Chapter 1 – "Welcome to Nowhere"
> Location: Outskirts of the Town
Time: 5:44 PM
The van rattled along the dirt road, tires crunching gravel and dead leaves. No one spoke. Not since they passed the last gas station an hour ago. The driver, a man in a black cap with mirrored sunglasses, hadn't said a word either.
Just a clipboard.
Just signatures.
Just the rules: No phones. No questions. No leaving.
Rain began to tap against the windows as the forest swallowed the last hint of civilization.
---
INT. VAN – MOVING – LATE AFTERNOON
Ten strangers sat in silence.
Elena – early 30s, nurse, clutching a sealed letter.
Kieran – 40, tattooed ex-con, arms crossed tight.
Zoe – 19, pink hair, headphones on, but not playing anything.
Father Gabriel – 60s, priest, hands folded.
Nash – mid-20s, quiet gamer, fingers tapping his thigh.
Mira – 50s, well-dressed, staring out the window like she saw something coming.
Jayden – 30, military build, checking the seatbelt over and over.
Tara & Louis – a couple in their 20s, whispering too low to hear.
Dr. Lem – 70, psychiatrist, scribbling into a notebook.
No one knew why they were here.
Each had their reasons for coming.
Each had something they wanted to forget.
---
EXT. NAMELESS TOWN – ENTRANCE – MOMENTS LATER
The van stopped.
No buildings in sight—just mist and the creak of the rusted gate.
The driver turned around, finally speaking:
> "You've arrived. Follow the lights. Stay in the marked houses. You'll find what you came for."
He unlocked the back doors, then stepped out and walked into the fog.
Gone.
---
EXT. MAIN STREET – SUNSET
Street lamps flickered to life. One by one.
Warm yellow glows in a straight line—leading into the town.
Zoe shivered. "This is like a horror movie."
No one laughed.
Their footsteps echoed as they followed the light.
The houses were intact. Clean. Even warm inside.
Each one marked with a name. As if someone knew they were coming.
Zoe: House 3.
Father Gabriel: House 1.
Kieran: House 5.
The group scattered slowly, bags in hand, casting glances back at one another.
Only Elena stood still in the middle of the street, eyes scanning the mist.
She could've sworn… she saw someone watching from the rooftop.
But when she blinked—
Gone.
---
INT. ELENA'S HOUSE – NIGHT
She set her bag down. The house smelled like lavender and dust. Familiar.
Too familiar.
In the kitchen, a note sat on the counter.
> "Elena, the past always finds you."
Her breath caught.
Upstairs, a door creaked open.
She wasn't alone.
Detail: The Note on the Counter
The kitchen was still. No sound but the faint humming of the fridge.
Elena approached slowly, her heartbeat already rising.
There, lying neatly on the counter — not dusty, not old — just placed, as if someone had been waiting for her.
A folded piece of parchment.
Her name handwritten on the outside.
She picked it up with trembling fingers.
The paper was thick. Expensive. The kind used for invitations... or funerals.
She unfolded it.
There were only seven words inside, written in the same delicate hand:
> "Elena, the past always finds you."
No signature. No date.
But she knew the handwriting.
It belonged to someone who had died.
Her sister.