Welcome to “Bite-Size Pilots”
My cinematic ramblings in miniature: short, mood-heavy scenes or episode seeds, open to growth, rewrites, or sudden bursts of inspiration. Think of them as the “cold opens” of stories that haven’t been fully told yet.
Today’s feature? A woman wakes in the skeleton of a city, a name echoing in her mind–and nothing else.
My cinematic ramblings in miniature: short, mood-heavy scenes or episode seeds, open to growth, rewrites, or sudden bursts of inspiration. Think of them as the “cold opens” of stories that haven’t been fully told yet.
Today’s feature? A woman wakes in the skeleton of a city, a name echoing in her mind–and nothing else.
Image by Anemone123 from Pixabay
Title: Echo in the Concrete
Genre: Mystery / Thriller / Dystopian Drama
Written by: Hazel E. Guler
FADE IN:
EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - EVENING
A cold wind rustles through an unfinished building. The skeletal remains of concrete columns and steel rods reach towards the sky like fractured bones.
A YOUNG WOMAN (mid-20s, disoriented, in a trench coat) stirs on the rough floor. Her forehead bears a fresh wound, blood trickling down the side of her face. She blinks, trying to make sense of her surroundings.
A VOICE (O.S.) (slightly muffled, distant) ...Ayla! Ayla!
She winces, the name sparking something–but what? Her name? Someone she knows? Fear flickers across her face as FOOTSTEPS crunch against the gravel floor nearby.
She gasps and scrambles backward, tucking herself behind a thick column. A MAN (30s, rugged, dressed in dark clothing) prowls nearby. His gaze sweeps the area. He’s searching for someone–her?
She presses herself against the cold concrete, heart pounding. The man’s boots pause mere feet away. She clenches her jaw, holds her breath. A tense beat. Then–
The man moves on.
Relief floods her, but she stays hidden until the last echo of his steps fades. Only then does she venture out, moving cautiously, scanning the darkness for threats.
EXT. STREETS - EVENING
She shuffles through the city, weak and parched. Her stomach growls. Every neon sign, every passing car feels like another world–one she should recognize but doesn’t.
EXT. PUBLIC RESTROOM - NIGHT
She ducks into a dimly lit, half-constructed restroom. A broken faucet dribbles water. She cups her hands, drinking desperately. Finding an old plastic bottle nearby, she fills it and tucks it into her coat.
EXT. STREETS - DAWN
Exhaustion weighs her down, but survival propels her forward. She scans for a place to rest. Her trench coat isn’t enough to shield her from the biting wind.
She spots an alley behind a closed bakery. Stacked crates, an old blanket–shelter, for now. Curling up, she finally lets her eyelids drop.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. ABANDONED BUILDING - NIGHT
A loud THUD jerks her awake. Shadows move beyond the alley. The same men? Or new dangers?
She moves, silent and swift, deeper into the city’s underbelly, unaware that the answers–and the danger–are closer than she thinks.
FADE OUT.
Genre: Mystery / Thriller / Dystopian Drama
Written by: Hazel E. Guler
FADE IN:
EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - EVENING
A cold wind rustles through an unfinished building. The skeletal remains of concrete columns and steel rods reach towards the sky like fractured bones.
A YOUNG WOMAN (mid-20s, disoriented, in a trench coat) stirs on the rough floor. Her forehead bears a fresh wound, blood trickling down the side of her face. She blinks, trying to make sense of her surroundings.
A VOICE (O.S.) (slightly muffled, distant) ...Ayla! Ayla!
She winces, the name sparking something–but what? Her name? Someone she knows? Fear flickers across her face as FOOTSTEPS crunch against the gravel floor nearby.
She gasps and scrambles backward, tucking herself behind a thick column. A MAN (30s, rugged, dressed in dark clothing) prowls nearby. His gaze sweeps the area. He’s searching for someone–her?
She presses herself against the cold concrete, heart pounding. The man’s boots pause mere feet away. She clenches her jaw, holds her breath. A tense beat. Then–
The man moves on.
Relief floods her, but she stays hidden until the last echo of his steps fades. Only then does she venture out, moving cautiously, scanning the darkness for threats.
EXT. STREETS - EVENING
She shuffles through the city, weak and parched. Her stomach growls. Every neon sign, every passing car feels like another world–one she should recognize but doesn’t.
EXT. PUBLIC RESTROOM - NIGHT
She ducks into a dimly lit, half-constructed restroom. A broken faucet dribbles water. She cups her hands, drinking desperately. Finding an old plastic bottle nearby, she fills it and tucks it into her coat.
EXT. STREETS - DAWN
Exhaustion weighs her down, but survival propels her forward. She scans for a place to rest. Her trench coat isn’t enough to shield her from the biting wind.
She spots an alley behind a closed bakery. Stacked crates, an old blanket–shelter, for now. Curling up, she finally lets her eyelids drop.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. ABANDONED BUILDING - NIGHT
A loud THUD jerks her awake. Shadows move beyond the alley. The same men? Or new dangers?
She moves, silent and swift, deeper into the city’s underbelly, unaware that the answers–and the danger–are closer than she thinks.
FADE OUT.
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