Original subtitles

Meet Andy Harris.

Good husband, hard worker, all-around nice guy.

But today Andy Harris is having a nightmare.

And what makes it worse is, he's awake.

I have to meet him for breakfast.

No, I'm late because of you.

Well, that's what you get for looking so sexy in the morning.

By the way you put it that way,

I'll make sure I do my best to get home as early as possible.

Bye.

Love you too.

Oh, sir, I'm so sorry. I'll pay for your dry cleaning. It's totally my fault.

It's nice to meet you too. I think he put a hex on you, bro.

A what?

A hex.

You know, bad mojo, the evil eye.

We've been cursed.

Maybe that explains why I'm spending time with you.

Uh-huh.

Excuse me. Can we have the check, please? All right, that's fine.

Just don't come crying to me when certain parts of your body start falling off.

Pay at the register.

Jeez, what's her problem?

What's yours?

Waiting tables is a miserable job,

and if you'd ever done a day's work in your life, you'd know that.

Greg, are you all right? Hey, uh, see you soon?

Yeah, right.

You're late.

Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that.

You've been late three times in two years.

Uh, yeah.

That doesn't really strike me as excessive.

You know what I've never really liked about you, Harris?

You've got a lousy work ethic.

You're lazy, sloppy.

When you get right down to it, just plain stupid.

You know, Bob, normally I really appreciate your humor,

but today I'm really not in the mood.

Excuse me?

You heard me.

Or should I add Dev to the list?

You know what?

Don't answer that. It's a waste of my time.

Clean out your desk. You're through here.

Bob.

Wait, hold on.

Wait a minute. What's going on?

I said get out!

Fire! Is that clear enough for you?

Hi, you've reached the home of Andy and Linda Harris,

but you're gonna have to tell us on the beach.

Yeah, hey, babe, it's me.

I, uh, I guess you're not there.

It's, uh, it's been a very weird morning.

And as it turns out, I'm going to be home a lot earlier than I thought,

so I'll see you then. Love you.

Where the hell do you think you're going?

This is a work site. You think those cones and signs are for our protection?

Or you just want to get yourself killed?

Listen, I'm sorry. I'll just go around.

Somebody help me! Help me!

We fixed the streets, the sewers.

We gave the whole damn city a run for ingrates like you!

No, it's time to fix you!

Help me.

Help me.

Help me. Officer, they tried to kill me.

All right, all right, settle down.

What's your problem? These three construction workers,

they attacked me and they tried to kill me. All right, now what made them do that?

How the hell should I know?

Listen, I was walking past their site, and one of them said something to me,

and I said something back. Next thing I know,

this guy just whacks me with a shovel. This other guy came at me with a pick.

What, you don't believe me? I'm telling you the truth.

Then this guy, this guy held me down, and he came at me with a... Let me guess.

A pipe grinder.

Yes!

Yes!

And they would have killed me if I...

If you hadn't knocked the power cable out with your foot.

How did you know that?

Come on, man. What do you think, cops are too stupid to read?

That's a scene from a book.

A book?

A book? What are you talking about? No, no, it's not a book. Listen to me.

This just happened. It happened in a book.

I read it last week. It's William Price's new bestseller.

Don't get lost for wasting my time.

Listen to me.

I am in real danger here.

You don't seem to appreciate how real.

To Andrew, it all seemed to be happening in slow motion.

The way he mixed the torn shirt with his spittle.

The twist of his boot as he ground the fabric into the pavement at Andrew's feet.

The bearded man's gestures were deliberate and precise,

but their significance was lost in antiquity.

Not so his words.

Andrew didn't understand the obscure Russian dialect spitting out at him.

And perhaps that was for the best.

Because what the bearded man had said to him was this.

You have filled me with hate.

And so hate shall fill those around you.

Chilling. It's another densely woven,

multi-character tale of terror from local best-selling author William Price.

The name of the book is Hate Puppet.

Pick it up and find out what further horrors are

in store for the unfortunate Andrew Harris.

