This is the evolving script of The Divide.
The film has lived in my head for nearly two decades—trapped behind anxiety, dyslexia, and perfectionism.
Now, with the help of AI, I can finally move at the speed of thought: generating pivotal scenes, story beats, and mood fragments in real time.
But there are limits—to what’s possible, and to what’s allowed.
Creating a horror film inside these constraints is an experiment in both technology and storytelling.
Each scene is generated, rewritten, and refined through AI tools—then shaped into something raw, human, and haunted.
Follow the film’s construction in real time, scene by scene.
New visuals, stringouts, and behind-the-scenes commentary will be added as each moment comes to life.
Scene 1 – Stewart’s Office
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 1
INT. OFFICE BUILDING — DENVER, COLORADO — DAY (DEC 26, 1991)
One take. No cuts.
START ON: A PICTURE-PERFECT VIEW OF THE COLORADO FRONT RANGE.
It looks like a postcard—crisp mountain peaks, blue-grey and snow-tipped under high, flat winter clouds. Unspoiled. Silent. The clouds are lifeless, heavy, with no edge definition—like a blank emotional weight hanging above the world.
CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK — slowly, in a perfectly straight line.
We are inside the building, looking out through a wide wall of glass—this is a prime corner office across the hallway. It belongs to a prestigious law firm or investment group. Framed accolades. Ferns. Luxury. Empty.
As the camera moves backward, we leave the picturesque view behind—
It begins to narrow… shrink…
The hallway darkens. There are no interior lights on in this building. Just safety strips near the floor. A strange silence settles in.
Doors pass by. Offices dark, abandoned.
Fax machines. CRT monitors. Metal blinds. All untouched.
The sound of our movement is imperceptible but present—like falling through molasses. Building pressure.
CAMERA CONTINUES — REACHES A GLASS DOOR.
Lettering flaked at the edges:
STEWART CONSTRUCTION
A much smaller office. Not part of the big firm. His name on the glass means something—to him, at least.
We pass through the door, continuing our movement.
The contrast is stark.
This is not luxury. This is overreach.
His outer lobby is the size of a walk-in closet. Just a lone vinyl chair. A potted plant. A disorganized cork board with faded notices.
We move again—into Stewart’s office proper.
A slight descent. Everything is half-nice and full-desperate.
A mahogany-style desk with nicks along the edges.
One expensive map of Colorado, framed—but peeling slightly from humidity.
A Sharper Image-style globe bar half-opened beside a bookshelf. It looks expensive, but the liquor inside is bottom shelf.
A jacket on a stand. A suit hanging on the back of the door.
On the desk: Blueprints, bank statements, final notices.
A single rotary phone. Unused.
The only light: faint grey illumination from a north-facing window, staring not at the Front Range—but out at the flat, dead plains.
And sitting still, in the only chair not covered in paper:
STEWART (40s)
Face unseen. He is turned away from us—his back to camera.
Disheveled flannel shirt. Shoulders hunched. No motion. Just looking.
Looking at nothing.
His glass is full. Ice melts slowly into bourbon. The bar globe’s trigger handle aligns, ominously, with his silhouette.
The camera comes to a stop just inside the room. We rest.
Then—
ONE FINAL PULL BACK.
Almost imperceptible.
A subliminal shape momentarily forms:
This is the gun shape.
Add Thursday December 26th, 1991. On title screen.
It’s not visible, not obvious. But it’s felt.
And then—
CUT TO:
SCENE 2 MATCH CUT BEGINS HERE:
Camera matches framing from the back of Stewart’s chair—center-left of frame, turned toward the window. In the same place on screen, we now see:
MOLLY (16)
Sitting at the kitchen table. Jacket on, bag packed, chewing a straw like it owes her money.
(We’ll complete this scene fully next.)
✅ Scene 1 is now locked.
Would you like to continue into Scene 2 immediately with all notes and choreography fully restored?
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 2
INT. SUBURBAN DENVER HOME — DAY (DEC 26, 1991)
One continuous take, no cuts until the final frame.
MATCH CUT FROM SCENE 1:
We hold the exact same framing as the final shot of Scene 1—the chair back, center-left of frame—only now we’re in a suburban kitchen.
MOLLY (16) sits at the table. Silent. Bored. Jacket zipped halfway up, straw hanging from her mouth. Her bag is packed beside her. Eyes on the front door.
We hold.
CROSS DISSOLVE — TIME SHIFT EARLIER:
CLAIRE (40s)—taller than the room, in presence if not height—buzzes through the kitchen, talking to herself and no one in particular.
CLAIRE
Molly! Do not forget toothpaste this time. You’re disgusting when you camp.
She opens cabinets, rattling through Ziplocks and Clif bars.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
I swear to god, if I have to hear about that damn astrology chart again this trip…
DING-DONG.
The DOORBELL rings. Claire stiffens.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
There he is.
CUT TO — ONE-TAKE BEGINS:
MOLLY rises from her chair and walks down the hallway toward the front door.
CAMERA FOLLOWS HER.
She opens it—RYAN (19) is there, with his ski bag slung over one shoulder. He grins.
MOLLY
You’re late.
RYAN
Your mom said noon.
MOLLY
It's 12:07.
They lean in close—awkward teen near-kiss territory—but don’t quite.
CLAIRE enters the front hallway, drying her hands on a dishtowel.
She’s not there for the door—she’s there to call up the stairs.
CLAIRE
Tommy! Let’s go!
She pauses, side-eyes Ryan, then brightens—too much.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Come on, Romeo.
She grabs Ryan’s hand and twirls him theatrically into the house—spinning him and Molly toward the kitchen.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
Welcome to the circus.
CAMERA STAYS WITH CLAIRE.
She now looks up the stairs, squinting toward the landing.
CLAIRE
Tommy!
TOMMY (O.S.)
Hold on! I’m coming!
CAMERA SHIFTS TO STAIRWELL just as TOMMY appears at the landing.
Brand-new Kemper snowboard, ribbon still wrapped, over one shoulder. Duffel on the other. He’s awkward, wide, overburdened.
He pivots—
WHACK.
The snowboard clips the railing and slams into the wall, knocking down a framed photo.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy!
She storms into frame, climbs a few steps, and physically reroutes him downward—like a fed-up air traffic controller. She doesn’t yell again. She doesn’t need to.
TOMMY
Sorry!
He moves past her—
CAMERA FOLLOWS TOMMY down the stairs and back down the hallway, past Ryan and Molly again.
Claire bends to examine the damage, spits on a rag, and scrubs the gouge in the drywall with furious little circles.
CAMERA STAYS ON TOMMY.
He walks back into the kitchen, defeated.
BACK DOOR OPENS.
STEWART (40s) enters—quiet. Wearing jeans, unzipped flannel, and a tired face. A 7-Eleven bag crinkles in his hand. He smells like gas and salt and bourbon.
STEWART
(to Molly)
Mom around?
MOLLY
Yep. Watch your six.
STEWART
(to Tommy)
You break anything?
TOMMY
Only my dignity.
Stewart tousles Tommy’s hair—affectionate but wordless.
CAMERA NOW FOLLOWS STEWART.
He moves through the scene without engaging fully—just absorbing it. The bags. The chaos. His wife scrubbing a wall like it’s the real enemy.
Claire finally turns, mid-stair, rag still in hand. Perched higher than everyone. Princess on a landing.
CLAIRE
You’re two hours late.
STEWART
I had to grab something from the office.
CLAIRE
You could’ve called.
STEWART
Didn’t think it would matter.
She descends toward him, slow and theatrical. She kisses him—not out of affection, but like she’s tasting for poison.
She pulls back, exhales.
The taste confirms it. Bourbon. She flattens.
CLAIRE
Great.
Now I’m driving.
She turns and ascends the stairs.
At the landing, she turns the corner without looking back.
Her elevated position frames her like a queen above her court.
CUT.
✅ THE DIVIDE — SCENE 3
MONTAGE — ON THE ROAD
EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF DENVER – LATE AFTERNOON
The Jeep Grand Wagoneer rolls through industrial edges of the city.
Winter sunlight glints off buildings and glassy snowbanks.
Radio fuzz. No one talks.
Bare trees. Low golden light.
EXT. I-70 – WESTBOUND
Snow banks stack higher.
The landscape shifts—suburbia recedes into pine-lined highway curves.
They pass a final gas station—lone green glow, flickering.
Inside the car:
Stewart drives, quiet and composed.
