Decide to try my hand at a screenplay randomly and here it is. It's a short screenplay and not even formatted correctly, but it'll work for now. Tell me what's up and what you think of it.
Blinded
INT MIDNIGHT
Dark room with a white couch against gray Victorian papered walls. On the couch sits MORGAN, white female with crimson lips and bandages wrapped around her eyes, blood pooling on them and running down her cheeks. Her fingers interlock with each other and sit upon her knees pushed together. Light spills through the window from the streetlight outside. She's waiting for someone.
Enter TERRY, a graduate working on his master thesis on the criminal psychology. He walks straight for the window and looks down upon the street, gun in hand pressed against his cheek, without a care that he left the door open.
MORGAN
Terry? That you?
TERRY
[putting his finger to his lips as if she could see]
ssshhhhhh. They'll hear you.
MORGAN
[lowering voice]
Who will Terry?
TERRY
Quincy and his boys. I shot Lionel. They're coming to get me.
MORGAN
Why'd you shoot Lionel?
TERRY
[walks to the door and gently locks it]
Because Quincy and them were going to shoot me. I had to escape.
[returns to window]
MORGAN
What did you do Terry? What kind of trouble did you get in?
TERRY
[checking the gun in his hand to see if it's loaded]
I owed Quincy some money for the morphine he scored me when I was trying to get some for you since you were in so much pain from when you're eyes were scooped out. I went to ask for more time and he said I had missed three payments and it's three strikes.
[beat]
He said he was sorry.
MORGAN
[stands up and slowly walks to where Terry stands, puts cheek to his shoulder]
Will we be alright?
TERRY
[looking over his shoulder at her]
I hope so.
[looks back to the street where Quincy and his boys have just pulled up]
EXT MIDNIGHT
Old 70s Cadillac pulls along the street in which four people step out of the car. QUINCY, a tall Irish man with a Welles presence, climbs out of the passenger seat with a sawed off shotgun in his hand. His short black hair matted down in blood and a fresh cut from his lip to his left eye twitch in his anger. Quincy's three men are a variety, but all Irish descent. One black, two white.
QUINCY
[to the men around him, thick Irish accent]
I don't care what happens boys, but the lad gets proper fucked. Ya hear.
[nods of acknowledgment]
Quincy and his men enter the doors and up the stairwell.
INT MIDNIGHT
Terry sees Quincy and his boys enter the building and starts to flip out. Glancing around frantically looking for something, anything.
TERRY
[grabbing Morgan by the arm and leading her to the closet]
Come on, we need to hide you in the closet, they won't find you. And if they do let's pray they take pity on you since your eyes were scooped out.
MORGAN
Where are you going to hide?
TERRY
Behind the door. Try and get the element of surprise on them.
MORGAN
[kissing the air]
Be careful.
TERRY
[closing the door]
I will.
Terry runs and hides behind the door no sooner than there's a knock at the door. When Terry doesn't respond one of the white henchmen kicks the door open. Terry leaps around the door and shoots the man. Quincy's shotgun butt catches the side of Terry's jaw and Terry falls to the floor sputtering blood, Quincy's gun in his face.
QUINCY
Oy, found you. Didn't I?
[beat]
Anyone else in the house, Terry?
[Terry looks at the closet instinctively and Quincy signals to the other white henchmen [SEAN] to go check it out.]
QUINCY
Harold, gather Terry's gun and get me a cigarette.
[Sean opens the closet door to find Morgan.]
Good job, Sean. We're going to have to talk to our friend Terry, aren't we?
TERRY
[Terry spits up a bit more blood. Harold hands Quincy a cigarette, he lights it.]
Leave her ... 'lone.
QUINCY
[bowing over closer to Terry, hand cupped to his ear, cigarette in mouth]
What was that boy, couldn't hear ya there?
TERRY
Leave her be.
QUINCY
Harold.
[Harold picks up Terry and throws him on the couch, Sean sits Morgan next to him. Harold brings Quincy a chair. Quincy spins it backwards and straddles it, his arms resting on the back of the chair, both men behind either shoulder. Quincy eyes up Morgan.]
QUINCY
This the girl you were telling me about last week Terry?
[he doesn't respond]
She's a beauty from the bandages down. Nice big lips, button nose, long dark hair. What's it smell like Harold?
HAROLD
[leans in to smell.]
Kiwi and Vanilla.
QUNICY
Delicious.
[To Morgan.]
