Lucretia
01-17-2001, 08:13 PM
<font color=669966>So, a friend of mine has an idea for a movie. I think that if he could bring this to life, it would be fucking amazing. This is just the beginning, so I don't want to hear shit about it not having a good ending.
Frank wakes up one morning in his two-story suburban house, at any point in the present. He begins his morning routine, taking a shower, getting dressed for work, etc. He goes downstairs to where his wife is cooking a nice, home-made breakfast. Frank sits down at the table where his two children are sitting. Both dressed in Catholic school uniforms. All of a sudden, the boy of the family has his arms and legs torn off by some unknown force. Blood is spurting everywhere, covering the dining room (which was once nicely furnished) in dark red blood. The last look ever made on Frank’s son is one of happiness, as if he was pleased for this to happen, to die. Once Frank, his wife and his daughter finish screaming in terror, they resume breakfast as if nothing had happened. Frank’s son’s torso and head are still there, blood dripping onto the floor from the chair and small spurts are still coming out from where Frank’s son’s arms and legs used to be.
Picking up the morning paper, Frank examines the non-descript headlines which, will, ultimately mean nothing to him at all. Reading through the headlines, he notices bloood red stains coming through the newspaper, and he looks over the paper. He sees his wife’s clothes torn off, her breasts gone, and blood shooting straight out at him. To avoid the blood, he makes a quick duck under the table. Blood is shooting out of where her rather large breasts used to be, the remaining fat dripping down her stomach. The sprays of blood are so strong that they are able to open the swinging door into the kitchen and spraying the opposing wall inside the kitchen. The flow of blood slowly comes to an end. Frank stands up, surveying the damage. He sees his wife’s face, a cold, stoney blue. It frightened him. It was as if her eyes were still peering into his soul, pulling out the emotions called love. But her eyes were ripping them out at a much faster rate, severing them from his soul. Like a child raiding a toybox.
He looks around, in an emotion of complete confusion and sadness, to see his daughter gone. He calls for his daughter, but there is no answer. He wades through the blood in the dining room, which is now up to his knees. He goes up the stairs, to his daughter’s room. He knocks, recieves no answer, and opens the door and goes inside. Inside her room he sees his daughter in the middle of the room having a siezure. His first instinct is to go and help her, but he notices that blood is coming out from between her legs. He looks away in disgust, and surveys the room. Her room is decorated by paintings of old nursery tales, Red Riding Hood, and such. At least, normally it is. He makes a double-look, and notices the pictures are of 6 naked men fucking an asian woman in the ass, all at once. She is bleeding out of her vagina. Just as his daughter is. He looks back at his daughter, who is now sitting on her bed. He stares at her in utter disbelief, and watches as she crawls at him like a cat and tries to bite his lower calf off. She misses, and he jumps back. She attacks him again, now aiming for his groin region, but misses again. He kicks her in the head, and watches as her neck snaps back with a loud crack and blood spurts out of her eyes. She then appears to projectile vomit gallons and gallons of blood, soaking him in her blood. The blood is running down the maple wood stairs, staining the carpet, falling onto the ground of the kitchen below them. He looks at what is left of her daughter’s eyes, searching for some kind of emotion. He finds none, and runs away to escape the seemingly never-ending flow of blood. He slips on one of the steps going down the stairs, and knocks his head into the wall. A bruise appears, and he feels his forehead. He giggles oddly. He continues walking down the stairs, and walks into the dining room. The bloody bodies are still there, but now they are positioned as if the mother and son were fucking, with each of their heads hanging on the chandelier. Screaming in disgust, he runs out of the room. He picks up the phone, in some rhetoric attempt to get help. The line is dead, and he walks slowly out the door, forgetting about the blood that covers his entire body from head to toe.
You know that you ALL love it! Every single of you WILL buy it when it comes out on DVD/video.</font>
Frank wakes up one morning in his two-story suburban house, at any point in the present. He begins his morning routine, taking a shower, getting dressed for work, etc. He goes downstairs to where his wife is cooking a nice, home-made breakfast. Frank sits down at the table where his two children are sitting. Both dressed in Catholic school uniforms. All of a sudden, the boy of the family has his arms and legs torn off by some unknown force. Blood is spurting everywhere, covering the dining room (which was once nicely furnished) in dark red blood. The last look ever made on Frank’s son is one of happiness, as if he was pleased for this to happen, to die. Once Frank, his wife and his daughter finish screaming in terror, they resume breakfast as if nothing had happened. Frank’s son’s torso and head are still there, blood dripping onto the floor from the chair and small spurts are still coming out from where Frank’s son’s arms and legs used to be.
Picking up the morning paper, Frank examines the non-descript headlines which, will, ultimately mean nothing to him at all. Reading through the headlines, he notices bloood red stains coming through the newspaper, and he looks over the paper. He sees his wife’s clothes torn off, her breasts gone, and blood shooting straight out at him. To avoid the blood, he makes a quick duck under the table. Blood is shooting out of where her rather large breasts used to be, the remaining fat dripping down her stomach. The sprays of blood are so strong that they are able to open the swinging door into the kitchen and spraying the opposing wall inside the kitchen. The flow of blood slowly comes to an end. Frank stands up, surveying the damage. He sees his wife’s face, a cold, stoney blue. It frightened him. It was as if her eyes were still peering into his soul, pulling out the emotions called love. But her eyes were ripping them out at a much faster rate, severing them from his soul. Like a child raiding a toybox.
He looks around, in an emotion of complete confusion and sadness, to see his daughter gone. He calls for his daughter, but there is no answer. He wades through the blood in the dining room, which is now up to his knees. He goes up the stairs, to his daughter’s room. He knocks, recieves no answer, and opens the door and goes inside. Inside her room he sees his daughter in the middle of the room having a siezure. His first instinct is to go and help her, but he notices that blood is coming out from between her legs. He looks away in disgust, and surveys the room. Her room is decorated by paintings of old nursery tales, Red Riding Hood, and such. At least, normally it is. He makes a double-look, and notices the pictures are of 6 naked men fucking an asian woman in the ass, all at once. She is bleeding out of her vagina. Just as his daughter is. He looks back at his daughter, who is now sitting on her bed. He stares at her in utter disbelief, and watches as she crawls at him like a cat and tries to bite his lower calf off. She misses, and he jumps back. She attacks him again, now aiming for his groin region, but misses again. He kicks her in the head, and watches as her neck snaps back with a loud crack and blood spurts out of her eyes. She then appears to projectile vomit gallons and gallons of blood, soaking him in her blood. The blood is running down the maple wood stairs, staining the carpet, falling onto the ground of the kitchen below them. He looks at what is left of her daughter’s eyes, searching for some kind of emotion. He finds none, and runs away to escape the seemingly never-ending flow of blood. He slips on one of the steps going down the stairs, and knocks his head into the wall. A bruise appears, and he feels his forehead. He giggles oddly. He continues walking down the stairs, and walks into the dining room. The bloody bodies are still there, but now they are positioned as if the mother and son were fucking, with each of their heads hanging on the chandelier. Screaming in disgust, he runs out of the room. He picks up the phone, in some rhetoric attempt to get help. The line is dead, and he walks slowly out the door, forgetting about the blood that covers his entire body from head to toe.
You know that you ALL love it! Every single of you WILL buy it when it comes out on DVD/video.</font>