Your House is My House | Script Revolution

Your House is My House

The resident of an upscale neighbourhood finds herself pursued by a mysterious stranger whose interest in her home proves to be anything but casual…

Kate Graham is busy living her best life—a white picket-fence dream, set to a backdrop of leafy suburbs, manicured lawns and personal yoga instructors.

But there’s nothing like the attentions of an enigmatic stranger to upend suburban bliss.  Such is the appearance of Christoph, with his outdated Kodak camera and a seemingly innocent penchant for local architecture:

Do you mind if I take a picture of
your house?

Kate shoos a few gnats.

Are you from the neighborhood?

No. Only in my wildest dreams could
I live around here.

A downward glance at his shoes: Extra-thick black soles.

I'm just an architecture buff.

Yeah. We get some of those.

She shrugs.

Knock yourself out.
Take some pictures.

Kate steps aside, granting him access.

My great grandparents bought this
house over a century ago.

It's worth keeping. So remarkable.

Christoph points his camera at the facade.

It has good bones. A sexy aura.

Quickly, he lowers his camera.

I think you should be in the shot.


Immediate skepticism.

Why would you want me in your

You don't own this house?

I do, but I'd prefer not to be

A deadpan look from Christoph. He doesn't quite get it.

I value my privacy. And you don't
know me from Adam.

A frown.

And you have to be careful these days.
It's an unpredictable world.

So true. Of course. I'll leave you out.
You're definitely out of the picture.

Despite her reservations, Kate indulges his eccentricity, letting him snap away at her old family home in a bid to sate his interest and see him on his way.

Only there’s more to Christoph than an interest in neo-classical style and decorative entablature.  He has his focus set on a far grander prize—one the unassuming Kate could never foresee.

Later that night, it’s to her dismay she finds Christoph has returned for a second viewing—and this time he’s here to enquire about more than structural aesthetics.

Who built this house?
Who was the architect?

Kate doesn't answer because she's stunned by the damage she spots in her garden.

She rushes to her flowers. Many of them have been ripped from the ground. Dead petals are all over the dirt.

What did you do?

I'm trying to be of service.

She pulls out her cell phone.

Actually, I was hoping to get a
look at the interior--with your permission of course.

Kate dials the police.

Do you live here with your husband,
Kate, or are you alone?

Thrown off, Kate does not hit the final digit for emergency.

How did you know my name?
I didn't tell you my name.

Aren't you a widow?

He approaches her. He pulls something from his pocket.

Hey, Kate. Let me show you

Kate steps back, but not quickly enough. He quickly unfastens a bag of powdery chemicals and he tosses the contents into her face. 

And it’s here the tale shifts gears into suburban horror as Kate wakes to find herself in a forced eviction from hell. Christoph has taken a shine to this particular house.  And what Christoph wants, Christoph gets.

And things are about to get all kinds of weird…

…Warlock puppetry weird.

Rob Herzog’s Your House Is My House dangles like some nightmarish marionette on the line between weird and macabre; delivering a wonderfully bizarre tale that demands a second read to fully appreciate the hallucinatory strangeness of it all.

The script features minimal characters and locations but with a degree of prop work well suited to a creative team looking to bring the story to life.

One of my favourite reads of the STS stable, Your House Is My House is a simple yet effective horror short that has the potential to linger in the imagination.  Love your horror with a dash of drug-induced weirdness?  Then I urge you to read this script.

The Script

Your House Is My House

The peculiar man who admires Kate’s house abruptly decides to move in.

About The Reviewer

Steve Miles's picture
Real name: 

Started writing scripts around eight years ago after realising his social life was vastly overrated. Enjoys writing in a variety of genres but leans toward raw, grittier characters and the worlds they inhabit - from the deadly serious to the darkly comic. Drinks coffee, owns an unhealthy amount of plaid and uses a calculator for the most basic of sums.Read more

About The Writer

Rob Herzog's picture
Real name: 

My chief talent isn’t writing, it’s being afraid. As a kid, I freaked out about spontaneous human combustion, killer bees, and the prospect of a bathtub shark attack. And the 3,600 miles between me and the Loch Ness Monster wasn’t nearly enough. All of this youthful anxiety runs wild in my screenplays. Blame the neighborhood weirdo kid for setting me on this path. When I was six, he predicted that our neighborhood would be attacked by window ghouls. These ghouls supposedly would claw into...Read more