HALLO’SCENES #1: “The House On Hill Street”
As the horrific day approaches, ( no, I don’t mean the election though that’s horrific enough), why not have a little scary fun with these “Hallo’Scenes,” short macabre skits for the season! There are five (5) of them, to be strung out like a Mummy’s wrappings over the next few days leading to the big day. So turn down the lights, grab a candle or two, put on some spooky music and read on — ! Maybe assign speaking roles to the ghouls and goblins in your family or coven. Plenty of shock scares and laughs abound — check with your doctor for any medical contraindications! First up —
“The House on Hill Street”
CURTAIN UP:
The SET is the living room of a dark house. Windows and casements are festooned with cobwebs and a LOW FOG OOZES over the floor. Outside, a thunderstorm rages. Flashes of LIGHTING reveal sparse, sheet-covered furniture including a central table and chair.
During one of the FLASHES, we catch a glimpse of a FIGURE moving through the gloom. A door opens and another FIGURE backs into the room toward the first figure. In a FLASH OF LIGHTNING, the two figures meet — there is a SCREAM.
A flashlight is switched ON, and three people are revealed — BILL CLUTZ, 30’s, bedraggled and nervous, his wife, SUSAN, also 30’s, who clutches a portable typewriter as if for dear life. And, lastly, MRS. BOCHNER, age unknown, whose occupation we might easily guess is “witch,” were it not for the blood-red real estate jacket she wears proudly.
Susan starts to scream again; Bill stifles it.
MRS. BOCHNER: Oh, don’t hold it in. I just 1ove it when a house showing starts with a good scream. It’s an omen!
Bill and Susan exchange fearful looks. Bill summons his courage, and voice.
BILL: You must be Mrs. Bochner? We’re the Clutzes; I’m Bill and this is my wife, Susan —
Mrs. Bochner regards them as if they were ingredients for a favorite stew. Bill flashes the light around the room.
BILL: So this is the house on Hill Street!
MRS. BOCHNER: Yes! Now as I told you on the phone, Mister Clutz, we at Eternity 21 specialize in, shall I say, unusual properties. My card —
She proffers a card which Susan takes.
SUSAN (READING): Eternity 21 Reality — “We’re Haunted, but Neighborly.”
MRS. BOCHNER (PROUDLY): We pride ourselves on the largest registry of Spirited homes in New England —
From somewhere, a former “tenant” goes bump in the night. Susan clutches Bill.
SUSAN: Was,…was someone else scheduled to see the house today — ?
MRS. BOCHNER (MIFFED): My dear, I’m a professional! You won’t find any looky-loos here, not living anyway!
She laughs raucously. Another CRASH, and Susan turns for the door. Bill grips back of her raincoat just in time.
BILL: You’ll have to forgive Susan; you see, we had a little trouble with our car on the way here —
SUSAN (MOCKING): A little trouble, like it tried to kill us?
BILL: Honey, the accelerator got a little stuck, that’s all —
MRS. BOCHNER (SMILES): How exciting! This house hasn’t tried to kill anyone before completing escrow in years! I think it likes you!
BILL: You see, honey, the house likes us.
SUSAN: Yeah, and Hannibal Lector likes fava beans! Bill, let’s get a condo —
MRS. BOCHNER: (WORRIED SHE’S LOSING THE SALE) Perhaps if I showed you around?
BILL: Uh, sure thing. (TO SUSAN) C’mon, honey, give the place a chance —
Susan shrugs reluctantly as Mrs. Bochner walks them through the room. A GHOSTLY WHINE echoes down a hallway.
SUSAN (SHIVERING): One good thing; at least the air conditioning works, right? Brrr…
MRS. BOCHNER: No such thing, sweetie. One of our previous tenants must’ve just walked through your soul.
Susan starts to bolt; Bill stops her.
BILL: Look at it this way, Sue — it’s energy-efficient!
A chair moves inexplicably.
SUSAN: Mrs. Bochner, d-did that chair just move by itself??
MRS. BOCHNER: Of course not! The Spirit of a deceased Servant regularly rearranges all the furniture.
