Created using Celtx
15 Minutes to Midnight © 2025 by Stéfano D. Castellanos M.
Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-
NoDerivatives 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0).
To view a copy of this license, visit:
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/
Original work available at:
https://www.edocr.com/v/9wkyoxp9/TVmanuscriptLGTBQ_impenitent
/15-to-midnight-68

FIFTEEN MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT
(
Written and Created by: Stéfano
)
Castellanos.

SALES PITCH
At 11:40 PM on a quiet Norwegian night, a lonely immigrant
faces the choice between dignity and desire when a younger
man he cares for confesses his love. Fifteen Minutes to
Midnight explores the borders between solitude and
connection, exile and home, survival and surrender.

Why This Film Matters:
Fifteen Minutes to Midnight is a deeply personal, emotionally
raw 30-minute short film that captures the fragile, often
invisible lives of older immigrants and LGBTQ+ individuals
living in rural isolation. With poetic dialogue, stark Nordic
imagery, and a soul-piercing finale, it invites viewers to
witness what happens when love arrives too late--or exactly
on time.

Who I Am:
My name is Stefano Castellanos, a seasoned storyteller,
Colombian-Norwegian transplant patient, and a survivor of
systemic adversity. I'm not only writing from imagination--
I'm channeling lived experiences of displacement, illness,
and the ache for meaningful connection in a cold world.

What I Need:
To bring this quiet but powerful film to life for YouTube
release, I need EUR6,000 to cover:- A local Norwegian crew
(cinematographer, sound, editor)- Equipment and lighting
rental- Transportation and basic accommodation- Post-
production and sound design- Food, permits, and support for
2.
Created using Celtx
two actors and two dogs.

Fifteen Minutes to Midnight:
Any amount helps, and every donor will be thanked in the
credits and given early access to the finished film. The town
of Koppang, with its haunting quiet and Nordic beauty, is the
ideal setting. Its atmosphere will ground the film in a
poetic stillness that mirrors the characters' inner lives.

Why Support This?
Because stories like this don't often get told. Because love
after 50 is rarely shown on screen. Because immigrants
deserve dignity. Because this film is simple, real, and
heartbreakingly human.

Get Involved:
If you'd like to support or help connect me with potential
backers, please reach out directly. I'm happy to share script
pages, my director's vision, and a detailed budget.

Logline:
At 11:40 PM on a quiet Norwegian night, Esteban—a 57-year-old
Colombian immigrant—faces a life-altering choice when a
younger man he's grown to care for confesses his love and
begs to stay; torn between the ache of connection and the
dignity of letting go, Esteban must decide whether survival
means staying or leaving.

Synopsis:
Esteban, a 57-year-old Colombian immigrant living in rural
Norway, has survived decades of displacement, solitude, and
quiet resilience. Just as he's preparing to return
home—having leased his house and set his life in motion—Oleg,
a tender and troubled 33-year-old handyman, shows up with a
letter he fears spells his deportation and a confession of
love. What follows is a haunting and deeply human
confrontation between two men at different stages of life.
One wants sanctuary in love; the other seeks dignity in
solitude. "Fifteen Minutes to Midnight" is a meditative,
emotionally charged short film about borders—of nations,
hearts, and time—and the courage it takes to walk away.
3.
Created using Celtx

1. INT. ESTEBAN’S HOUSE – EARLY MORNING

Soft morning light seeps through thin curtains. A wall clock

ticks. The alarm goes off "time for your pill" says the

alarm. The house is warm but carries the stillness of someone

used to silence.
shifts in bed beneath thick wool blankets. His
ESTEBAN (54)
eyes open slowly. He stares at the ceiling for a moment,
listening to the muffled wind outside. A
dog’s tail thumps
against the floor nearby. Another jumps on licks his face.

ESTEBAN
( )
sleepy, warm tone
Alright, alright. I hear you.
He sits up, nude, puts a pair of socks on and rubber boots
and reaches for his hanging on a chair. Then goes
thick robe
to the toilet.

2. INT. KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
Esteban moves through the kitchen with practiced grace. He
fills a with water and sets it on the stove. Opens
tin kettle
a drawer, pulls out in a small linen
freshly ground coffee
bag. The —one older, one younger—circle near the back
two dogs
door. They know the routine.

3. EXT. FARMYARD – MOMENTS LATER
The open. A blast of rushes
back door creaks cold, white air
in.
Esteban stands in the doorway, , thick socks
robe flapping
stuffed into .
rubber boots

ESTEBAN
( )
softly, with affection
Go on then. Make it quick.
The dogs into the frosty yard, their paws crunching
rush out
the light crust of snow. Breath visible in the air. Esteban
wraps the robe tighter, steps out onto the porch, and grabs a
few , balanced carefully in a
logs from a small woodpile
wicker basket.

4. INT. LIVING ROOM – MINUTES LATER
The fire has gone low. Esteban crouches, feeding new logs
into the stove. Sparks crackle to life.
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He pours his . Stands for a moment,
first cup of black coffee
holding it close. Sips slowly, eyes closed.
The room is filled with the soft sounds of the fire waking
up… and the quiet ticking of a clock.
, the older dog, pads over to the small cabinet near
Melcocha
the wall—where Esteban keeps his . She lets out
pill organizer
a short bark, then sits down beside it, tail gently swaying.
Esteban turns, surprised.

