Original subtitles

Hello, my name's Jamie Parsons,

I'm looking for Mr. Virgil Meeker?

Oh, yes, come in before you get drenched to the skin.

Thank you, ma'am.

He's out at the moment,

but I expect him back very shortly.

Let me take your things.

Thank you, ma'am.

So you're the young man

that Mr. Meeker's been awaiting so anxiously.

Yes, ma'am.

All I've heard this past week is "Jamie" this, "Jamie" that.

You were boyhood friends, I gather.

Yes, ma'am.

Are you always so polite?

Oh.

Well, it's very sweet.

I was beginning to think that good manners

had gone out of fashion.

I had no idea Virgil was living in any place so elegant.

Mr. Meeker said that you might be wanting lodging,

the room down the stairs from his

is available if you'd care to take a look.

Thank you, ma'am, but you'd be wasting your time,

I expect that it's much more than I can afford.

Yes, well, suppose you come take a look.

What brings you to the city?

Well, Virgil says down here you can do whatever you like,

nobody pays any mind.

And that appeals to you?

In the little town I come from,

if you got any ambition to be anything out of the ordinary,

folks think you're some kind of freak.

What is it you hope to be that's so out of the ordinary?

A writer.

I've always admired creative young men.

If I had my way, I'd offer my lodgings

to no one but artists.

Oh, your friend Mr. Meeker is just up those stairs.

It's really a very quiet room.

There's no one on either side of you.

And there's a desk.

Oh, it's perfect, it's... it's just what I'm after.

Well, then, six dollars a week.

For room and board?

I mean, I figured that it would be twice that.

Did you?

Well, it should be, but it's not.

Why?

With a fire in the grate,

It's-- it's really quite cozy in here.

It does have its drawbacks, I'll admit.

It's a bit dark.

Oh, well, I do most of my work at night.

That ain't who I think it is!

That ain't old Jamie!

Hello, Virgil!

Woo, you rat-tailed varmint!

You made it--aw, look at him,

still got straw sticking out of his ears.

I'll take the room.

And much obliged.

Boy, you look sassy.

Supper's at seven.

You dumb hayseed, it's good to see you.

Yeah, boy, we're gonna have us some high old times.

Virgil?

Is there something wrong with this place?

What's wrong with it?

I

I ain't sure.

I just wanna know why she charges so little, is all.

Well--well, when it comes lodgings,

Mrs. Moffat's gotta take what she can get.

Oh yeah?

She ain't had this place for three months.

She got it cheap 'cause it was empty so long.

Started out, there was, uh, half a dozen of us rooming here.

And now, all that's left

is, uh, me and Mulvaney.

What happened to the others?

Well, one by one they got nervous and moved out.

I stuck 'cause most of the time I'm broke.

And, uh, when I can't pay my rent,

Mrs. Moffat will let it ride.

And Mulvaney?

Well, he's a medical student.

Hard and practical minded.

I'm quite willing to believe the house is haunted

by some creature from another world.

All I ask is evidence.

Just some simple, scientific evidence.

- Mr. Parsons. - Oh, thank you, ma'am.

And there's been none?

Not a peep, not a shred.

Uh, no moans and groans and shrieks in the night,

if that's what you mean.

I'm willing to settle for a disembodied face

staring in my window.

A pale, bloody, severed head, floating in the bath.

Even a figure drifting down the hallway, singing:

Waltz me around again, will he?

Around, around, again, will he?

Still in all,

this place does have a pretty peculiar history.

Peculiar?

Peculiar?

What's peculiar about it?

Come spend a day at the hospital.

You'll soon realize there's no more common,

ordinary object than a corpse.

This house was built by a gent who made a fortune

selling rotten meat to the army.

A greedy, miserable little man, to hear the neighbors tell us.

A recluse and a bachelor.

With a heart of stone

and no more feelings than a fish.

Until the age of 70,

when he suddenly up and took himself a wife.

Avoung girl. 1s.

They hadn't been married one week

before she was, uh...discovered.

Discovered?

Murdered.

Her body mutilated,

her throat slashed from ear...to ear.

Her husband?