Claire, stiff in the passenger seat.
Tommy, eyes out the window.
Molly, Walkman on, tuned out.
Shadows lengthen. Dusk looms.
EXT. BERTHOUD PASS – LATE AFTERNOON TO DUSK
Road winds through tight, treacherous curves.
Snow dust flickers in air currents.
They rise along a cliff bend.
A dark mountain feature comes into view—
DEVIL’S THUMB, jagged in silhouette.
CAMERA RISES with the Jeep—revealing a wide, quiet valley.
ON SCREEN:
THE DIVIDE
(Simple. Heavy. Fills the screen.)
EXT. DIRT ROAD ENTRANCE – DUSK
The Jeep turns onto a narrow snow-covered path, breaking through forest.
CLAIRE
You sure this is the turn?
Stewart doesn’t answer.
Suddenly—
TOMMY GASPS.
A massive ELK stands broadside in the road.
It doesn’t move—just stares.
Stewart brakes, calm and quiet.
The car stops. No one speaks.
The elk slowly turns and drifts into the trees—elegant and eerie.
A beat.
Stewart flips on the headlights.
The road ahead swallows them in yellow-white beams as they continue into the woods.
EXT. CABIN APPROACH — NIGHTFALL (DEC 26, 1991)
CONTINUOUS FROM SCENE 3
The Jeep’s headlights slice through the trees, snow drifting across the beams.
We track them for several miles, winding deeper into the woods—far off the main road.
No signs of life. Just dense forest. The road narrows, barely plowed.
The cabin comes into view.
Not an A-frame.
An older, multi-phase build—low, squatting against the hill.
A deck runs across the front. No lights on.
The Jeep pulls up into a turnout, headlights aimed at the deck and front door.
No one moves.
Then—Claire opens her door.
CLAIRE
We’re here.
She steps out, tightens her coat.
Breath plumes out fast.
Everyone else exits slowly, stiff from the ride.
Tommy looks up at the cabin.
A single loft window stares back like a dark eye.
CLAIRE
Let’s unload.
Stewart drops the front door key into his hand, dangling it.
Tommy snatches it, and bolts ahead.
LOW ANGLE – TOMMY ON THE BRIDGE
He runs across the wooden walkway—no guardrails, just a six-foot drop and the rushing creek beneath.
HEADLIGHTS backlight him as he reaches the front door.
He stops.
Reaches above the frame—finds the keyhole—unlocks and enters.
INT. CABIN – CONTINUOUS
Dark. Quiet. Musty.
Two dead mice lay decomposed in traps—left from the last visit.
Tommy flips the switch.
The ceiling fan light kicks on, flooding the room.
Then the chaos begins.
CLAIRE BARRELS IN, arms full of groceries, dropping them onto the table.
CLAIRE
Tommy, lights.
Molly, put away groceries.
Ryan—Tommy—help Stewart unload.
OUTSIDE – CONTINUOUS
Stewart is at the trunk.
The sound of gear shifting. Bags thumping into snow.
Ryan grabs two duffels.
Tommy drags the cooler—awkward and heavy.
He stops mid-way, catching his breath.
INT. CABIN – TOMMY POV
Just to the left of the front door, near a large picture window that looks out onto the woods,
a small loop of twine hangs—tied like a noose.
Too deliberate. Too clean.
It sways slightly, though there’s no draft.
Tommy tilts his head, unsettled.
RYAN (O.S.)
Yo—move it, T.O.
Tommy snaps out of it.
Tosses the duffel aside and heads back out.
Stewart pulls the last bags out,
But one detail catches his eye—a FOR SALE sign, sloppily hidden under a blanket.
He readjusts it, pushing it flat again.
STEWART
I’ll get the skis off the rack.
CAMERA HOLDS ON THE JEEP.
Its headlights remain on, steam curling from the hood.
We hold—
The yellow-white light glows against the cabin wall, burning into the wood like a brand.
He turns off the lights.
FADE TO BLACK.
✅ Scene 4 is now officially locked with full accuracy and detail. Let me know when you're ready for Scene 5.
INT. CABIN – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
JUMP CUT.
Dinner’s over.
Dishes clutter the kitchen table in the background.
A fire crackles low in the hearth.
TOMMY and MOLLY sit on the floor.
They’re half-playing a board game, half-arguing about the rules—childhood distraction laced with tension.
On the couch, CLAIRE reclines, her head resting in STEWART’s lap like a woman playing at peace.
She doesn’t look up.
She reads from a worn paperback:
“The Second Stage” by Betty Friedan, thumb tucked between the pages.
It’s not a new copy—creased, dog-eared, personal.
Stewart holds a glass of whiskey, staring across the room.
His gaze drifts—
From the firelight
To the kids
To nothing
He’s present, but only barely.
There’s warmth in the room.
But not connection.
For a moment, it almost looks like a postcard.
Then—
Claire turns a page too fast.
Stewart swirls his glass, but doesn’t sip.
Something underneath it all is off.
INT. CABIN – GRAND ROOM – NIGHT TO MORNING TRANSITION
END OF SCENE 5 – WIDE COMPOSITION LOCKED:
We face north.
· Fireplace centered.
· Grand window camera left.
· Kids on the floor.
· Stewart and Claire on couch, camera right.
· Kitchen table in foreground, cluttered with dishes.
On screen: FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27
The light has changed. Morning. Sunny-bright.
A sharp beam of sun slices through the blackout shades, cutting the room directly across where Stewart and Claire had sat the night before.
The kitchen table is now spotless.
Silence.
Dust motes swirl and dance in the beam like ash in water.
CAMERA MOVES — FLOATS INTO THE LIGHT
Dust pulses through the breath of the cabin.
The camera slides forward, gliding along the sunbeam toward the window now split by light—background out of focus.
A sudden thud against the glass.
The light beam fractures.
Silence.
WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!
A flurry of panic. Wings. Claws. Screeches.
Tommy bolts upright, gasping.
TOMMY
Mommy!
Claire’s eyes snap open.
She’s already moving.
Claire, Molly, Ryan rush into frame.
Tommy scrambles down the loft ladder, grabs Claire’s arm.
Another violent slam against the window.
Stewart appears, ski pole in hand like a weapon.
He approaches, then slides open the blackout shade.
A camp robber bird dangles from a twine noose—
the same loop Tommy noticed the night before.
Its wings are broken, flapping weakly.
Blood smears the window.
Feathers stick like static.
The bird lies dead in the snow.
Twine still tight around its feet. Deliberate. Clean.
Tommy, Molly, Ryan stand silently, watching.
On the deck behind them, Stewart uses a snow-packed glove to scrub the blood from the glass.
His movements are ritualistic. Unhurried.
The family stands outside, staring at the remains.
MOLLY
Why would anyone set something like that?
No answer.
Stewart flicks the bloody glove onto the ground.
His breath curls out, visible.
Something in the silence feels… permanent.
He turns.
STEWART
Get dressed.
We’re leaving for the slopes by nine.
FADE OUT.
“Tommy Left Behind”
EXT. WINTER PARK SKI RESORT — DAY
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27
The family unloads at the crowded ski resort.
CLAIRE
Molly, keep an eye on your brother.
MOLLY
Seriously?
Claire doesn’t respond. She’s already adjusting her gloves and nodding to Ryan.
· Claire skis ahead with Ryan, not looking back.
· Molly peels off, annoyed.
· Tommy, awkward in oversized gear, is quickly left behind.
He struggles with his snowboard, trailing the others, scanning for familiar faces.
Tommy arrives at the base of a lift.
A sign reads:
BLUE / BLACK – INTERMEDIATE TO EXPERT ONLY
He hesitates, confused.
Lost in the crowd, he’s nudged into the single rider line.
The lift operator waves him on without checking.
Tommy rides alone.
The chairlift climbs steeply.
Below: jagged pine trees, rocks, snowdrifts—no green runs in sight.
Suddenly—
The chair STALLS.
He hangs mid-air, high above a deep ravine.
Only the wind moves.
Beat.
Then—the chair lurches forward again.
Tommy grips the bar, silent, eyes wide.
He steps off.
Stares around.
No green trail signs.
Only ice-hard blue and black diamonds.
He lowers himself onto the snow.
DRONE SHOT – WIDE AND HIGH
Tommy slowly slides on his butt down the steep trail.
Tiny. Isolated.
His movement awkward, cautious, almost invisible from above.
Tommy sits in a stiff plastic chair, helmet in lap, face blank.