ESTEBAN
( )
soft chuckle
Right you are, Melcocha. I forgot.
He walks over, sets the mug down, opens the cabinet.
Rattles
Takes them with the rest of his coffee.
the pill box.

ESTEBAN

(CONT'D)
Gracias, doctora.
( )
pets her head
Can’t trust this brain of mine before
caffeine.
Melcocha rests her head against his leg.
From the hallway, , younger and spry, trots in proudly
TROCO
with a . He drops it at Esteban’s feet,
ball made of old socks
tail wagging, eyes full of hope.

ESTEBAN

(CONT'D)
(smiles)
You too, huh? Fine. One toss.
He sets the coffee down, picks up the sock ball, and tosses
it softly across the room. Troco scrambles after it, paws
slipping slightly on the wooden floor.
Esteban chuckles, kneels to stoke the fire again.
The room is warm now.
For a moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

5. INT. PARTY AT SOMEONE'S HOUSE
Esteban walks in a house full of people he does not know. He
recognizes some faces. They smile at him he smiles back, a
bit shy. A woman greets him is Spanish. She is a bit tipsy.
5.
Created using Celtx
A
ELIAN
Hola,Estaban! pasa, pasa.
They greet each other with a hug.

ESTEBAN
Hola. Mira. Uno de pocos. Alchol 12.4%

ELIANA
Gracias! lo abro ya para que respire.
Hey Everyone! Say hi to Esteban!

EVERYBODY
Hi! Esteban!

ESTEBAN
Hi, everybody!

6. EXT. PATIO – NIGHT
Laughter and voices mix in a blend of
French, Norwegian,
. A group of 8 to 10 men eat, drink, and soak in the
English
early spring. The women are inside, where warm, drinks and
gossip mix gently.
Esteban steps out, quietly taking it in.

TITO
This is Haruki, from Japan.

ESTEBAN
Hajimemashite. Esteban desu. Yoroshiku
onegaishimasu.

HARUKI
Ehh? Koronbia-jin na noni Nihongo
hanaseru no? Maji de sugoi!

ESTEBAN
Kodomo no koro ni, chichi ga Nihon no
taishi datta n desu. Sono toki Nihon
ni sundeimashita.

HARUKI
Welcome, Esteban. I’m impressed.

ESTEBAN
Me too. It’s been 40 years since I
spoke Japanese.
Esteban looks around the group—then meets the eyes of a tall
6.
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redheaded man. Younger. Fit. A quiet kind of handsome.
Their gaze holds. Unspoken, but unmistakable.

TITO
This man is full of surprises.
( )
grinning
Wanna beer?

ESTEBAN
A little red wine. Thanks.
He glances back— . Shy smile.
the redhead is still watching
Admiring. Almost... tender. Esteban swallows softly. Looks
away. Tito returns, bottle and glass in hand.

TITO
Here, Argentinian. I hope you like it.

7. EXT. ESTEBAN'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING
Esteban kneels on the roof, squinting against the sun. A
warped plank creaks beneath him as he leans forward with a
hammer in hand. A small tin of nails rests by his knee.
He lines up the new board. Taps in a nail.
The ladder shifts behind him. He glances back—
CLATTER.
The old metal ladder tips sideways and crashes to the ground
in a puff of dust and dry leaves.
Esteban stays frozen in place. Looks down over the edge, then
back up at the sky.

ESTEBAN
(sighing)
Great God in heaven!
He shifts to sit. In the distance, the soft sputter of an old
engine approaches—low, steady, vaguely charming. His legs
dangling off the edge. Resigned.
An old rolls into view, the kind with the square
Volvo 240
frame and faded navy paint. It hums past—then abruptly slows.
Stops. Reverses.

8. EXT. DRIVEWAY – CONTINUOUS
The Volvo backs into the driveway. The driver’s door opens
with a creak.
7.
Created using Celtx
(mid-30s, rugged, observant) steps out, wearing a faded
OLEG
jacket, holding a takeout cup of coffee. He looks up at the
roof.

OLEG
You stuck, or just enjoying the view?

ESTEBAN
Bit of both.
Oleg chuckles. Walks over to the fallen ladder, lifts it with
one arm.

OLEG
You always do your repairs with a
dramatic twist?

ESTEBAN
Only when I have an audience.
Oleg sets the ladder back in place and steadies it.

OLEG
Come on down. Before the birds start
charging rent.
Esteban climbs down carefully, each step echoing slightly. At
the bottom, he hops off, dusts his hands on his pants.

ESTEBAN
Thanks Next time I’ll remember to
,
anchor the thing.

OLEG
Next time, you call me first.
He and Oleg share a small, amused look.
A quiet beat.
The wind stirs. The old metal ladder shifts again—then
CLUNK.
to the ground behind them. Startled, Esteban
falls hard
instinctively reaches to catch it—his hand catches a rough
edge.

ESTEBAN
Ouch!
He pulls his hand back, a small . Blood
slice across his palm
wells quickly.

OLEG
Uh—lemme see.
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Oleg steps in, gently taking Esteban’s hand to inspect it.
He’s careful but direct, the way someone is when they’ve done
this before.

OLEG

(CONT'D)
It’s shallow. You got anything inside?

ESTEBAN
Yeah. Cabinet next to the stove.

OLEG
Come on. Let’s clean it up.
Esteban nods, trying to play it cool—but there’s a flicker of
something else in his eyes. Not just pain.

