish-eye lens:

The entrance of the duct is framed by a flickering green fluorescent light from the hallway. Squeezing into the opening is the grotesque, decaying rabbit skull mask of THE RABBIT. His emaciated frame twitches violently.

The rusted brass clock mechanism surgically fused directly into his chest ticks erratically, in sync with his wet, wheezing breath.

A clawed, dirt-caked hand reaches into the duct, fingers scraping against the rusted iron with a deafening screech. The sharp claws swipe inches from Alice's bare, grime-covered heels.

Back to a TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER tracking shot as Alice lunges forward. The low metal ceiling scrapes her back, tearing the hospital gown and drawing fresh, dark blood. She gasps, her knuckles digging into the wet grime.

ALICE

(guttural whisper)

No... no...

Behind her, the sound of metal buckling under immense force. The Rabbit forces his head further into the narrow shaft, his jaw twitching behind the bone mask.

A wet, guttural hiss escapes his throat.

THE RABBIT

(guttural whisper)

Tick... tock...

Alice squeezes her eyes shut and drags her frail body deeper into the pitch-black tunnel, the wet scraping of her flesh against rust echoing into the darkness.

INT. DECAYING CORRIDOR - NIGHT

[SFX: The jarring, metallic ticking of a clock rings out, then abruptly stops.]

A low-frequency industrial hum vibrates through the stained concrete walls. No music. Only the wet, rhythmic dripping of dark condensation and the distant, harsh scraping of metal against metal.

The camera tracks in a suffocatingly tight, over-the-shoulder shot behind ALICE. An ultra-wide 12mm lens distorts the edges of the frame with heavy chromatic aberration and gritty, high-ISO digital noise.

Alice is 19 years old, her frail, wire-thin frame shivering. She wears a torn, blood-stained blue hospital gown. Her bare feet, covered in cuts and grime, step silently through the wet filth of the passage. Flickering green fluorescent tubes cast high-contrast chiaroscuro shadows across her deathly pale skin and the tangled, dirt-caked blonde hair framing her face. Her wide blue eyes are sunken, ringed by hollow dark circles.

She draws a ragged, trembling breath.

Alice presses her back against the rusted iron plating of the wall. Black, tar-like fluid weeps from the seams of the metal, smearing her shoulder.

Ahead, a thick iron door features a small, grease-smeared window.

The camera shifts strictly to Alice's point-of-view, pressing close to the rusted window frame.

Inside the room, the harsh beam of a single handheld flashlight cuts through the gloom, illuminating a horrific surgical theater.

Strapped tightly to a rusted iron table is THE PATIENT. The gaunt, hairless figure of indeterminate age wears only a soiled, tattered grey loincloth. Their translucent, heavily bruised skin twitches violently under thick leather restraints.

Towering over them is THE RABBIT. Standing at an unnatural 6 feet 5 inches with an emaciated, twitching frame, he wears a tattered, moldy tweed suit. A grotesque, decaying rabbit skull is strapped to his head as a mask. Surgically fused directly into his chest, a rusted brass clock mechanism whirs, its gears clicking in sync with his erratic, wheezing breath.

The Rabbit raises a rusted Victorian bone saw.

With a wet, tearing sound, he plunges the blade into the Patient's abdomen.

The Patient's back arches violently off the table. A muffled, guttural gasp escapes their throat as the leather straps strain and creak.

Wet, organic foley dominates the space—the squelch of tissue, the metallic scraping of the saw against bone, and the splash of thick fluid onto the concrete.

The Rabbit bends low over the convulsing body. His skull mask twitches as he whispers.

THE RABBIT

(guttural whisper)

For... the Queen...

The Rabbit reaches into the cavity, extracting a glistening, dark organ.

Alice gasps, her desperate, rapid breathing fogging the glass of the window.

The Rabbit's head snaps toward the window with a violent, mechanical jerk. The rusted clock in his chest ticks louder, faster.

Alice recoils, her back slamming against the opposite wall as she slips into the shadow.

INT. SHIFTING CORRIDOR - NIGHT

(SFX: Jarring sound of a ticking clock that abruptly stops.)

