The Playdate (a short screenplay)

We hear that creaking of a door opening.
LIAM (9), wearing pajamas, abruptly opens his eyes and stares through the black slit of the door.
He turns to face a white desk that sits beside his bed.
Liam places two chairs on each of the sides of the desk.
One for him, another for another.
And just for a brief moment, he scans at all his toys. They all sit in a perfect line on his bed.
His eyes are fixed on the helicopter.
He places it on the desk and sits in one chair.
He glances at the empty chair across from him.
LIAM (whispering)
This is what you must do.
With his finger he moves the propellors of the helicopter.
He profoundly stares at it.
Now, we stare at the empty chair.
He proceeds to stare hard at the helicopter.
After a few seconds, he grows impatient and puts the helicopter back in line with the other toys.
Now, he places the BALL at the center of the desk.
Maybe, this one’s more to your liking.
We stare at the empty CHAIR.
We stare at the ball.
Liam stares at the ball so intensely, waiting for it to move only slightly, but it doesn’t.
It lies there as lifeless as Liam’s face.
He waits and waits.
Cmon, we’ve played with this one before.
The ball sits there, unmoved.
Again, he grows impatient and places it back in line with the rest of the toys that sit on his bed.
He ogles them.
There is a toy missing.
It’s the red car.
He looks around his room and almost gapes when he finds the car sitting on the white desk.
He had not placed it there…
He studies it in utter silence.
That’s my favorite too.
He sits in the chair.
Liam glares at the car for a long while, his fingertips resting on the desk.
But suddenly, the CAR begins to gradually glide across the desk, approaching his fingertips.
After tapping Liam’s fingers, it comes to an abrupt stop. To this, Liam turns to face us with a grin.
No, this is no ordinary grin.
It’s ugly.
It’s uncanny.
It’s insidious.

2 thoughts on “The Playdate (a short screenplay)

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