9. INT. KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
Esteban sits at the table, hand resting on a clean dishtowel.
Oleg moves around the space like he’s done it before, finding
the cabinet, running warm water, grabbing a little bottle of
peroxide.

ESTEBAN
You a nurse in a past life?

OLEG
Paramedic. Before I got tired of
running toward fires.
He dabs gently at the cut.

ESTEBAN
Well. Lucky for me you still chase
falling ladders.
Oleg meets his eyes briefly. Something unspoken. Familiar.

OLEG
Just happened to be driving by.

ESTEBAN
You always drive that slow?

OLEG
Only on this street. There you go.
You'll be fine.
They share a smile. walks in and lays her paw on
Melcocha
Oleg’s foot like she approves.
9.
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ESTEBAN
You want some real coffee? Not the gas
station kind?
Oleg raises his takeout cup.

OLEG
This is actually tea.
Esteban grins.

ESTEBAN
Even worse. Come on.
Esteban makes coffee. Troco jumps and sits by the window. The
tools and ladder left forgotten outside.

10. INT. ESTEBAN’S HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON
The house is . The kind of stillness that comes after
still
hope fades—just a little. rests his chin on Esteban’s
Troco
pillow. sleeps nearby, twitching in a dream.
Melcocha Phone
Esteban, shirt wrinkled, hair tousled, picks it up
rings.
mid-second ring.

ESTEBAN
Yes?

INTERCUT – OLEG (V.O.)

OLEG
It’s me.
Just wanted to hear—how’s the hand?
Esteban pauses, surprised by the voice. Then he gently peels
the bandage back. The cut is a thin pink line now. He touches
it.

ESTEBAN
It’s fine. Healed clean.
Thanks to you.

OLEG
Good…
Well, that’s all. Just wanted to
check.
A beat. Neither knows what to say next.

ESTEBAN
Okay.
(MORE)
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ESTEBAN (CONT'D)
Take care, Oleg.

OLEG
You too.
The line goes dead.
Click.

11. INT. ESTEBAN’S BEDROOM – A LITTLE LATER
The curtains are drawn halfway. The sun pours in, soft and
golden.
The dogs are not in the room.
There is no sound. No one waiting. Nothing but him.
Esteban lies back on his bed, shirtless. He caresses the scar
on his chest from open-heart surgery four years ago. His
chest rises and falls slowly. He closes his eyes.
He runs his hands over his chest. Slowly. Thoughtfully. His
nipples tighten under his own fingers. A breath catches in
his throat. The room is quiet—but his mind is . - Of what
full
didn’t happen. Of the warmth that almost touched him but
somehow lives in his skin now. His hand moves lower. He
doesn’t rush. There’s in it. He grunts. Each stroke
reverence
a new exaltation of vital love, loneliness replaced.

ESTEBAN (V.O.)
Ah! Oh! um!
He wets his lip. His breath shallows. A slow grunt. The just
physical, but emotional feels almost real. Nipples hard. His
body aching with a longing of empty decades. His back arches
just slightly. He whispers—

ESTEBAN
(soft, raw)
Oh! Oleg… oh! um! oh! Ah!
His body spasms—not just from pleasure,
Everything tightens.
but from . He gasps. He smiles! He lives it!
feeling too much
Then slow stillness. His dark copper curls all over his face.
He licks his lips—slowly. Still not fully back in his body. A
pause. Then—he breathes out, deep. Head back, eyes closed. He
nestles in the moment.

ESTEBAN (V.O.)
Oh no! uh!
11.
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12. INT. BATHROOM – MOMENTS LATER
The shower runs. Steam curls along the ceiling. Esteban
gently scrubs his skin, face, armpits, chest. Not as if to
erase the moment, but to hold onto it longer.

13. EXT. DIRT ROAD – DAY
Esteban jogs. Melcocha and Troco run ahead, tails high. His
face covered in sweat. He is a strong runner and the dogs a
great team. The spring air is . A distant
bright and crisp
magpie calls. Then—suddenly:

ESTEBAN
(shouts)

¡Nachos!
The dogs snap their heads back, mid-run. They spin on a dime
and come barreling toward him—tails flying, full sprint pass
him. Esteban laughs, a short burst—real, from the belly—and
takes off running toward the house as fast as he can.

14. EXT. ESTEBAN’S FRONT YARD – DAY
Esteban stands by the porch, the warmth of the spring sun on
his face. and are nearby, basking in the
Troco Melcocha
sunlight.
The familiar sound of an old truck pulls into the driveway.
, 56, a sturdy, reliable man with a weathered face,
JAN PÅL
climbs out, unloading boxes of wood onto the ground.
Esteban walks over, greeting him with a smile. He’s a bit
tired from the morning’s jog, but he’s always ready for the
conversation.

ESTEBAN
Morning, Jan.
How’s the day?

JAN PÅL
Busy as always. Got plenty of wood to
deliver. But it's good.
(busy hands, smiling)
Got some leftover pieces if you need.
Half price, I’d say.
Esteban looks at the piles of wood, considering it.

ESTEBAN
Sounds good. I'll take it. Maybe stack
(MORE)
12.
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ESTEBAN (CONT'D)
up for next winter. Say bring six big
ones.

JAN PÅL
Good idea. Can make three trips next
week. Enough to last. You’re a good
planner.

ESTEBAN
Deal.
Jan Pål pauses for a moment, then casually continues.

JAN PÅL
By the way, I’ve been bringing wood to
Oleg...
You know, he left his wife. Or she
left him. I don't know.

