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The Cloud (script 4)

It is a small bedroom, big enough not to be cramped, but still only enough for a single bed,
toys sat on shelves and surfaces around the brightly coloured walls. Outside, in the dead of
night, the weather had taken a turn for the worst, rain lashing down in streams while the
wind choked out a hallowed howl through the open space. A child sits nearby, fiddling with a
small plane while seated by a desk occupied by an inert computer.
The computer itself was dated for the times. A CRT, its grey casing had taken on a sickly
yellow tint. In its convex reflection we can see the child's face, smiling, distracted by his toy.
As they play with the plane, muttering commands and things an airpilot might say, cheerfully
playing pretend by themselves, they rise on their seat, making the plane soar higher into the
air. Jumping down excitedly they ran from one side of the room to the other as the plane
'flew' higher in their hand. They were awash in their own fantasy world, secretly wishing to
make it there themselves, one day.
By itself, the desktop lights up causing the child to react quickly, but the screen just stays
pure white, the speakers emitting a strange sound for a moment. The wind outside picks up
the curtains, making them flap loudly. The howls of the wind thin into whistling as they rush
into the space, filling it with energy.
As if it caught an updraft, the small plane in his hands swept up out of his fingers and away,
doing acrobatics in the still air as if it was a real plane. He watched, stunned in the gusts
cacophony as the plane arced and swooped all around the room, before landing again in the
centre of the floor, whence he cautiously picked it up again, inspecting it in his hands,
lifeless as if the air had sucked the very soul from the object. The air settled, and the
splattering of rain conquered once again.
The boy brings his vision back towards the monitor that now flashed multiple colours in a
frenzy, lighting up the whole room, its noise white and global. He approaches, the computer
speakers white noise pitched up, the display changes...
Hello.
It types, keys clacking against the keyboard of their own volition. While it takes longer for the
momentarily frozen child to react, he cautiously leans forward to type back to the stranger
inside the computer, all the while clutching to the model airplane. They appear to
communicate for a while, with the child settling back into their chair. The guy in the
computer seemed to understand when mentioning what had happened, which begged the
question; did he have something to do with it? When asked what he knew about the plane, it
claimed it was a being that could see what every child wanted, and they made the plane fly
about so the child would be entertained.
The guy then asks if they'd like to see something else. Eagerly, the child typed 'yes'.
[A teddy bear plays with him for a while before the computer wills him back again, asking for
something in return]
Do you know this place?
The desktop background switches to black for a minute, punctuated by indistinct spectral
images. Squinting, the room behind them appeared in darker shades, the corners opaque and
undecipherable. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, and then something moved in the
reflection. The child twisted in their seat to see what was behind them, but nothing was
there. Just a room, as they'd left it.
They turn back to regard the empty screen whose noise reduced to a whisper, and type as if
to reply, although no text appeared, the monitor lit up, although this time it appeared to be
empty, at that moment the child realises it was just a shell. Thick black smoke began pour
out the vents.
Thunder cracks, plunging the entire room into impenetrable darkness lit only by brief flashes
of lightning. A chill runs up the child's arms, as if in response, the windows slam by an
unknown force. The computer starts typing, the keys rapidly tapping in the dark by
themselves. Something fell off the shelf and smashed against the floor. He feels himself being
pulled towards the monitor, which was now glowing menacingly, by a heavy force.
Motes of light floated in front of his eyes as if submerged fathoms under the water, the room
a shadow of itself, ruined, mostly shoved against the wall. Godrays beam down from the
absent ceiling, lighting the carpet in a strange otherworldly blue hue. The child picks
themselves off the floor, looking around at their room in disbelief.
On the floor, a shiny marble glints in the light. For a moment, the light catches it, before it
blinks once, then it rushes from sight once again, disappearing into a void on the other side of
the room, and they chase after it; as the thing floated over the edge of a borderless room
their pace grinds to a halt.
Over the void, they caught a brief glimpse of something giant hidden by a cloak of vapour.
Something very large loomed beyond the bedroom, mumbling incoherently. Words were being
spoken, but nothing like comprehensible sentences could be discerned. It sounded like
counting, and then it stopped talking.

For a second, everything felt still, before like a predator it drew in closer, close enough to
touch. Alarmed, the child rushed to find a hiding spot. Under the bed, what felt like hours
passed, and nothing seemed to happen despite the approach. All that was heard was
strangled tones of his breath. Then light footsteps, as something was coming toward the
hiding spot. Two feet stumbled into view, standing in plain sight.
Come out, come out wherever you are...
Its voice was young. The tone was playful. As the feet moved away, the child chanced it to
take a clearer view of whatever it was, but the other child had vanished. The child stood to
see where they went, wandering into the centre of the room.
A draft of warm air rustled his clothes from above. Looking up, a monitor is hanging from the
ceiling, its screen rotated to directly face the child. On the display, a big eye is staring at
him. Backing away, the monitor retreats into the ceiling, and the child backs into something,
the other child from before.
The other child's neck extended off into the ceiling via a muscular twisted appendage that
end cannot be seen. It raises its hands to make contact but the child moves out of the way,
frightened by the fallacy of the creature. More aggressively this time, the other child dives
their hands around the child's torso, pulling them both to the wall.

All around eyes bore into the child's insides. In terror the child fought to gain control,
releasing himself with summoned strength, stumbling towards the glowing open door, all
while the creature closed in more, reaching out to the escapee; the door slams;
At that moment the child awakes, the toy spitfire nearby on the desk. Morning has come,
daylight rousing from the nightmare... although the desk still looks unsuitably rustled...
The end

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