He was gone, disappeared,

he just vanished right into thin air.

He was found six months later,

sitting propped in a chair in a room down the hall...

Strangled.

This is hopeless!

I ain't did a lick of work worth saving in three months,

ever since I moved into this damn house.

Why is it that I have the feeling

there is something here I can't see?

Because you're a superstitious idiot.

Uh, it's here.

Now.

Something watching.

Waiting.

Jamie, was that you I heard screaming?

You likely scared me outta my wits.

Virgil.

I was lying on the couch.

It was like something was-- was caressing my back.

And then I turned over, and something--

something landed on my chest

and got its fingers around my throat,

and started choking me.

You were sleeping and having a night--

I wasn't sleeping.

You were just sitting here in the dark?

Not in the dark.

Well, then you must've seen it.

I didn't see anything.

There was nothing to see.

Well, then how did you know it was there?

I felt it.

I heard it breathing.

I finally managed to-- to throw it off me,

and I heard it thud on the ground,

and I dove at it.

And there was-- there was nothing there.

- It was a nightmare, I guess. - Yeah.

Except that...

except that it-- it seemed so real.

I can still feel those--those fingers

digging into my throat.

And when I fought back at that thing, I could...

feel it.

Squirming and--and biting

and...clawing at me.

I'm all right, now.

You sure?

Yes.

I'm sorry I busted into your sleep.

Jamie?

I-- I've been thinking

about carving a group of...

you know, grotesque, fanciful figures.

This thing in your dream, what was it like?

Well, I told you, I--I couldn't see it.

But you wrestled with it.

What was it like to touch?

I'm not sure, it was all so--so frantic and confused.

Was it furry?

- No. - Was it scaly?

No, it was...

it was soft, like...

like skin.

Naked.

I think so, yes.

Was it a man or a woman?

Go on, you tomcat,

get outta here, let me get some sleep.

- Good morning. - Excuse me,

I just wanted to pay my rent.

Oh, thank you.

I'll just get my receipt book.

Come in.

Ah, here it is.

How's the writing coming along?

It's all right, I guess.

Oh, I hear you up there at all hours of the day and night

scribbling away.

You never seem to go out.

Well, you get an inspiration, you've gotta stick with it,

or the first thing you know, it's gone.

I would've thought by now

you would've had yourself a young lady friend.

No sweetheart back home?

No, ma'am.

Uh, this book that you're writing,

is it a novel?

Yes, ma'am.

Oh, about what?

A girl who loved somebody that didn't love her.

And ended up committing suicide.

Someone you knew?

Yes.

How old are you?

22.

And already experienced in the affairs of the heart.

The man in my book...

doesn't know anything at all about love.

And wonders if he ever will.

Well.

We seem to be members of the same fraternity.

Death has had its way with both of us.

I was married to a sailor.

He drowned at sea ten years ago.

I'm sorry.

You needn't be.

It wasn't much of a marriage.

My husband was...

not what you would call...

a passionate man.

I guess I'll be getting back to work.

So shy.

You're very dear.

Virgil.

Virgil.

Jamie!

What's the matter?

Get it off me.

Get what off of you?

Oh, good God, what is it?

Get it off me!

Get something to tie it up with.

I'll hold it, quick!

- Hurry up. - I'm trying to get it on.

Hurry up-

Here.

Get its legs!

All right.

That's got it, all right.

Anything wrong?

I thought I heard that--

Oh my God, what is that?

- Oh my--no! - Virgil, get her outta here.

It's all right, Mrs. Moffat.

- Pick her up. -lt's all right,

we'll take care of everything, just rely on us.

We'll take care of everything, I promise we will, I promise.

Looks like it's...

tuckered out.

Or else...

just debating what to try next.

What is it?

Why don't you tell us?

You're the scientific one.

Listen.

Listen to it.

Very clever.

How's it done?

What's the trick?

Touch it.

Go ahead, it's there, you can feel it.

Is that the idea?

To make me look like some sort of gullible jackass?

All right then.

Watch.

Holy St. Columbanus.

I don't believe it.

Virgil?

Virgil.

Wake up, will ya?

