The Missing

Int: an old sheriff makes his way to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup a joe. He limps over to the screen door and opens it.

Ext: Outside you can hear the wind eerily blowing in the darkness of what is now a ghost town. A rocking chair on the front porch pitches forward and back again as leaves scatter around in little swirls. The sheriff looks to the moon and exhales and then slowly sits down in the chair. His face is worn and gaunt, he lifts the mug to his lips and spills some down his shirt. He looks down, wipes it off the best he can then stares straight up with tear filled eyes.

Narraration-the Sheriff: This weren't always a sleepy town, ya might even say it's just a town that got sleepy. We had just bout had everthin folks would want and need to exist comfortably, Tom O'malley's drug store down on Carver Road, a fruit and vegetable stand on the same. Doc had his place right where he slept over on Willow Rock, treated more animals then people but a good man just the same. Had a little film theatre that the youngins use to flock to on Friday nights. Friday night, that's when it all started, that's when the first of our own went missing...that's when the town closed its eyes.