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HOST: Starring t o night, Stuart Whitman

and Barbara Anders o n.

We are truly delighted, that you've come.

I mean anyone can go to the movies

or a night doubleheader or a discotheque or what have you.

But only the tasteful visit a place like this.

Their taste, of course, must, of necessity, run toward the slightly odd.

Or at the very least, the bizarre.

That's what we deal with here, the bizarre.

The expected unexpected if you will.

As in the case of the painting here.

It's called Fright Night.

Featuring that beloved star of stage and screen.

The name eludes me, but there is you'll note a familiarity about it.

Actually this fiery apparition is

the sort of thing that appears in strange houses.

Because that's what this painting depicts,

a very strange house.

And you're welcome to share it with us,

because this is t h e Night Ga Il ery.

Oh, I see it, darling! It's just beyond those trees.

LEONA: Why, it's not the way you said at all. It's lovely.

TOM: Well, the old place might seem a little more pleasant

now that Cousin Zachariah has gone to meet his maker.

(DOG BARKING)

Tom, it's completely furnished!

Well, I think we've been stood up.

Miss Patience Allison,

my cousin's housekeeper, was supposed to meet us here by now.

Tom, these look like genuine antiques.

Well, they should be.

The Ogilvys have been in this country for over 300 years.

(GASPS)

This is a silent burner

made out of pewter.

Isn't it lovely.

PATIENCE: You dawdle much longer and I'll be gone.

Not my practice to stay here after dark!

Well, sorry, Miss Patience.

We didn't see a car. We didn't know you were here.

Homer brought me. He does the deliveries in these parts.

Well, come on!

TOM: I seem to remember the stairs to the attic

being right through here, Miss Patience.

PATIENCE: I'm glad you reminded me.

I have to show you the trunk

or the old crabstick won't rest in his grave.

I don't mind telling you, I'll be glad to be quit of this job.

I stayed on only because he scared off everybody else.

TOM: Hmm. PATIENCE: With all due respect to the dear departed,

Zachariah Ogilvy

could snip away at even my sweet disposition.

Well, it's the perfect study to finish the book.

Hmm! PATIENCE: Mr. Ogilvy...

Don't you touch that trunk!

Your cousin's last words on his deathbed.

That trunk is not to be moved,

and under no circumstances is it to be opened.

What's in it, Miss Patience?

He didn't tell me.

He only mentioned that someone would be calling for it.

(LAUGHS) Well, it's a marvelous conversation piece.

And the least we can do is honor a deathbed wish.

Isn't that kind of sacred?

You're a very sweet person, Ms. Ogilvy.

If you could only cook, on a wood-burning stove.

PATIENCE: It's nigh onto dark. If you want to see the ground floor...

LEONA: Cousin Zachariah?

Still the intimidating martinet.

LEONA: Is it his stare that gives me the chills

or is it really cold in here?

Cold as a warlock's heart.

It's always cold in this room.

Was Zachariah Ogilvy turned on by witchcraft, Miss Patience?

(CAR HONKING) Homer's late.

(CRICKETS CHIRPING)

(CAR HONKING)

Why doesn't he pull closer?

You're not likely to find anyone from the village willing to come any closer.

No need to help me.

I've been leaving here alone every night for 20 years.

20 years!

It's not New York, huh?

(CAR DOOR CLOSES)

(CAR DRIVING AWAY)

(CRICKETS CONTINUE CHIRPING)

You awake? Yeah, I am.

I'm counting crickets.

Darling.

Do you think Miss Patience was exaggerating?

I mean,

about nobody coming close to the house?

The old ninny? Of course, she was.

We're here, aren't we?

(CRICKETS CEASE CHIRPING)

(TAPPING ON WOOD)

(CRICKETS RESUME CHIRPING)

(SIGHS)

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

(FLOORBOARD CREAKING)

That's the most productive bit of pacing I've seen since we've settled in.

I think I've finally mastered my curiosity about the trunk.

I thought somebody would have picked that up by now.

(SNIFFS) Smells like cocoa, hmm?

I went shopping.

I even went to the library and researched crickets.

The noise they make. Mmm-hmm?

It's their mating call.

Am I bothering you? Mm-hmm.

Very much. Well, your publisher wants that book

and we do need the money. (EXHALES)

In spite of the fact that we now own zillions of antiques.

Did that book explain why the crickets stopped all at once?

(GRUNTS)

(BIRDS CEASE CHIRPING)

(WIND BLOWING)

(SOFT CLANKING)

(GLASS SHATTERS)

(TRUNK RATTLING)

(BIRDS RESUME CHIRPING)

(CRICKETS CHIRPING)

(SIGHING HEAVILY)

(FLOORBOARD CREAKING)

(FOOTSTEPS TREDDING AWAY)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Oh, sorry.

I'm not gonna put in those long stretches again.

Using a typewriter for a pillow makes for lousy dreams.

Just now? Hmm, I was cooking along pretty good,

then that damn trunk got to me again. It's like a magnet.

It must be. Pull you out of bed and back up those stairs.

What do you mean? I haven't been to bed.

Sweetheart, you hit the sack hours ago.

(LAUGHS) Now you're dreaming.

I am not dreaming.

You came to bed right after I brought you the cocoa.