BILL (REACHING): Just think, honey — no crushed pile marks in the carpet.
Susan doesn’t buy it; she turns to leave. Bill steadies her.
BILL: Look, Mrs. Bochner, my wife and I need some time to talk things over.
MRS. BOCHNER: Not another word. I’m a professional!
There is another FLASH and Mrs. Bochner DEMATERIALIZES into a CLOUD OF FOG.
SUSAN: Where’d that crazy lady go?
BILL: Some sort of laundry chute — ?
SUSAN: That reminds me; I left some things in the dryer!
She bolts for the door; Bill grabs her, pulling her to CENTER.
BILL: Let’s get serious, honey. We’ve got a book to write — “The Poltergeists of the Amityville Horror Strikes Back on Friday The l3th —
SUSAN: — “Part Three”, I know! (SHRUGS) Next week is the deadline. Unfortunate choice of words there.
BILL: However you put it, we are in desperate need of a page one rewrite! This house is our one and only chance to scare up some fresh ideas!
SUSAN (PLEADING): Bill, you know me; nothing gets to me. I sat through “Halloween II” five times, or was it “Halloween V” two times?? The point is, I’ve always been immune to jump scares. But this piece of real estate is the real thing, Bill — real ghosts! Ghosts who may not look fondly on unauthorized biographies!
BILL: We’ll offer ’em a percentage of the gross?
SUSAN: Gross is the just the word; Oh, Bill, let’s go home , pulease — !
BILL (BLOCKS THE DOOR): Susan, are you forgetting that you and I took a sizable advance to write this book. If I remember, you spent most of yours on that purple Mercedes outside…
SUSAN: Send it back: the color clashes with my goosebumps!
BILL: But don’t you see? This’s just what we’ve been missing! We always came up with our best scary ideas when the two of us were scared out of our own wits! (HE LAUGHS) Remember the time I dangled that spider over your typewriter?
SUSAN (CONCEDES): So, the electric typewriter went on ‘auto-pilot’ for a few minutes —
BILL: — And turned out three of the most grisly chapters we’ve ever written! The day the power went out? — remember that? You finished our second book a week early!
SUSAN: I had to, so we could pay the power bill. That was not fear of the supernatural; it was fear of starving! Bill, it won’t be easy, but we can pay back that advance. Let’s get out of here while we still can —
BILL: (GETTING PULLED IN) No, honey … I can feel a story Here in this ramshackle dump, waiting to be told. I’m going to tell Mrs. Bochner we’ll take it. Hey, where is she anyway?
They go to the door — locked. They go to the windows — which SLAM SHUT in their faces. Trapped, they start to panic. Just then, FLASHES OF LIGHTNING strafe the room, and Mrs. Bochner suddenly REMATERIALIZES.
SUSAN (RELIEVED): Oh, Mrs. Bochner! We thought you’d left us!
MRS. BOCHNER (BEGINS TO MOVE IN): Never.
BILL: We’ve decided to take the house —
MRS. BOCHNER (TURNS TO BILL, SMILING): And the house has decided to take you —
BILL (BACKING AWAY): I guess there’ll be a lot of paperwork — (TRYING TO FEND OFF MRS. BOCHNER) Well, un, shouldn’t we at least shake hands to seal the deal — ?
MRS. BOCHNER: So impersonal. I prefer something more lasting —
And with that, Mrs. Bochner swoops in, biting Bill full on the neck — he struggles, screaming, but finally succumbs. A CLOUD OF FOG engulfs them both. Susan screams, aghast at what has happened, then collapses at the table.
After a beat, the FOG DISSIPATES. Susan revives, turning to her portable typewriter. Flipping open the lid and scrolling a piece of blank paper into the carriage, she types quickly and effortlessly …
SUSAN: “When we finally decided to buy the house on Hill Street, it was my husband, Bill, who first became attached to it…”
Typing continues as LIGHTNING FLASHES rise to a pitch, the SHUTTERS FLAP. The set goes DARK.
CURTAIN.
