Home Screenwriting Products Screenwriter Community Screenwriting Store
ScriptBuddy - Screenwriting Software for the Web

Screenwriter Community

Back to List of Published Screenplays
View/Leave Feedback

by Marc Hendriks

Rated: R   Genre: Horror   User Review: ****
Yup, I know that theres already a mini-series based upon Stephen Kings novel of the same name. Nope, I do not think that some hotshot producer will read this script and go Gotta turn that into a movie!. I wrote this script because its fun and a good writing exercise to adapt existing works. And, well, of course I am not gonna publish any of my original screenplays online. Anyway, I didnt adapt the entire hulk of a book, only the first couple of chapters.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.


It's a rainy day out here in the small town of Derry.

We follow a little paper boat as it floats down the street
with a stream of rain water.
This is the story of the town of
Derry. And if we were to start at
the very beginning, we'd have to
go back to a time when dinosaurs
ruled the earth. However, ths
seems to be the proper place to
start, with a little paper boat
bobbing along a stream of rain
water. This event marks the
beginning of the end. The end of
the reign of terror that had
plagued the city of Derry, or
rather its location, since the
dawn of time. The date is May
26th, 1958. The day that 6 year
old Georgie Denbrough fell prey to
Now we see a little kid in a yellow slicker chasing the boat
as it speeds down the street. The kid is GEORGE DENBROUGH.
He smiles and laughs as he tries to keep up with the little
boat which is sealed with paraffin. After a while the little
boat take a turn to the right and is sucked into a water
No! Shit!
George peeks into the oval hole in the sidewalk. Nothing but
darkness and the sounds of splashing water.
Georgie is young enough to be angry and sad about his loss,
but old enough to realise that there's nothing he can do
about it. So no tears, no pouting. Just an annoyed 'shit' as
he gets up, wipes the dirt off his slicker and starts
walking away.
                       PENNYWISE (OS)
Hi there, George!
Georgie turns back and looks around. There is no one there.


No, down here, Buckaroo!
Georgie sees a shadow in the water drainage. He sits down on
his knees, peers inside and gasps, not with fear, but with
sheer delight. In the hole he sees the face of a CLOWN.
There is a clown standing in the sewer. Georgie is old
enough to realise certain things, yes, but young enough to
accept a clown talking to him from the sewer. He smiles at
the clown and the clown, who looks a lot like Ronald
McDonald, smiles back at him.
Hi Georgie, how are ya, buddy?
You know, I was just doing a
little catnap down here when this
little thing landed right on my
The clown pinches his clown nose, which makes a funny
beeping sound, and holds up the little paper boat.
My boat!
Ah, it's yours? Okay, then I'll
better give it back to the
rightful owner - you. And how
about a balloon, Georgie?
Georgie extends his hand...then pulls it back.
My dad made me promise never to
take stuff from strangers.
That's a good advise your dad gave
you there, Georgie. Allow me to
introduce myself. My name is
Robert Gray, also known as Bob
Gray, also known as Pennywise the
dancing clown. And you are Georgie
Denbrough. Right?


      (friendly smile)
So we know we ain't strangers
anymore. We're pallies.
I guess you're right. But...how
did you get in there?
      (sad voice)
The storm blew me in...me and the
whole circus...you do smell the
circus, don't you?
Georgie sniffs and an expression of joy appears on his face.
I do! I do! I smell cotton candy!
And hot dogs!
That's swell! Hey, buddy, how
about your boat? Did you forget
all about it? Here, take it. Oh,
and a balloon of course.
Georgie extends his hand.
Do they float?
The clown's smile fades.
Yes...they float...they float,
He drops the boat and the balloon and grabs Georgie's arm.
The clown opens his mouth and exposes horrible, deformed
teeth. Fangs. His eyes are yellow. There is nothing human
about this clown. Georgie screams and instantly looses his
mind. His mind simply cannot process what he sees, cannot
understand it, cannot give it a proper place.
And when you're down here with us,
YOU will float, too!


Georgie is yanked against the pavement. His screams grow
About fifty yards down the street, constable DAVE GARDENER
sees a little yellow figure convulsing in the gutter. He
strains his eyes to see what is going on. Then he hears the
yelling and starts running towards the yellow figure. When
he approaches it, he sees it's a little boy in a yellow
slicker. He bends down, grabs the boy by his shoulder and
turns him around. The boy is dead. His arm is gone. Gardener
gasps, stands up and vomits. People, attracted by the
noises, appear on the porches of their houses. Gardener
stumbles, faints, and falls down.
On screen it reads: 1985.