Wake up, I want to talk to ya.

Is it still there?

Yeah.

What'd you do, sit up all night with it?

- Yes. - Well, did it talk or anything?

Not a sound.

Care for a nip?

I always take one first thing in the morning.

Helps my digestion.

Virgil, what does it mean?

It must have a meaning.

What sort of meaning?

I don't know.

I don't know, it...

may be, uh,

may be some clue to the secret of life.

Not the body, but the spirit.

Or--or perhaps a key to the mystery

of--of what lies beyond the grave.

All through the night I sat there,

staring at that thing on my bed,

asking myself...

"What is it?"

Even if I'm damned for it, I mean to find out.

Look at me, I'm still trembling.

That thing is gruesome...

sickening.

But when you look at it another way,

it's a kind of marvel,

something that's never occurred before

and maybe never will again.

I want that horror out of my house.

Well, it tried to strangle me.

We can'tjust take it out on the streets

and turn it loose.

Well, there must be some way to get rid of it.

Call the police.

Oh, no.

No, now when the gossip is just beginning to die down,

if there should be another scandal--

We could try drowning, lsuppose.

Or suffocation.

Except that if it's human, that would be murder.

But it's not human.

What makes you so sure?

Oh, please.

Please, I beg of you, please get rid of it.

All right.

All right, I'll-- I'll try.

Do you have fantasies?

I've been having them lately.

Comes with being lonely, I guess.

What sort of fantasies?

Odd ones.

I daydream the two of us here in my room,

laughing and talking

and drinking Burgundy...

feeling warm and close.

I know it's ridiculous.

Is it?

Why?

I'm not a young girl anymore.

I'm 38 years old.

When I was a boy, I...

I used to think that I was odd.

All my friends cared about was hunting and fishing.

And my-- my secret passion was reading.

Oh, I can see you now,

with your nose buried in a book

and your hair flopping in your eyes.

I stopped caring about what was odd and what wasn't

when I came across a line from some old poet

or philosopher, I can't remember which.

What did he say that had such an effect on you?

"There is no excellent beauty

that hath not some strangeness in the proportion."

Mrs. Moffat...

that--that creature in there...

I don't know what it is, and maybe we'll never find out,

but please give me--give me the chance to find out.

No.

All I'm asking for is a little time.

Three days, just give me three days.

It's tied up, it can't do any harm.

Maybe just by observing it, I can discover...

Discover what?

Something miraculous.

Mm.

Very well.

When the time is up, I promise

I'll find some way to dispose of it.

I trust you, Jamie.

I did from the very beginning,

from the very first day you walked in here.

I can count on it then,

your coming to my room

some evening for a glass of wine.

Tell me...

What are you?

So it's a woman

or something shaped like a woman.

Young or old?

Well, she's not a child.

You can tell that from her size.

She's not an ancient hag either.

How do you know that?

Her body, her, uh, her skin.

I got a woman on the ward with skin soft as silk

and body smooth as an apricot.

Sixty-six years old and a grandmother.

Ah, it's maddening...

to sit beside her and not know whether she's 16 or 60.

Be delighted to take her pulse if that'll be any help.

I'm beginning to understand how--how frustrating

it must be for the blind.

How little one learns from simply tracing a form.

Is she hideous or--or beautiful?

Terrified or--or insane?

Is she some unspeakable monstrosity

or--or human?

I've had occasion to ask myself that

about any number of ladies.

Here's to the happiest moments of my life,

spent in the arms of another man's wife.

Ha!

- My mother. - What?

Virgil?

This thing...

That's a plaster cast

I made for a theatrical production last year.

Could you make one of a living person?

You can hear me.

I know you can hear me.

Tell me...

Who--who are you?

You ready?

Now!

Come on, Mulvaney!

- It's under. - Okay, let's get her upstairs.

This plaster dries pretty fast.

We'll have to make a new batch for each section.

Dammit.

Over there on the table, get a couple of straws.

Put 'em in the nostrils.

Now what?

Just let this dry, and we've got ourselves a negative.

Well, then, what do we do?

Cut it up in sections.

Varnish the inside.

Fit it back together.