ESTEBAN
Oh, wow.

JAN PÅL
Surprised me.
Women... unpredictable, eh? (chuckles)
Esteban, his face neutral, listens carefully.

ESTEBAN
(slow)
I guess.
Jan Pål shakes his head, not thinking much of it, and
continues unloading the wood.

JAN PÅL
Oleg... good worker. Can’t deny it. A
handyman, too. Mentioned your hand and
what good man you are with your
dogs—he could help you fix that roof
quick, if you need it.
(looks at Esteban in the eyes) You’ve
got a good man there, even if it’s
complicated.
Esteban meets his gaze. A quiet moment. Not defensive—just
seen. He nods once. Barely. Jan Pål shifts back into motion,
grabbing the last bit of wood.
13.
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JAN PÅL

(CONT'D)
Anyway, I heard something about the
government sending people back to
Ukraine soon. But... I guess it’s not
certain.
Esteban nods.

ESTEBAN
Imagine the stress.

JAN PÅL
You can say that. Well... gotta run.
Plenty more deliveries.
Esteban pulls out his wallet and pays him.

ESTEBAN
Thanks, Jan. See you soon.

JAN PÅL
Take good care of yourself now. No
more roof climbing.
Jan Pål waves as he climbs back into his truck, leaving
Esteban standing alone, the weight of the conversation
settling over him.
Esteban stares at the pile of wood—his thoughts clearly
elsewhere, but his face unreadable.

15. EXT. ESTEBAN’S HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON
The sky glows gold. The last warmth of the day clings to the
earth.
, on the roof, nails in the final plank. Each strike is
OLEG
precise. Controlled. Final. He notices a car approaches.
Below, stands by the front door, welcomes a young
ESTEBAN
couple.

ESTEBAN
Welcome. The roof is finished and I've
ordered wood for the winter. Come on
in.
. (SMILE)
THE NEW TENANTS
That is so kind. We will pay you.
14.
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ESTEBAN
Not to worry. If you need more you'll
buy it yourselves.
Oleg watches from above, quiet. They go in. Oleg squints
slightly—then looks away. He climbs down the new ladder
slowly, toolbelt heavy at his hip. He gathers the tools.
Folds the tarp. Stacks everything perfectly by the side of
the house. Orderly. Exact.

16. INT. LIVING ROOM ESTABAN AND THE COUPLE
They sign the papers.

ESTEBAN
OK. Then you'll move July 20th.

THE NEW TENANTS. (SMILE)
Wonderful! We hope by then you've
decided to sell.

ESTEBAN
Let's not get ahead of ourselves.
You'll deal with the agency from now
on and my lawyer when it comes to
repairs. Let me walk you out.
The couple leaves with a wave. Esteban walks them to the
road. Esteban calls the dogs. Oleg notices the tools
perfectly stacked by the side of the house. Oleg is gone.

17. INT. ESTEBAN’S HOUSE – NIGHT – 11:40 PM
The clock on the wall reads: . The house, dim and
11:40 PM
still. Troco bites his bone. Melcocha stares at him. A hard
KNOCK at the door—sharp, urgent. Esteban freezes. Dogs bark a
familiar bark. Esteban looks out the window and sees Oleg's
car outside. He opens the door. OLEG, pale, breathless,
stands holding a folded letter in shaking hands. His eyes are
wild with fear.

OLEG
(voice low, tense)
It came. I—I don’t understand it. They
want me to leave.

ESTEBAN
Come inside.
Esteban gently takes the letter. He reads silently. A long
pause.
15.
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ESTEBAN

(CONT'D)
You’re fine, Oleg.
(reading softly)
It says here "Individuals who entered
the country under a work visa or were
granted refugee status on or before
June 2022 may become eligible for
permanent residency following a
continuous period of six years,
contingent upon current immigration
regulations and provided the
conditions prompting displacement
persist." That means you. It means you
can apply like any other foreigner for
permanent residency. After six years.
Oleg blinks. He processes. Breathes. Relief slowly spreads
over his face.

OLEG
So… I stay?

ESTEBAN
You stay. As long as there is war you
stay. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so
cruel. Forgive me.
Oleg exhales—deep, shaky. A silence. Then:

OLEG
You leased your house. Why didn’t you
tell me?
Esteban looks at him. Caught.

ESTEBAN
I don't think I should. I… forgot. It
didn’t seem important.

OLEG
The roof… the cut… the dogs... It
didn't seem important?

ESTEBAN
I'm taking the dogs with me if that's
your concern.

OLEG
(QUIET)
You are important. You’re leaving.
16.
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ESTEBAN
Speak up. What was that?

OLEG
I...
Esteban interrupts him. Then gestures to the letter.

ESTEBAN
You came here afraid of being sent
away. You . That’s good news,
aren’t
Oleg. Focus on that. Live in the now.

OLEG
(SOFT VOICE)
Don’t do that.
Esteban raises an eyebrow.

ESTEBAN
Don't do what?

OLEG
(CHANGE OF TONE—SOFT, BREAKING)
I’m in love with you.
There. I said it. You want me to live
in the present. There it is. I can't
get you out of my head. You...
Silence.

ESTEBAN
I’m not the right person for this.
Whatever you’re going through, I hope
you find your way through it, but I
can’t be involved. If you’re looking
for something physical or personal, it
won’t be with me. I wish you well, but
I’m stepping back.