A ski patroller writes notes at a desk behind him.
He looks eerily still, an early echo of the final scene.
CLAIRE
He could’ve broken his neck! You said you’d watch him!
MOLLY
I was snowboarding! He’s not a baby, Mom.
CLAIRE
Then act like someone who gives a damn!
Stewart enters. Calm. Cuts through it.
STEWART
Hey bud. Let’s go home.
Tommy looks up. Nods.
He gets up silently.
NOTE:
“Hey bud. Let’s go home.”
The same words Stewart will speak again at the end of the film—
but next time, they’ll feel uncanny, distant, detached.
Here, they feel comforting—a rare flicker of connection.
The Jeep turns off the main highway, returning to the narrow, snow-covered forest road.
No one speaks.
Only the tires crunching slowly through deepening shadows.
“The Loop”
EXT. CABIN ROAD — LATE AFTERNOON — FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27
AFTER SKIING.
The Jeep is parked, steaming quietly in the cold.
INT. CABIN – ENTRYWAY
Everyone’s peeling off layers. Boots clunk. Snow melts onto the floor.
CLAIRE
Molly, will you put the sandwiches in the fridge?
MOLLY
We’re going for a walk.
Ryan and Molly exit quickly before Claire can object.
Snow crunches underfoot. The trees are unnervingly still.
INT. CABIN – LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
The door bursts open.
Molly enters—not hysterical, but deeply shaken.
MOLLY
Mom. Dad. You need to come see this.
She doesn’t wait for questions.
She walks back out.
Claire and Stewart follow—annoyed, still getting boots back on.
CLAIRE
What is it now?
MOLLY
Just watch.
Ryan is already standing in the road beyond the Jeep.
MOLLY (to Ryan)
Go ahead.
Ryan starts walking NORTH, away from the cabin—calm, steady pace.
The camera is locked from inside the house, behind the family—over-the-shoulder perspective.
TOMMY (O.S.)
What the fuck?
CLAIRE
Tommy!
They all stare.
From the SOUTH, Ryan appears again—walking up the road behind them.
The realization hits—he just walked away, and returned from the opposite direction.
STEWART
Do it again.
Ryan nods. Turns. Walks north.
Stewart turns and waits in the road, his breath visible.
Ryan disappears around the north curve.
And instantly—he reemerges from the south.
STEWART
One more time.
This time—Stewart walks SOUTH while Ryan walks NORTH.
We stay with Stewart, following him as he reaches the southern bend.
As he rounds the corner—
MATCH CUT TO:
Stewart walking into frame from the NORTH.
He stops.
The cabin is now on his left.
Claire, Molly, Tommy, Ryan all stare back at him in horror.
Ryan is frozen, staring at Stewart.
STEWART (quietly)
Everyone inside.
Stewart paces.
Ryan sits on the edge of the couch.
Molly is curled into Claire, crying softly.
Tommy sits alone in a massive square armchair—looking out the window, unheard, unacknowledged.
They’re all in shock. No one knows what to say.
The loop is closed.
They are trapped.
“Processing Inside”
INT. CABIN – NIGHT – FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27
Claire and Stewart argue behind the closed door.
Their voices are muffled but intense.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
You stood there like it was a science project.
They were terrified.
STEWART (O.S.)
So were you.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
I didn’t show it.
Back in the hallway, Molly listens.
She’s curled into Ryan on the couch, small, quiet, but completely alert.
“Processing Inside”
INT. CABIN – DINING AREA – NIGHT – FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27
The family sits at the dinner table, plates mostly untouched. The fire crackles low in the other room.
Tension hovers in the silence.
Claire sits upright. Stewart is seated but distant—arms crossed, jaw tight.
Molly leans into Ryan. Tommy is quiet, scanning faces.
CLAIRE
We saw what we saw.
That doesn’t mean we understand it.
Beat.
TOMMY
Was it… like magic or something?
Claire doesn’t even look at him.
CLAIRE
We’re going to stay calm. Rest.
Figure out what’s what.
MOLLY (quiet, direct)
I’m not sleeping alone. So unless you want me in that queen bed with you two—Ryan’s in my room tonight.
CLAIRE (flat)
Not a chance.
(She reconsiders.)
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
You two can take the futon.
But no locked doors.
Ryan fidgets. Molly stares. Stewart remains entirely silent.
Claire, suddenly disconnected, speaks to herself more than them:
CLAIRE
In the morning, we’ll go into town.
No one reacts. The entire table ignores her.
She straightens her silverware as if the conversation never happened.
“The Drunken Descent”
INT. CABIN – LOFT – NIGHT – LATER THAT SAME NIGHT
Tommy stirs from sleep.
He hears murmuring—low, slow, slurred.
He turns.
At the top of the ladder, hunched in silhouette, sits his father.
STEWART is backlit by the dying firelight—his face hollow, his posture sunken.
He doesn’t look at Tommy. He just speaks—more to the room than to his son.
His glass is empty for the first time in the film.
STEWART (soft, unraveling)
You ever feel it?
Like the whole world could crack open with one word.
Or none at all.
He pauses.
STEWART (CONT’D)
You know I almost walked off the scaffolding last month?
Not slipped. Not leaned.
Walked.
Tommy doesn’t move. He just listens.
STEWART
Your mom…
Christ. The things I used to do to keep her.
And now? She’s the one holding all of this up.
Not even blinking.
He finally looks at Tommy.
STEWART
That’s the part no one tells you.
You’re not afraid of dying.
You’re afraid of watching it all rot and still having to stay.
A long beat.
Stewart exhales.
Then, without warning, he drops down the ladder.
STEWART
You ever think about just… stepping off?
Not in some big dramatic way.
Just… not going where everyone expects.
(beat)
There’s a ridge out back—behind the trees.
You go up and over, there’s nothing marked.
No signs. No fences. Just a way that isn’t the way.
(he chuckles bitterly)
Maybe that’s where I fucked up—kept thinking the road would curve somewhere better.
Maybe I should’ve gone up sooner.
He turns slightly toward Tommy, but doesn’t meet his eyes.
STEWART
You gotta decide, son.
Stick to the path, or see what’s out there.
Both’ll cost you.
INT. CABIN – GRAND ROOM – CONTINUOUS
PROFILE SHOT — STEWART STANDING MID-FRAME
Behind him, in the blurred background:
The futon. There is rhythmic movement, low, intimate.
He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t comment.
Just breathes once.
STEWART (flat, emotionless)
I hope you survive.
He walks out of frame.
EXT. CABIN – NIGHT – LONG LENS SHOT
From the woods outside, we look back through the sliding glass door.
Inside:
The futon, lit only by firelight.
Bodies moving slowly, indistinct.
We stay there—watching.
Then darkness swallows the frame.
FADE OUT.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 11
“Where’s Dad?”
INT. MASTER BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING – SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28
The bed is half-empty. Claire stirs, groggy, reaching across instinctively.
Nothing.
She sits up slowly. Cold air. Quiet cabin.
INT. HALLWAY / GRAND ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Claire, in a robe, steps out. Bare feet on the wood floor. She squints into the open space.
Tommy stands at the window, completely still.
He doesn’t turn.
CLAIRE
Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy.
You scared me to death.
TOMMY
Where’s Dad?
Claire freezes. Her voice sharpens, but it’s performative.
CLAIRE
What do you mean? He’s—he’s probably in the garage.
But her eyes move.
Subtle things are off:
His jacket is missing.
His boots are gone.
Gloves still on the table.
A half-drunk mug sits cooling on the counter.
His keys are here.
TOMMY
Mom.
Tommy doesn’t say anything else—he just stares out the window.
Claire crosses to look.
The Jeep is in the turnout.
Passenger door ajar.
Snow falling lightly.
No footprints.
Across the road, a For Sale sign is planted, its angle oddly oblique—barely visible unless you knew to look.
Claire exhales slowly.
CLAIRE
Oh fuck.
EXT. JEEP – SECONDS LATER
Claire slams the passenger door shut. Circles to the driver’s side.
Climbs in. Tries the ignition.
Click.
Nothing.
Battery’s dead.
She stares through the windshield.
CLAIRE
(FUCK—)
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 13
“The Day is Wasted”
INT. CABIN – GRAND ROOM – SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28 – DAY
Snow falls harder now. The light outside is muted, flat. Inside, the cabin is heavy with unspoken tension.
