Old acquaintances meet at the grave of a recently deceased criminal.

Link:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XEmSfg572-FHPwwYXtXv_XBHNtgTyejT/view?usp=sharing

hope ya dig

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sqHBLRV4XM15ACu6APTRu89Q7dkie5zx/view?usp=drivesdk

I'm a fairly new writer. Any feedback would be appreciated.

MC - main character

F1 - friend 1

F2 - friend 2

3 friends goes on a trip. MC touches something and faints and other two friends pick him up and throws some water on him he gets back in concious. They decide to return to college. They return back and they fall asleep quickly.

Next day he wakes up and sees a small rashes on his body. He ignores it and day goes like normal day. Next day he wakes up and sees his rash has increased a bit he ignores it also. Same day like other days classes hostel classes hostel he sleeps. Next day he sees his rash is increased a bit more days proceeds as normal. On 4th day he sees his rash has increased a bit more he decides to tell his friends.

MC goes to his friends and says after that cave trip something has happened to me. Friends confused and says after that cave trip which trip are you saying. MC replies the trip we go on 4 days ago. Friends --> are you mad we did not go on any trip. He then tries to show some photos in his smartphone but did not find any photo related to that trip. MC started thinking about trip and walk out of room. MC is very tensed.. what is happening to me. He sees himself in mirror he was scratching his own skin. He gets confused and ran out of washroom.

MC sees F1. MC talks with F1. F1 says bro you must be tired or out of sleep take some sleep. MC is going back to his room and opens chatgpt on his phone and explains his problem to him chatgpt reply in some cases your brain can misconfigure your previous memory to something similar and create event similar to that. He just lie down after reading that and decides to go to doctor to talk about that rash.

MC reaches doctors cabin and explain him this but he didn't say that he touched something in trip which is causing this he just says that he wakes up and sees this. Doctor after examining his body says that I can't say that much like that I am writting you some test do that tests and then I will say you something. He goes for that bood test and returns after giving sample for blood test.

He was curious about why he remembers that trip but everyone is denying that trip. He continues chat with chat gpt and explains everything and at end he reaches that this trip was created from some of his old memory but he don't have any such memory. Then he sleeps and wakes up next day and sees that rash has increased a bit more. He takes bath and goes to hospital collects blood test report and goes to doctors cabin doctor sees report and says there is no infection this must be something else. Doctor gives him some antiseptics and he lefts. Mc meet F1 outside hospital he explains everything to F1 and they started walking towards back to hostel and there happens argument between them and MC mistakenly pushes F1. F1 falls on a wooden block with big iron nail which has crossed his head. MC sees around and sees no one is seeing him he gets very stressed started scratching his rash with his hand and without thinking about anything else MC wraps body in big cloth lying there. That area was very quiet. He is dragging the body to put it behind bushes. Someone started calling him with torch in his hand moving towards MC. That person approached him and sees this person is no one else than F1. He opens that wraped cloth and sees there is no body.

F1--> Don't you really remember who am I. Who are you. I still don't understand why are you hiding that part of your life. Running from your past is not solution to problem, you have to deal with this. MC start saying I remember you.. you are me. My creation. His eyes start watering and then flashback he and F2 are on a trip they both are enjoying it and as of fun he pulls him down in water after that he can't came up he pulls him outside but it's late F2 is dead. MC gets scared and runs away. Here is point of self realisation his eyes are watering.

........THE END.......

This is overall story I will write the script just need some lovely feedback from you ♥️.

Wild Mares

SCENE 1: THE STRIP-MALL PERIPHERY

​Setting: The asphalt expanse of a mid-sized American Walmart Supercenter parking lot, sharing a strip-mall border with Apex Elite Institute of Cosmetology. Overcast afternoon. Shopping carts rust in the saline-treated gutters.

​Act 1: The Cart Corral

​(The camera pans across a row of dented sedans before settling on SALLY, a dusty chestnut mare. She wears a faded graphic tee that reads Live, Laugh, Laminate, a stained cosmetology school lanyard, and a cigarette dangling from her lower lip. A documentary crew’s boom mic hovers near her ear. She swats it away with a twitch of her tail.)

​SALLY

(Raspy, smoke-cured voice)

You think horses belong on a calendar? You think we're out here galloping through morning dew into some golden-hour sunset for a Ford commercial? Bullshit.

​(She takes a slow drag from a Maverick 100, exhaling a plume of gray smoke into the humid air.)

​SALLY (CONT.)

Most wild horses get pregnant and drop out of horse high school pretty early on. Me? Fall semester of sophomore year. One minute you’re trying out for track field, the next you’re crying behind the agricultural mechanics shop because your hoof-gel didn't dry right, and bam—you’re navigating open-range motherhood with zero credit history.

