PVADI EK Cory SEVEN by Andrew Kevin Walker ED | ne pes os 8/8/94The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for. ~ Ernest Hemingway For Whom the Bell Tolls 1940INT. OLD HOUSE -- DAY Sunlight comes through the soot on the windows, more brown than bright. SOMERSET, 45, stands in one corner of this small, second-story room, He looks over the ceiling, looks down at the worn wooden floors, looks at the peeling wallpaper. He walks to the center of the room, continues his study, taking his time. He halts, turns to one wall where the current wallpaper is torn away to reveal flowery wallpaper underneath. Somerset goes to this wall and runs his finger across one of the pale, red roses which decorates the older paper. He pushes the grime away, brings the rose out more clearly. He reaches into his suit pocket and takes out a switchblade. He flips the thin, lethal blade free. Working deliberately, delicately, Somerset cuts a square around the rose, then peels the square of dry wallpaper avay fron the wall. He studies it in his hand. EXT. OLD HOUSE = DAY Somerset stands in front of the old home. He looks out at the surrounding farms and forests. He ponders something. Birds sing. MAN (0.8. ) Is something wrong? Somerset does not respond, just stares off. The MAN, 34, wears a real-estate broker's jacket and stands beside a FOR SALE sign in the muddy lawn. MAN Is there something the matter? Somerset turns to face the man, then looks back at the house. SOMERSET No. No... it’s just that everything here seems... 50 strange. MAN Strange? There’s nothing strange about this place. The house’li need a little fixing up, that’s for sure... et fe SOMERSET No. I like the house, and this place. MAN Iwas going to say. Cause this place is about as normal as places get. Somerset nods, taking a deep breath. He smiles.