CLAIRE paces near the wood stove, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
MOLLY and RYAN are slouched on the couch, half-playing a card game, half-flirting with inside jokes. Every time they laugh too loudly—
CLAIRE
(whipping around, razor-sharp)
Can we please just have one moment of quiet?
Silence. Ryan shifts, chastised. Molly glares at her mother but says nothing.
Across the room, TOMMY sits curled in a large, square armchair he’s dragged to face the window. A book rests in his lap, ignored. He wipes a small patch of fog from the glass and stares into the white void beyond.
In the kitchen, CLAIRE rearranges items that don’t need rearranging. Her agitation is mounting.
JUMP CUT TO:
EXT. CABIN – DECK – SUNSET
The sun bleeds low across the trees—golden, sterile. Everything is still. No birds. No wind. Just the ambient hum of silence.
CLAIRE steps onto the deck, slightly disheveled but composed. She wears Stewart’s oversized flannel, boots crunching softly on snow-covered boards.
Behind her, the cabin door remains open. A draft carries a dusting of snow into the house, unnoticed.
She walks to the edge of the deck, grips the splintered rail with both hands. Her breath curls in the cold. Shoulders drawn tight.
Long beat.
She opens her mouth—like she might speak to him, might reason with the trees.
But instead—
CLAIRE
(sudden, feral)
STEWART!
Her voice cracks across the valley.
CLAIRE
YOU FUCKING COWARD!
The words echo faintly. No answer.
She screams again—wordless. Primal. It tears from her chest like a creature being exorcised.
Then—silence.
Just the steady tick of meltwater from the roof, tapping the wood in slow, metronomic beats.
CLAIRE trembles—not from cold. She swipes at her face with the sleeve of the flannel, smearing tears into cotton. A sob rises but she crushes it down.
From behind: the soft creak of the cabin door opening.
MOLLY stands in the threshold, arms crossed, impassive. She watches Claire, then glances back into the house.
MOLLY
(flat)
She’s letting the cold in.
She shuts the door.
Claire doesn’t move.
The woods don’t answer.
FADE TO BLACK.
SMASH CUT TO:
“Dinner Without Him”
INT. CABIN – DINING ROOM – NIGHT – SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28
The table is set. Sort of.
Dinner has been forced. Performed. The air is brittle.
CLAIRE presides, wine glass near her hand but untouched.
She keeps glancing toward Stewart’s seat—still set, still empty.
On one side: TOMMY and MOLLY.
Opposite them: RYAN, isolated.
The food is cooling. No one has eaten.
CLAIRE
(too light, too fake)
Well… we’re all here.
TOMMY
Dad’s not.
CLAIRE
(stiff smile)
He’ll be back. He just needed time.
A beat.
MOLLY
He didn’t take the car.
CLAIRE
He needed air. And space. We all do.
Another beat.
MOLLY
He left his gloves. And his keys.
CLAIRE
(quiet)
Eat.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE
(quiet, barely holding herself together)
Eat.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE
(slightly tighter)
Eat.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE
(strained)
Eat.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE
(trembling)
Eat.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE
(bitter whisper)
Eat.
CUT TO:
CLAIRE
(sudden, sharp)
EAT!
SMASH BACK TO:
CLAIRE
(mask on, falsely calm)
Eat.
HOLD.
The family doesn’t respond.
Only the slow tick of melting snow from the eaves outside.
A beat.
CLAIRE
(resetting control)
Alright. New sleeping arrangements.
(beat)
CLAIRE
Molly, Ryan—you’ll take the guest room.
(another beat)
CLAIRE
Tommy—you’ll stay with me.
No one reacts.
MOLLY chews mechanically. RYAN glances at her, but she doesn’t meet his eyes.
TOMMY stares straight ahead, unmoving.
The camera begins a slow, gliding move around the table—revealing the fracture in physical space and body language.
Everyone is performing.
CLAIRE lifts her wine glass and smiles faintly—to no one.
One seat remains untouched.
The family is still here.
But the center is gone.
FADE OUT on Stewart’s empty chair.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 14
“Mother and Son”
INT. MASTER BEDROOM – NIGHT – DECEMBER 28
The room is dim, lit only by the soft blue cast of moonlight reflecting off the snow through a side window.
CLAIRE lies in bed, facing the window, glass of wine still half-full on the nightstand. She wears Stewart’s flannel like a shell. The other side of the bed is rumpled.
TOMMY lies beside her, small and stiff under the covers. His eyes are wide open. He does not face her.
There’s no sound. No wind. Just the occasional tick of meltwater from the eaves outside.
CLAIRE
(quiet)
Try to get some rest.
She reaches back without turning and rests a hand on Tommy’s back. He doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t respond either.
Long silence.
CLAIRE
(whisper)
You’re safe.
A beat.
She withdraws her hand. Turns slightly toward the window again.
Tommy stays frozen, eyes open in the dark, staring at nothing.
He blinks once.
The sound of distant dripping continues. A slow rhythm. A metronome for grief.
FADE TO BLACK.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 15
“The Bathroom Trip”
INT. MASTER BEDROOM / BATHROOM / HALLWAY – EARLY MORNING – DECEMBER 29
Darkness. The deepest part of night.
Only the faintest ambient glow seeps through the curtains—blue, shapeless.
TOMMY stirs beneath the covers. Restless. He grips his stomach, squirming.
A beat. Then he sits up, holding still—listening.
No sound but the faint creak of settling wood. The drip outside continues, slightly faster.
Tommy turns to glance at CLAIRE.
She’s asleep. One arm over her head. The wine glass still on the nightstand—now empty.
She snores in sharp, uneven gasps. Not cartoonish. More like sleep apnea. Moments of breath-holding, then sudden inhales that sound like choking.
Tommy pulls the covers back slowly.
INT. CABIN – HALLWAY – MOMENTS LATER
Tommy tiptoes barefoot down the cold hallway, pausing at shadows. He reaches the bathroom door. Opens it fast, as if outrunning something behind him.
INT. BATHROOM – CONTINUOUS
Tommy closes the door behind him. Fast. Not slamming—just enough to seal it.
He breathes. Relief.
The bathroom is dimly lit by a single overhead bulb.
He rushes toward the toilet, yanking his pajama bottoms down just in time, and sits—breathing hard.
He looks around.
The door opposite him—leading to the hallway toward the guest bedroom—is wide open.
Not ajar.
Wide open.
Fully exposed.
A yawning rectangle of pitch-black space. The light from the bathroom barely grazes the threshold before vanishing into the void. Beyond that: the grand room. Cold. Still. Watching.
We begin a slow, deliberate push into the darkness. No music. Just the hum of the lightbulb and the distant tick of meltwater.
The blackness seems to breathe.
A beat. Nothing.
Then—
A whisper. Almost inaudible.
DON’T.
Tommy freezes.
MOLLY (O.S.)
No, don’t.
A second whisper. Sharper. Caught between fear and habit.
RYAN (O.S.)
Come on, it’s fine.
MOLLY (O.S.)
One second.
CLICK.
A door shuts.
CLICK.
A lock turns.
Tommy just stares.
TRICKLE.
He pees. It startles him.
His shoulders rise instinctively.
He stays on the toilet, unmoving, watching that dark hallway door as if something might come through.
He doesn’t wipe. Doesn’t move. Just breathes—hyper-aware.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. GRAND ROOM – LIVING ROOM WINDOW – MORNING
Tommy sits in his big chair.
Shades fully open.
Binoculars in hand.
Eyes scanning. Watching. Waiting.
Let me know when you're ready for Scene 16.
what is the next scene from our docs
Based on all prior notes, approved progression, and detailed scene outlines, the next scene after Scene 15: “The Bathroom Trip” is:
INT. GRAND ROOM – EARLY MORNING – DECEMBER 29
This scene builds directly from the final shot of Scene 15 (Tommy in his chair at the window), and is part of the sequence showing the first full morning after Stewart has vanished.
You previously described it with the following key beats:
· Tommy is on alert, stationed in his oversized chair by the window, watching the road and woods with binoculars.
· The room is silent, eerie in its normalcy.
· Claire is awake, functioning, pretending. She may bustle in the background, sipping coffee or wine. She’s trying to maintain control.
· Ryan and Molly are physically close now—sitting near each other or brushing shoulders—but there’s an emotional distance.
o You described it as: “Ryan and Molly are now physically close but emotionally distanced.”
· Everyone is pretending things are normal, but it’s not sustainable. The cracks are spreading.
