A Hollow Echo on the Lake
On the splintered dock, with the last light bleeding from the sky, Jamie and Cole confronted their diverging futures, their emotional conversation punctuated by charged silences and the lingering shadow of a shared, unsettling past.
EXT. FISHING DOCK - SUNSET
The air is heavy, damp. Smells of pine, wet granite, the sweet decay of summer's end.
The last sliver of sun dips below the horizon, painting the choppy surface of Lake Superior in bruised purples and blood oranges.
JAMIE (17), restless and perceptive, sits on the edge of the splintered, listing dock. He shivers, pulling his worn hoodie tighter.
Beside him, COLE (18) is a solid, unreadable block. Gaze fixed on the vanishing point, elbows on his knees.
Jamie picks at a loose thread on his jeans. The silence stretches.
JAMIE
> So. This is it, huh? Last summer night before… everything.
> (voice cracks)
Cole grunts. A noncommittal sound.
JAMIE
> What’s… what’s the plan, then?
Cole finally shifts, a slow, deliberate movement. His worn denim jacket rustles, smelling faintly of engine grease and lake wind. He doesn’t look at Jamie.
COLE
> Same as it’s been. Dad needs me at the marina. Season’s picking up.
Jamie’s jaw tightens. He tries to hide the bitterness in his voice. Fails.
JAMIE
> Right. The marina.
Silence. The whine of a distant mosquito. The rhythmic SLAP of water against the dock pilings.
JAMIE
> Remember the journal? The one from the shack?
Cole’s shoulders tense, just a fraction.
JAMIE
> The one about Whispering Falls? With that weird map?
COLE
> What about it? Just old ghost stories. Miners got lonely, saw things.
JAMIE
> But it wasn't just ghost stories, was it? The way it described the woods... that deep, dark pool below the falls. The map felt... specific. Like a real place.
Cole finally turns his head. His eyes, in the gathering gloom, seem darker, deeper.
COLE
> You still got that thing? I thought you threw it out.
JAMIE
> (a faint blush)
> No. I kept it. Under my bed. It’s strange, Cole. The way the ink swirls, the symbols... It felt like a riddle. Like something was hidden.
COLE
> It was just a story, Jamie. You’re always looking for something more, aren’t you? Some big mystery.
JAMIE
> And you’re not? You’re content to just... inherit the marina? Fix engines and drive fishing charters until you’re seventy? Is that really all there is for you?
Cole stands up abruptly. The sudden movement RATTLES the old dock. Jamie flinches.
Cole looms over him, a dark silhouette against the fading sky.
COLE
> (low, dangerous)
> What's that supposed to mean?
JAMIE
> (reckless)
> It means I don't think you want to stay. I think you’re just scared. Scared to leave, scared to find out what else is out there. Scared to admit that maybe, just maybe, you want something more than this!
Cole stares down at him. A terrifying beat. Jamie thinks he’s going to walk away.
Then, the unexpected.
Cole KNEELS. Slowly. His knees CRACK in the quiet. He’s eye-level with Jamie now, his face grim, shadowed.
COLE
> (a rough whisper)
> You think I'm scared? You think I haven't thought about it? Every single night? What it would be like to just... leave? With you?
Jamie’s breath catches. The words hang in the air. *With you?*
Cole reaches out a hand, slowly. His calloused fingers brush against Jamie’s forearm. A feather-light touch. Electric.
COLE
> You think I don't see what you see, Jamie? The possibilities? You think I don't want to chase those weird symbols on your map, just to see where they lead?
Jamie just shakes his head, unable to speak. Tears prick his eyes.
Cole’s gaze drops to Jamie’s lips for a split second, then snaps back up to his eyes. He leans closer.
COLE
> But some of us... some of us have responsibilities, Jamie. Promises. And some of us... some of us just aren't as brave as you are.
The words hit Jamie like a punch.
JAMIE
> (whispering, thick)
> That's... that's not fair, Cole. I'm scared too. Scared of leaving you. Scared of what happens when I'm gone. Scared of what happens to *us*.
The word ‘us’ hangs there. Cole’s thumb stops stroking his arm.
He exhales, a long, shaky breath. His eyes soften with a deep, tender sadness.
He withdraws his hand.
The moment shatters.
Cole pushes himself back to a standing position. The dock creaks. The wall is back up, solid and impenetrable.
COLE
> It's getting late.
> (beat)
> Gotta get back. Early start tomorrow.
He doesn’t look at Jamie. He turns. Takes a step away.
JAMIE
> (a whisper)
> Cole...
Cole stops. But doesn't turn around. His shoulders are hunched.
He walks away. The sound of his FOOTSTEPS on the dock planks echoes hollowly in the dark, then fades.
Jamie stays, long after Cole has vanished into the shadows. The silence of the lake stretches out, vast and indifferent.