Oh, sure, then I got up and I got dressed again.

(WIND HOWLING)

GOBLIN 1: I charge thee, be d o ne with it!

P o ssess her n o w!

(THUNDER CRACKING)

GOBLIN 2: Have I n o t tried? Her inn o cence c o nf o unds me!

GOBLIN 1: Bey o nd the grave, there is n o inn o cence.

(GRUNTING)

GOBLIN 2: Aye. The y o ung man is o f a p I aint nature.

GOBLIN 1: Then by a Il the inferna I spirits and their ma I efic h o sts,

I c o njure thee in the name o f the Prince o f Darkness,

hurry him t o the deed!

Thr o ugh his o ffices, y o u sha Il yet p o ssess her!

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(TYPEWRITER CLACKING)

(THUNDER CRACKING)

The redoubtable Miss Patience was right about this room,

it's always cold.

Darling, come on into the kitchen,

before your breakfast gets cold.

I can smell it.

To tell you the truth, Leona, I've had it with oatmeal.

Well, it's just that it's so cheap.

But, I can fix you something else. Oh, skip it!

"Yet a ruthless demons and their unholy masters will not desist.

"And in their foul determination, they won't..." Leona!

"...will they persevere.

"For it must come to pass that a young woman shall

"with a white liquid scalding hot pressed to her lips

"and thence forced down her throat

"on the Sabbat-day night be executed by the young man,

"her everlasting soul in forfeit."

You read it so incredibly straight.

Well, I know, it doesn't sound like anything you'd write.

Oh, come off it, Leona! What'd you do?

Copy it out of one of those books downstairs?

You think, I typed this?

Well, I certainly didn't! That's straight out of the 1600s.

Darling, what is it?

Or maybe...

Maybe somebody got in here.

Yes, of course, that's what it is.

One of the kids on a dare.

"Go out to the Ogilvy's house

"and write something scary on his typewriter."

Of course, that's what it was.

That's it!

(BREATHES HEAVILY)

Let's see if I can be half as productive as those kids, hmm?

Now get you to a scullery.

I have got some work to do.

(TYPEWRITER CLACKING)

(TRUNK RATTLING)

My guess would be books. That's the heaviest stuff around.

I hate to have to charge you so much, ma'am,

but it's a long haul in to Longworth.

I guess you know there's a village nearby.

Could've got some local there to do this.

There's no storehouse in the village.

(GRUNTS) Say, this wouldn't be a body in here now, would it?

(DOOR OPENS)

(FLOORBOARD CREAKING)

(FOOTSTEPS ECHOING)

(FLOORBOARD CREAKING)

(SIGHS)

(CRICKETS CHIRPING)

(FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE TREADING)

The same thing again?

(SIGHS) Now that it's gone, I seem to think about it more than ever.

I thought it would help if... Go back to bed, please.

I'll write something.

Anything.

(SIGHS)

(CRICKETS CEASE CHIRPING)

(WIND BLOWING)

(LEONA SCREAMING)

He was here. Somebody...

Something was here in bed with me.

Did you see?

No! No, I felt it. It touched me here.

Oh, Tom. (CRYING) Tom, I'm so scared!

It's like a fear I've never known.

Tom, something's trying to destroy us!

(SOBBING)

It's the trunk. It's back again.

(SOBBING) Try not to worry.

I'll get rid of it. Permanently, this time.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(CRICKETS CHIRPING)

Can I fix you anything?

Cocoa.

I ran out. I'm having some hot milk.

You ran out of cocoa?

Well, that's unbelievable!

You have one responsibility in this whole world

and that's to feed two people.

And you've run out of rations.

That's a ridiculous exaggeration.

Exaggeration? In this household, cocoa is a staple.

Look, if you must know, it's more of a luxury.

Luxury? Or have you conveniently forgotten,

that it's three months since you've earned a cent!

There's money in the savings account.

(BANGING) LEONA: I closed that weeks ago!

Well, thou shouldest try to manage better!

And you should try writing a little better!

You take that back!

Or writing anything for that matter!

You know why you've stopped working?

Because you're afraid that that precious publisher of yours

will spot your work for the pap and prattle it really is!

I said take that back!

I warned thee. I warned thee.

Now you... (SCREAMS)

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

(BOTH GASP)

LEONA: Tom, "A white liquid scalding hot pressed to her lips."

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

(GASPS)

BOTH: Trick or treat!

(LAUGHING)

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Get them a treat.

BOYS: Thank you!

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

It's Halloween. Of course, All Hallows Eve.

Witches and Warlocks.

Abroad in their land.

Dead souls revisiting their former haunts.

(TRUNK RATTLING)

(KNOCKING)

The trunk.

(SCREAMING)

Cousin Zachariah?

I've come for the trunk.

(LEONA SCREAMING)

You get some sleep now.

I'll fix breakfast and I'll bring it up to you.

Tom. Those words written on the typewriter...

Cousin Zachariah did that.

To warn us?

But we're safe now, because he took the trunk.

And no matter what it was, it's gone.

Now I'll be able to work again.

You just watch, no more pacing, only typing.

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

TOM: Leona!

(GASPS)

He'll come for it next Halloween.

It's a year from now. (ECHOING)

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