This scene contrasts false stability with Tommy’s hypervigilance, symbolizing a shift in family dynamics:
Stewart is gone. Tommy is beginning to watch in his place.
Let me know if you’d like me to output the full script version of this next scene.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 16
“The Fox”
INT. CABIN — GRAND ROOM — LATE AFTERNOON — DECEMBER 29
TOMMY sits in his oversized armchair, now pulled three feet back from the window. He’s silent. Binoculars in his lap. His sketchpad lies forgotten on the side table. His eyes scan the tree line with military focus.
Light outside has gone gray and static. Snow no longer falls — it just hangs, suspended. The forest is still.
TOMMY
(under breath)
There’s something there.
No response.
TOMMY
(louder)
There.
No one looks up. Not right away.
MOLLY and RYAN glance toward him from the couch.
CLAIRE wipes a plate dry in the kitchen. She cranes her neck, trying to see through the kitchen window.
TOMMY stands and gestures — pointing past the dirt turnout, toward the tree line.
MOLLY and RYAN join him at the grand window.
CLAIRE stays at the sink, half-watching.
TOMMY hands RYAN the binoculars.
RYAN
(squinting)
It’s just a fox.
TOMMY
No, it’s not.
EXT. TREE LINE — CONTINUOUS
A FOX stands partially obscured behind a tree across the dirt road. Too close. Still. Watching.
A thin streak of blood threads the snow behind it.
The fox steps forward.
Its skin is peeled. Hanging in shreds. Its fur remains in patches, clinging to raw muscle like a wet shawl.
RYAN lowers the binoculars.
RYAN
Jesus Christ.
CLAIRE crosses quickly to the grand window now.
The family stands together, framed against the glass.
They don’t need binoculars. The fox is that close.
The fox moves — not like an injured animal, but like a hunter. Low. Deliberate. It vanishes behind the parked Jeep.
A beat.
Then it reappears — slipping out between the tires.
It reaches the far side of the small wooden bridge.
It lowers its head.
It growls.
CLAIRE turns — the front door.
It’s not bolted.
She races across the room.
SPLIT SHOT — INSIDE / OUTSIDE
The fox breaks into a sprint.
CLAIRE slides the deadbolt home—
BAM.
The fox slams into the door. The house trembles.
CLAIRE
Bathroom. Go.
INT. BATHROOM — MOMENTS LATER
Four bodies cram into the small space. Bare feet on cold tile. CLAIRE stands closest to the door, wine glass still in hand.
BAM.
The fox hits the front door again.
BAM.
A third time.
BAM.
A fourth.
Then—silence.
A new sound begins.
Laughter.
But it’s wrong — high, lilting. Echoing faintly in the woods.
Then:
Ting.
A light scrape. Claws? Teeth? On glass?
Ting. Ting.
A growing rhythm.
TWANG.
The fox throws its full weight against the window.
CRASH.
The front window shatters.
Then—nothing.
No breathing. No growl. Just the wind moving through the house, like it belongs.
MOLLY
(whispers)
Is it in the house?
RYAN
Fucking god.
No one speaks.
INT. BATHROOM — TIME UNKNOWN
Stillness. The kind that bruises.
CLAIRE stares through the door.
TOMMY looks toward the side exit to the master.
TOMMY
We can see from the bedroom. Through the side door.
He glances at Claire — no reaction.
TOMMY
I’ll go.
He slips into the master bedroom.
CLAIRE flinches too late — performative protection.
INT. MASTER BEDROOM — CONTINUOUS
TOMMY pads barefoot across the carpet. Moonlight spills in through the curtained window. He moves slowly.
The hallway is dark.
He rounds the corner of the open doorway.
INT. GRAND ROOM — TOMMY’S POV
The front window is shattered. Snow blows gently in.
The fox lies inside — dead. Skinned. Still impaled on a jagged pane.
Blood spreads across the floorboards in fractal patterns.
Tommy stares.
FADE OUT.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 17
“The Fox’s Womb”
INT. GRAND ROOM – DUSK TO NIGHT – DECEMBER 29
TOMMY tiptoes closer.
Glass crunches underfoot.
The fox is motionless. Skinned. Impaled. But…
The belly shifts.
RYAN
(quiet, appearing beside him)
Oh shit...
(beat)
She was with pups.
From the gash in her stomach —
a tiny paw slips out.
Then retracts.
The belly moves again. Slowly. Something inside is trying to get out.
The fur trembles.
Then—another shift. Something pushes upward.
TOMMY stares, unblinking.
CLAIRE (O.S.)
(shrill, panicked)
Get that thing the fuck out of this house!
INT. FRONT ROOM – SECONDS LATER
RYAN grabs a snow shovel by the wall. Pale. Shaking. He scoops the fox—glass, blood, flesh—and hurls it backward through the broken window. More glass splinters.
It lands too close—thudding hard against the deck. Slides awkwardly. Just clears the edge. Still twitching.
INT. KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
CLAIRE and MOLLY stand at the window above the sink.
Outside, the fox carcass lies near the southern yard. Barely visible.
Its belly still moving.
No one speaks.
INT. GRAND ROOM – SAME
RYAN steps back from the window.
TOMMY
We need to close the window.
CLAIRE
Molly—get some blankets.
TOMMY
No.
(beat)
We need to close it. There’s plywood in the garage.
Beat.
CLAIRE
Ryan. Go get three sheets.
RYAN
(suddenly snapping)
Fuck you, Ms. Jones!
Stillness.
Above them—
a creak.
Then Ryan unloads.
RYAN
You wanna talk about fucked up? This family’s a fucking masterclass. Your husband’s an alcoholic ghost, your daughter’s got daddy issues so loud I can hear them through the drywall, and that kid’s so invisible he might as well be a chair.
CLAIRE just watches him.
RYAN
You think I don’t know what this is? You think I don’t see how you turned Molly into you? And me? I had a dad. Touched too much. That’s my legacy. You want to talk about monsters? We all brought our own.
His voice cracks.
RYAN
And I take accountability for my act—
THWUMP.
A blur. The mounted deer head falls straight from above.
It catches Ryan mid-sentence, mid-smile.
Antlers punch through his neck and collar.
His body folds, twitching under the weight of the mount.
He doesn’t scream. Just gurgles. Spasms.
He dies at Claire’s feet.
No one moves.
BANG.
A sudden knock at the front deck. Claire and Molly jolt—
—but it’s TOMMY.
He appears in the open frame of the shattered window.
He’s holding three sheets of plywood.
TOMMY
We need to close the window.
CLAIRE
Tommy—did you go out there?!
TOMMY
No, Mom.
(points)
We need to close it.
They follow his gaze.
EXT. SIDE YARD – NIGHT
The fox’s body has been torn open. The abdominal cavity is hollowed out.
One small pup lies halfway emerged—dead. Still.
But two bloody sets of paw prints lead off into the underbrush.
INT. GRAND ROOM – HOURS LATER
The window is boarded shut.
RYAN’S body lies under a blanket.
CLAIRE and MOLLY sit together on the far end of the couch.
TOMMY sits alone in his chair. Now facing back into the family room.
They are divided.
The wind rattles the plywood outside.
FADE OUT.
“The Fox’s Womb”
INT. GRAND ROOM / EXT. SIDE YARD — NIGHT – DECEMBER 29
We pick up where we left off.
CLAIRE, TOMMY, and MOLLY peer out the broken grand window.
CLAIRE exhales, trying to will normalcy into being.
Then they see it—
EXT. SIDE YARD — NIGHT
The fox’s body lies where Ryan flung it—just beyond the deck, near the base of the slope. Snow gathers on the carcass.
A slow dolly forward begins.
At first, we see a single red track—small, delicate, almost perfect—leading away from the torn-open body.
Then that track splits into three. One turns sharply. Two others rejoin.
We push in further.
Now we see it—the fox’s abdomen has ruptured open.
Three small pups lie dead atop her. Crushed. Torn. Their bodies still partially wrapped in membrane.
TOMMY (O.S.)
(soft)
There were more…
We cut to CLAIRE and TOMMY watching from inside. Claire’s face is blank. Pale. Trying to process.
She steps forward, cautiously, into the frame again.
CAMERA RETURNS TO THE BODY — CONTINUES DOLLY IN
We pass over the three dead pups. Behind the mother’s body, two more fresh red tracks now wind off toward the house.
They curve gently… under the front deck.
INT. UNDER THE DECK — NIGHT
A new angle.
