Jack is a teenager who lives a disorganized life, always running late. He finds a flyer promoting community service at the local cemetery and decides to help clean up. He develops a routine of sweeping, cleaning benches, and reading. While collecting litter, Jack discovers bloody clothes and a knife hidden in the bushes, suggesting a crime may have occurred.

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FADE IN:
INT. JACK'S HOUSE- DAY
MONTAGE
JACK opens his brown eyes, still laying in the bed of his
drearily decorated bedroom. Rather reluctant, he raises from
a resting position to set his feet onto the ground and heads
towards the chest of drawers to pick an outfit.
He looks about as accomplished as a teenager does in the
morning, carelessly pulling on his outfit of jeans and
whatever miscellaneous t-shirt he has managed to grab in his
tired haze.
When he finished getting dressed he stumbles away from the
chest of drawers and out of the bedroom, rounding the corner
and cautiously treading down the colourful carpeted stairs on
his journey to the kitchen. His treading footsteps continue
until he reaches the grey countertops in the kitchen,
pottering around as he makes his morning coffee. Flicking the
kettle on as he looks conflicted towards the breakfast cereal
options to his right.
JACK
(SARCASTICALLY)
Let's see... do i act like a healthy,
functioning member of society and eat
the fruity granola? Or do i act like
the uncaring teenager i am and go for
the sugar packed option? The answer is
obvious.
Jack reaches out to grab the chosen sugary cereal and pours
it into a bowl he had grabbed for the cupboard, walking to
the fridge to grab milk to finish preparing his cereal and
morning coffee. He doesn't bother to find a place to sit,
resting unbothered at the bench as he slowly eats his
breakfast.
Once he finished he looks towards the time display on his
phone and mutters some colourful curse words in surprise.
JACK
Oh god I'm so late, why am i always
like this!
(CONT:)

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CONT.
He quickly places the cereal bowl on the bench and
ungracefully hurls his body through the corridor and towards
the front door. Throwing on a pair of shoes and a coat at a
dangerously quick pace, he grabs his keys and makes his way
out to start the day.
INT. JACK'S HOUSE- NIGHT
STILL MONTAGE
The front door opens as JACK steps into the house, appearing
rather tired he pulls off his coat and shoes. Placing them
neatly on the coat and shoe rack respectively.
Having removed these he climbs the staircase in a defeated
manner, visibly exhausted. Once he has reached the top he
rounds the corner and heads into the bedroom. Making no
attempt to change out of his current clothes, he heads
straight to bed after turning the light off.
INT. JACK'S HOUSE- DAY
STILL MONTAGE
JACK wakes up in bed yet again, following the same routine of
walking to the drawers and randomly picking his combo of
jeans and a random t-shirt.
He walks down to the kitchen again in a similar fashion as
yesterday, teetering dangerously as he descends the stairs
clearly not fully awake yet.
Making the same breakfast of coffee and sugary cereal,
standing at the counter to slowly eat his breakfast. Jack
glances at his phone which was placed on the counter towards
his right, realising he was late again and rushing towards
the door.
INT. JACK'S HOUSE- NIGHT
STILL MONTAGE
JACK stands at the door looking exhausted, closing the door
behind him and removing both shoes and coat. After achieving
this task he stumbles up the stairs and goes back to bed.

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INT. JACK'S HOUSE- DAY
STILL MONTAGE
We see JACK wake up, pull out an outfit and walk to the
kitchen. Taking a bite and rushing towards the front door to
leave.
INT. JACK'S HOUSE- NIGHT
STILL MONTAGE
JACK stands at the door looking utterly defeated, shoulders
slumped as his messenger bag dangles off of his shoulder
dangerously. He doesn't seem to find the effort to follow his
usual night routine, simply closing the door and collapsing
to the coloured carpeted floor. He never makes it to bed this
time.
END OF MONTAGE
EXT. JACKS HOUSE- DAY
JACK steps out of his front door looking eager to start his
day, though it is clear that the negativity from his previous
night is still effecting him.
He fixes the collar of his jacket and pulls the strap of his
messenger back to a safe position on his shoulder. As he
turns to fix said strap he discovers a leaflet balanced under
the metal covering of his letter box.
JACK
( )
In false cheeriness
I guess I have some time to read this,
because for once I'm not actually
running late.
He pulls the leaflet from the gold coloured letter box and
dutifully unfolds it to show 'HELP OUT THE COMMUNITY, HELP
OUT THE EARTH'. Taking the time to read it's contents,
discovering that said leaflet is promoting community service
in a local cemetery.
JACK
A cemetery? We have a local cemetery-
Well I guess that's obviously a yes.
(CONT:)