He reaches into his pocket. His fingers find the familiar, brittle leather of the old JOURNAL. He traces the strange symbols on the cover.
A map to everything they couldn't say.
The air is heavy, damp. Smells of pine, wet granite, the sweet decay of summer's end.
The last sliver of sun dips below the horizon, painting the choppy surface of Lake Superior in bruised purples and blood oranges.
JAMIE (17), restless and perceptive, sits on the edge of the splintered, listing dock. He shivers, pulling his worn hoodie tighter.
Beside him, COLE (18) is a solid, unreadable block. Gaze fixed on the vanishing point, elbows on his knees.
Jamie picks at a loose thread on his jeans. The silence stretches.
JAMIE
> So. This is it, huh? Last summer night before… everything.
> (voice cracks)
Cole grunts. A noncommittal sound.
JAMIE
> What’s… what’s the plan, then?
Cole finally shifts, a slow, deliberate movement. His worn denim jacket rustles, smelling faintly of engine grease and lake wind. He doesn’t look at Jamie.
COLE
> Same as it’s been. Dad needs me at the marina. Season’s picking up.
Jamie’s jaw tightens. He tries to hide the bitterness in his voice. Fails.
JAMIE
> Right. The marina.
Silence. The whine of a distant mosquito. The rhythmic SLAP of water against the dock pilings.
JAMIE
> Remember the journal? The one from the shack?
Cole’s shoulders tense, just a fraction.
JAMIE
> The one about Whispering Falls? With that weird map?
COLE
> What about it? Just old ghost stories. Miners got lonely, saw things.
JAMIE
> But it wasn't just ghost stories, was it? The way it described the woods... that deep, dark pool below the falls. The map felt... specific. Like a real place.
Cole finally turns his head. His eyes, in the gathering gloom, seem darker, deeper.
COLE
> You still got that thing? I thought you threw it out.
JAMIE
> (a faint blush)
> No. I kept it. Under my bed. It’s strange, Cole. The way the ink swirls, the symbols... It felt like a riddle. Like something was hidden.
COLE
> It was just a story, Jamie. You’re always looking for something more, aren’t you? Some big mystery.
JAMIE
> And you’re not? You’re content to just... inherit the marina? Fix engines and drive fishing charters until you’re seventy? Is that really all there is for you?
Cole stands up abruptly. The sudden movement RATTLES the old dock. Jamie flinches.
Cole looms over him, a dark silhouette against the fading sky.
COLE
> (low, dangerous)
> What's that supposed to mean?
JAMIE
> (reckless)
> It means I don't think you want to stay. I think you’re just scared. Scared to leave, scared to find out what else is out there. Scared to admit that maybe, just maybe, you want something more than this!
Cole stares down at him. A terrifying beat. Jamie thinks he’s going to walk away.
Then, the unexpected.
Cole KNEELS. Slowly. His knees CRACK in the quiet. He’s eye-level with Jamie now, his face grim, shadowed.
COLE
> (a rough whisper)
> You think I'm scared? You think I haven't thought about it? Every single night? What it would be like to just... leave? With you?
Jamie’s breath catches. The words hang in the air. *With you?*
Cole reaches out a hand, slowly. His calloused fingers brush against Jamie’s forearm. A feather-light touch. Electric.
COLE
> You think I don't see what you see, Jamie? The possibilities? You think I don't want to chase those weird symbols on your map, just to see where they lead?
Jamie just shakes his head, unable to speak. Tears prick his eyes.
Cole’s gaze drops to Jamie’s lips for a split second, then snaps back up to his eyes. He leans closer.
COLE
> But some of us... some of us have responsibilities, Jamie. Promises. And some of us... some of us just aren't as brave as you are.
The words hit Jamie like a punch.
JAMIE
> (whispering, thick)
> That's... that's not fair, Cole. I'm scared too. Scared of leaving you. Scared of what happens when I'm gone. Scared of what happens to *us*.
The word ‘us’ hangs there. Cole’s thumb stops stroking his arm.
He exhales, a long, shaky breath. His eyes soften with a deep, tender sadness.
He withdraws his hand.
The moment shatters.
Cole pushes himself back to a standing position. The dock creaks. The wall is back up, solid and impenetrable.
COLE
> It's getting late.
> (beat)
> Gotta get back. Early start tomorrow.
He doesn’t look at Jamie. He turns. Takes a step away.
JAMIE
> (a whisper)
> Cole...
Cole stops. But doesn't turn around. His shoulders are hunched.
He walks away. The sound of his FOOTSTEPS on the dock planks echoes hollowly in the dark, then fades.
Jamie stays, long after Cole has vanished into the shadows. The silence of the lake stretches out, vast and indifferent.
He reaches into his pocket. His fingers find the familiar, brittle leather of the old JOURNAL. He traces the strange symbols on the cover.
A map to everything they couldn't say.