From beneath the boards, we look up—warped wood silhouetted against faint light leaking from the windows above.
A sudden rustle. Then stillness.
We don't see anything clearly—just a suggestion of movement in the dark.
INT. CABIN — DECK THRESHOLD — MOMENTS LATER
Claire grabs Tommy, lifting him off the ground like he’s still little.
CLAIRE
(whispers)
Do not tell Mol.
She bolts inside.
Tommy glances back once, over her shoulder.
CAMERA STAYS OUTSIDE.
We hold on the porch.
Just for a beat.
Then—
A creak.
From beneath the boards.
FADE TO BLACK.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 18
“The Living Room / Claire’s Question”
INT. GRAND ROOM – NIGHT – DECEMBER 29
MOLLY is asleep, her head resting on CLAIRE’s lap. Her face still streaked with tears. Her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.
CLAIRE sits upright on the couch, eyes wide open. Her hand gently strokes Molly’s hair.
Across the room, TOMMY sits in his oversized chair, wrapped in a blanket, facing the boarded window.
A single lamp glows nearby.
The silence hums.
CLAIRE
Do you think I’m a good mom?
Tommy doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t answer right away.
CLAIRE
(sharper now)
Well?
Tommy finally turns, unsure what to say. His mouth opens—but before he can speak—
CLAIRE
(firm, brittle)
We need to move him.
Tommy doesn’t move.
CLAIRE
(quiet urgency)
The lights are still on out there. We’ll do it fast. Before he smells, Before the bears come.
Off Tommy’s blank stare—
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. DECK – NIGHT – MOMENTS LATER
Spotlights cast eerie beams across the snow.
RYAN’S BODY, wrapped hastily in a blanket, is dragged toward the door.
CLAIRE lifts one end. Tommy hesitates, then grabs the other.
They shuffle onto the deck.
Steam rises from the blood-soaked fabric.
CLAIRE
(quiet, like a prayer)
Just the edge. Just far enough.
They lower him by the stairs. Claire takes a breath.
INT. GRAND ROOM – NIGHT – LATER
TOMMY is back in his chair. Blankets wrapped tightly. Binoculars on his lap.
CLAIRE is in the kitchen, pouring a glass of wine.
MOLLY enters from the hallway.
She sees Claire.
Sees the empty couch.
SCENE 19
“Where Is He?”
INT. KITCHEN / GRAND ROOM – MORNING – DECEMBER 30
MOLLY is livid.
CLAIRE stands near the counter, wine glass in hand. Still in the clothes from the night before.
MOLLY
You moved him?!
(beat)
You just fucking moved his body?!
CLAIRE
(quietly)
We had to. It’s too warm. We don’t want the smell, or animals—
MOLLY
You don’t want?! You DON’T want?!
(snarling)
What the fuck is wrong with you!?
CLAIRE sets the glass down. Hard. It wobbles.
MOLLY
He was my boyfriend. And you—
(beat, venomous)
You just dragged him like trash?
CLAIRE
It wasn’t like that—
MOLLY
(advancing)
No. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to pretend like you didn’t do it.
CLAIRE
(voice cracking)
I did what I had to do.
MOLLY
Okay then—
(beat)
MOLLY
(ice cold)
Then where is his fucking body?
CLAIRE freezes.
MOLLY
(harder)
Where is he?
CLAIRE
(quietly)
I don’t know.
A beat.
MOLLY
What?
CLAIRE
(again, fragile)
I don’t know.
We cycle through several takes:
— CLAIRE, calm and disconnected: I don’t know.
— CLAIRE, blank and numb: I don’t know.
— CLAIRE, cracking, breathless: I don’t… know.
— CLAIRE, screaming with everything inside her:
CLAIRE
I DON’T KNOW!!
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. CABIN – OVERHEAD – MORNING
A God’s eye view. The bridge divides the screen in half.
SOUTH SIDE (camera left):
— The fox’s carcass.
— Three bloody tracks leading away from it.
— Two tracks veer back toward the cabin—disappearing beneath the deck.
NORTH SIDE (camera right):
— A snow angel. Slightly malformed.
— The severed deer head lies askew in the snow.
— A blood trail… where RYAN had been laid.
But now—
Only drag marks.
Leading under the house.
“New Seating / Echoes of Ryan / Meteor Omen”
INT. CABIN – LATE AFTERNOON TO NIGHT – DECEMBER 31
INT. GUEST ROOM – LATE AFTERNOON
MOLLY is curled on the bed, facing the window. The sheets are tangled around her knees. Her body shakes with a silent, guttural sob—grief with no language.
The door opens softly. CLAIRE enters, doesn’t say a word. She sits on the bed beside her daughter and pulls her in, arms encircling her. MOLLY collapses into her like she’s five again.
They both stare out the north-facing window.
The trees are dark. Still. Thick.
Then—
In the far distance, between two narrow trunks:
A figure moves.
Wide frame.
It’s carrying something—a body, slung over its shoulder. Ryan.
Antlers silhouette against the fading light.
Gone in an instant.
CLAIRE doesn’t react.
She just keeps holding Molly.
INT. DINING ROOM – NIGHT
TIME PASSES.
The table is set again—this time stripped down to the bare minimum. A single candle. One pot. Metal camping dishes.
TOMMY now sits at the head of the table—in Stewart’s old chair. No one mentions it.
On the opposite end: CLAIRE and MOLLY, shoulder to shoulder. There’s a tenderness now between them. Molly leans into her mother slightly. They share quiet glances.
A new polarity has formed. Tommy, still and watchful, is on his own.
Forks scrape. Fire crackles. A bulb buzzes overhead.
The whole house hums like it's waiting for something.
CLAIRE
We’ll go into town the moment the road’s clear.
No one responds.
Then—
FLASH.
A searing light ignites the sky outside the window. For a moment, it looks like daytime again.
Everyone flinches.
EXT. SKY – NIGHT
A meteor tears across the clouds, trailing sparks like embers from heaven.
Then—
BOOOOOOOOOOM.
The whole house shudders.
INT. DINING ROOM – CONTINUOUS
The light bulb explodes. The power dies.
TOMMY
(almost excited)
Sonic boom! That was a sonic boom!
CLAIRE
Tommy—
TOMMY
The light outran the sound—faster than sound! That means it entered at—
CLAIRE
Stop!
Silence.
The fire is now the only light.
Outside: the wind picks up.
Claire does not go to the window. She keeps her eyes away from the glass.
INT. GRAND ROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT
All bedding has been dragged in front of the hearth.
MOLLY is curled next to CLAIRE again, but this time there’s more tension in her grip—more fear.
TOMMY sleeps alone, on the other side of the fire. Still in his father’s old chair. Eyes open.
They all lie in darkness, broken only by the firelight flickering against the boarded window.
A distant creak echoes from beneath the floorboards.
No one moves.
OVERHEAD – CABIN INTERIOR
Three shapes. Firelight. Long shadows.
The bridge outside divides the frame—one side safety, the other a threshold.
Then—
One final meteor arcs above the clouds.
It lights the tree line just long enough to reveal—
A silhouette.
Still. Far. Watching.
FADE TO BLACK.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 20
“The Meteor Shower”
INT. CABIN – NIGHT – DECEMBER 30
Silence.
No wind. No foxes. No screams. Just a strange, suspended stillness.
INT. LOFT – LATER
The family has gathered in the loft above the kitchen. Pillows and blankets are arranged in a makeshift nest.
TOMMY, MOLLY, and CLAIRE lie on their backs, looking out the wide south-facing loft window.
Outside, the stars are brilliant—uncannily so. The clouds are gone. The moon, just shy of full, hangs luminous above the treeline, casting soft shadows across the snow-covered yard.
TOMMY
(softly)
It’s a meteor shower. Quadrantids, I think. Happens every year end of December.
MOLLY watches the sky, her fingers tightly gripping the edge of her blanket.
MOLLY
You sure it’s not fireworks?
TOMMY
Meteors don’t make sound. And they’re faster.
(beat)
You can get up to 120 an hour in peak bursts. But only for like... a second or two.
They watch. A brief streak slices through the sky.
CLAIRE, silent until now, sits a little apart. Her wine glass is on the floor beside her.
Another meteor—brighter, longer—flares overhead.
The light bathes the snow-covered woods.
Claire’s expression changes.
She isn’t looking at the sky.
She’s looking down.
CLAIRE’S POV – EXT. FOREST – CONTINUOUS
The moonlight, amplified by the meteor’s flash, reveals the woods beyond the creek—eerily clear.