Pour back in the plaster.

When that's dry, break off the outer shell.

Virgil.

Can't believe it.

I done this a hundred times.

This has never happened before.

It's a rare and famous vintage they tell me.

My late husband brought it back from France.

Oh, imagine, sitting there on the shelf all those years

just waiting for the suitable occasion.

Well...

What should we talk about?

Or should we not talk?

I must look dreadful.

At my age, it shows when you don't sleep.

How could anyone sleep with that thing in the house?

Three days.

You asked for three days and then you promised

you'd get rid of it.

Do you remember?

Hm?

Do you remember your promise?

Yes.

Good.

Oh, isn't it lovely?

Like sunrise in a warm climate.

You've never been to foreign lands?

Do you yearn to?

Oh, I know so little about you.

Are you the restless type?

Are you looking for a place to put down roots?

Because...

if you're looking for a place,

Perhaps...

...well, just perhaps...

you've found it.

Lucy?

Lucy-

I haven't pressed you, I've been very patient.

You asked for three days, it's already been five.

All I'm asking for is a little more time.

I can't bear it any longer.

I want that creature out of this house.

I will see to it, I swear--

I suppose the logical way to destroy the thing--

Why do you keep calling her a thing?

Because I don't believe it's human.

We know it breathes.

That makes it simple.

Just cut off its supply of oxygen.

No!

Well, then do it some other way.

Anyway, but get this thing out of this house.

- You promised. - That was before I realized

she was someone I used to know.

A girl from home who drowned herself.

Lucy?

Lucy Cummings?

Yes.

How can you be sure of that?

I saw her.

Just for a second she was there,

like--like someone coming out of a mist

and then vanishing again.

And you're sure it was Lucy?

I couldn't see her face, but I can swear--

Oh, well, then you can't be sure.

The same hair and that--that slim waist.

Oh, Jamie.

I know a dozen girls who can answer that description.

It was her, I tell ya.

It was her, believe me.

This Lucy, what sort was she?

Well, she was gentle and fragile.

A kind of childlike innocent.

Hardly sounds the type who'd come back

from the grave to murder.

Seems to me if it's someone risen from the dead,

it's much more likely Mrs. Peterson.

- Who? - A young wife

who was mutilated here.

She was a wild one, so I hear.

Hot-blooded and half mad.

Of course, it would all fit.

Even how they found the old man:

strangled.

They've made up their mind, you have to go.

Lucy-

Lucy, if it's you...

give me a sign.

I'll stop them.

Sweet Lucy, give me a sign.

Have you and Mulvaney decided

when you're going to do it?

Yeah, uh, around ten or so, I guess,

when Mulvaney gets back from the hospital.

Jamie...

If it's too hard for you, you don't have to be there now.

We'll handle it.

Hey...

If I got a girl to come in by the day to cook and clean,

I don't see why Virgil and Mulvaney

couldn't get by on their own for a week or two.

We could go away somewhere.

Someplace where it's warm.

Like one of those little islands

off the Georgia coast.

What time is it?

Oh, it's early.

9:30.

Don't get up.

Jamie, where are you going?

Jamie!

All right, yes.

I'll admit that it was...

it was wrong to tell you that I loved you.

Um, it wasjust that I...

I wanted you, and it seemed like the thing to say.

Are you curious about my book?

It's almost done.

Four years of labor.

With a wife and a family to support I...

I never could have managed it.

Can't you see that?

Poor Lucy.

So jealous of my writing.

You used to tell me, "l'd rather it was

another woman, and I could fight back."

That time I brought my manuscript to read to you.

Remember?

And you snatched it out of my hands and ran away.

I finally found you in the woods

trying to burn it.

It was always so amazing to me

how you could love so openly,

and never understand why I couldn't love you back.

Would it help you now to know...

I can't love anyone?

And yet, in my own way, I did care for you.

That's why I'm giving you the chance now to go free.

Go back to wherever it is you came from,

before they kill what's left of you.

Well, what do we use to smother it?

A pillow will do as well as anything, I guess.

You needn't bother.

She's gone.

Lucy?

Lucy?