A black guy, TOM BOUTILIER, in a crisp suit talks directly
to the camera.
Two homosexuals walk into a bar
and almost immediately get on the
nerves of a couple of good old
boys. Upon leaving the bar the
homosexuals are followed, taunted
and assaulted by these rednecks,
who proceed to throw homosexual #
1, Adrian Mellon, of the Derry
Pine Bridge. Both of the guy's
legs are broken in the process and
he lands face down in knee deep
water, resulting in his untimely
death by drowning. Cut to four
hours later and the thugs are in a
holding cell and you and I are
having this little chat. Did I
leave anything out?
Cut to another angle and we see Tom has been talking to his
colleague Harold Gardener, who happens to be the son of Dave
'I was the one who found George Denbrough's body' Gardener.
How about the little matter of the


There ws no clown.
Both Adrian Mellon's boyfriend and
those thugs, two separate parties
who have no reason whatsoever to
get their stories straight, claim
they saw a clown under the bridge
with Mellon. They all saw how the
clown lifted Mellon out of the
water and took a bite out of his
Tom seems genuinely irritated now. He lights a cigarette and
starts pacing around the office. Then he walks up to Harold,
who takes a few steps back.
Al right. Let's just say, for
argument's sake, that there was
someone under the bridge with
Mellon. Let's even say he was
dressed as a clown, although that
seems very far fetched to me. In
the end it doesn't matter whether
there was a third party or not.
Those rednecks deliberately
assaulted Adrian Mellon because
they disagreed with his sexual
preferences, and as a result of
that he is downstairs in our
morgue! And if you bring up an
appearance of the one armed man
during the trial, the defense will
lap it up like a dog and chances
are these guys will walk out of
the courtroom as free men! You
want tht to happen?!
Both men sigh, look at each other for a bit and then sit
down, continuing their paper work.
And that is how, throughout the
centuries, the law enforcement of
Derry dealt with the weird
phenomena that plagued their
little town. With anger and


CLOSE UP of a ringing telephone. A hand appears in frame,
picking up the receiver.

On screen it reads: SIX TELEPHONE CALLS
BEN HANSCOM, a slim guy in his midforties, enters the almost
empty bar. He is greeted by the owner and bartender, RICKY.
Good evening, mister Hanscom.
There is no immediate response and when Ben approaches the
bar, Ricky sees that Ben is pale as a sheet.
Are you okay, Mr. Hanscom?
Ben sits down at the bar.
No, Ricky, can't say that I am.
Ricky decides to do his job. Serving alcohol. He takes a
beer-glass from the shelve and walks to the tap.
Don't, Ricky.
Excuse me?
What kind of whiskey do you serve
Four Roses, but let's make that
Chivas Regal for you.
Oh, that would be great.
Ricky reaches into a small down cabinet underneath the bar
while Ben wipes his face with a handkerchief. He holds his
hand in front of his face and notices how much it shivers.


Ricky holds up the bottle of CR and takes a whiskey glass
from the shelve.
Hold on a second there, Ricky. Why
don't you take that beer glass
anyway and fill it with Chivas
Ricky looks shocked and worried. He puts down the bottle of
whiskey and approaches Ben.
Mr. Hanscom, no woman is worth
this. Really.
Ben looks up and lets out a short laugh.
I just happen to disagree with you
on that one, Ricky, but you can
rest assured, this has nothing to
do with a damsel.
Well, actually it kinda, sorta
does, I reckon. But never you
mind, Ricky. Just fill that glass
to the brim and tell me how much I
owe you.
Oh, no no no no. This one is one
me, Mr. Hanscom.
Thanks, Ricky. Much obliged.
Ricky takes the beer-glass and fills it with Chivas Regal.
Then he puts it down in front of Ben.
Have you ever been to Peru?
No. No, can't say that I have.
I've been an architect for
eighteen years now and I've seen
some of the damndest stuff. In
1982 I went down to Peru to
assist, and later replace my
colleague Frank Billings. The
local carpenters were some of the