For a moment, she sees it:
Figures—tall, still—standing in the spaces between trees. Not moving. Just watching. Not quite human. Not quite shadow.
CLAIRE
(whispered, to herself)
No... no, no.
She waits for another meteor. A long pause. Then a weak streak of light. Not enough.
Nothing in the woods moves. No figures. No confirmation.
She waits again. Breath held. Her eyes locked on the treeline.
Nothing.
Is she losing it?
The forest stays still.
Another meteor—faint—then silence.
She slams the curtains shut with sudden force.
CLAIRE
That’s enough.
The room is dim again. The family looks over. No one says anything.
Tommy watches her. Then slowly lies back down, eyes still open.
EXT. CABIN – LATER THAT NIGHT
The moon hangs heavy.
The cabin’s south side is still bathed in silver light.
The forest beyond is a lattice of shadows.
And just past the creek—barely visible in the dark—a figure shifts between the trees.
FADE OUT.
Let's expand we need to do a hole passage of time for another day locked inside. Dinner this time has Tommy at the head of the table, he has switch his chair out for his fathers chair, but at the other end of the table Molly sits closer more aligned with Claire. The new distance is noticiable. Then have them knotice something light up the sky. In the darkness the sky lights up bright but her moment to see is gone. she is about to start to talk again, and BOOOOOOM! the whole house shakes, and the power goes out. Tommy is screaming Sonic Boom Sonic Boom. She dare not look out again. The family sleeps infront of the fire, no electricity, no heat.
Absolutely. Here's the fully expanded version of that passage, reflecting the passage of time, the shifting family dynamics, and the jarring arrival of the sonic boom:
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 21
“New Seating” / Power Outage
INT. CABIN – GRAND ROOM – NIGHT – DECEMBER 31
TIME PASSES.
The day drags. No one goes outside. No one speaks much.
By dinner, the emotional landscape has shifted once more.
INT. DINING TABLE – NIGHT
The table is re-set. Fewer dishes. Simpler food.
The lighting is dim—just enough electricity left to power a few weak bulbs and the overhead fixture. It flickers occasionally.
At the head of the table now sits TOMMY. He’s pulled STEWART’S armchair to his place. No one comments on it.
CLAIRE and MOLLY sit side-by-side at the far end. Claire occasionally refills Molly’s glass. They share quiet mutters. There’s a growing intimacy—something in Molly now seeks out her mother.
The new physical distance between Tommy and the others is obvious. It’s a division of sides.
A long pause. The family chews in silence.
CLAIRE
We’ll go into town the moment the road’s clear.
No one answers.
Then—
A sudden light flashes across the window. Daylight bright for one surreal second.
The family flinches.
EXT. SKY – NIGHT
A meteor tears across the sky, white-hot. Trailing sparks.
INT. GRAND ROOM – CONTINUOUS
They all rush to the window. Claire hesitates.
MOLLY
Was that a plane?
TOMMY
No... no, that was—
BOOOOOOOOOM.
A massive sonic boom shakes the entire house. Dishes rattle. The overhead light blows out. The whole cabin groans under the pressure.
Darkness.
TOMMY
(almost shouting, excited)
Sonic boom! That was a sonic boom!
CLAIRE
Tommy—
TOMMY
That means it broke the sound barrier. The light came first because it was faster than the sound—
CLAIRE
Stop!
Her voice cuts through the dark.
No one moves. The only light now comes from the low flicker of the fire.
Claire doesn’t go back to the window.
She doesn’t want to know what else is out there.
INT. GRAND ROOM – HOURS LATER
The fire is the only source of light and heat. The family has moved their bedding to the floor nearby.
Blankets layered. Shoes nearby. Just in case.
CLAIRE sleeps sitting up, her back against the stone fireplace.
MOLLY is curled beside her.
TOMMY lies opposite—on the far end of the fire, near the broken window now boarded up. His sleeping bag is zipped up to the chin. Eyes wide open.
No one speaks.
The sound of the wind outside is louder now. Harsher.
Something creaks beyond the boards. It could be wood. Could be footfall.
They don’t investigate.
They just stay close to the fire.
The camera drifts slowly upward—
OVERHEAD VIEW – CABIN INTERIOR – NIGHT
Three small shapes lying around the glow of the hearth.
Outside, the sky pulses faintly. Cloud cover returns. But just before it does—
One last meteor slices overhead. And for a split second—
A silhouette stands at the edge of the woods.
Not moving. Watching.
Then the clouds close again.
And the fire continues to burn.
FADE TO BLACK.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 22
“The Return / The Vanishing”
INT. CABIN – GRAND ROOM – EARLY MORNING – JANUARY 1
The camera drifts through the faint pre-dawn haze.
CLAIRE, MOLLY, and TOMMY are bundled in blankets on the floor before the fire.
It has burned low—embers glowing soft red, casting faint pulses across the stonework.
Silence.
Then—
A distant, blood-curdling SCREAM.
Not a howl. Not an animal.
A man.
STEWART.
The family bolts upright.
CLAIRE gasps.
MOLLY
(sitting up fast)
Dad?
They scramble to their feet. CLAIRE throws on Stewart’s flannel again, barefoot.
EXT. CABIN – FRONT DECK – SECONDS LATER
The door bursts open.
The SUN is up now—blindingly bright.
The snow has crusted under the night’s freeze.
It’s shockingly clear. Still.
Then again—
STEWART (O.S.)
(screaming in pain, from somewhere deep in the woods)
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
TOMMY drops to one knee, yanks up the binoculars.
CLAIRE and MOLLY spin, listening.
MOLLY
Where is he?!
CLAIRE
Tommy?
Tommy sweeps the horizon, heart pounding in rhythm with his breathing.
TOMMY
Got him.
He points.
From his POV:
Up on the southern ridge, high in the trees—something glistens.
Through the binoculars:
STEWART.
He is impaled through the shoulder on a limb 20–25 feet off the ground, body dangling grotesquely on the downhill side of a tree.
His face is sunburnt. Lips cracked.
But he looks… recent.
Fresh.
Like he just left yesterday.
He SCREAMS again, looking down the hill.
STEWART
CLAIRE! MOLLY! HELP ME!!
MOLLY gasps.
MOLLY
Dad!
She takes off running—barefoot—across the snow.
CLAIRE
Molly, no!
Claire turns to Tommy, panicked.
CLAIRE
Stop her!
Tommy hesitates—then bolts after her.
EXT. SNOWFIELD LEADING TO TREELINE – CONTINUOUS
Molly is fast. Furious. Screaming for her father.
Stewart screams back—matching her rhythm.
STEWART
MOLLY!!!
MOLLY
I’m coming!!
Claire runs behind them both, shoeless, frantic.
Tommy stumbles to the edge of the field and stops.
He raises the binoculars again—searching.
He sees:
Molly—just 20 yards ahead—enters the shadow of the treeline.
And then—
Sound cuts out.
Like a switch flipped.
Silence.
No birds. No wind. No Stewart.
Claire catches up—kneels beside Tommy, panting. She grabs the binoculars, rips them from his hands.
She scans.
From her POV:
Stewart is gone.
So is the broken branch.
The tree limb that had skewered him is whole again—untouched. Covered in snow.
Claire looks down.
Just ahead, Molly’s tracks lead into the forest—then stop.
One last deep impression in the snow.
Then nothing.
CLAIRE stares. Trembling.
She lowers the binoculars.
Then looks at Tommy.
CLAIRE
Inside. Now.
She grabs his wrist.
They turn.
We hold on the empty woods.
Then:
EXT. UNDER THE CABIN – CONTINUOUS
From the shadows beneath the deck—
The camera slides low.
The skinned fox is gone.
Just a drag line remains in the snow, leading under the house.
FADE TO BLACK.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 23
“New Year’s Dinner” / Just the Two of Us
INT. CABIN – DINING TABLE – NIGHT – JANUARY 1
The table is half-set.
Two plates.
Two forks.
One dim lamp overhead.
CLAIRE sits across from TOMMY.
She sips wine—the same glass, nearly empty. A bottle stands near her, uncorked, nearly gone.
She’s not drunk. She’s not even present.
The food is barely touched.
Some canned beans. Dry cornbread. A reheated potato.
Tommy pushes food around. He’s not hungry.
CLAIRE lifts the wine bottle and gestures slightly toward his glass—still empty.
CLAIRE
Want some wine?