That's him, Doc,

the poor critter I've been telling you about.

Ah, yes, pathetic case.

Bloodshot eyes, pasty skin.

Say"ahF

Just as I thought,

throat shows definite signs of being parched.

You clowns.

Hey, hey, hey, you think he's a goner?

Huh? Huh?

I don't know, a bit or relaxation,

night out on the town might pull him out of it, hm?

Let's get your hat, buddy boy.

- No, I-- - We're going out,

and we're gonna get us a barrel of drinking whisky

and some wicked women.

Virgil, I can't go, I have a lot of work to do.

Come on, Jamie.

You ain't been out of your room for a week,

except to eat,

and half the time you don't even come down for meals.

Jokes aside, lad, you don't look too good.

Some other time, all right?

Right.

You all right?

I'm fine.

Maybe we should stick around,

I'd hate for you to be here alone

and have this thing come back.

Go on,

get out of here and let me get some work done.

I missed you.

And that's the first time in my life

I've ever said that to anyone.

Go on, don't stop.

Where are you?

I can't tell where you are.

Where are you?

It's been so queer.

While you've been gone I haven't worked at all,

I've just spent the days thinking of you.

Where are you?

Lucy?

Stay here.

Stay with me.

We'll keep it secret, no one needs to know.

We can't let them know,

they'd only try to kill you.

You're frightened.

Who are you talking to?

It's back.

My God, it's back.

Claudia, wait.

No, let go of me.

- Let go of me. - Wait.

There's nothing there, you just imagined it.

Oh, you stupid fool, do you want us to die?

Do you want us all to die?

I swear to you there's nothing there.

You are mad.

Are you all right now?

I'm sorry.

I was really quite hysterical.

I can't blame you.

I mean, it must've been terribly frightening

for you to come in and find me

talking to myself that way.

Well, now you know how I work.

Sitting there,

being each character in turn.

Feeling what they'd feel.

Saying what they'd say.

Trying it one way and another

until the sound of it is right.

Go on, drink up.

Do you feel better now?

Still a little shaky.

Stay awhile.

I wish I could,

only I've been working on this chapter

for a whole week now and l'm--

- Oh, I understand. -l'm right at a crucial point.

Are you sure that you'll be all right?

Oh, yes, I'll have another glass of wine.

- It'll help me sleep. - Good.

Goodnight.

Write well.

Where are you?

Where are you?

Where are you?

Lucy?

Come close.

Come here, let me hold you.

Where are you?

Who's there?

Who are you?

Lucy?

I don't understand.

Where are you Lucy?

You're not Lucy.

You're Mrs. Peterson.

That old man, that was him, wasn't it?

Your husband?

- Virgil, Virgil. - What?

- Virgil. - What, Jamie?

- It came back. - It what?

And it's...it's not Lucy.

And it's not Mrs. Peterson.

I saw her, dead.

Well, who is it? What is it?

I don't know, it's something...

...something evil. - What?

I don't know.

Mrs. Moffat.

You'll be fine.

It's mostly shock.

Some damage to the larynx, I'm not sure how much,

we'll have to wait and see.

Strangulation was the danger.

Another 30 seconds

with her breath choked off like that...

Don't leave me alone.

Mulvaney will stay with you.

I would rather it be you.

Don't talk.

Don't even try.

You be good girl, and obey old doc here.

As far as that thing, me and Jamie'll handle that.

If it's around, we'll find it.

Jamie?

How do we do it?

- Do what? - Search?

What'd you think, split up or go in twos?

This big old house,

and we're looking for something we can't even see?

There are two ways to hunt.

You can either go after the game,

or you can hunker down and sit tight,

and wait for the game to come to you.

No, two of us might scare it off.

Ah, I'll stay here then.

No, I'd rather you went back to your room.

I want everything to just seem normal.

Go on, go on.

If I need you I'll yell for you.

Okay.

So ended the life of this curious creature.

In the month of January,

the year of our Lord 1901.

Was it obscene or beautiful?

Heartbreaking, or insane?

Was it some unspeakable monstrosity?

Or was it human?

What was it?

And what am I?

And what are you?