Judith Tewes
Won By:
Judith Tewes

Competed against 0 entries

Bit 1

Note to Skrawlers: Here's the starter for a dark comedy / horror script. Let's take all the monster / werewolf tropes out there and make our own "Scary Movie"...with laughs, but also genuine creep factor. I give you the monstrous beginning...let's work in some unlikely heroes, a race against time, and a bloody conclusion to die for...




Dense forest. Moonlight. Mist. The shadowy form of a hulking beastie. A flash of red glowing eyes. The thing drifts back into the darkness. Is gone.


AN ELDERLY COUPLE sit at their motorhome dining table. NANA, 72, cute as a vintage button, stands perplexed in front of a Tassimo machine, and PAPA, 79, suspenders, plaid work shirt - a real do-it-yourselfer. They bicker amiably over a box PAPA holds in his hands.

He removes a brand new digital camera. Batteries slam to the counter.


I don't know why the kids think we need more gadgets.

(holds Tassimo coffee container, bewildered)

What I wouldn't give for a simple cup of coffee.

PAPA inserts batteries. Camera comes to life in a rash of beeps and blips. He drops it in alarm. On the tabletop, the lens begins to zoom in and out.


Ain't it peppy?

(squints at the hefty instruction manual)

Where are my glasses?


(snags it from him)

Since when have you ever read the instructions?


A wolf howls in the night. Nana freezes, the manual slips from her hand.


There it is again.

(peers out curtains)

It's closer this time.

PAPA, unconcerned, retrieves manual, flips through it. Squinting.


You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. A bit of wildlife's to be expected.

(flicks switch on camera, amazed)

You know, this thing has night vision.

Papa joins Nana at the window. Stares out through night vision filter. Tracks a shape in the distance. Large, loping. Loping their way.


What the devil...


It's that wolf, isn't it?

Papa's expression twists, becomes one of sheer horror.


Get my riffle!

Nana scrambles for the storage closet in the narrow hall. Opens the door. A bunch of camperly items rain down on her. Tennis racket, mini broom and dustpan, she screams in panic. Fingers reaching...

Outside, a beastly roar.



Her aged fingers wrap around the barrel of the riffle. She turns to see Papa lowering the camera. Backing away from the window. He's shaking his head.

Close up on window. A beast's face, half wolf, half demon with glowing red eyes. The creature drags a six-inch long, black and deadly claw down the glass with casual cruelty.

Forget nails on a chalkboard. This is downright earsplitting, as is Nana's scream.

From the woods, the trailer looks peaceful for a moment. Then there's a shatter of glass and it begins to rock and jerk. A gunshot. Screams.

A lone, triumphant howl.

Cover Bit 2

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