First Thoughts

FADE IN:
EXT. COAST – DAY
MAN WALKING ALONE ALONG THE COAST.

 
MAN
(Internal monologue)
What are your first thoughts of me? What do you believe I do for a living? How old am I? Am I single? Am I a student? Wealthy? Pretty? All are questions you ask yourself subconsciously upon meeting new people, your first initial impression is an important one and usually sticks. Important financial decisions, friendships, love, hate, all seed from first impressions. So, I put to you one more question (pause) Do I fit the description of a murderer?
Looking at me, you would probably say no, I look normal enough. Nothing to point towards a manic schizophrenic stereotype of a killer, which is currently running through your mind. But you don’t know me, you have no idea of my background, you don’t know what I’m capable of. This is the flaw in the inane human response of initial impressions, they can be tricked.

 
HE NOTICES A WOMAN OUT OF THE CORNER OF HIS EYE WALKING TOWARDS HIM. HE STOPS TO TAKE IN THE VIEW. HE TAKES A DEEP INTAKE OF BREATH AS SHE SWIFTLY WALKS BEHIND HIM WAFTING HER SCENT HIS WAY. THE MAN TURNS HIS HEAD TO BRIEFLY WATCH HER WALK AWAY, BEFORE REFOCUSING FORWARDS. CUTS TO A FLASHBACK AS THE MAN SLOWLY CLOSES HIS EYES.

 
CUT SCENE: VISCOUS RED LIQUID DRIPPING INTO A BASIN OF WATER. THE ORIGIN OF WHERE THIS LIQUID IS COMING FROM IS UNCLEAR, EVEN THOUGH ITS APPARENT THAT THESE RED DROPS ARE BLOOD. THE BLOOD DRIPS FROM A SHARPENED KNIFE HELD STEADILY ABOVE THE WATER. AN UNKNOWN BLURRED FIGURE IS SLUMPED IN A BATH, LIFELESS. THE FIGURE HOLDING THE KNIFE IS BREATHING HEAVILY, EXCITEMENT EMANATING FROM THEM. END OF CUT SCENE.
THE MAN RE-OPENS HIS EYES AS IF COMING AROUND FROM ANESTHETIC. HE MOMENTARILY STARES FORWARD BEFORE SWIFTY MOVING TO HIS RIGHT TO PURSUE HIS PREY. HE STALKS THE WOMAN SILENTLY, MAKING SURE TO SUPPRESS HIS EXCITMENT.

 
MAN
(Internal monologue)
Let me tell you a little secret of mine, one which I don’t tell many people. (Pause) I like to kill people. I don’t care who it is, I’m not racist or sexist, I’m not fussy at all. If you catch my eye, make me sharply intake breath, make all the pores on my body prickle, make me sweat, you’ll do. You’ll do nicely. I can’t tell you why I need to do it, end a life, it’s just an urge I need to fulfil. Not that I’ve ever been addicted to drugs, very bad for your health you see, but I imagine it’s sort of like a drug addiction, I need my hit. I don’t know this lady, I never kill people close to me, that makes it a little bit harder. God knows I’ve tried. This object I am stalking could be married, single, a young professional with a promising future, a mother even, but at this very moment in time, I couldn’t care less. That doesn’t mean to say that I don’t feel something after the deed, but those feelings of guilt are far surpassed by the feeling of elation and utter relief as I sacrifice for my demons.  This young woman has no idea what’s about to happen, she has no idea of her role in my fantasies. She might have noticed someone following her, maybe she thinks I fancy her, she is a good-looking woman, I’m a good looking man, it could work out. Maybe she just thinks it’s a coincidence, that I just happen to be walking in the same direction as her to get home. She doesn’t seem nervous, I can’t smell any nerves.

 
THE WOMAN TURNS INTO A SIDE LANE.

 

MAN
(Internal monologue)
Oh, this must be my lucky day, this is too perfect. There it is, that rush of blood, straight to my head, ecstasy. Like a lion about to pounce, I can feel it, and it feels fantastic. Must stay calm, must stay composed, hold the knife steady so as to feel the skin rip as I pierce the first layers. That feeling is too good to miss. Here goes, victim number 13. Get ready for the euphoric buzz. I can’t wait.

 
THE MAN PURSUES SILENTLY BRANDISHING A KNIFE BY HIS SIDE. HE SWIFTLY APPROACHES THE WOMAN AS SHE TURNS TO CATCH HIS GLARE. A MANIC STARE PAINTED ON HIS FACE AS HE GOES IN FOR THE KILL. THEY BOTH JUDDER AS THEY EMBRACE EACH OTHER, THE KNIFE SLOWLY GLIDES INTO A BODY. SILENCE.

THE MAN SLOWLY BACKS AWAY, SHOCKED, SCARED, LEAKING. HE DROPS TO THE FLOOR IN A HEAP. THE WOMAN, FROZEN IN THE SAME POSITION, LOOMS OVER HIM WITH A BLOOD DRENCHED KNIFE OF HER OWN. SHE WASN’T THE PREY, SHE WAS THE PREDATOR. SHE KNEELS DOWN BESIDE HIM TO REASURE HIM HE WILL BE OK, LIES. THE WOMAN FOLLOWS THIS EMPTY GESTURE BY CONTINUOUSLY PUNCTURING THE MANS CHEST WITH HER TOOL. SHE STOPS TO ADMIRE HER KILL, SHE SHUTS HER EYES.

 
CUT SCENE: BACK INTO THE PREVIOUS FLASHBACK IN THE BATHROOM. THE FIGURE IN THE BATH, IT’S A MAN. THE FIGURE STANDING OVER THE SLUMPED LIFELESS VICTIM, IT’S THE WOMAN, LOOMING OVER HIS UNFORTUNATE SOUL. THE WOMAN IS THE ONE STEADILY HOLDING THE BLOOD DRENCHED KNIFE DRIPPING INTO THE SINK. SHE LOOKS CONTENT, SHE HAS KILLED BEFORE. END OF CUT SCENE.
SHE SLOWLY OPENS HER EYES HUNCHED OVER HER LATEST KILL. SHE SOULLESSLY STARES FORWARDS WITH A HINT OF A CRACKED SMILE. RELIEF.

 

WOMAN
(Internal monologue)
What were your first thoughts of me?

 

FADE OUT

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