The Gift- The original version

The gift was originally a story I wrote as part of my English coursework, after finishing it on a cliffhanger, I came back to it and carried on the story. In media I modified my story to make it shorter and hopefully more filming friendly.

This was my original story:

 

The Gift

The sea salt filled the air. The sea roared, as the sun rose slowly over the small town of Pleasantville. One house, with it’s white wooden windows and brown bricks, stood alone above the town. In the bottom window was a banner, happy twelfth, was written on it. To the side of the window under the brown wooden door was a worn box, with a torn bow and a nameless card, placed on top of the welcome mat.

Tony bounced downstairs, his blonde messy hair stuck on end, and his footsteps awoke the whole house. His blue eyes darted around the house until they lay on the presents under the window. His rosy lips turned into a smile. Greedily he ripped open all the gifts, shreds of paper danced around him. But then he’d done, the excitement disappeared as he slowly started to look at the gifts. His mother appeared behind him ‘happy birthday love’ she smiled. ‘I’ll just get the mail and then I’ll get your breakfast’.

‘Oh, Tony, you’ve got another present, come and get it,’ his mum called. Tony jumped up and darted towards the door, only to receive a battered box. He pretended to smile and walked slowly to his room. There he placed the present at the end of his bed.

The box itself was perfect, not a single dint, but the black wrapping was torn, and the bow was in pieces. The dirty card was ripped and had no writing on it.

Tony finally went to open it, then he noticed the box under had writing on it. He giddily tore back the paper. There in red was the word ‘beware’ and ‘she’ll get out’. Tony sighed, ‘real funny’ he thought. The box lid was loosely on the box, with a steady hand he slowly lifted the lid, a dark smoke spilled out, as Tony placed the lid on his bed, taken aback.  ‘A smoke bomb’ he sighed. Inside was a circular shell and the smoke bomb case. He picked up the shell, and suddenly the weather changed, the bright sun turned dull.

Tony lay on his bed unaware of the weather, and went to sleep, ‘a great birthday’ he thought to himself letting out a sigh.

He woke up that night, as a chill went up his back, ‘mum’ he mumbled. His eyes scanned the room, and lay on his mirror, a blurred figure stood there, staring at tony. As its hand steadily rose, Its features were dark and hard to make out. Its hand was still rising, and seemed to be touching the mirror. Tony slowly stood up. He went closer to the figure, and he could see a smirk emerging on its face. Dread filled Tony, as he quickly inched towards the door, then he looked back, the figure’s hand was outstretched, ripples ran through the mirror. It’s body began to pull itself out of the mirror, and suddenly her features became clear.

She stood there silent for a while. Her silky straight black hair hung down her face in strands. It swayed from side to side. Her eyes were like black pearls, like an empty black hole dragging you in. Her skin was cold to the touch, with a sickly grey colour, as if it had been dead, and still wasn’t fully alive.

Her lips were cracked, and drew blood. Her teeth were rotten and dry. Her fingers were short but bony and her nails were nearly nonexistent. Her long grey dress was torn and ripped, and just stopped at her feet, which were black coal, which had been broken to size over years.

She moved with a small stumble, as if all the pain was nonexistent. As she looked at Tony pulling him in, her voice started to grumble, as blood dripped from her lips, and a gurgle left her cracking lips.

Tony stood still like stone, terror rooted him to the floor, and surely this was impossible. The figure seemed unaware of him, until in a deep voice she mumbled ‘Tony’. Tony’s feet felt nailed to the floor, as if something was holding him down. His legs felt numb, like jelly, or like he’d run mile after mile, and he’d passed the point of desperation.

Her finger reached up towards her lip, she smiled a surprisingly comforting grin, and raised her other hand, her 5 bony fingers stuck on end, a gurgle once again left her lips, which made the words ‘days’ and ‘left’ but could easily be mistaken for many other things.

With that she disappeared as Tony blinked. Tony fell to the floor, his head in his hands, shaking like a leaf. Silent sobs shook his body, until his sobs filled the air. Quick heavy footsteps echoed from the landing, Tony lost his breath, heart hammering through his head.

