Script no.2: The Reflection

 "The Reflection"

The camera opens on a quiet, residential street in Islamabad. The trees are gently swaying in the evening breeze, and the city is bathed in the soft glow of sunset. It's peaceful—almost too peaceful. A young girl, Sara, is walking home after an evening photography session, her camera bag slung over her shoulder. She walks past the familiar sights of her neighborhood: houses with front lawns, parked cars, children playing in the streets. But something feels off.

Narrator (V.O.):

"In a city where everything is meant to be seen, sometimes what you see is not the whole story."

Sara reaches her house and enters through the front gate. The camera follows her into the house, where the warm light from the kitchen pours through the window. She places her camera on a table, sighs, and begins to upload her photos onto her laptop. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, scrolling through images from her shoot earlier that evening.

The photos show her walking through the neighborhood, capturing small moments—flowers in bloom, street signs, the sunset fading behind the Margalla Hills. But as she scrolls further, she freezes.

Sara (whispering to herself):

"Wait... when did I take this?"

One of the photos shows her standing at the entrance of her house, but something’s wrong. In the reflection of the glass door, someone else is standing behind her—an unfamiliar man, his face obscured in shadow. Her heart skips a beat as she zooms in.

She quickly glances around her living room—empty. No one is there. She clicks on the photo to get a closer look. The shadowy figure in the reflection is unmistakable. It’s a man, but who is he?

Narrator (V.O.):

"What if the camera captured something that wasn't meant to be seen? What if the reflection in the glass... was not a trick of the light?"

Sara’s pulse quickens as she frantically checks the other photos from the shoot. But there’s nothing. Just the usual scenes. Just the sunset. Just the ordinary streets.

She stares back at the photo on her laptop. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to delete it, but before she can press the key, the image flickers. The figure in the reflection begins to move, as if it’s now aware of her staring at it. He raises a hand—slowly—and places it on the glass.

Sara (panicking):

"No... this can’t be happening."

The screen flickers again, and the man’s face becomes clearer, now staring directly at Sara. She can see his eyes, wide and empty, with a look of quiet despair. The room behind him is a blur of indistinct shadows.

Sara jumps back from her laptop, her breath heavy. She stumbles backwards and crashes into the wall, knocking a small vase to the floor. She looks around the room, her eyes darting nervously. The house feels different now—empty, cold.

Narrator (V.O.):

"In the world of images, sometimes the lens doesn’t just capture light—it captures something else. Something that lingers. Something that waits."

The camera lingers on Sara’s face as she looks at the photo one last time. She stares into the man’s eyes, her fear rising. Suddenly, a loud knock at the door breaks the silence.

Sara hesitates for a moment, her hand trembling as she approaches the door. The camera zooms in on her face—her anxiety palpable. She opens the door slowly.

But there’s no one there. Just the night air, cool and still. The camera focuses on the empty porch.

The screen goes black.

Text on screen:

"Sometimes, the reflections are not of this world."


*we used ChatGPT to help refine our ideas and structure the script, making the process smoother and more efficient*