Sorry sweetheart, I would have done it myself, but I lost my sense of smell in a gasoline explosion. It was Sean's first fire, made a minor mistake, 's'okay.
MORGAN
I'm sorry for you then.
QUINCY
There's nothing to be sorry about. You didn't cause it and I don't miss it much. Except when a woman is horny and dripping with the smell of sex. I do miss the smell of that.
MORGAN
Well then you aren't missing anything.
[Terry shifts, restless.]
QUINCY
You have a problem there Terry?
TERRY
Yeah. Just do us in or get the fuck out.
QUINCY
I don't think so Terry. See you owe me money and I'm going to get it in one form or another. Green or Red.
TERRY
Fuck you, Quincy.
[Sean leans in to strike Terry and Terry takes his gun and points it at Harold, Sean's arm locked in a position to break if he struggles.]
QUNICY
Man, calm down. This was all your idea.
TERRY
Quincy, you are a dumb motherfucker.
[drops Sean but keeps the gun and stands up]
She wasn't supposed to know that.
[Shoots Quincy]
Harold, pick up the bodies and pile them up next to the door.
MORGAN
Terry, what did he mean that this was your plan?
TERRY
What he meant was that I arranged their coming here, so I could weed out the snitches, Lionel and Henry, the first guy I shot when they came in the door, and then they were supposed to rape you.
MORGAN
Why did you want someone to rape me?
TERRY
Give the whole scene a reason to fall apart for the cops. Break-in, robbery, rape, murder, and assault.
[Harold returns and stands next to Morgan his gun on her shoulder.]
MORGAN
And this was all for what? Better understanding of the criminal psychology?
TERRY
No. That's what the petty theft was about.
[Morgan leans her head towards the gun on her shoulder, as if looking at it.]
This is so much more. This is bigger. This is about power. The genesis of power and it's corruption of men.
MORGAN
So this is about yourself?
[Terry leans to smack her. Morgan grabs Harold's gun and pulls the trigger on Terry, right through his stomach.]
TERRY
[Shocked and soft]
You bitch, you shot me.
[Stumbles backwards and falls over the chair onto the floor convulsing.]
MORGAN
[Stands up and Harold walks her over to Terry's side]
Sorry Terry, I loved you, I really did.
[leans and kisses him on the lips]
But you were an asshole.
Blinded
INT MIDNIGHT
Dark room with a white couch against gray Victorian papered walls. On the couch sits MORGAN, white female with crimson lips and bandages wrapped around her eyes, blood pooling on them and running down her cheeks. Her fingers interlock with each other and sit upon her knees pushed together. Light spills through the window from the streetlight outside. She's waiting for someone.
Enter TERRY, a graduate working on his master thesis on the criminal psychology. He walks straight for the window and looks down upon the street, gun in hand pressed against his cheek, without a care that he left the door open.
MORGAN
Terry? That you?
TERRY
[putting his finger to his lips as if she could see]
ssshhhhhh. They'll hear you.
MORGAN
[lowering voice]
Who will Terry?
TERRY
Quincy and his boys. I shot Lionel. They're coming to get me.
MORGAN
Why'd you shoot Lionel?
TERRY
[walks to the door and gently locks it]
Because Quincy and them were going to shoot me. I had to escape.
[returns to window]
MORGAN
What did you do Terry? What kind of trouble did you get in?
TERRY
[checking the gun in his hand to see if it's loaded]
I owed Quincy some money for the morphine he scored me when I was trying to get some for you since you were in so much pain from when you're eyes were scooped out. I went to ask for more time and he said I had missed three payments and it's three strikes.
[beat]
He said he was sorry.
MORGAN
[stands up and slowly walks to where Terry stands, puts cheek to his shoulder]
Will we be alright?
TERRY
[looking over his shoulder at her]
I hope so.
[looks back to the street where Quincy and his boys have just pulled up]
EXT MIDNIGHT
Old 70s Cadillac pulls along the street in which four people step out of the car. QUINCY, a tall Irish man with a Welles presence, climbs out of the passenger seat with a sawed off shotgun in his hand. His short black hair matted down in blood and a fresh cut from his lip to his left eye twitch in his anger. Quincy's three men are a variety, but all Irish descent. One black, two white.
QUINCY
[to the men around him, thick Irish accent]
I don't care what happens boys, but the lad gets proper fucked. Ya hear.
[nods of acknowledgment]
Quincy and his men enter the doors and up the stairwell.