In the doorway a figure appeared. A shadow over her face. Hair stuck on end, and material loosely flowing from her body. She slowly started moving forwards, arms outreached. Tony shuck violently, eyes squeezed shut, waiting. The figure walked to the other side of the room, and flicked on the light, her face was lit up as Tony looked up. His fear melted away and now violent sobs of relief shook his body. As his lips trembled he looked down and whispered ‘mum’. She walked over to his bed, took off the quilt and sat down next to Tony, placing her reassuring arm around his shoulder, he placed his head on her lap, as she stroked his head and whispered ‘it’s alright baby, go back to sleep’.

He woke up the next morning alone on the floor with the quilt still over him. Maybe it was a dream, he thought. But looking over he saw the box and next to it the sea shell. ‘The girl, the days left’ he mumbled. ‘4’ he sighed. But now his mind turned to why. Why did he get the box? His eyes looked around his room and settled on the computer in the corner. He quickly shuffled over to it, and logged onto it.

The sun was starting to go down, and Tony had been searching all day, and was reaching desperation. Until he went onto a page which showed newspaper articles about local deaths, 5 local deaths, all men, all died of fright. All in their homes. One woman, a wife, was screaming about a present, a girl and a shell. Alarm bells rung for Tony, he read on. The woman was soon put in a mental asylum. The moons light shone through the bedroom window, as Tony lay quietly in bed, ‘just 3 days left’ he thought.

The sun beat through the open window, the sea crashed onto the sand. The early birds cry filled the air, which seemed to wake Pleastentville; drivers filled the roads, as the heat danced off the boiling floor.

Tony woke up that morning feeling excited, for the first time since his birthday. He had the address of the asylum and was going to visit ‘the woman’.

The asylum was white, and next to the clear beach. The smell of bleach and anti-bacterial gel tainted the air. As bells and chatter echoed through the empty white halls.

After finding the woman’s room he settled himself and slowly walked in. She sat alone in her chair in the corner of the room. The room itself was small and had little knick knacks which filled the surfaces of all the tables. The woman sat looking out into the distance with blank, empty eyes. Tony began to wonder about her experience, and suddenly it all started to come out, the girl, the present and the days left. The woman’s eyes filled with dread .’The girl?’ ‘Who.....’ Before Tony could finish the woman butted in ‘the girl, she’s evil, the present, 5 days, mirrors’. She went on. As Tony looked around  he noticed the room was mirror less, then looking at the woman he noticed she wasn’t looking at him but over to the sea, under the cliff by the side of the beach, but why? ‘What’s under that cliff’ he interrupted. ‘It’s her, her death, the cliff, the sea, never found’ she mumbled trailing off. ‘Thank you’ Tony quickly said, jumping up out of his chair, and running from the room.

Tony made it home as the sun was setting, red streaks darted through the clouds. Once again he logged onto his computer, and looked up ‘a death on the beach’. This time it came up quickly ‘young girl died at 13, she jumped from the cliff, and her body was never found, she is believed to have gone through years of abuse, but with no evidence no one was prosecuted’ this was from 1950.

The half moon was covered by dirty grey clouds. The sea was as darks as coal. The waves crashed and roared. As Tony rushed through the sand he felt the cool salty air hit his face, as if to push him back. But this only slowed him. Reaching the bottom of the white chalky cliffs, his hands shock from cold.

The moon seemed close, closer than normal.It seemed to be directly above a certain part of the cliff, the part which was normally covered by water. But luckily tonight the sea was further out than normal. So on gut instinct he moved closer to the part of the cliff under the moon. There he approached 3 boulders. The middle one caught Tony’s attention. Looking closely he saw the words 1980 to 1993, but nothing else, no name, no kind words.  These words, or lack of them, shocked Tony but not as much as what lay on top of it.  A shell. One identical to the shell Tony found in the box, how had the identical shell stayed on the boulder without being disturbed by the sea water. Although these questions needed answering, Tony had more important things on his mind. Tony had to go home, the sea was quickly moving up the beach, getting closer to the boulder.

