FADE IN:

INT. NEW HOUSE - HALLWAY - DAY

Moving boxes, dust in the air. Late afternoon light cuts through the windows. LEO is seen carrying a box labeled to a ROOM. He walks down a long hallway toward the last door at the far end.

His mother opens it with a smile.

MOM

This one’s yours, the biggest room in the house

Leo steps inside. The room is spacious, hardwood floors, a single window overlooking the backyard, and too quiet.

(Leo smiles anyway)

LEO

Guess I lucked out.

His father pats him on the shoulder.

DAD

Perks of being the only kid.

They leave him alone to unpack and rest because it was getting late. The camera lingers on the wooden floor. Silence, then faintly

(scrrrrappppe.)

Cut to black

INT. LEO’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

A digital clock glows red, 2:59. Leo sleeps peacefully and the numbers flip to 3:00 AM immediately

(scrrrrappppe.)

Leo’s eyes snap open. He doesn’t move. He listens

(Scrape… scrape… scrape)

Slow and rhythmic like a fingernail dragged across wood from beneath him. Leo sits up. There is silence. He waits but nothing. He swings his legs off the bed and kneels, pressing his ear to the floor. Still nothing. He exhales in calmness.

INT. KITCHEN – DAY

Leo sits at the table, exhausted and dark circles forming under his eyes. He didn’t get enough sleep last night due to the strange sound.

LEO

There’s a sound under my floor. At exactly three every night.

His parents exchange a look, gentle and amused mixed with chaos on their faces.

DAD

Old houses make noise, buddy.

MOM

Pipes and wood expanding. You’ll surely get used to it my dear.

LEO

(Leo frowns in dissatisfaction)

It’s not pipes. Mom?! Dad?!

I know what I am saying, those were scratches. It was really disturbing and concerning.

They smile reassuringly.

INT. LEO’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Leo lies in bed, wide awake. His phone is propped on his desk recording video. 2:59 AM. He grips his blanket. It reaches exactly 3:00 AM, the sound begins

(SCRAAAAAPE.)

He flinches but forces himself still.

(Scrape… scrape… scrape.)

LEO (whispers)

I've got you, Leo.

The sound continues for nearly a minute, then it stops. Leo immediately grabs his phone and replays the footage.

On the video, no sound. Just him breathing. No scraping. Leo’s face drains of color.

This keeps happening night after night. Leo keeps recording the sound, but the result is always in vain. Dark circles form under his eyes.

INT. LEO’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Leo lies rigid in bed. He closes his eyes.

(SCRAAAAAPE.)

His eyes fly open. Silence. He closes them again.

(SCRAAAAAPE.)

He opens them again, but the same silence.

A slow realization creeps across his face.

LEO (whispers)

It only happens when my eyes are closed…

He swallows in fear, then closes his eyes.

INT. LEO’S BEDROOM – NEXT NIGHT

Leo sits upright in bed, back against the headboard. Energy drinks line his desk. He stares at the wooden floor. 2:59 approaches, then 3:00 AM. He refuses to blink, but still nothing.

He almost laughs in relief, then the sound begins

(SCRAAAAAPE.)

Leo freezes. His eyes are wide open. The sound is louder now, closer, directly beneath his bed.

The wood beneath him begins to vibrate slightly. He slowly leans over the side of the bed. The scraping grows sharper. A thin line appears in the wood, as if carved by an invisible blade.

Another line intersects it. The carving continues, letter by letter.

L.

Leo’s breath quickens.

E.

LEO

(He shakes his head.)

No… no, no, no

Another letter

O.

The scraping stops. Etched deeply into the hardwood floor beneath his bed is a single word: LEO.

The letters are fresh, raw wood exposed. He scrambles backward against the wall.

LEO (CONT'D)

Mom?! Dad?!

Silence fills the hallway.

From beneath the floor, a sound begins

(Scrape.)

Right under where he’s now sitting, the wood begins to carve again. Leo watches in horror as new letters form.

W A K E.

He stares at the word.

LEO (CONT'D)

W A K E E E…?

The bedroom door slowly creaks open by itself. Leo turns toward it. Darkness fills the hallway.

Behind him, the scraping resumes, faster now, desperate. Carving across the floor in jagged strokes.

Leo looks back. The word WAKE is scratched over and over again.

WAKE WAKE WAKE WAKE

The floorboards begin to bulge upward slightly, as if something underneath is pressing against them.

Leo squeezes his eyes shut. Silence.

He slowly opens them. The floor is normal. No carvings, no scratches. Just smooth hardwood.

His room looks untouched.

Leo breathes a sigh of relief, then notices something. His hands hurt.

He looks down. Under his fingernails—splinters. Tiny curls of fresh wood embedded in his fingers.

Leo stares at his trembling hands. The digital clock flips beside him: 2:59 AM.

His eyes widen. He hasn’t moved nor slept.

The numbers change to 3:00 AM.

From inside his head:

(SCRAAAAAPE.)

Leo screams.

INT. LEO’S BEDROOM – DAY

His parents stand in his room. The bed is empty. No Leo.

His mother gasps softly. Words are carved deeply into the center of the wooden floor—impossible to miss:

LEO

And beneath it:

WAKE

The scraping sound continues faintly.

FADE OUT.