Hide and seek isn't as much fun when you have to stay still the whole night, wondering about death.

SYNOPSIS:

Minimalism. Ambiguity. Quiet tension.

We open with the protagonist, named Robin for convenience, hiking in the woods with a hefty backpack. The setup is lived-in—Robin is not new to this. About done for the day, though, as a cabin comes into sight. Not an inhabited residence, a location for anyone to spend the night.

A shot of an open bathroom. The last second or so of the sound of a flush. Then Robin has the eucatastrophe of heading up to the attic, using the pull-down staircase that swings back up after the last step into the cramped area. The roll unwinds for a quick nap, before Robin truly settles in.

Some time later, Robin hears sounds of people downstairs. And the whisper "They ate me. They'll live forever, unless you see the sunrise."

The plot is set. Can Robin trust this ghostly voice? Is it a credible threat, or merely 'better safe than sorry'? A rational calculation, or excessive caution? Is Robin going to be able to endure this semi-voluntary game of hide and seek, with the bladder pressure that so frequently tends to arise when one has found a secluded spot therein?

One small climax of potential action: the sound of the stove turning on and gas hissing. (Audible, in the attic?) A shot of the open flue entrance in the attic, close enough to approach without too much movement. A shot of the lighter in Robin's bag. "Boom", whispered or even simply mouthed. And then a slight shake of the head. Too risky in alerting them, when it also might not work? Too dangerous, setting off an explosion in the house? Too final a step, when the threat is uncertain?

One small climax of potential discovery, interwoven with the possibility of stress-induced dreaming: the top of the staircase seems to tremble and creak. Is there about to be a presence in the attic? Is it the house settling? Is Robin merely asleep and working through the fear?

One ambiguity resolved, when the sky lightens, and the sun eventually can only be said to have risen. Robin gets up, packs up, walks downstairs. Grimaces, at something offscreen. (The bodies of the supposed villains in the house? Something not observed in the initial sojourn on the ground floor?) No shot of the bathroom. (Was the bladder need tension-induced? Was it real, but worked through by the physiological cycle? Does the camera actually hide anything by not showing the front of Robin below the waist, in this sequence?) Robin walks through the front door, resuming the hike/camp, and finally retreats from the camera. Fin.

Clearly, Robin is carrying most of this story: one third environmental storytelling from the set, one third body language, and one third narration/"Boom". For the right actor, this is an engaging challenge.