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  Such is the appearance of Christoph, with his outdated Kodak camera and a seemingly innocent penchant for local architecture:

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

Kate shoos a few gnats.

KATE
Are you from the neighborhood?

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

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

CHRISTOPH
I'm just an architecture buff.

KATE
Yeah. We get some of those.

She shrugs.

KATE
Knock yourself out.
Take some pictures.

Kate steps aside, granting him access.

KATE
My great grandparents bought this
house over a century ago.

CHRISTOPH
It's worth keeping. So remarkable.

Christoph points his camera at the facade.

CHRISTOPH
It has good bones. A sexy aura.

Quickly, he lowers his camera.

CHRISTOPH
I think you should be in the shot.

KATE
Me?

Immediate skepticism.

KATE
Why would you want me in your
picture?

CHRISTOPH
You don't own this house?

KATE
I do, but I'd prefer not to be
photographed.

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

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

A frown.

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

CHRISTOPH
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.

CHRISTOPH
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.

KATE
What did you do?

CHRISTOPH
I'm trying to be of service.

She pulls out her cell phone.

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

Kate dials the police.

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

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

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

CHRISTOPH
Aren't you a widow?

He approaches her. He pulls something from his pocket.

CHRISTOPH
Hey, Kate. Let me show you
something.

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.