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CONT.
Honestly it can't hurt to do some
community service, might be good for
me. But a cemetery... really?
Having made his mind up, he puts his school lanyard
previously hanging from his neck into his bag and makes his
way out of the garden gate, setting off down the street to
his new task.
EXT. LOCAL CEMETERY- DAY
JACK enters the cemetery through the dauting black bars of
the half open gate, to his left is a small war memorial and
directly ahead is a long walkway flanked by rows of trees
with branches bowing down from the burden of age. There seems
to be a sort of thick fog that looms over the grass, rolling
through the gravestones as if it were wandering.
Undeterred by the eerie atmosphere, Jack marches down the
pathway with a newfound purpose. Only pausing his frantic
steps when he passes a bench filled with cleaning supplies,
eyes inspecting the small pile and determining he had been
provided with a broom, some black trash bags and various
cleaning sprays. Atop the pile is a small sticky note,
reading 'The community helped you out by giving you these,
help them back by cleaning the area'.
JACK
Well that helps out a bit, at least
now i know where to start.
BEGIN MONTAGE
Jack takes the broom in his hands, clenching the handle with
a firm grip. There is a clear spark in his eyes, bouncing
from foot to foot eagerly as he gages how much sweeping needs
to be done. Muttering time estimates as he begins to sweep
the broom around the perimeters of the bench, gathering
fallen leaves and litter into one neat pile and continuing
the process with the surrounding area. Making his way
outwards from the bench and down the main sections of the
long pathway.
Then Jack takes the trash bags and begins to guide the litter
and leaves he has gathered into the trash bags he has been
given, carrying out this process with a contented look on his
face. It is clear that the pressure he had felt in his
(CONT:)

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CONT.
lifestyle had began to fade. His brows no longer furrowed and
shoulders without tension.
After completing this task he decides to take a break,
brushing the remaining cleaning supplies to one side and
taking a seat. He looks at his phone and realises the time,
deciding to reach into his messenger back, also sat on the
bench, and pulls out a packed lunch. Slowly eating his meal
with a happy look out of place in his location.
EXT. LOCAL CEMETERY- DAY
STILL MONTAGE
JACK stands in the cemetery sweeping away leaves and litter
as is his new routine, this time in a different jeans and
shirt combo to the one he wore the day previously. He carries
out his task of sweeping and clearing in a similar light
hearted fashion, undertaking the physical labour of cleaning
seemingly without complaint.
Today he also decides to wipe down the benches, taking a
random bottle of cleaning solution from his provided supply
stash and beginning drag the cleaning rag back on fourth on
the cold metal. Wiping away the accumulated dirt over a span
of time best left unknown, Jack looked too hesitant to
consider finding an answer for why they looked so unclean.
After he finishes he casts his eyes downwards towards the now
dirty rag in his hand.
JACK
I'm beginning to understand why i was
asked to do this, oh god it's
basically brown-
He looks increasingly more repulsed after this realisation,
hastily making his way back towards his supply hoard and
throwing the rag out of his hand in what appears to be
desperation to distance himself from said object.
Having achieved that goal he sits himself down and pulls out
a book, crossing one leg over the other until he reaches a
comfortable seating position. Leaning back onto the cold
metal bench and focusing his mind on the words printed onto
the beige paper. Branches of the nearby trees sway in the
(CONT:)

