Radio Show

A horror/sci-fi radio show I wrote for my design class. The voices can sound however you want them to. For someone who talks about how much they love fantasy, I sure write a lot of sci-fi.
[The sound of a tape recorder clicking on]
[Heavy breathing. Sounds of twigs and branches snapping, foliage rustling. The audio is slightly muffled, like there is something between the microphone and the noises]
VOICE 1: Where are we?
VOICE 2: No idea.
VOICE 1: [Heavy breaths] I… don’t… think we were followed.
VOICE 2: Promise?
VOICE 1: Absolutely not. [Pause] The trail is…gone.
VOICE 2: What do you mean it’s… Oh. Oh.
[The sounds of birds and the wind in the trees]
VOICE 2: [Panicked] We can, we might be able to find our way back, we don’t know how far we are from the trail, you know, we’re just sort of… lost.
[The sounds of twigs snapping, leaves moving]
VOICE 1: What’s that?
VOICE 2: I don’t know it’s… Run. Run!
[More sounds of movement like before, heavy breathing, and under that, the sound of something very, very big following. About fifteen seconds of this before silence]
VOICE 1: [After a pause] Did you see it?
VOICE 2: Yeah it—
VOICE 1: Glowed.
VOICE 2: That’s not good.
VOICE 1: Nothing about this is good. Where are we?
VOICE 2: I don’t know, these little flowers—
VOICE 1: They’re not native, I don’t think.
VOICE 2: [Incredulous] How would you know?
VOICE 1: Because I study. And because I come out here more than you. And now I know we’re really lost. [After a moment] Are we still recording?
[The sound of fabric moving over a microphone. The audio becomes clear]
VOICE 2: Yeah, we are. [Pause] So we’re gonna die, then? At the hands of… Whatever that was?
VOICE 1: I think it was a deer.
VOICE 2: No it wasn’t. Deer don’t glow. And their jaws don’t look like that.
VOICE 1: How would you know?
VOICE 2: I think it’s common sense. What kind of deer has that sharp teeth?
VOICE 1: That kind, I think. [Pause] At least there’ll be a recording of our deaths.
[Silence stretches for a few moments, punctuated by sounds of birds and leaves rustling]
VOICE 1: I’ve never seen these flowers before, you think…… No.
VOICE 2: No, what?
VOICE 1: Hide!
[The sound of grass and leaves moving, dull thuds, like something soft hitting the ground. Silence. No birds. Then, something very large moving through grass and trees. It makes a huffing sound, like an animal sniffing for something. As it gets closer, ringing static comes in the right ear and out the left, circling. Another huff, this time much closer. The static gets louder, then starts to fade. It takes about ten seconds to completely disappear]
[Silence]
VOICE 2: [Whisper] You said we weren’t followed!
VOICE 1: [Whisper] I never said anything of the sort.
VOICE 2: [Whisper] You think they made that?
VOICE 1: [Whisper] I think someone made that, I don’t think they did.
VOICE 2: [Whisper] It’s like it was… Computerized. The colors kept shifting.
VOICE 1: [Whisper] Maybe it was a hologram.
VOICE 2: [Whisper] It shook the ground. It left footprints. I don’t think so. [Pause] You think the flowers…
VOICE 1: No, I don’t think the flowers.
VOICE 2: Just a thought.
[Grass moving, a little bit of vocalizations as they both get up]
VOICE 2: The flowers glow, too.
VOICE 1: Oh, I… I guess I didn’t notice. Maybe… Maybe this is what we were looking for. Have you noticed, its gotten darker?
VOICE 2: It’s still afternoon.
VOICE 1: Apparently not.
VOICE 2: Maybe that’s why they glow. Do you think that… Thing is attracted to them?
VOICE 1: Do you think we are unlucky enough to stumble into its food source? Yeah, actually, I do.
VOICE 2: What do you think the deer wants?
VOICE 1: You know? I don’t want to find out.
[Pause]
VOICE 1: Let’s get out of here.
VOICE 2: The trail…
VOICE 1: There’s a compass in my bag. The city’s north.
VOICE 2: Can’t see it over the trees…
VOICE 1: And the trail was leading east from the city. If we walk straight north we’ll hit the trail or see the city.
VOICE 2: And the deer?
VOICE 1: We’ll just have to be quiet.
[The sounds of movement, quieter. Leaves move, but twigs snap less often, no breathing is heard. This lasts about 10 seconds]
VOICE 2: How long have we been going?
VOICE 1: Since when? [Pause] It’s been an hour.
VOICE 2: It hasn’t gotten any darker.
VOICE 1: No, it hasn’t. We couldn’t have run that far from the trail. Why haven’t we found it?
VOICE 2: Maybe that thing doesn’t want us to find it.
[The sound of very heavy footfalls in the distance]
VOICE 2: [Moans] We’re really going to die out here.
VOICE 1: Why is it following us?
VOICE 2: Who cares? Can we at least try to get out of here before it kills us?
VOICE 1: [Professional interest piqued] But what if…
VOICE 2: No, no no no no. We’re not studying the damn thing. What are you gonna study it with, huh?
VOICE 1: [Enthralled by the idea] We could kill it…
VOICE 2: With what? This dinky little rifle? Have you seen the size of that thing? How many bullets are required to take it down? The antlers on it. It’ll skewer you before you find out.
VOICE 1: We don’t know how fast it is—
VOICE 2: And we can live without that knowledge. [The heavy footfalls again. Closer] C’mon.
[More movement, hurried. Heavy footfalls keeping up with them]
VOICE 2: Where…? [Yelling] Professor!? [Running, heavy breathing] Hey! [A little bit of an echo, barely perceivable, like the speaker is in a wide open space]
VOICE 1: [Further away than usual, normal speaking voice] It’s alright. We’re not here to hurt anyone.
[Static like before, piercing, circling. We are to take that this is communication, of a sort]
VOICE 1: I know, I know. But they won’t be coming back anymore. We were just leaving.
[Static]
VOICE 1: [Panicking] I can’t make any promises like that—
VOICE 2: Professor! Hey! Back off!
[Gunshot. So close to the microphone it should be severely distorted]
VOICE 1: Look, they didn’t—
[Piercing static. The sound of the microphone hitting the ground. Two more gunshots, in quick succession]
VOICE 2: Back up!
[The static sounds like screaming]
VOICE 2: Professor, run!
VOICE 1: [Close again] Not without you!
[The sound of something (a gun) hitting the ground. The sound of running through grass, which fades quickly. The static screaming grows louder, louder.]
[Sound of a tape recorder clicking off]