                       BEN (cont'd)
hardest workers I ever met...and
most definitely the hardest
drinkers I ever met. Allow me to
demonstrate a little trick they
taught me. Can you get me some
slices of lemon?
Ricky takes a lemon, cuts it into three parts and places
them on a napkin. Ben grabs two of them, tilts his head back
and squeezes the slice of lemon so the juice squirts into
his nose. Ben starts to cough hard.
Mr. Hanscom! Oh, my Lord...
Ben picks up the glass, puts it against his parted lips and
pours in half of the whiskey. Then he slams down the glass,
closes his eyes and grabs the bar with both hands. He is
shivering all over.
Mr. Hanscom, are you okay?
      (raspy voice)
Wow....wow, they
were...right...that lemon juice
stings like hell...it hurts so
much you don't even notice what
kind of stuff enters your
Please don't do that again, I
thought you...
Did I ever tell you I was F-A-T as
a kid, Ricky? I kid you not...I
was your regular fat ass and a
bully's wet dream. Henry Bowers,
he had it in for me. Heh, he had
it in for a lot of kids, but at
least they could try and outrun
the bastard. Henry Bowers was a
twelve year old monster...here,
take a look at this.
Ben lifts up his shirt and Ricky Lee sees a faded scar in
the form of an 'H' on his stomach.


Yup, Henry Bowers did this about
thirty years ago. If I remember
correctly he was planning to carve
his whole name into it.
Ben squirts more lemon juice into his nose and then pours
the remainder of the whiskey down his throat.
Ricky has an expression of pure horror on his face. Ben
notices it and starts laughing.
You're crazy.
Could be. God, I hope I am. Being
crazy would be a blessing, because
if I am not...If I am not, I'm in
a lot of trouble for sure.
You're scaring me.
Is that a fact? Well, let me tell
you something, Ricky, you get down
on your knees and pray to God that
you'll never have to be as scared
as I am right now.
Please tell me what's the
Tonight I received a phone call
from an old friend. At first I
didn't even know who it was. But,
hey, we are talking about a friend
from grammar school so who can
blame me, huh? But you know what
the weird thing is? When this old
pal, Mike Hanlon is his name,
called me I realised that it
wasn't just him I'd
forgotten...but my whole
youth...my whole upbringing in the
town of Derry. And I don't just
mean 'I hadn't really thought
about my childhood'...I literally
mean 'forgotten'. But after he
hung up, things started to come
back. And I'm scared, Ricky, I am
very scared. Mike called me to


                       BEN (cont'd)
remind me of a promise I once
made. And now I have to go back,
back to Derry.
Ben gets up and not-so-very-steadily walks towards the exit.
Mr. Hanscom, please!
Ben opens the door, then turns around.
I was fat and my family was poor.
Yeah. And I remember a girl...she
had the most beautiful red hair I
ever saw...I wrote her a poem. We
were losers, Ricky, all of
us...but I made it...and I think
the others did too...success and
money...but you pay a price for
certain things...and I guess the
time has come to pick up the
And with that, Ben steps outside and closes the door behind
Eddie Kasprak, 40 going on 50, is a short, thin guy who
looks like he is terminally ill. He stares into the camera
with a blank expression on his face.

Eddie's POV:

His medicine cabinet. Stuffed with just about every legal
prescription drug you can think of.


Eddie wakes up from this apparent self-hypnosis when a VOICE
calls out for him from downstairs.
                       MYRA (OS)
It is not a pleasant voice. It is your standard 'nagging
wife' voice.

Eddie blinks his eyes a couple of times and then starts
throwing all the bottles and strips and what have you's into


a large overnight bag. Myra, his wife, big as a house,
enters the room and looks worried sick.
What is going on in here? What are
you doing?
I am packing my stuff. I am going
away for a little while.
Eddie continues packing while Myra looks on as if she is
being had.
I don't understand...Eddie, would
you please stop doing that and
look at me?
Already before the sentence is out of her mouth, she's

Eddie sighs and turns around.

Myra tries to compose herself but she is not doing a bang up
Eddie, what are you doing? Tell
Look, I'm going away for a while,
I dunno how else to put it. I know
this must sound completely
bonkers, but I guess that's just
the way it is. I'm going and
that's all there's to it.
Myra looks stunned. Then her eyes widen and she freaks out.
There is someone else...you are
leaving me for someone else. Who
was that on the phone a few
minutes ago? And who did you call
after that?