You have to.

And so hate shall fill those around you.

His mind is swirled with a turbulent mix of

fear, anger, despair, and something else.

Curiosity.

What confluence of events had led him to that fateful collision?

To the bearded man who had laid those terrible

words, a curse, he knew that now, upon him.

Was it just statistical probability, simple bad luck?

Or was it fate?

Ender didn't have an answer, and that's when he noticed the motorcycle.

Andrew had never believed in fate before,

but the events of the day had taken their toll, wearing down his soul. In the end,

perhaps, that was what made him walk out to the middle of the road and stand there,

alone, ready and waiting.

No, this is insane. No!

No, I'm not gonna just step off into the middle of the street and let myself get

run over by some maniac on a motorcycle because it says so in some stupid book.

Do you hear me? Huh? Do you hear me? I'm taking my life back into my own hands.

I'm not moving from this spot right here.

Uh... Not, um... Not so good.

Uh... Just after I spoke to you this morning, I, uh...

I ran into this weird guy on the street, and, uh...

He cursed me.

That's so bizarre. I never guessed what I found in the books that day.

It's about a character with your name.

It even looks like you on the cover. Isn't that cool?

No.

No, no, it's really not.

Linda, that book is about me. What?

I got fired from my job today. I got attacked and nearly killed,

and everything that has happened to me is in there, written down on these pages.

I see.

To know what's gonna happen next.

You can't seriously believe that... No, listen to me.

You don't understand. I can't escape. If it

is written in here, it's gonna happen to me.

So please, just give me the book.

No!

You're delusional.

I'm not gonna feed your fantasy.

Give me the book.

You give me the book! Give me the book!

You son of a bitch.

I have to know.

What are you doing?

Something I should have done a long time ago.

Getting you out of my life for good.

Honey, please. Please don't do this.

Please, just listen to me.

It's the curse.

There's no such thing as a curse.

Then you tell me why.

Why are you doing this?

When I left this house this morning to go to work...

We loved each other.

You loved me.

What happened to make that change?

Maybe I just finally realized how pathetic you are.

Blaming all of your failures, your stupidity, on a book.

It's disgusting. You know what I see when I look at you?

I see a weak, pathetic man, and all I feel for you is hate.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Oh.

This is all your fault.

You wrote it.

It's your book.

Your words.

You took over my life.

You're going to write me a sequel,

and it's going to start with me waking up today and realizing that

everything that has happened to me was just a terrible dream.

I'm sorry. I don't understand.

Who are you?

I'm your hero, Andrew Harris.

And you're going to write what I want you to,

or else I'm going to split your brains all over your desk.

How about that for a horror story?

So what'd you do?

Come on, what'd you do?

So when's the new book coming out?

He woke up.

And turned to see his wife sleeping beside him.

She was alive.

It had all just been a bad dream.

It's a little flat.

Write it!

Please.

Now, don't make this any harder on yourself.

The best thing you can do is to give up.

I did that a while ago.

Well, my fate is in your hands.

It was all a dream.

It was all a dream.

It was all a dream.

Someone shot himself?

I mean... Yes, just like in my book.

Fans.

Fanatics.

They see a tiny fragment of themselves in some character in a story,

and they think it's all about them.

And since Mr. Harris believed he was my character,

and he was cursed, he had no other way out.

Look, you see that?

Help me!

Breakdown Lane, coming soon.

That moronic movie will doubtlessly inspire somebody.

Some homicidal maniac will go on a murderous rampage,

and then everyone will blame the writer.

I thought it looked pretty good.

What? You write horror, too?

I write psychological terror.

There's supposed to be a difference.

There. I'll give him some help. Sorry.

Now you've listened to my story Here's the point that I have made

Talks continue today, with both sides vowing to remain at the table.

On the local front, a series of roadside murders have prompted police

to warn motorists not to leave their cars for any reason.

In the event of mechanical difficulty,

motorists should stay in their vehicles with

the doors locked and wait for assistance.