The next day, the rain poured down onto the thirsty ground. There was just 1 day left and Tony’s mind ran through images, scenarios, ideas and still the same question, ‘Why?’ Tony sneaked from his room to visit the woman, maybe she could help.

When he got there the woman was sitting alone in the asylum’s garden, silent. As he walked over, she smiled, like gratitude for visiting. He sat down next to her, as tears rolled down his cheeks; he murmured ‘how do I get rid of the curse?’ ‘I don’t know, and you wouldn’t want to know’ she sighed. ‘please’ he cried. ‘The only way to lose the curse is to curse someone else’ she sighed.  ‘How’ he whispered. ‘Rewrap the present and give it to someone else’ she once again sighed. As Tony sat beside her he noticed her long thin fingers were covered in liver spots. Her long hair dangled lifelessly behind her, and her eyes seemed to bounce around in the large sockets. Head low, Tony walked away into the red raw sunset. Could he sacrifice someone else to save himself? How could he see?

Later that night Tony sat alone in his dark bedroom, looking into his mirror, who would he give it to, could he?

The sky was grey and dark, the sun was just rising. Tony woke up petrified, the last day. He grabbed the empty box, and placed his shell and the original smoke bomb inside. He looked at the ‘Beware’ printed on the side.’ I’ll give them it, but if they don’t open the box they won’t be cursed’ he reasoned. He grabbed a red pen and on top wrote ‘do not open me please, I’m so sorry’. He then got some normal paper and wrapped it, placed a bow on top and a name card, but he didn’t write on it, didn’t want to decide on a person, so left it. He counted down the hours until he had 1 hour left. Grabbing the box he ran outside of town and found a small house. A grey bricked, white doored, black roofed, house. He placed the box on top of the welcome mat. ‘I’m sorry’ he whispered.

The next morning he woke up, relief swept over him. He was alive. 5 days later, on the news he heard of another death, once again they died of fear. Tony ran to his room, and cried into his pillow, he’d killed someone. Footsteps echoed in his room, his mum had come upstairs, she slowly sat next to him ,and began singing. Then she sighed ‘its bed time honey, I’m going to bed’.

At exactly midnight Tony awoke, no sound or sudden movement awoke him, it was just a coincidence. But Tony was nervous, like the feeling of someone watching you, but nobody is there. His room felt like a sauna, steam seemed to rise from his floor. He jumped out of bed and quickly opened his window. Cool air hit him, relief flooded him until his eyes lay on a female figure at the end of his lawn. It was her, she seemed to be watching Tony, taunting Tony.

His heart began to beat faster and faster, his sweaty palms began to shake uncontrollably. As his legs turned to stone, he was unable to move, chained to the floor. She was there, back, she wouldn’t leave him. She stood there holding the gift, newly wrapped.

As she stood there, her long dress dancing in the wind, she seemed to flicker, as if she was there but wasn’t. Was Tony going insane, was his choice now haunting him, or was she real. A blast of cool air pushed him backwards, unlocking his chains, as he moved backwards inching towards his door. Another cool breeze rushed through the window, slamming Tony’s door shut. Tony’s legs were no longer his own, they refused to carry him, or even move,  as his body collapsed onto the cool, icy floor.

The little light in Tony’s room was from the light of the moon. A flickering sound bounced around Tony’s head, the sound wasn’t from his room, he could just hear it, it was her, she was getting close. Tony’s eyes scanned his room until they lay on his mirror, the place where she first came from.

His heart banging in his head, he ordered his legs to move, but they were unwilling, as if they were against him. His hands gripped the floor, dragging his body behind them. He moved slowly towards his wardrobe. Slowly, he placed himself inside it, exhausted and tired.