OLEG
Tell me you don't feel the same for
me.

ESTEBAN
Look here. Good for you. The war keeps
you safe here—for now. Just don’t
forget the paperwork.

OLEG
Forget about the stupid letter,
(MORE)
17.
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OLEG (CONT'D)
Esteban, and look at me, tell me...

ESTEBAN
Oh please, Oleg. Stop.
I see you—a bright, burning thing with
your whole life still ahead of you.
That fire? It’s beautiful. But I see
me first.
I choose stillness over heat. Peace
over passion.
I need to go back—to where I belong.
My land. My food. My people.
I need to know I still fit somewhere.
Because at 56, this is my time to go.
And I won’t trade that freedom for a
33-year-old dream that vanishes the
moment it finds someone newer, warmer,
easier.
You’re on your own, kid.
Oleg doesn’t respond. He breathes, heavy. His eyes glassy. A
long silence. No music. Just breath. Fire crackling. And
then— The clock shifts.
TICK. 11:45 PM.

PART TWO

18. EXT. FOREST TRAIL – EARLY MORNING
Muted light filters through the dense, misty forest. The same
old path—mud-packed, familiar, carpeted with fallen pine
needles. Esteban runs at a steady, unhurried pace. His breath
is calm, controlled. The two dogs, and , run
Melcocha Troco
beside him in sync, untethered but watchful.
Esteban’s form is lean, graceful—power shaped by years of
discipline, not vanity. His body moves with the economy of
someone who listens to it. Every step is a conversation.
Suddenly, he slows. His eyes narrow.

ESTEBAN'S POV
Just beyond the bend at the ridge—a pecks
flock of birds
frantically at a , half-hidden under branches and
carcass
18.
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dirt. The air changes. A flicker of tension.
Esteban stops. He speaks to his dogs in Spanish.

ESTEBAN
(TO HIS DOGS QUIETLY, FIRM)
Cerca. Cerca. (stay close)
The dogs immediately shift closer. Their ears perk. They
know.
Esteban’s eyes scan the tree line.

ESTEBAN
Wolves, maybe.
This is no longer about enjoying the solitude—it’s survival.
He knows dogs can lose aim. He pulls a small
silver whistle
from under his shirt. One sharp blow.
Esteban runs full speed. It's a game they play.
The dogs take off—not wild, but focused. Their training
signal is clear:
run, don’t stop. Stay close.

EXT. HILLSIDE – CONTINUOUS
The terrain dips and climbs, the trail tight and slippery.
Esteban runs uphill hard, not from uncontrolled fear, but
pure survival instinct. It makes him faster.
Melcocha brushes his left side. Troco on his right. No
barking, just breath and the sound of feet slicing through
dirt.
At the , the forest opens.
summit
The sky is wide again. And far below— Esteban
the road.
exhales. He slows to a jog, then a walk. The tension in his
shoulders softens. He reaches into his , pulls
kangaroo pouch
out the , clips them on with a soft click. The dogs
leashes
wag gently, panting. One treat each. He pulls out his phone.

ESTEBAN

(CONT'D)
(into phone)
Yeah. It’s me. Top of Elholm ridge.
Just the road. Thanks.
He hangs up. He walks his dogs along the road.

19. EXT. ROADSIDE – MINUTES LATER
Esteban walks calmly now, eyes steady on the road. The cab
19.
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slows, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Esteban opens the
door.

TAXI DRIVER
Get them in the back.

ESTEBAN
Right.
The dogs hop in. Esteban closes the back door and gets in the
back seat.

TAXI DRIVER
Long run?

ESTEBAN
There was a carcass and lots of birds
on it.

TAXI DRIVER
And you think it's death.

ESTEBAN
I'm sorry?

TAXI DRIVER
I’ve seen you run that path. Ever
tried Cowbell Ridge? Soft on the
knees.

ESTEBAN
You run?

TAXI DRIVER
I don't have to.
Esteban gazes at the rearview mirror. The forest shrinks,
swallowed by distance. Oleg stands still far behind.

FADE OUT.

20. INT. ESTEBAN’S BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING

FADE IN.
Esteban stirs in bed. Wakes up.

ESTEBAN
Fuck! Oh!
The room is still. He grabs his phone, squints—
INSERT: PHONE
20.
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He frowns. Blinks hard. Rests back.
DISPLAY — 05:78.

ESTEBAN

(CONT'D)
(
groggy)
Au.

(rubs his head)
He is in his Japanese-style bed. The fengshui is nearly
perfect—calm, sparse, intentional. He shifts around under the
covers, then glances at his two dogs.
Melcocha is curled up beside the bed, breathing slow and
deep. Troco is sprawled like a king on the big chair, utterly
at peace. Esteban sinks back into the bedding, closing his
eyes, trying to will himself into sleep. He gets up.

21. INT. LAW OFFICE – DAY
A neat, modern office. Glass, dark wood, library, and clean
lines. A splash of green from a potted plant in the corner.
Comfortable sofa and a very nice carpet. Sunlight spills
through high windows.
, mid-40s, sharp-eyed, calm, with the quiet
MRS. OLIVIA KÄNEL
authority of someone who never has to raise her voice, sits
across from , who seems more relaxed than
ESTEBAN
usual—perhaps it’s the formality of the space.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
Mr. Staurset spoke highly of you. Said
you were precise. Direct.