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CONT.
breeze, creating gentle rustling sounds that lull him into a
peaceful expression, appearing content in his new lifestyle.
EXT. LOCAL CEMETERY- DAY
STILL MONTAGE
JACK is once again roaming the local cemetery, his thick
woolly jumper contrasting to his simple t-shirt from the day
before. This time he is carefully patrolling all of the
pathways armed with a black trash bag in hand, carefully
plucking miscellaneous pieces of litter scattered across the
area.
His face appears content, unwavered by the physical labour as
he makes a right turn down yet another pathway. This one is
flanked by trees in a similar fashion to every other he has
worked in.
Gradually, he makes his way down said pathway, leading
himself unintentionally towards the left. So focused on his
task, he doesn't realise he has walked off of the paved path
and is headed directly towards some bushes pressed against
the edge of the cemetery fences.
Piece by painstaking piece Jack approaches the greenery, only
pausing when he realises he has reached the edge of the area
and no longer has any litter left to clear. In satisfaction,
he rustles his bag and goes to make a turn. However, his eyes
catch a speck of white sticking out from the bush.
END MONTAGE
Reluctantly he leans down to gather said litter into his bag,
when he lifts it he realises its a t-shirt. Covered in
browned-red patches.
Now looking mildly concerned, he reaches into the bushes yet
again. Retrieving more clothing and a large kitchen knife,
inspecting it at arms length he realises these items are
covered in what appears to be dried blood.
The teen freezes in horror and confusion, the warmth of
happiness in his appearance now turned ice cold. His skin now
a ghostly white. For a few moments he just stands items in
hand.
(CONT:)

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CONT.
After a few beats he places his findings onto the ground and
hesitantly reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his
phone. Immediately calling 999.
POLICE STATION SECRETERY
Hello this is the Sunderland police
department what's your emergency?
Jack seems hesitant to give a response, the awkward nature of
the situation is crystal clear from the puzzled expression he
wears.
JACK
I don't know if this is a joke... but
I was doing some community service in
the graveyard and I've found a bloody
knife and some clothes. What do I do?
EXT. LOCAL CEMETERY- DAY
JACK stands in the familiar cemetery walkway, wandering
around with his black bag picking up litter. Wrapped up
snugly in winter boots and a coat. The cemetery looks
different now, the small streams of light that used to beam
down on him while he works are now gone. This change of mood
reflects on jack also, his brows now constantly furrowed.
He turns his head in the direction of the pathway he walked
yesterday when picking up litter, the familiar shrubbery
swaying innocently in the wind. His conflicted expression
disappears as he shakes his head, turning back around
forcefully and marching back down the walkway with
determination.
JACK
It was just some random dirty clothing
Jack get a grip, wait... when did
talking to myself become a habit-
However, as Jack makes his way down his eyes turn towards a
tree to his left. Tall, dark brown and branches thick enough
to show how old it actually was. What was weird about the
tree's appearance was the piece of paper attached to it's
trunk.
A curious expression washes over his face, before he quickly
loses interest.
(CONT:)

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CONT.
Turning his head towards his right where another tree stands,
perched delicately on the bark sits another note.
Jack stumbles back in what appears to be surprise, head
frantically moving back and forth at the remaining trees on
the walkway. on each is an identical piece of paper.
He takes cautious steps towards the tree on his immediate
right, grasping the note in his hand as his eyes navigate
it's contents. It reads "Didn't anyone ever warn you?
Curiosity killed the cat".
For a moment the world stands still, Jack stood still in
horror as the branches above sway in an eerily calm fashion.
JACK
(frantically muttering)
Oh for the love of- its just paper,
put them in the bag and leave.
He calms down visibly, wandering through the walkway to
collect each slip of paper as the sun sets.
EXT. LOCAL CEMETERY- NIGHT
JACK makes his way towards the exit of the cemetery, trudging
tiredly in his heavy winter boots. The low thumps of his
footsteps sounding in the quiet night time. Above him the
tree branches rustle gently, it appears that Jack is alone.
He lets out a small sigh of exhaustion, the air visible in
the cold winter weather.
The distant crunching of leaves under boots breaks Jack's
peaceful but drowsy demeaner, there is a moment where the
teenage boy just pauses. The sound of mysterious footsteps
somehow much more deafening than his, echoing through the
mostly quiet environment.
Jack appears too startled to turn himself around, he stiffly
steps forward at a cautious pace and continues to approach
the exit. The footsteps continue as the mysterious figure
clad in all black clothing tracks him with clear intent, this
unknown person seems like the typical criminal.
This slow paced chase continues until a hand reaches out to
forcefully halt Jack's movements, grasping his shoulder in a
tight grip.
(CONT:)

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CONT.
A small sheet of paper flutters to the ground, and after some
silent prompting he reaches down to reach it. Clasping it in
trembling hands, his cold frantic breaths turning misty.
The paper reads as the others he had cleaned up earlier did,
the same warning of curiosity being a person's downfall.
His head remains tilted downwards, eyes fluttering closed as
if he understood what was about to occur.
The sound of a singular gunshot bellows throughout the
graveyard.
ENDS.