No, there isn't anyone else. I
love you, I'm not going to divorce
you, I just need to go away for a
few days, a week tops, okay?
you're not making any sense now.
You can't go, you...you..you
promised to get me Al Pacino's
Well, you can ask him for it
yourself. You will have to replace
me in my absence.
I can't drive Pacino! Eddie,
please, you are scaring me to
For God's sake, would you just for
once stop suffocating me?!
Myra looks shocked. Eddie ashamed and angry. He looks at the
Okay, let's just sit down for a
couple of minutes and I'll try to
explain. But just to be sure, I
made up my mind. I m going.
I need you to call Phil for me in
the morning. Tell him that I'm not
gonna be around for a couple of
days and that you'll take over my
shifts in my absence.
I haven't driven the limo in ages,
Eddie, I cannot do it. Why are you
leaving me, eddie, you can't....
That's enough! You cn do it and
you wll do it. Or would you like
our company to go belly up just
because you can't handle the fact
I'm going away for just a couple
of days?


okay, fine, I'll do it. But just
tell me what is going on!
The door bells rings.
That'll be my taxi.
Now Myra freaks out again. She grabs him tight and starts
Please, Eddie, no! Please! I beg
you! I'll do anything you want.
You'll get ill! You're too weak
for an unplanned trip like this!
Now Eddie starts crying too.
I'm not going away because I want
to! Can't you understand?! I hve
to go, I made a promise once and
I'm gonna keep it! And I'll be
back before you know it.
Having said that, he picks up his suitcase and walks out of
the house, paying no attention to Myra's desperate crying.
An attractive couple in their forties, BEVERLY and TOM
ROGAN, walk hand in hand to their car.
That was a pretty good movie
wasn't it?
Yeah, I guess so, but this was the
last time we took the late show.
It's almost midnight for Pete's
sake and we have to get up at six


                       TOM (cont'd)
in the morning.
Still worried about the contracts?
Who said anything about being
worried? I'm not worried, we've
got those suckers in the palms of
our hands. I'm sure they'll put
their John Hancock's on the bottom
of the stack of paper we're gonna
shove in their faces, but I don't
want you to look like a zombie
when we close the deal.
You just let me take care of
myself, okay? I'll be and look
just fine, I promise.
O, you'd better, Bevvie.
She smiles, uncertain, and takes a pack of cigarettes from
her purse. Tom looks disapproving but she doesn't notice. He
opens her door and she gets in the car. Tom walks around to
his door and get in as well.
Beverly lights the cigarette. Tom turns on the radio and
turns up the volume. Joy Division's Love will tear us apart
blasts out of the speakers. Beverly turns red, then pale.
She knows what's coming.
Tom punches her in the face.
Ouch...why, why did you do that,
I told you a thousand times
already, Bevvie, that I don't want
you to smoke. It's a disgusting
habbit. The guys at the office
smoke like chimneys and there
might not be a single thing I can
do about that, but I'll be damned
if I sit here and let my own wife


                       TOM (cont'd)
pollute the air that I breath.
I ...I just forgot...I didn't mean
to...I just forgot...
Throw it out, Bevvie, do it right
now or by God, I promise you'll
have to wear tons of make up
tomorrow to hide the bruises on
your face.
Bevvie rolls open the window on her side and tosses out the
You...you shouldn't hit
me...this...this really shouldn't
be part of a relationship between
two adults...
You wanna leave, Bevvie? You go
right ahead, open the door and get
out. I asked you to stop doing
something and you promised me
you'd never do it again. And then
you just forget all about it. If
you wanna see the cause of your
pain, take the little mirror from
your purse so you can look your
reflection straight in the eye.
But if you wanna play little miss
ostrich, this is the end of the
line for you.
To emphasize his words, he reaches over and pushes open the
door on her side.
What will it be, Bevvie?
Beverly reaches over and pulls the door shut. Then, she puts
on her safety belt.
Tom and Beverly enter their house kissing and fondling. This
is how Tom Rogan makes up.


I...I don't want to make love...
Tom puts his hand between her legs and she moans.
Then I guess you just peed in your
underwear, Bevvie, because your
thighs have turned into the
Niagara falls.
She answers by kissing him firmly. Her hands are everywhere.
Stroking his neck, his clothed buttocks, his face. Then, she
reaches down and unzips his trousers.
Tom and Beverly are going at like a couple of bunnies.
Beverly isn't playing along, she is loving every second of
Tom and Beverly. In a post-coital embrace.
Damn, girl, I sure managed to push
all the right buttons tonight
didn't I?
No response.
How many orgasms did you have?
      (a whisper)
That's rude...
O yeah? Says who - Mr. Rogers?
He takes her chin between his thumb and index finger and
turns her face towards him.
I want you to tell me, Bevvie.