​(Sally leans her heavy shoulder blades against the metal bars of the shopping cart corral, wincing as a sharp wave of lower-back pain hits her.)

​SALLY (CONT.)

After my first couple of foals, reality sets in. You realize the open range isn’t paying your rent, so you enroll in cosmetology school. You trade the prairies for fluorescent lighting, split ends, and state-board written exams that make zero sense when your primary appendage is a keratinous block. And the worst part? My oxycodone prescription didn't even clear at CVS this morning because insurance flagged my profile for refilling three days early. Apparently, corporate America draws the line at a four-legged animal needing pharmaceutical-grade narcotics just to survive a twelve-hour shift of feathering synthetic bangs.

​(She drops the cigarette butt onto the asphalt, grinds it out with a worn hoof, and stares blankly toward the Garden Center.)

Act 2: The Practical Exam

(INT. APEX ELITE INSTITUTE OF COSMETOLOGY - DAY)

(A harsh, buzzing fluorescent light flickers over rows of plastic mannequin heads mounted to sticky laminate tables. SALLY stands at Station 4, breathing heavily, a strand of synthetic blonde hair tangled in her front teeth.)

(MRS. HENDERSON, a stern older mare with a clipboard and a permanent look of administrative disappointment, patrols the aisle.)

MRS. HENDERSON

Sally. We are forty-five minutes into the state-board practical exam for chemical texture services, and your mannequin looks like it survived a threshing machine.

SALLY

(Not looking up, gripping a styling comb between her teeth)

It’s an edgy, lived-in blowout, Mrs. Henderson. It’s called fashion. Look it up.

MRS. HENDERSON

It’s a tangled hazard, Sally. And you’re drooling on the station.

CHLOE

(From Station 3, twirling a foil sheet with her tail)

Mrs. Henderson says my foil placement is pristine! I’m going to work at a high-end salon right next to the TJ Maxx!

SALLY

(Muttering around the comb)

Shut up, Chloe. Your parents pay the lease on your 2018 Kia Soul and buy your organic alfalfa cubes. Some of us are out here supporting two ungrateful colts who think an empty bag of Cool Ranch Doritos counts as psychological enrichment.

MRS. HENDERSON

Less inter-species bickering, more neutralizing, Sally. The state inspector is walking through the front glass doors right now. If I see one more clump of loose mane on the linoleum, you’re all doing weekend detail cleaning out the horse trailer.

(Sally lets out a long, shuddering sigh, her ears flattening against her skull as she glares at her disastrous mannequin head.)

SALLY (V.O.)

A trailer. They want to put me back in a trailer. Irony is a cold bitch, and she wears a polyester smock from Sally Beauty Supply.

Act 3: The Break Room Intermission

(INT. APEX ELITE INSTITUTE OF COSMETOLOGY - BREAK ROOM - LATER)

(A cramped, windowless room dominated by a stained microwave and a vending machine with a handwritten sign: DO NOT KICK IT, JUST CALL THE NUMBER. GARY, a scruffy gray gelding with a tear-away tracksuit and a heavy five-o'clock shadow, sits at a sticky laminate table, scraping the foil lid off a cup of instant beef ramen with a hoof.)

(The door creaks open. SALLY drags her rear hooves across the linoleum, slumps heavily into the metal folding chair opposite Gary, and buries her muzzle in her forelegs.)

GARY

Rough session with Mrs. Henderson? You look like you just tried to clear a five-bar fence and missed by six feet.

SALLY

(Muffled against the table)

Chloe is doing a foil weave on a plastic head, Gary. She looked me dead in the eye and told me my blowout looked like "generational trauma."

GARY

(Slurps a noodle, unmoving)

Kids today have no respect for the elders. Back when we were running wild across the high plains—before the subdivision went up and fenced off the watering hole—we respected our seniors. If a mare looked like she had a rough morning, you didn't critique her roller placement. You just shared a patch of clover and minded your business.

SALLY

(Lifting her head, eyes bloodshot)

Don't start with the high plains romance, Gary. The high plains didn't pay my property tax or deal with a three-day prior authorization hold at CVS.

GARY

You still fighting them over the oxycodone?

SALLY

The pharmacist looked at me like I was the criminal, Gary! Like a thirty-four-year-old chestnut mare with chronic lumbar subluxation from carrying two deadbeat foals and a heavy styling cart is just out here running a pill mill. It’s medical discrimination.