ESTEBAN
That’s generous of him. He said the
same about you. Except he added,
"Don’t be charming—she’ll see through
it."
Olivia smiles briefly. She glances at the file on her desk.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
You’re looking to buy a... rather
dilapidated structure. I know the
property.
(pause)
Why that one?

ESTEBAN
It’s not the house. It’s the location.
I’m close to the center, but far
enough not to be in it. It’s quiet.
(MORE)
21.
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ESTEBAN (CONT'D)
Usually.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
I think I know what you mean. You’re
talking about Mr. Leap’s place, aren’t
you?
Esteban nods.

ESTEBAN
Correct.

(LEANS BACK)
OLIVIA KÄNEL
He has a reputation. Buys cheap, rents
fast. Tenants with nowhere else to go,
and no voice to complain. The building
is nearly condemned, and still—he
wants too much for it.

ESTEBAN
Greed. I'd offer 300.000NOK max.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
And you know what they say, habits are
hard to break.
She studies him a moment.

OLIVIA KÄNEL

(CONT'D)
So what do you want with it?

ESTEBAN
Burn it to the ground. Clean it.
She pulls out some forms.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
This is how it works. I can draft a
contract with a ceiling price. I
negotiate. I deal with him. Once it’s
settled, I instruct the other side to
make out final documents in your
name. Standard
(hands him a packet)
contract. Take a look.

ESTEBAN
He’ll play games.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
That’s why you hire a lawyer—to keep
(MORE)
22.
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OLIVIA KÄNEL (CONT'D)
you out of the nonsense. I also
recommend a second opinion. Not
because I doubt myself— —but
(smiles)
because I believe in good business.

ESTEBAN
Fine. I’ll follow your lead.
She prints and slides over the fee sheet.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
These are my terms. Look it over. No
rush.

ESTEBAN
I’ll call you tomorrow. Around three?

OLIVIA KÄNEL
Agreed. You’re not just buying
(beat)
quiet, are you?
Esteban doesn’t answer right away.

ESTEBAN
I want him off that street. And the
kind of people he brings. I’m buying a
return. On my terms.
She nods.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
I’ll search for similar properties
too—better investments. Just to show
you what’s out there.

ESTEBAN
I like to be tempted.

OLIVIA KÄNEL
Then we’ll see how strong your resolve
really is.

FADE OUT.

22. SCENE — EXT. ESTEBAN’S HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON
Esteban pulls up. The sun is low. His dogs bark once, then go
quiet.
Two POLICE OFFICERS stand by his front door. One smokes. The
23.
Created using Celtx
other watches the horizon.

ESTEBAN
(approaching, cautious) Something
wrong?

OFFICER LARS
We were hoping to speak with you, Mr.
Esteban. Are you aware there is a
carcass behind those trees, behind
your property? May we come in?

ESTEBAN
I'm sorry? Sure, come on it. Where?
.
23 INT. ESTEBAN’S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Coffee table. Faint smell of wood smoke. Esteban sits
opposite the officers, trying to read their faces.

OFFICER INGRID
Do you know a man named Oleg—he was
staying in Rendalen recently.

ESTEBAN
Yes. He’s... a friend. What happened?
(beat)

OFFICER INGRID
You haven't noticed those birds behind
those trees?

ESTEBAN
Sure. I feed magpies.

OFFICER LARS
We found his body this morning. Just
off the old logging trail near
Cowbell

Ridge.

ESTEBAN
Cowbell Ridge? Officer, you lost me.
Esteban freezes. His eyes widen. Troco whines softly.

OFFICER INGRID
Were you two intimate?

ESTEBAN
No. I'm sorry you guys are talking
about two different things here and
(MORE)
24.
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ESTEBAN (CONT'D)
it's hard to follow.

OFFICER LARS
Really? A man like you... and he, a
fine young stud? (beat) Did he turn
you down?

ESTEBAN
Officer... please. Start from the
beginning. What exactly are we dealing
with here? Is Oleg—dead? On my
property?
A quiet moment. Esteban goes to the window. Outside far away
from his house he notices a similar image to the one in his
dream.

ESTEBAN

(CONT'D)
Oh God!

OFFICER INGRID
The timing lines up. With the carcass
(beat). That’s why we’re here. You
said you didn’t hear anything. Neither
did your dogs.
Esteban looks at Melcocha and Troco, each keeping watch on a
chair.

ESTEBAN
That's a carcass?

OFFICER LARS
Moose.

OFFICER INGRID
I'm sorry. Your friend Oleg was
murdered last night. Cowbell ridge.
Esteban stares past them, to the window. Beyond the glass:
his hand, the one Oleg patched up. Outside, the wind picks
up.

ESTEBAN
Are you investigating the death of
Oleg—or the death of a wild animal?
Why the mix up?

OFFICER LARS
We want to now where you were last
(MORE)
25.
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OFFICER LARS (CONT'D)
night. That animal was killed last
night. You said you didn't hear
anything.
Esteban is in shock.

ESTEBAN
(panting) I'm sorry...
Esteban runs to the kitchen sink. He throws up. Then a
Crackle from one of the officers radio. A faint whisper of
static. Ingrid shifts, casually pressing a finger to his
earpiece.
**RADIO VOICE (V.O., filtered – faint, unintelligible)**

OFFICER INGRID
We're done here. Lars let's go.
Esteban over the kitchen sink wipes his mouth.

ESTEBAN
You got the right lead, I guess.