A pause. She almost laughs at herself.
CLAIRE
Right. Of course you don’t.
She pours more into her own glass instead.
Tommy doesn’t respond. Just watches her. Still.
She drinks.
They sit in silence.
The ticking of the clock loud in its emptiness.
CLAIRE
I was in labor with you for twenty-one hours.
No preamble. Just drops the sentence into the stillness.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
New Year’s Eve. The nurses had party hats on.
She stares at her plate.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
They said, “Maybe he’ll be our first baby of the new year.”
Beat.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
But you waited. January 1st. Stubborn.
She forces a smile.
Tommy looks down. Unsure if he should respond.
Then—
TOMMY
Do you think she’s gone?
Claire doesn’t look up.
CLAIRE
I think Molly made a choice.
The way she says it—flat, cold, distant.
Tommy’s eyes search her face.
TOMMY
What kind of choice?
Claire stares forward.
CLAIRE
I don’t know.
She drinks. Quiet.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
I don’t know anything anymore.
They sit. Still.
The wind moans outside. A soft creak rolls through the walls.
Tommy stands up slowly. Leaves his plate half-full.
Claire doesn’t stop him.
He walks away toward the loft stairs.
She doesn’t follow.
Claire drinks.
Alone now.
Only the faint sound of the wind and ticking clock remain.
FADE OUT.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 24
“Something in the Spokes”
INT. CABIN – LOFT LADDER / GRAND ROOM – MORNING – JANUARY 2
Muted daylight creeps through the boarded windows.
Snow filters down outside, windless and slow.
CLAIRE descends the ladder from the loft—
One hand gripping the rung,
The other cradling an empty wine glass and a water.
Her eyes are hollow.
She doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t blink much.
Behind her—
the front door is wide open.
At first, we don’t notice.
Then we do.
The cold blue morning pours in through the opening.
And far off—
TOMMY stands at the edge of the bridge.
Alone.
Tiny in the distance. Still. Looking.
The camera slowly racks focus—
Out past Claire.
Past the door.
To what Tommy sees:
A straight shot into the field.
An old whiskey barrel rests, somehow freshly placed.
A broken wagon wheel leans against it—its spokes splayed in the snow.
And tangled—woven—into those spokes, like a child’s nightmare of a pinwheel:
fabric.
Hair.
Flesh.
At first, it’s abstract. Almost artistic.
Then—
We see the pink cloth from Molly’s jacket.
TOMMY doesn’t move.
He’s frozen.
The wind gently stirs his hair.
Not blinking. Just staring.
CLAIRE finally steps outside. Slowly.
She shields her eyes.
Follows Tommy’s gaze.
Stops cold.
The wind picks up.
She can’t scream.
She can’t move.
She just… stands there.
And the sound of water rushing under the ice grows louder.
FADE TO WHITE.
_Note: Molly’s body is mostly intact, but the head, hands, and feet have been removed. In their place—sticks and branches—arranged in a grotesque scarecrow form.
Tommy always collects sticks like these—always in his hands, a sensory habit. It’s subtle, but now echoes back with chilling significance._
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 25
“What Have You Done?” / Escape
INT. CABIN – GRAND ROOM / KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
CLAIRE storms back inside. Her body rigid with grief, terror, rage.
Tears streaming now—but not from sorrow. From fury.
TOMMY approaches the threshold, still outside.
In his hands: a small bundle of sticks. Always with him.
CLAIRE turns back—
She sees the sticks.
Her breath catches.
Then:
CLAIRE
(voice cracking)
What… what is that?
TOMMY steps forward, one foot inside.
CLAIRE
SCREAMING
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS FAMILY?!
Tommy’s eyes go wide.
She retreats toward the kitchen, eyes on him like he’s an animal.
She grabs the oil lantern from the mantle—still half-full.
CLAIRE
(yelling)
GET OUT!
She hurls it.
It shatters on Tommy’s empty chair—
Oil and flame splash the coffee table, the rug, the curtains.
WHOOMPH.
The fire explodes instantly.
TOMMY shields his face. The flames roar.
He looks back—
Claire is grabbing a kitchen knife.
TOMMY
Mom—
Stop! What are you doing?
CLAIRE
You brought this here. You brought this into our house.
He stares—hurt, horrified.
TOMMY
I didn’t—
CLAIRE
GET AWAY FROM ME!!
She rushes into the hallway—into the bathroom—and slams the door.
Tommy chases but doesn’t enter.
He pounds on the door.
TOMMY
Mom, we have to go.
We have to get out of here.
This is going to kill us.
No response.
The flames crackle louder behind him.
He rests his head against the door. Then kneels.
TOMMY
(softly)
Please. I didn’t hurt her.
You know I didn’t.
We can’t stay here.
Please, Mom…
Beat.
Then—
SWIPE!
A knife blade lashes out from beneath the door.
It slices through his jeans, across the top of both knees.
Tommy falls back, crying out in pain, leg bleeding.
He stares at the door—realization sinking in.
His mother—
Wants him dead.
Beat.
He stands.
Walks to the coat rack.
Grabs his parka, boots, snacks, water bottle, backpack.
He puts them on slowly. No more tears.
Just silent focus.
He steps into the fire-lit foyer, smoke thick now.
The cabin is being devoured.
EXT. BRIDGE – CONTINUOUS
Tommy crosses the bridge.
The fire reflected in the ice below.
The snow flurries swirl through smoke and ash.
He doesn’t look back.
EXT. ROAD – FOREST EDGE – MOMENTS LATER
He walks slowly, deliberately.
Reaching the entrance to the forest road—the loop.
He stops.
Looks back once.
The cabin glows orange behind him.
The trees near it are now catching.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. ROAD – DAY – UNKNOWN TIME
MATCH FRAME:
Tommy, same posture.
Same location.
But—
The fire is gone.
The sky is overcast. Snow gently falls.
Tommy stands alone, backpack straps torn and frayed.
Blood dried on his jeans. Eyes vacant. Hollow.
He’s been through hell.
SILENCE.
Then—
A TRUCK ENGINE.
Tires on snow.
Honking.
SCREECH.
The truck just misses him, barreling past—like the elk before.
Tommy doesn’t flinch.
Just watches it go.
Jump cut to
FADE OUT.
THE DIVIDE — SCENE 26
“Rescue?” / The End
EXT. FOREST LOOP ENTRANCE – DAY
MATCH FRAME:
TOMMY stands motionless where the dirt road meets the main highway.
Bruised. Bloodied. Frozen.
Snow falls in soft spirals.
His eyes, dead forward.
JUMP CUT:
INT. PICKUP TRUCK – FRONT CABIN – DAY
We’re now inside the warm cab of an older couple’s truck.
Tommy sits in the middle seat, wrapped in a blanket.
Staring forward. Mute. Disassociated.
The couple on either side of him—just voices and outlines.
We never clearly see their faces.
They talk around him.
WOMAN (O.S.)
—just wandering the road like that.
It’s a miracle he wasn’t hit.
MAN (O.S.)
They said the house burned all the way down. Nothing left but the stone.
WOMAN (O.S.)
I still can’t believe the story out of Black Hollow last year.
Wasn’t it a boy too?
MAN (O.S.)
Mmm. Not this again.
WOMAN (O.S.)
I’m just saying…
These poor kids. Sometimes they…
you know, snap.
Beat.
They go quiet as the road hums under the tires.
Outside the window, snow-covered pine trees slide past.
Then—
The sound fades, and we’re back in the dreamlike quiet of Tommy’s perspective.
Just wind.
Breath.
Heartbeat.
And then—
STEWART (O.S.)
Hey, bud.
TOMMY slowly turns.
There, standing outside the passenger window, is STEWART.
Calm. Solid. Smiling like nothing ever happened.
STEWART
Let’s get out of here.
CUT TO:
EXT. DIRT ROAD – MOMENTS LATER
The Jeep Wagoneer idles, then turns down the snow-covered forest road.
Tommy now sits in the front seat beside his father, still in that half-trance.
TOMMY
Dad… what happened?
STEWART
Nothing we can’t fix.
The truck rolls forward, tires crunching snow.
The camera tilts upward, toward the mountains in the distance.
There—
Smoke.
Flames.
The forest is burning.
A line of fire crawls through the trees—
Right where the cabin used to be.
Tommy turns to the window—
He sees it too.
His breath catches. He opens his mouth—
CUT TO BLACK.
THE END.
© 2025 Ross Grogan. All rights reserved.