INT MIDNIGHT
Terry sees Quincy and his boys enter the building and starts to flip out. Glancing around frantically looking for something, anything.
TERRY
[grabbing Morgan by the arm and leading her to the closet]
Come on, we need to hide you in the closet, they won't find you. And if they do let's pray they take pity on you since your eyes were scooped out.
MORGAN
Where are you going to hide?
TERRY
Behind the door. Try and get the element of surprise on them.
MORGAN
[kissing the air]
Be careful.
TERRY
[closing the door]
I will.
Terry runs and hides behind the door no sooner than there's a knock at the door. When Terry doesn't respond one of the white henchmen kicks the door open. Terry leaps around the door and shoots the man. Quincy's shotgun butt catches the side of Terry's jaw and Terry falls to the floor sputtering blood, Quincy's gun in his face.
QUINCY
Oy, found you. Didn't I?
[beat]
Anyone else in the house, Terry?
[Terry looks at the closet instinctively and Quincy signals to the other white henchmen [SEAN] to go check it out.]
QUINCY
Harold, gather Terry's gun and get me a cigarette.
[Sean opens the closet door to find Morgan.]
Good job, Sean. We're going to have to talk to our friend Terry, aren't we?
TERRY
[Terry spits up a bit more blood. Harold hands Quincy a cigarette, he lights it.]
Leave her ... 'lone.
QUINCY
[bowing over closer to Terry, hand cupped to his ear, cigarette in mouth]
What was that boy, couldn't hear ya there?
TERRY
Leave her be.
QUINCY
Harold.
[Harold picks up Terry and throws him on the couch, Sean sits Morgan next to him. Harold brings Quincy a chair. Quincy spins it backwards and straddles it, his arms resting on the back of the chair, both men behind either shoulder. Quincy eyes up Morgan.]
QUINCY
This the girl you were telling me about last week Terry?
[he doesn't respond]
She's a beauty from the bandages down. Nice big lips, button nose, long dark hair. What's it smell like Harold?
HAROLD
[leans in to smell.]
Kiwi and Vanilla.
QUNICY
Delicious.
[To Morgan.]
Sorry sweetheart, I would have done it myself, but I lost my sense of smell in a gasoline explosion. It was Sean's first fire, made a minor mistake, 's'okay.
MORGAN
I'm sorry for you then.
QUINCY
There's nothing to be sorry about. You didn't cause it and I don't miss it much. Except when a woman is horny and dripping with the smell of sex. I do miss the smell of that.
MORGAN
Well then you aren't missing anything.
[Terry shifts, restless.]
QUINCY
You have a problem there Terry?
TERRY
Yeah. Just do us in or get the fuck out.
QUINCY
I don't think so Terry. See you owe me money and I'm going to get it in one form or another. Green or Red.
TERRY
Fuck you, Quincy.
[Sean leans in to strike Terry and Terry takes his gun and points it at Harold, Sean's arm locked in a position to break if he struggles.]
QUNICY
Man, calm down. This was all your idea.
TERRY
Quincy, you are a dumb motherfucker.
[drops Sean but keeps the gun and stands up]
She wasn't supposed to know that.
[Shoots Quincy]
Harold, pick up the bodies and pile them up next to the door.
MORGAN
Terry, what did he mean that this was your plan?
TERRY
What he meant was that I arranged their coming here, so I could weed out the snitches, Lionel and Henry, the first guy I shot when they came in the door, and then they were supposed to rape you.
MORGAN
Why did you want someone to rape me?
TERRY
Give the whole scene a reason to fall apart for the cops. Break-in, robbery, rape, murder, and assault.
[Harold returns and stands next to Morgan his gun on her shoulder.]
MORGAN
And this was all for what? Better understanding of the criminal psychology?
TERRY
No. That's what the petty theft was about.
[Morgan leans her head towards the gun on her shoulder, as if looking at it.]
This is so much more. This is bigger. This is about power. The genesis of power and it's corruption of men.
MORGAN
So this is about yourself?
[Terry leans to smack her. Morgan grabs Harold's gun and pulls the trigger on Terry, right through his stomach.]
TERRY
[Shocked and soft]
You bitch, you shot me.
[Stumbles backwards and falls over the chair onto the floor convulsing.]
MORGAN
[Stands up and Harold walks her over to Terry's side]
Sorry Terry, I loved you, I really did.
[leans and kisses him on the lips]
But you were an asshole.