In sports today,

Had Price heeded the warning on the radio,

he might not have made the acquaintance of the

axe-wielding maniac standing behind him.

We all like to think we control our own destiny,

but there's always somebody pulling the strings.

Harlow Winton, working stiff.

He's just inherited a huge mansion with 12 bedrooms,

nine bathrooms, and four fireplaces.

Lucky guy.

Only question is, will he live through the night?

Mr. Winton? Mr. Winton?

Mr. Winton? Mr. Winton?

Item number 1175, push pins, 100 per box, assorted colors.

No, ma'am, they don't come in just blue.

Will that be your entire order?

Okay, well, that brings your total to $72.49, including shipping.

Thank you for shopping at F-Mart.

Moving up in the world? What's this?

Means you got a sign for it.

Do you mind? I don't see you getting any.

It is my sad duty to inform you of the death of your great uncle,

Ambrose Winton III. The conditions of the will require

your presence at the estate to claim your inheritance.

Thank you.

Mr. Winton, Harlow.

I'm Henry Maxson.

Nice house.

It was built by the family patriarch, Lucius Andrew Winton, in the early 1900s.

My family has been providing legal counsel to yours for three generations.

Well, you know a lot more about them than I do. Up until a couple of days ago,

I didn't even realize I had a great uncle.

My father never really talked about his family.

I don't think he liked what they stood for.

Well, they don't stand for much anymore.

Sadly, you're the last of their lives.

Well, that's me, the end of the road.

So what do I get?

Everything.

The family home and all the other assets are held in a perpetual trust.

But as the sole surviving Winton,

you are entitled to live here with a monthly

stipend of $25,000 to cover your expenses.

25K a month?

Provided you live in the house.

So if I live here, I get the money? A quirk in the trust.

Lucius Winton was an unusual man.

Well, that's the kind of unusual I like.

What's with all the lights?

Your great-uncle had an almost pathological fear of the dark.

But this is your place now.

Welcome home, Mr. Wynton.

Wow.

This is all mine, this whole house, a mansion with 23 rooms.

And that doesn't even include the servants' quarters and the guest house.

What?

This is crazy.

I can't believe it. There's lights everywhere. What a crazy old guy.

He had this special wiring installed so that every switch

in the house turned on all the lights simultaneously.

He had the switches linked to this remote.

He kept it near him always.

Of course, bulbs do burn out, so just in case.

Did Ambrose have a brain tumor?

You know, one of those that make you crazy?

He died of natural causes.

They own coal mines, factories, railroads.

At one time, your family employed nearly everybody in this town.

Old-time capitalists.

In every sense of the word.

So they exploited their workers, huh?

I can relate. I've been exploited my whole life.

I guess the Wintons weren't well-loved by the locals, huh?

The winters are a little useful, though.

Harlow, maintaining this home and its grounds will require rather extensive staff,

and that will consume a significant portion of your stipend.

Nah, I don't need a staff. I could take care of this place myself.

Of course.

However, if you were to donate this property to the town,

you would realize a significant tax windfall.

Donate it? I just got here. I gotta have some parties first, right?

Merely something to consider.

Well, I'm sure you'd like to make yourself comfortable.

I'll let myself out.

Thanks, Mr. Maxon.

It's an old house.

It has rats.

Ooh.

I fixed it so you could turn the lights on or off in every room individually.

Okay, and I want it so everything is switchable by this remote. Is that possible?

Yeah, I could do that, sure, but don't you think it's a waste of money?

Why?

Well, why bother rewiring if you're giving the house back to the town?

Just gonna tear it down.

I hear they're gonna turn this place into a park with

a monument to the working people in this town.

No, I'm not giving up this place. Mr. Maxon said that.

Well, Mr. Maxon doesn't own this house.

I do.

This is my house.

Now just finish your work and leave.

You got it, Mr. Winton.

That's right, Mr. Winton.

You treat me with respect.

Good evening, Harlow. You wanted to see me.