OFFICER INGRID
Good bye. For now.
Lars throws one last look at Esteban—not accusatory, not
dismissive. Just... watchful.

OFFICER LARS
Stay close.

ESTEBAN
Oleg is my friend.

OFFICER INGRID
I'm sorry for you loss.
They exit. The door shuts softly. Esteban stares at nothing.
Outside, the wind picks up. Melcocha growls, low and
uncertain. Then rests her body on the chair.

24. INT. POLICE STATION – EARLY NEXT DAY
Officers Lars and Ingrid sit at their desks, a hum of quiet
activity around them. A report is open on the screen, filled
with grisly details.
26.
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OFFICER INGRID
This... pattern—it’s connected to
similar deaths. Outside Norway.

OFFICER LARS
What do you mean?

OFFICER INGRID
15 years ago.
She taps a few keys, her fingers flying over the keyboard. It
shows on Lars' computer.

OFFICER INGRID

(CONT'D)
Look.

OFFICER LARS
I see it. Canada?
The systems emit an alarm which calls to everyone's
attention. The Chief of Police walks out of his office.

CHIEF KROGSTAD
Forensics flagged it in the system.
We’re looking at a highly disturbed
individual. Prioritize cross-
referencing dual nationals with
Canadian citizenship.

OFFICER INGRID
We have a total of 2,600 individuals
flagged, 2,498 of whom hold dual
citizenship. Out of those, four are
over the age of seventy. One has a
current registered address in Bærum.

OFFICER LARS
Born in Alberta. His phone places him
in Koppang.

CHIEF KROGSTAD
That's our guy.

OFFICER INGRID
The report aligns exactly with our
case. Fifteen years ago—same
signature: identical mutilation
patterns, the inverted cross,
identical burn marks to the hands and
feet. And the eyes... Victim was
homosexual. Male.
27.
Created using Celtx

OFFICER LARS
Let's pick him up.

CHIEF KROGSTAD
We have no evidence. Check the cell
phone from that Esteban guy. They
might be working together.

OFFICER LARS
He was completely clueless.

OFFICER INGRID
He's on the move. Near Cowbell Ridge.

CHIEF KROGSTAD
That is about a ten minute drive from
Koppang. Get a move on it. Keep a safe
distance remember we need evidence.

25. EXT. COWBELL RIDGE – MINUTES LATER
is on his bike, pedaling furiously uphill, he turns
Esteban
the motor on the bike to go faster and easier. It is a
professional mountain bike. His breath coming in sharp bursts
as he pushes himself through the humid cold air. The ground
beneath him is uneven, but he doesn’t slow down—his focus
locked on the path ahead. Behind him, and in
Melcocha Troco
front at a steady pace, their bodies in sync with his
movements.
Esteban comes to a stop at the edge of the ridge, his chest
heavy with exhaustion. The view is vast—endless, stretches of
forest, trees reaching toward the horizon. It is exactly as
he remembers it in his dream. He scans the area, his eyes
darting over the land.
Her ears perk up, her nose
Suddenly, Melcocha stops.
twitching. She trots off the path, into the brush, her steps
deliberate.
Esteban watches for a moment, confused. Then, Melcocha's
faint low growl—it draws his attention.

ESTEBAN
(softly)
Melcocha?
He watches her, then follows her footsteps, pushing his bike
through the underbrush.

CUT TO:
28.
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26. EXT. COWBELL RIDGE – DEEPER IN THE WOODS – CONTINUOUS
Melcocha stops in front of something small and strange—a
, half-buried in the dirt, its
vyshyvanka arm bracelet
intricate patterns still visible despite the wear of the
earth due to rain. She whines softly.

ESTEBAN
(whispering, to himself)
What girl?
He kneels down and picks it up, his fingers brushing the
embroidered fabric. Something about it—its presence
here—makes his heart skip a beat. It doesn’t belong here.

ESTEBAN

(CONT'D)
So the missing snacks, he was sneaking
you treats, eh? My sweet girl.
Troco barks. Esteban looks around the woods, his gaze
hardening as the realization sinks in. Esteban remembers
pieces of their conversation in the kitchen.

ESTEBAN (V.O.)
What kind of mercy leaves a good man
cold in the dirt?
His grip tightens on the bracelet. In his mind, a scene
flashes—the , the , Oleg standing on
taxi ride rearview mirror
the road.

ESTEBAN (V.O.)

(CONT'D)
What kind of fucked up disgusting game
are you playing?
The dogs are restless, agitated. Melcocha barks. Rocco growls
and barks in alert mode. Melcocha’s hackles rise. Esteban
slowly reacts, half-way staring at the bracelet in his hand.
He looks around one last time—searching for answers in the
dense trees. A rifle shot—sharp, echoing through the
CRACK!
trees.
Esteban jerks back, drops the bracelet. He is hit in the
shoulder, blood already soaking through his sleeve. He falls,
grabbing his shoulder.

ESTEBAN
(screams and grits his teeth)
Au!
The dogs scatter— , ,
Melcocha to the left Troco to the right
29.
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both disappearing into the trees. Esteban rolls to a crouch
behind a log, clutching the wound with his left hand. He
peers up. A figure steps out from the dense brush.

BENJAMIN
They all return to the place of their
undoing. It is written.
He stares down at Esteban. Calm. Almost kind.