ALICE'S POV - THROUGH THE RUSTED WINDOW

Inside the operating room, the towering, emaciated frame of THE RABBIT freezes. The wet, rhythmic squelch of his hands inside the PATIENT'S chest cavity ceases.

Slowly, the decaying rabbit skull mask pivots ninety degrees. The hollow, pitch-black eye sockets stare directly through the grime-streaked glass. Directly at us.

From his chest, the fused rusted brass clock gears shudder, emitting a low-frequency industrial hum.

(SFX: Jarring sound of a ticking clock that abruptly stops.)

TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER ON ALICE

Her face is severely distorted through the ultra-wide 12mm lens, the edges of the frame blurring with heavy chromatic aberration. Her skin is deathly pale, sweat mixing with the dirt on her forehead. Her chest heaves.

ALICE

(guttural whisper)

No...

Behind her, a high-pitched metallic scraping shriek echoes. Thick, viscous black tar bubbles out from the seams of the rusted iron walls, weeping down the decayed Victorian rivets in heavy, wet sheets.

(SFX: Jarring sound of a ticking clock that abruptly stops.)

ALICE'S POV - THE CORRIDOR

The hallway stretches forward, actively warping and defying physical geometry. The metal walls bend inward at impossible, non-Euclidean angles, melting like hot wax. The floor slants upward violently, turning the flat surface into a steep, slick incline of oozing black tar.

(SFX: Wet, organic bubbling and tearing.)

(SFX: Jarring sound of a ticking clock that abruptly stops.)

TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER TRACKING SHOT - RUNNING

Alice bolts. The camera shakes violently, locked onto her dirt-caked shoulder and the back of her tangled blonde hair.

Her bare, bloody feet slap against the wet, cold iron.

ALICE

(desperate, ragged breathing)

Hhh... hhh... hh...

The walls on either side squeeze inward, weeping torrents of black tar that hiss as they pool around her ankles. The green fluorescent tubes overhead flicker wildly, casting harsh, high-contrast chiaroscuro shadows across her panicked face.

(SFX: Jarring sound of a ticking clock that abruptly stops.)

ALICE'S POV - THE ESCAPE

The end of the corridor twists entirely upside down, a swirling vortex of rusted Victorian pipes and grinding machinery. The exit door is now suspended on a ceiling that has become a wall.

She lunges forward, her hands scraping against the wet, vibrating metal, sliding through the tar as the entire subterranean world groans around her.

INT. THE RED COURT - NIGHT

The sharp, metallic sound of a ticking clock rings out. TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. It abruptly stops, leaving a vacuum of suffocating silence.

ALICE'S POINT OF VIEW

The harsh, narrow beam of a handheld flashlight cuts through the gloom, illuminating a dead-end wall. The surface is made of wet, bruised, skin-like wallpaper that visibly expands and contracts, breathing in a slow, sickening rhythm. Thick, dark veins snake across the floor, oozing a black, viscous fluid that pools around the baseboards.

TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER TRACKING SHOT

Alice backs up, her trembling, wire-thin frame silhouetted against the pulsing flesh of the wall. Her torn, blood-stained blue hospital gown clings to her damp skin. Her bare, dirt-caked feet step backward, making a wet, sticky squelch against the organic floor.

A low-frequency industrial hum vibrates through the air, accompanied by the wet, rhythmic thudding of the walls.

Alice's ragged, desperate breathing fills the soundtrack. She clutches a heavily wired, ticking brass pocket watch tightly against her chest. Her face, seen in a tight profile distorted by an ultra-wide 12mm lens, is deathly pale, with hollow dark circles under her wide, terrified blue eyes.

A metallic scraping sound echoes from the darkness ahead.

ALICE'S POINT OF VIEW

The flashlight beam shakes violently, sweeping across the room toward a deep, shadowy corner.

A massive, emaciated figure steps into the flickering green light of a dying fluorescent tube overhead. It is THE RABBIT. Standing at an unnatural six feet five inches, his twitching frame is clad in a tattered, moldy tweed suit. His head is a grotesque, decaying rabbit skull, the empty eye sockets staring directly into the lens.