Yeah, where do you get off telling people I'm giving up this house?

Well, I thought you would at least be willing to consider the idea.

Look, forget about it. It's not going to happen, okay?

My family practically built this whole town. On the backs of the townspeople.

I'm not responsible for that.

But you have now profited from it, handsomely.

This is your chance to give something back.

Look, forget it, okay? This house is the only thing

left from a family I didn't even know I had.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm part of something,

and I like that feeling. And I tend to enjoy it for a very, very long time.

Do you understand me?

Completely.

Thanks for stopping by.

Miss Barnett?

Come in.

You said you'd pay.

Come in.

Let me take your coat. No, I'm fine.

Miss Barnack, can you tell me about the shadows?

They killed my uncle, didn't they?

I don't know. Yes, you do.

You found his body, right?

I told him to leave.

So many times. Just give the house back to the town.

He wouldn't give up the money.

What did he look like?

I have to go. What did he look like?

Did he look like this?

Is that what he looked like?

What are the shadows? I don't. Let me go. What are the shadows?

I don't know what they are, but I'll tell you this.

Don't let any of the lights go out.

Not one of them.

I have a proposition for you.

The community has raised $70,000. Here's the check.

We wish to be fair. Do you merely have to sign

this waiver of your rights to this property?

Are you crazy? This estate is worth millions.

Your ancestors... Built this town and every single industry in it.

The people of this town built it.

They gave their blood and sweat and their children's

blood so that your family could wallow in luxury.

Over 700 killed in the death traps of your

family's coal mines. I've read the history.

Scores more burned to death than the squalid tenements

from which your family collected rent.

You know what? My family started off as poor as anyone,

but we built ourselves up an empire. My mother's father died in your mines,

choking to death in the darkness.

Oh.

So this is personal. You want to know what the shadows are.

Dark deeds.

Dark thoughts.

Dark hearts.

As hard as the buried coal and as black.

And as the light of human kindness sank into greed, the shadows grew longer.

Generations of your family's evil manifested, taking on its own life.

Evil, fleeing the light but gathered in the dark,

ready to rip and tear and devour. Get out.

Get out.

Take the offer. You don't have to live in fear.

You know what? You're right. I don't.

Because that's what those shadows are.

Fear.

Fear of greatness.

You, this whole town, you miserable little people.

You're nothing, and you have nothing.

And you think that you can make me feel guilty because I have all this?

You silly old man. Now I see why Lucius wanted us to live here.

So we'd always be able to embrace our greatness and be worthy of his name.

Get off my property.

Sleep well, Mr. Winton.

Our blood thinned down the line, didn't it?

Our wills got weaker, and the shadows got stronger.

Intense lights kill the shadows.

We could beat them.

Now here's the last of them.

You must really like birds.

No, not really.

Here's to you, Lucius. I'm gonna make you proud, I promise.

Okay, bring on the shadows.

Coming down the hall.

Coming down the stairs. Come on.

Come on.

Hey, Daddy.

Come on, follow the darkness. Come on, follow the

darkness into the tube. I got something for you.

Come on, come on.

Come on, just a little bit more. You want me?

I'm waiting right here. Come on. I'm not going anywhere. Keep coming.

Keep coming through the tube. I have a little surprise for you boys.

You like sneaking up on people? Come on.

Let's go a little bit more. Let's go. Come on.

I'm telling you, bastards, burning shrivel. You're

nothing. You're nothing to fear. You're nothing.

Nothing. We did it, Lucius. We beat him.

I'm a Winton.

You and me, Lucius, we're made of the same stuff.

Same blood.

We're great.

Did you check the lights?

It's time to check the lights.

Did you hear me? Did you check the lights yet?

Yes, Mr. Whitten. I checked the lights. Well, go check them again, you idiot.

What do I pay you for? Make sure you check every single light.

Don't leave me here.

Don't leave me in the dark.

Harlow Winton, man of means, lord of the manor, master of all he sees.