Here's a dodgy excerpt:
INT. CARL’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
A blood-curdling unearthly demonic howl (OVER) and a human Scream (OVER).
A large living room, leading off from a long candlelit corridor. Hundreds of candles placed around the room, cast dancing shadows around the strange masks and relics displayed on the walls.
BRAD, a slim male in his early twenties, kneels screaming, his face bloody; looming over a corpse, clad entirely in black; blood pooling beneath it.
A LARGE ANTIQUE WOODEN TRUNK BEARING AN ORNATE PADLOCK, with ornate carvings on its exterior, glows profusely in the centre of the living room; light spilling from the gaps in the lid. It’s sides, reinforced by metal bands, seem to bulge.
BRAD
FUCKING STOP IT!
He rises and stumbles backwards before he can get to his feet, dropping his weapon - A SACRIFICIAL DAGGER - and A STATUETTE OF A HOODED EFFIGY of one of the Old ones.
Near despair, he sobs. We hear the howl again and the box judders violently. Brad scooches back.
Something moves within the trunk - something larger than what could actually fit within it; as if the box is really much bigger inside, like a Tardis.
The light pulses brightly. Brad stares at the box and is obviously terrified of it.
The light glows brighter; then abruptly ceases its pulsing.
Brad stares, rapt. He sits for a moment, realises he is covered in gore and sitting in a pool of it. Disgusted he wipes his face on a sleeve and hurriedly stands.
Brad picks up the dagger and slowly edges towards the box. Now still, it looks to all intents and purposes like a harmless trunk.
He whacks its side with the handle of the knife. It’s heavy, doesn’t move and sounds empty; with a hollow thud.
He hits it again, still fearful. Nothing.
He kneels before the box and we see a LARGE ROUND HOLE in the padlock, a missing object which appears to be part of the lock/latch mechanism. He touches the hole, appears confused.
He sighs, takes a deep breath, counts under his breath and the latch opens; padlock removed, he hurls the lid up and back and ducks back instinctively, wary; nothing happens.
The box is empty.
He laughs nervously, shaking his head and leans over the box. He drops the knife and taps inside with his hands, checking it really is empty and doesn’t contains a false bottom. He laughs again, relieved.
Sensing that something has moved behind him, he spins around. The body is gone!
The statuette grins evil-ly as it stands nearby.
He reaches down for the knife. It’s gone.
He hears a knocking sound, an echo of his own earlier knock at the bottom of the box, which causes him to turn and look within; unaware that a shadowy form of someone stands over him.
A brilliantly unearthly light washes his blood splattered face and the room, pouring from within the box.
He rises and stands, his mouth open in a silent scream, but is also transfixed and unable to tear his eyes away.
The shadowy form strikes him from behind with the dagger.
Pained, he falls down into the box and disappears within. Even with the lid open we cannot see any trace of him.
The lid is pulled shut from within and the light ceases.