He smiles and lets go of her face. She turns around,
Good girl. Then you may go right
ahead and smoke a cigarette.
She looks at him. Not with gratitude, but with horror. Tom
doesn't even notice it. He gets up out of bed and walks into
the bathroom.
We're with Tom in the shower. Behind him, through the opened
door to the bedroom, we hear the telephone ringing and see
Beverly answering. The noise of the running shower drowns
out the conversation. A bit later, we see Beverly putting
the receiver down and getting up out of bed. Tom turns off
the shower, puts a towel around his waist and walks out of
the bathroom.
Who was on the phone?
To his surprise he sees that Beverly is dressed and packing
her suitcase.
What the hell are you doing? Any
idea what time it is? Get your ass
back into bed, this instant.
But Beverly pays no attention. Instead, she continues
Tom, the person who just called me
is an old friend.
Shut the hell up, Bevvie, you are
getting on my nerves again. Put
that suitcase back on the floor,
take off your clothes and get back
into bed. Right now.


I can't, Tom, I really can't.
Listen, there is something going
on in Derry, the town where I grew
up. God, I haven't thought about
that town in just about ages.
Remember that book you were
reading a few weeks ago? "The
Glowing" by Bill Denbrough? Can
you believe he was one of my
childhood friends? But for some
odd reason the name on the cover
of that paperback didn't ring a
Tom is through listening. He slaps her across the face.
Young Beverly gets a slap across the face from her dad.
That's enough out of you, bitch. I
closed my eyes for many things
lately, giving you a chance to
work on yourself, but I guess
you'll just never learn, will you?
It's time for a beating, little
girl, just to put you back in
He punches her in the face. Bevvie yelps and falls down on
the floor. Tom grabs her by her collar and pulls her towards
him. He punches her in the face two more times and is about
to go for a third one when her knee says 'good evening' to
his testicals. Tom falls on his knees, cupping his balls
with both hands.
No, Tom, that's been enough out of
yu. It just about kills me to
realise that I let you walk all
over me since the day we got
married, but guess what, you son
of a bitch? No more! You hear me?
No more!
Pain can cause a man to go down. Anger can cause a man to
stand up again and that is exactly what Tom does. He grabs
Beverly by her shoulders and smashes her into a large mirror
on the wall.. The mirror breaks into a thousand pieces and


Beverly grabs one of the larger pieces, cutting her hand
pretty bad while doing so, and lashes out at Tom, who
receives a nasty cut in his lower arm. He screams and lets
go of her.
My God, you cut me...I can't
believe you cut me...I'm gonna
need stitches for that!
      (matter of factly)
Yeah, well, those cuts will heal
eventually...trust me, I'm the one
to know. You can make me bleed as
much as you want, Tom, but the
cuts and bruises always heal after
a while. It's the emotional scars
I'm worried about.
Beverly walks right past him and closes her suitcase. She
then takes a tissue, licks it and start rubbing the blood on
her face. Tom just stares at her in disbelief. She has been
his toy for ages and now, after one phone call, she's turned
into 'I am Woman, hear me roar'? His arm hurts like hell,
but still he strikes again once more, running towards her
and grabbing her by her throat. She realises she is still
holding the piece of shattered glass and uses it. She stabs
him in the upper leg and that marks the end of the fight.
Down Tom goes and down Tom stays. Beverly looks pissed, sits
on her knees next to him and holds the piece of glass to his
I have been listening to you for
more than ten years, Tom, but
those days are now officially
over. And don't worry, I'm not
putting the blame on you, I'll
give you that much. No one but me
can be blamed for marrying someone
who is just as fond of domestic
violence as my late father used to
be. I'm leaving you now, Tom,
because I have more important
things to take care of. But when
I'm back the first thing on my
things-to-do list will be
divorcing you. And I promise you,
right here, right now, that if you
ever come near me again, I'll slit
your goddamn throat...understood?


She doesn't wait for an answer. She gets up, grabs her
suitcase and walks out of the room. Tom watches her go,
holding his stabbed leg with both hands. He wants to yell
something after her, but cannot find the strength.


Back to Top of Page
Leave Feedback
From Stuart Date 8/29/2007 ****
Im givin you 4 stars, good work as far as im concerned. Some feedback i'd give you is if you want a subtitle on the screen it' 'SUBTITLE: 1985' instead of saying 'on the screen shows 1985' Thats really nitpicking it, other than that good job.

Back to Top of Page
Leave Feedback
You must be logged in to leave feedback.
Home    My Account    Products    Screenwriter Community    Screenwriter's Corner    Help
Forgot Your Password?    Privacy Policy    Copyright 2024, ScriptBuddy LLC.    Email help@scriptbuddy.com