The moon’s light shone through the slits in the wardrobe, casting shadows on Tony’s pale face. His eyes scrunched tight, drawing tears. Until her blood freezing gurgle filled his silent room. ‘Can I live with this hell I’ve created for myself, or should I accept the gift’. Tony shuddered, as bloody fingers inched their way up the wooden doors of Tony’s wardrobe. She wouldn’t give in, she wanted Tony. ‘I accept the gift’ Tony cried. Slowly he emerged from his wardrobe, she stood there victorious, smiling, once again her hand rose but this time only one finger stuck up. ‘One day’ she gurgled.  And like before when Tony blinked she’d gone, but the box lay neatly on the floor. Tony picked it up, and ripped it open.

The next day seemed like any other, except a sleep deprived Tony was on edge, and ideas ran through his mind. The only difference with this Monday though, was it was a new term at school. Tony could miss it, tell his mum he was sick, but today he wanted to go, a last chance to see his friends. He got dressed as neatly as possibly (though his idea was not shared with the teachers) and began the quiet stroll down to school.

The school was quite small, the assembly hall as big as two front lounges put together, the entire building was painted white, and the floor was a pale wood. The lighting was dim, but natural light flooded through the windows lighting up the small halls.

Lessons were especially difficult for Tony today. Normally he tried a bit, did a little work then talked to his mates, but today he did neither. He either stared into space, or wrote about the girl, drawing some pictures of her face. A bell ring took him by surprise and he jumped back terrified,  as he looked around at his confused class mates he managed to say ‘ Is it just me or is that noise getting louder and out of tune ?’ He forced a smile then ran out of the class room.

He had one brake a day, he normally played football or cricket with his friends, but today he sat alone at the opposite side of the field, the part where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed.  He tried to make light of the ordeal he was about to go through, ‘Not another one’ the news papers will read, ‘boy scared to death, but he doesn’t look half bad’ will read another. Then the pics, him looking dead cool, he chuckled to himself. Although these ideas were idiotic they calmed Tony down, and gave him some peace. Then he started thinking of stupid solutions, he grabbed a book and started drawing a plan. First she kills me, so I’m a ghost, then I kill her so she’s a ghosts ghost, perfect he hummed. ‘But then she’ll kill you and you’ll be a ghosts ghost, and so on’ a voice chirped from behind him. He turned around to see a young girl.

Her dark brown straight hair was shoulder length, and her school pinny was a dark grey colour with slits down each side. Her rosy lips clashed with her cheeks, and her brown hazelnut eyes shone. Her shoes looked new without any scratch or scruff marks, and her skin coloured tights didn’t have a single imperfection.

‘I guess it wouldn’t work’ Tony sighed. ‘So are you writing a novel, and creating ideas’ she said in her sweet voice, nearly singing. ‘Something like that’ Tony sighed again. ‘What’s the plot so far?’ she sang. ‘You get a present and 5 days later a girl jumps from your mirror and kills you’  Tony shot back. The girl didn’t seem fazed, ‘So what is the ending?’ she enquired. ‘The person who gets the present dies after killing someone else through giving them the present then receiving it again, okay’ Tony rambled. ‘So if you get the present you die no matter what’ she sang. ‘Unless you give it to someone else you die’  Tony sighed. ‘So everybody dies when they receive it’ she sang. ‘YES EVERYONE DIES when they receive it’ Tony replied madly. ‘Well then, there you go’ she sang running away.

‘Everyone dies how does that help me’ Tony wondered. The bell went again. Last two lessons of Tony’s life, double science. Tony hated science, science was made by smart dead people to annoy Tony, or so he thought.

Tony walked through the halls to the science lab. The teacher stood at the front of the class his grey hair was nearly nonexistent, and matched the colour his glasses, His black blazer covered a white t shirt, and black jeans covered his leather shoes. ‘Sit down class, today were learning about ‘cell suicide’ and an example of it’ he called.

He gave out books and began educating the class about cell suicide. Reading from one of his books.