BENJAMIN (CONT'D)

(Gazes at Esteban, voice even, almost kind)
But it was never about . It's the
you
soul that matters. The cleansing. 'If
a man also lie with mankind, as he
lieth with a woman, both of them have
committed an abomination. They shall
surely be put to death; their blood
shall be upon them.’(beat) Leviticus.
Twenty thirteen."

ESTEBAN
(through pain)
Who the hell are you?

BENJAMIN
A shepherd. A servant. A prophet of
God. I warned
(calm, almost pitying)
him. But he was too far gone. Playing
house in your little nest—like you
were husband and wife.
(he lifts his
‘Therefore shall a man
eyes, recites)
leave his father and his mother, and
shall cleave unto his wife: and they
shall be one flesh.’ Genesis 2:24. You
carcass.
He raises the rifle again. Esteban tenses.

BENJAMIN (CONT'D)
They never listen, you know. Not until
it's too late.

(A faint sound—a twig snaps behind him. Benjamin’s head
(thinking, eyes
tilts, a slight disturbance.)

ESTEBAN
shifting to the trees, calculating) (Suddenly, Melcocha
bursts from the underbrush, snarling and barking with
ferocity. She lunges at Benjamin's legs.)
30.
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BENJAMIN
(
snarling, stepping back, raises
)
the rifle toward Melcocha
Back, beast!
But he's too slow. Troco, like a blur, leaps from behind,
moving fast—CRACK! A wild shot tears through the trees.

ESTEBAN
(
seizes the moment—throws himself

forward with all his remaining

strength, knocks Benjamin off

balance and sends the rifle
)
flying
They tumble, wrestle in the mud. Esteban’s hand grabs at
Benjamin’s throat, desperate to gain control.

VOICES – OFFICERS (O.S.)
Police! Don’t move! We will shoot!

Flashing lights slice through the forest. Officers Lars and

Ingrid step into view, weapons raised. The dogs snarl but

hesitate, pulling back. Esteban, pants, bleeds from his

shoulder, rolls off Benjamin—still alive but barely holding

it together. Benjamin, stunned but strangely serene, remains

kneeling in the mud, surrounded.

OFFICER LARS
Let me see your hands! Now!
Benjamin raises his hands slowly, a blank expression on his
face—as if listening to something distant, something divine.

BENJAMIN
(
softly, almost to himself, voice
)
calm and steady

"All the workers of iniquity shall be

scattered... You shall perish— all of

—like smoke, you vanish."(He
you

pauses, staring through them, as if

he’s not really seeing the officers at

all.)"Psalm 92:9. The reckoning

comes."
Benjamin turns his head slowly toward Esteban, his eyes
burning with unshakable conviction

BENJAMIN (CONT’D)
This land will burn before it's
cleansed.
31.
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OFFICER LARS
(
with a cynical smirk, lowering

his weapon as Benjamin is taken
)
away
Yeah? We’ll hose you down first.
Benjamin is led away, hands cuffed. He’s still muttering
softly to himself, his eyes distant.
The forest seems to exhale—a heavy silence settles. Melcocha
whines, her loyalty unwavering. Troco nuzzles Esteban’s good
hand, his presence a silent reassurance.

27. EXT. COWBELL RIDGE – LATER THAT WEEK – EARLY EVENING
A hush blankets the forest. Golden light filters through the
trees, casting long shadows. Esteban, bandaged and moving
slowly, kneels near the path where it all transpired. He
brushes the leaves aside, his hands shaking slightly as he
searches the earth with quiet urgency.
A faint sound of footsteps. He turns sharply—OFFICER INGRID
steps into view, her expression unreadable. She’s holding
something in her hand.

OFFICER INGRID
(
calmly, almost gently, as she
)
extends the object toward him
Looking for this?
She holds out the . Dirt-stained, worn,
vyshyvanka bracelet
but intact. Esteban freezes. Takes it gently.

ESTEBAN
Thank you... Are you guys still
tracking my phone?

OFFICER INGRID
Nah. The guy who drove you here—he’s
my wife’s dad. He kind of told me
where to find you.
She holds out the vyshyvanka bracelet. Dirt-stained, worn,
but still intact.
OFFICER INGRID
(CONT'D)
I kept it from evidence. It felt like
it was yours.

ESTEBAN
(sighs, quietly. takes the bracelet
gently)

(MORE)
32.
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ESTEBAN (CONT'D)
- Thanks.
She studies him for a moment.

OFFICER INGRID
You gonna be okay?

ESTEBAN
I don’t know. There’s too much
(beat)
to hold all at once. He came here to
find refuge and instead, he found his
end.

OFFICER INGRID
"Don’t do that to yourself.
Lars told me about your dream. And I
don’t know… maybe something bigger
did
intervene. Whatever name we give it—I
think it saw you. Saw him.
Whatever love we carry, it means the
world to someone.

(softly, with gravity)
So promise me—when you judge yourself
too harshly, remember this:
You gave us enough to make a solid
case.

(beat)
You’re the hero of this story.
Remember that.
A quiet moment. The wind stirs. Birds call in the distance.

OFFICER INGRID

(CONT'D)
I gotta go. I’ll tell my father-in-law
to wait as long as you need.
She turns.

ESTEBAN
Thank you.
He’s left alone. Slowly, he slips the bracelet onto his
wrist, then presses it to his chest. The forest surrounds
him—not silent, not menacing... but alive.

THE END.

Dedicated to the Victims of Hate Crime.
33.
Created using Celtx

This is for us. The Survivors.

Stéfano D. Castellanos M.

4 May 2025
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