• Martin Parece

Immaculate: A Cinematic One Shot for Alien RPG


Blackness fills the camera for a few seconds. It is pierced by a screech, a scraping of metal on metal as if something heavy is slid out of the way. As this happens, pale bluish light, as if produced from a sun that has just set below the horizon, shines across a dark room. Random trash and debris litters the room’s periphery, along with an old, scorched metal barrel, likely used more than once to contain a fire. Dust motes show in the light and float lazily on the air.

“What are we doing here?” a voice, a young woman’s voice can be heard from outside the room. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“What are you afraid of? There’s no one here,” a guy’s voice replies, as whatever blocks the light is pushed a bit more out of the way.

Just as the room becomes complete illuminated, the light is again blocked by an irregular shape, a figure scrambling through the open portal. He has brown hair, grown past the shoulders and long but scraggly, thin facial growth covering acne scars from recent adolescence. He wears colony standard canvas pants and a t-shirt of some ancient rock band. He looks around briefly, dusts his hands on his pants and turns back toward the light with an outheld hand.

“See, it’s fine in here. Come on in.”

A dark skinned young woman takes hand and allows him to help her through the window, somewhat clumsily. Her shoes clap on the concrete floor. “Seriously, what are we doing here?”

“Hold on,” he says as he turns back to the unblocked window. What may have once been a bookcase is just to the right of it, and he pulls it back across the window, returning the room to absolute darkness. A click, and then the beam of a flashlight lances across the room, pushing back the obfuscating black. “Follow me.”

“Can we just leave?” she asks.

“Just follow me. I wanna show you something.”

He takes her by the hand and begins to lead her across the room. She trails slightly behind him, the trepidation plain on her face, though of what she is precisely afraid, even she doesn’t know. He passes through a doorway, an old-fashioned wooden doorway, the door long since gone, and turns right down a hallway that is free from the detritus of the first room. He goes maybe ten meters and stops at a closed door on the left. As he turns the knob, he looks back at her and says with a big smile, “You’re gonna love this.”

He opens the door and leads her into another completely dark room. The flashlight’s beam tears across it to a wall some twenty meters away, giving the place an immense feel. He turns to the right, his dispelling light showing a wall only a few meters away, an old mattress leaning up against it. He pulls her beside him, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Look, this can be our place. No one’s here, no one is ever here. It’s abandoned. There’s no power, but I can run some cords, tap into something somewhere. We don’t have to worry about your old man, my ma, nothing. We can just disappear here.” He shines the flashlight over to the left at another door some twenty feet away. “There’s even a bathroom over there, and the water still works.”

As he talks, the slight fear on her face begins to give way, changing first to something akin to disbelief, followed by a knowing smile. “It’s perfect,” she says.



They move in close to each other and begin to kiss. He drops the flashlight as he wraps his arms around her waist. They begin to rotate, as he moves her back to face the mattress leaning against the wall. She opens her eyes mid-kiss and nearly jumps backward.

“Hey! What’s wrong?”

She points behind him, across the room, and in the direction of the discarded flashlight’s beam. “There’s someone over there,” she almost whispers, her eyes wide.

“What, no,” he shakes his head, slightly furrowing his brow, “there’s just a weird painting on a wall.”

She backs up a step, and frantically shakes her head back and forth. “No. Look.”

He sighs as he bends down to retrieve his flashlight. As he does so, he sees something – red stains on the floor on the far side of the room. He focuses the flashlight on them as he begins to cross the thirty or so meters between he and the stains. His gut tells him what they are, but his head knows better because no one has been here in years, maybe decades.

He stops maybe fifteen feet from massive blood stains on the floor, and they’re not just stains. They’re appear to be still wet, the centers of the thick, sticky pools glistening in his flashlight. A bit of movement – something dropped from above, a hint of red passing through the light as it met the blood.

He slowly moves his flashlight upward, revealing naked feet, a woman’s feet, one on top of the other and a metal spike having been driven through them into wood. He doesn’t want to see more, but he can’t stop himself as he shines the beam further upward, the light revealing the body of a woman, bound and nailed to a wooden cross.

And then someone behind him starts to scream.

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