Script: Short Film Harald Hagen

“Go Back”
FADE IN:

INT. GARAGE – DAY

The cluttered garage of a family whose sons grew up too soon.

Boxes spilling with old clothes, books, and toys tower against
the walls, the shelving, the work bench. There’s no grease, no
grime. Only dust. Dust and neglect.

It’s late. From outside, the distant sounds of CHILDREN

playing. Worlds away. The low sun paints an orange-gold swath
through the windows of the garage door, across some open
boxes: He-Man, G.I. Joe, the Turtles. All retired now.

Growing in volume, metallic CLINKS. A wrench tightens a bolt.

REVEAL a young boy with intense eyes and a face that’ll brood
one day. NOAH, 11, kneels to one side of an obvious void in
the middle of the room. Where a car might go. He’s focused on
fixing up a bicycle: black with neon green highlight streaks.

A CAR drives by outside. Yellow headlights cut across the dark

garage. Without stopping his work, Noah looks up.

The car’s lights pass. Noah turns his attention back to the
bike. When several more CARS pass by, Noah ignores them.

A BEAT. Then a blue-white light silently FLASHES in through

the windows. Quick. Blink and you’ll miss it. Noah doesn’t
notice. One of those hybrids maybe?

Seconds later, the garage’s side door swings open. It’s GABE,
12, a dorky kid with glasses and too many freckles.

GABE
Hey. Can I borrow your bike?

NOAH
(incredulous)
Seriously.

GABE
Yeah. Can I?

(CONTINUED)
 1.

NOAH
Not after what happened with my
telescope. And my CD player. And
Skeletor. And my first bike!

GABE
Come on. It’s important.

NOAH
It’s always important.

GABE
It really is this time. I swear!

Noah stops what he’s doing and faces Gabe, studying him.

NOAH
Why?

Gabe takes a quick scan outside, then shuts the door behind
him. He’s worried. He steps over to Noah, hesitant.

GABE
(indoor voice)
OK. Here’s the thing. I just heard
from Tommy Ruthers that Anna
Jenkins is going out riding with
her friends to the park. But
they’re going like right now.

NOAH
Since when do you care what Anna
Jenkins is doing?

GABE
Hey, I told you the reason. Now
can I borrow your bike or not?

A BEAT. Noah shakes his head ‘no’ and gets back to the bike.

Gabe lets out a frustrated GROAN, his worry more intense now.
He crosses over to the garage door and gets on his tiptoes.

He turns back to Noah. A short BEAT as he thinks.

GABE (CONT’D)
How about if I give you my--

(CONTINUED)
 2.

NOAH
(enough)
Gabe.

A LONG BEAT. It wasn’t even his tone; it was Noah’s stare that
shut Gabe up. Gabe finally looks defeated.

Amidst a heavy silence, meekly, Gabe steps in.

GABE
Look. I get it. But it’s been
eight months. You don’t have to
lock yourself in here every day.

Noah gets on his feet.

NOAH
What’s gotten into you? Yesterday
you were saying girls are medusas
and witches. Why do you want to go
see Anna Jenkins all of a sudden?

As Noah goes on, he closes the gap between him and Gabe.

NOAH (CONT’D)
This isn’t like you, Gabe. Why--

Something catches Noah’s eye outside. Shuts him up. A moment

later we hear what he hears: the distinctive REVVING sound of
a sports car’s engine outside. And it’s getting closer.

Noah darts to the garage door. On tiptoes he peeks out.

Then, his eyes widen.

Noah SLAMS a nearby switch. The garage doors creak and start
to raise. We hear the sports car IDLING outside.

Noah runs back to his bike. There’s hope in his eyes, but it’s
not joyful. It’s desperate. Starved and sad.

Gabe stands between him and the door.

GABE
Noah. Don’t.

(CONTINUED)
 3.

NOAH
What are you talking about? I told
you. I told Mom too. I knew he’d
be back. He’d never leave.

GABE
No, Noah. He’s not back.

The garage doors are halfway up. The sunset’s light pours in.

NOAH
What are you talking about? He’s
right there! Look!

GABE
He’s not back, Noah. He never
comes back.

NOAH
Get out of the way. Get out!

They get into a brief SCUFFLE. Noah pushes Gabe to the side.
He mounts the bike. We stay on his face as--

The sports car REVS again. We hear it start to drive off.

Noah, crushed, starts to well up.

NOAH (CONT’D)
...Dad?

With the garage door open, he bolts out as fast as he can.

Gabe can only stand and watch. He has a heart-breaking look.
He’s fighting back tears. We stay on his face as--

The sports car and Noah’s voice move farther and farther away.

GABE
(whispering)
He never comes back, Noah.

A LONG BEAT. Tears stream down Gabe’s face. His breathing

turns rapid. He’s terrified of something to his very core and
it’s breaking him.

Everything else goes quiet except for the car and Noah’s
voice. Worlds away. When all of a sudden--

(CONTINUED)
 4.

SCREECHING TIRES. A different car.

Gabe flinches. Shuts his eyes. Turns away.

THUD.

The sound of a bicycle thrown across the pavement.

A VERY LONG BEAT.

As Gabe stays put, we hear commotion. Car doors. House doors.

Concerned chatter. Someone SHOUTS for an ambulance.

Slowly, Gabe opens his eyes and looks forward again. He

shakes. Furious. At himself, at Noah, at everything.

He takes something from his back pocket: a small notepad with

a pen clipped inside the row of binding rings. Slides the pen
out. Flips open to a page.

The top of the page, underlined, reads: “APRIL 13: BICYCLE”.

Beneath it we see a list of bulleted words, each crossed out:
“MINE IS BROKEN”, “MY VISITING COUSIN NEEDS ONE”, “FOR AN
EXPERIMENT”, “IT’S A SECRET”, “BIG RICHIE IS AFTER ME!!!”.

Gabe crosses out the last item: “TO TALK TO ANNA JENKINS.”

He looks up. The anger and grief is transforming.

Gabe flips to a brand new page and writes: “APRIL 12: ??”.

Pocketing the pad and pen again, he SLAMS the switch on the
wall. Slips under the garage door. He stands outside, still.

As the garage door lowers behind him, we see an odd light

shining in from the glass openings. Brighter, brighter...

The door closes bit by bit until it seals the garage shut.

Then, across the toy boxes, we see a pure-white light silently

FLASH in through the garage door windows. Quick. Blink and
you’ll miss it. It’s definitely not one of those hybrids.

CUT TO BLACK:

FADE OUT.

(CONTINUED)