Surgically fused into the center of his chest is a rusted brass clock mechanism. The gears inside grind and churn with a sickening, wet metallic crunch, ticking in erratic syncopation with his wet, raspy breathing.

TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER TRACKING SHOT

The Rabbit steps closer, his towering shadow swallowing Alice. The ultra-wide lens distorts his looming figure, bending the edges of the frame with heavy chromatic aberration.

Alice presses her back directly against the warm, pulsating skin-wall. The wall reacts to her touch, contracting and oozing a thin layer of clear mucus.

The Rabbit stops mere inches from her. The grinding of the gears in his chest cavity grows louder, faster, shrieking like a dying engine. He slowly reaches out a long, twitching hand, his dirty fingers clawing the air toward her chest.

ALICE

(guttural whisper)

No...

THE RABBIT

(wet, rasping whisper)

Tick... coldddd... tick...

A sharp, metallic hiss escapes the Rabbit's skull mask as he prepares to plunge his hand into her chest. Alice squeezes her eyes shut, her knuckles turning white around the wired pocket watch.

INT. THE RED COURT - NIGHT

The jarring sound of a ticking clock echoes loudly, then abruptly stops.

ALICE'S POINT OF VIEW - ULTRA-WIDE 12MM LENS

The edges of the frame bend with heavy fish-eye distortion. Gritty, high-ISO digital noise crawls over the image, and green chromatic aberration bleeds at the margins.

A single flickering green fluorescent tube overhead casts a sickly chiaroscuro glow over the chamber. The wet, skin-like wallpaper pulses and breathes with a heavy, organic THUMP-THUMP. Veins along the floor ooze dark, viscous fluid.

Directly ahead, THE RABBIT looms. He stands at an unnatural 6 feet 5 inches, his emaciated frame twitching inside a tattered, moldy tweed suit. The decaying rabbit skull mask stares forward. Inside his chest cavity, the surgically fused, rusted brass clock mechanism grinds with a metallic scraping sound.

He lunges.

TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER TRACKING SHOT - ON ALICE

The camera is pressed suffocatingly close to the back of Alice's head, framing her tangled, dirt-caked blonde hair and the torn collar of her blood-stained blue hospital gown.

Her desperate, shallow breathing fills the soundtrack, accompanied by a low-frequency industrial hum.

In her trembling, wire-thin hand, Alice clutches the wired pocket watch.

As the Rabbit's shadow falls over her, Alice drives her arm forward with feral, explosive force.

ALICE'S POINT OF VIEW

The decaying rabbit skull fills the distorted frame.

Alice smashes the glass face of her pocket watch directly into the creature's dark, hollow eye socket.

SFX: The sharp CRACK of shattering glass, followed by a wet, tearing squelch.

Alice's hand digs deep into the socket, her fingers clawing past bone to grip the cold, grinding brass gears of the chest mechanism from the inside.

She pulls back with a desperate gasp.

TIGHT OVER-THE-SHOULDER ON ALICE

Alice rips her hand free. A tangled mass of grinding brass gears, copper wires, and rusted springs is dragged out of the skull.

The Rabbit unleashes a wet, bubbling shriek of agony.

A high-pressure spray of thick, black fluid erupts from the empty socket, splattering across Alice's deathly pale face and her hollow, dark eye circles.

The clock mechanism in the Rabbit's chest sparks violently, emits a dying metallic scrape, and goes silent.

ALICE'S POINT OF VIEW

The Rabbit collapses backward, his emaciated limbs twitching in the dark fluid on the floor.

The breathing of the walls turns into a deafening, organic ripping sound.

The wet, skin-like wallpaper tears open at the seams, peeling back like split flesh. Beyond the ruptured walls lies a void of screaming, endless darkness.

The floor beneath Alice's bare, grime-covered feet disintegrates.

She falls backward into the empty abyss. The camera tumbles with her, spinning through the distorted, shadowy void as the flickering green light completely dies.

FADE TO BLACK.