Hov (2019/2020) 1

‘INSOMNIA’

by

Benjamin Hovington

BLACK...

We hear the tap turning & Water hit the bath basin. Crisp, creaky
tap & PITTER-PATTER drops of water.. A title card:

INSOMNIA

1. INT. BATHROOM — JUST OUTSIDE. ALONE, COMPLETELY SILENT...

(Will undresses, leaving clothes recklessly on the floor.)

Protagonist bathing silently, room still, only movement is the

ripples of bath running.

Will, slight, tired-dreary-eyed looking dejectedly into space. Eyes

still, fixed on one wall tiling.

Slowly — Will sinks down under the still surface of the water, eyes
closed, no emotion. Is he drowning?

WIDE SHOT of the seemingly empty bathroom, no motion upon the

surface of the water. Will, still and submerged.

Quiet, yet suddenly chaos.. Will emerges from his short-term

tranquility. Water seeping out the sides in every direction — his
clothes now drenched and the mat SQUELCHING to the touch.

Gasping for air, Will reaches for his chest. Smoothing his hair
backwards he falls into a position of relief.

He’s back to reality.

EVERY SHOT is looking down on Will, matching his judgement of

himself for his lack of sleep.

2. INT. BEDROOM DESK — A SINGLE PAINFUL BOOK WANTING TO BE READ

The room is completely still, desolate, void of life — the morning

light casts gently away from the empty seat, leaving the chair
sitting in shaded view.
 Hov (2019/2020) 2
Will stumbles from down the creaky wood-floor corridor. Gently
supports himself down onto the wooden chair as if injured,
exhausted.

WILL

Groans and exhales.

Attempting to read, following the ‘5-Easy-ways-to-sleep’ manual

Will read online the week just passed, he sits patiently yet
exasperated.

The room reverts back to it’s completely still, desolate, void of

life state — yet this time, Will fills a small portion of the room.

The clock ticks on while a shadow creeps further towards the

previously shaded seat.

Will, exasperated gives-up. Summons up all his remaining energy and

rockets into the air, kicking back at the now lit-up chair.

WILL

FUCK.. I just —

..give up!

(Will corners himself into isolation)

Unraveling himself from a coil, Will now exasperated creaks his way
back down the corridor.

SUSPICIOUS WIDE SHOT of Will emerging into focus, out from

blotches shapes and lines.

3. INT. BATHROOM MIRROR, SAME BATHROOM.. DIFFERENT DAY/TIME

WIDE SHOT of an empty bathroom, a FIGURE advances across the

frame to the sink.

Will now arched over the sink, splashes cold water onto his tired
eyes — bruising from the nights prior.

WILL

..

(We hear, still, the dribble of water from the tap)

Opening his mouth as if to speak, Will rejects his instincts — he

stares blankly, once again, at his reflection. His eyes almost
shut.
 Hov (2019/2020) 3
Swaying in every which way, Will reaches for some stability.
Without looking his flailing arms grasp onto a towel.

BLACK..

(Thump.. Seconds later we hear the water leak onto the floor)

4. INT. A QUIET STREET, TOWN HOUSE DEVOID OF LIFE — NIGHTTIME

With his right cheek planted forcefully into the SQUELCHED bathmat,
Will opens his eyes. Its evening now, he’s been asleep for hours.

The cheek-creased slouched FIGURE trembles to his feet, this time

clenching onto rigid stability.

Gazing into the mirror, Will reaches to turn the tap off. His hand
misses, skimming the pipe, knocking off the toothbrush pot.

SUBJECTIVE SHOT panning down from the taps to a scattered set

of over-used tooth-bushes.

5. INT. THIRD-FLOOR BEDROOM, ONE FLOOR ABOVE — NIGHTTIME

A commodious space. Double door recessed balcony over-looking the

neighbourhood gardens, prohibited only by a rippling navy curtain.
And in the centre, a VAST COMFORTABLE BED.

Utterly still, yet simultaneously vigilant, Will lays at the edge

of the bed — as if about to get up.

WIDE SHOT of Will now tossing and turning, small compared to

the rest of the room.

Unable to sleep Will lays with head in hands, slouched up against

the head of the bed, he contorts his face up and down until
releasing them to his side in anger.

WILL

..Why can’t I just get to FUCKING SLEEP?

Looking over to the digital alarm clock reading 5:48 Will,

frustrated, looks up to the ceiling.

He’s had enough.