ONE LAST SCRIPT

By

Luke Ackroyd

Prompt: Write something you could actually film at home.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
WRITER (A writer) huddles in the corner, hiding behind a
sofa. He peeps out of his hiding spot, making sure to not
misspell peeping for once during this entire challenge.
Near the door, standing guard... WRITER’S BLOCK. A block,
clearly labeled Writer’s block. It growls! Writer hides
back behind the sofa.

RING RING!
Writer fumbles with his phone.
WRITER
Hello?

HELPFUL FRIEND (V/O)

Hey, Writer. Have you submitted
the last script for the writing
challenge?

Writer shakes his head.

HELPFUL FRIEND (V/O)
Don’t shake your head. This is a
phone conversation.

WRITER
Sorry.
HELPFUL FRIEND (V/O)
So, have you at least made a
start? Got a plot figured out?
WRITER
Not really. I’m kinda just making
it up as I go. But- I- Can’t get
out of here. Not with that...
thing over there.
He peeps at the writer’s block once more. It SNARLS!
Writer squeaks.
HELPFUL FRIEND (V/O)
I’ll be right there!
The call ends.
HELPFUL FRIEND is suddenly right next to Writer.

WRITER
Now what?
Helpful friend shrugs.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 2.

HELPFUL FRIEND
Dunno.
WRITER
You’re not really living up to
your name, here.
UPSET FRIEND
Forget it. You’re on your own.

Upset friend stands up, does the elaborate dance routine

from day one of this challenge... The portal appears!.
They dive into a portal and vanish!
Writer sighs.

WRITER
If only Édith Piaf, the godmother
of Chansons! Who died fifty seven
years ago, but not on this very
day, was here!

SLAM! The door to the room bursts open, knocking the

writer’s block flying out of the way. It slams into a pile
of scripts. Trapped!
ÉDITH PIAF (Well, someone with a mask of Édith Piaf, due
to the low budget of this project.., see it’s still
possible so far...).
ÉDITH PIAF
I have returned! It is finally
time to give me. Édith Piaf,
godmother of Chansons. Who died
fifty seven years ago, but not on
this very day. The biography
story, I deserve!
Writer barges past her.

WRITER
Sorry, but I’m running out of
time to finish this script.
Nevermind rewrite yours. Gotta
go!

Writer rushes around the corner out of sight. Édith Piaf

does not look amused.
The writer’s block bursts out of the pile of scripts,
snarls and barges past Édith Piaf as well.
 3.

INT. CORRIDOR - DAY

Writer rushes to the nearest door. A sign on it: DAY THREE

Writer yanks the door open and steps inside... The TIME
ORB DEVICE! (A very low budget cardboard version anyway)
Writer grabs it.
He points it to the ground- a familiar purple orb appears
at his feet. He dives into it-

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Writer falls down into the living room, right next to his
PAST SELF. Past self looks rather confused.

WRITER
Oh hey, past-me. I’m back from
the future-
PAST-SELF
That reference was a little
shoehorned in.
WRITER
Sorry, I just promised someone
I’d get at least one mention of
it in.
PAST-SELF
Bet they were hoping for
something a little more elegant
than that.
WRITER
Look. Forget about that. Just
listen to my plan. I’m stealing
ideas from previous scripts from
the challenge to try and defeat
that dastardly writer’s block!
PAST-SELF
Why didn’t I think of that?

WRITER
You did... I mean- you would- I
mean- It doesn’t matter. Look.
Now we outnumber that dastardly
writer’s block!

PAST-SELF
Awesome! Self-high five?
They both almost go to high five... but stop.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 4.

WRITER
No- maybe not. I could probably
edit the portals from eariler if
I was to actually make this
script, using green screens or
something. But I doubt I’d be
able to edit two of the same
person high fiving. I’m a writer
more than an editor. Gotta stick
to the prompt!

PAST-SELF
Oh- okay. Fair enough.
They both peep over to the writer’s block guarding the
door just as before.

WRITER
Two against one. We can do this!
The purple orb above them shakes... The Writer’s block’s
future self dives through and stands besides its past
self. Now there is two of them.
PAST-SELF
Damn it future me! You’ve made
things ten times worse.

Writer looks upset, sniffles.

PAST-SELF
Sorry, not that bad. Maybe just
nine times worse.

WRITER
We- we can still take them on.
He stands up, brave.
Past-self shakes his head.

PAST-SELF
Nah. You’re on your own, mate.
POP! Past self suddenly turns into a paper-cut out version
of the spaceship from Day four’s script! It flies off out
of sight.
Writer frowns. Outnumbered once more. The writer’s blocks
slide closer to him. He gulps.

Turns his head... BUSINESS CAT (Portrayed by the writer’s

actual cat).
BUSINESS CAT
Here, this might help...

Business cat slides a box: BOX OF PREVIOUS IDEAS

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 5.

Writer nods. He yanks the box open and rummages inside.

The writers blocks drawing closer...
Writer pulls out a paper PHONE! Open on a dating app with
no matches. He lobs it at the blocks- BAM! They are
knocked back slightly.
Writer pulls out another paper item: This one of a bench.
He lobs that too! BAM! The blocks hit again.

Writer grabs a few more paper cutout items from the box,
lobbing them instantly. A BUCKET. A WIZARD. A DEMON. AN
ALIEN. A FANCY CHICKEN. A BOARDGAME!
BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

The writer’s blocks look worse for ware. Whimpering. Far

smaller than they once were.
Writer smiles. He towers over them. About to stomp them
out.

A TIMER appears next to the writer. TIME ALMOST UP!

Writer panics, dashes to his laptop.
3

He finds the challenge submission form.

2
He scrolls the tab down to submission 14

1
SUBMIT!
THE FINAL END