‘Larry Alary had no time to waste. He was told he has amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a disease that attacks the body’s muscle-controlling nerve cells, or motor neurons. It has no cure, and normally causes paralysis and death within three to five years of diagnosis.Within two months of his diagnosis, Alary drove 70 miles from his home in California, to the Forbes Norris MDA/ALS, seeking expert care and offering to be a "guinea pig" for clinical trials.He was selected to be in a pilot trial of minocycline, led by Robert Miller’ He began.

He closed the book. ‘Minocycline is an anti-inflammatory drug, primarily used for treating severe acne and arthritis, but research on mice had suggested it makes cell suicide, where the cells kill themselves. Normally motor neurons do this. So at your level you could just say, there that deadly with a little help from a drug, they actually kill themselves.’

Tony quickly looked up ‘with a little help they kill themselves’ he said ‘everyone who receives the gift dies’. No. It was that simple. He had a plan. The teacher carried on in the background, though to Tony it was just a mumble.  The lesson passed in a blur, as Tony finished his plan.

He ran home, and jumped up the stairs to his room. ‘I opened the gift at 9’ he thought, so she’ll come at 9. Looking at his clock it was already 7. He grabbed the gift and once again wrapped it left the card nameless, and put the shell and smoke bomb in.

Already 8, he put the gift on the floor next to the mirror. Now to wait, he thought. His eyes felt heavy, and before he knew it he was asleep. A quick shuffle woke him up. Looking in his mirror he saw her behind him,  quickly turning around he let out a sigh, she wasn’t there, but looking back in the mirror she was there, the reflection made it seem like she was standing in front of the mirror. But she was only in the reflection. Ripples began to run through it, as if it was water.

Her body began to come out of the mirror, and Tony ran and grabbed the gift. He stood in front of the mirror, waiting. But only her arms came out, they both grabbed onto Tony’s left arm, in his right was the gift, she began pulling him into the mirror. Tony panicked, his breath got quicker and harder, his mind went blank. A smile crept across her face, she’d worked so hard for Tony she was about to get her rewards.

Her cruel smile seemed to awaken Tony. He pulled back, dragging her through the mirror. Her smile disappeared, now her face was expressionless. Tony freed his left arm with one quick tug.  With his left hand he held her wrists together and with his right placed the box which she’d never paid any attention to, in between her icy hands. One under the box, and one on the lid, with his hand placed over her hands, he pulled up her right hand which was on the lid. As she opened the present smoke filled the room, she let out a horrible inhuman cry, then turned and looked into the mirror.

Her reflection started moving, ripples ran through the mirror as 2 hands pulled her in, she got pulled through the mirror, her reflection carried on holding her hands, holding her on the other side of the mirror, then in a young girls voice her reflection  said ‘ hope you enjoyed your gift’ as blood ran down her face from her black eyes, then her voice crackled as she collapsed to the floor, her reflection also going through the same death. The ripples started to slow down running through the mirror, Tony grabbed the open gift and threw it through the mirror. Smoke began to pour from the box, dissolving the girls, Tony blinked and the mirror was broken. It lay in pieces on the floor. All evidence of his encounter was no more, all proof had gone into the box then through the mirror.

But who would believe Tony. Tony sat staring at where the mirror had been, as a lone owl sang in the distance, no more revenge, no more pain, I’ve done it!  For the first time in days Tony slept the entire night, without fear, or worrying what would awake him in the morning. Now he could live like any other kid.

Looking through the news the next day Tony found that a body of a young 13 year old girl had been found washed ashore on the beach. She had been identified as Charlotte Blacksmith, an image of what she looked was on the front page too, it looked just like the girl, they also found out she hadn’t committed suicide, but had been held under water, and had bruises and scars around her body. In one scar they found a finger nail, which belonged to Elijah, a 40 year old man, who was Charlotte’s uncle. He died aged 52 from natural causes. But know everyone knew the truth, the girl, Charlotte, could find peace, or so Tony hoped. She wasn’t a monster, just a victim, getting revenge on men!

Tony lived a happy life from there, but his mind never wandered from Charlotte, can you really kill the undead?