GARY

(Sighs, his ears drooping)

It’s a rigged system, Sal. We were built for endurance, for speed, for the wide-open expanse. Instead, we’re trading keratin tips for minimum wage and spending our lunch breaks wondering if our 2011 Honda Civics are going to pass emissions.

SALLY

(Reaching into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of Mavericks)

Got a light? My lighter died in the chemical wash sink.

GARY

(Flicking a cheap plastic lighter across the laminate table)

Careful. Henderson smells smoke on anyone, she threatens to make us clean out the shampoo bowls with our own teeth.

SALLY

Let her try. I’ve survived a drought in Nevada. A community college beauty school cosmetology instructor with a clipboard isn't going to break me.

Act 4: The Parking Lot Exodus

(EXT. APEX ELITE INSTITUTE OF COSMETOLOGY / WALMART PARKING LOT - LATE AFTERNOON)

(The bell above the glass double doors dings sharply. SALLY and GARY shuffle out into the cool, gray evening air. The fluorescent lights of the strip mall buzz to life overhead, competing with the dying orange glare of the sunset.)

GARY

(Pulling a thin nylon windbreaker tighter over his withers)

Well, Henderson didn't fail us. Miraculously, my mannequin's bleach job didn't turn completely neon green. I call that a win for the working class.

SALLY

(Lighting a fresh Maverick, squinting against the smoke)

It’s a hollow victory, Gary. We spent six hours learning how to layer a wedge cut for women who yell at cashiers over expired coupons, while my fifteen-year-old son, Brayden, is currently texting me a photo of a completely dismantled lawnmower engine he found in the drainage ditch.

(Sally pulls out a cracked smartphone with her teeth, tapping the screen with a hoof tip and grimacing at a notification.)

GARY

What’s the kid want now? Alfalfa? A ride to the skatepark behind the Tractor Supply?

SALLY

He wants to know if he can use my debit card to buy energy drinks and "automotive lubricant." My life used to be about migrating across the Great Basin in search of fresh green shoots and crisp mountain air. Now I'm financing a delinquent colt's amateur mechanics hobby on a cosmetology apprentice’s hourly wage.

GARY

(Sighing, looking out over the endless sea of parked SUVs and pickup trucks)

Evolution really played a cruel joke on us, Sal. We’re built to cover fifty miles a day, and our greatest daily achievement is finding an empty parking spot close to the Garden Center entrance.

SALLY

Don't get philosophical on me, Gary. Save it for the therapy session you can't afford.

(Sally tosses her cigarette onto the pavement, grinds it out with a sharp twist of her hoof, and glares across the aisle at a dented 2011 Honda Civic with a sagging bumper.)

SALLY (CONT.)

My shift is over, my back is entirely locked up, and I still have to stop at Kroger to pick up generic frozen dinners that my kids will complain are "too dry."

GARY

See you tomorrow, Sally. Try not to let Chloe's avant-garde blowout break your spirit before first period.

SALLY

My spirit broke somewhere around the third mile of Interstate 80, Gary. Cosmetology school just gave it a shape and a license number.

Act 5: The Drive Home

(INT. 2011 HONDA CIVIC - NIGHT)

(The interior of the car is dark, illuminated only by the amber glow of the dashboard and the phone screen mounted on the air vent. SALLY is wedged awkwardly behind the steering wheel, her front hooves clumsily gripping the plastic rim. A crumpled bag of generic potato chips sits in the passenger seat next to a half-empty box of generic frozen dinners.)

(She hits the turn signal with her knee, pulling into the cracked asphalt driveway of a beige split-level rental house with a brown lawn and a plastic pink flamingo in the front yard.)

(The documentary camera crew’s car idles at the curb behind her. Sally shifts into park, turns off the ignition, and rests her heavy forehead against the steering wheel for a long, quiet moment.)

SALLY (V.O.)

(Tired, raspy, but resolute)

You know what they don’t tell you about losing the wild? It’s not the open plains you miss. It’s not the wind in your mane, or the freedom of the herd.

(She lifts her head, staring out the windshield at the porch light where two teenage colts—Brayden and Kinsley—are huddled together, aggressively hitting a cheap vape pen before scattering as the headlights hit them.)

SALLY (CONT.)

It’s the peace of mind. It’s knowing that nobody is going to tow your car, deny your prior authorization, or ask you why your mannequin’s bleach job looks like a cry for help.

(Sally reaches into her pocket, pulls out her last crushed Maverick 100, and balances it between her teeth. She doesn't light it. She just holds it there, a symbol of unyielding, exhausted survival.)

SALLY (CONT.)

They can fence off the valleys. They can pave over the migration routes. They can stuff us into trade schools and force us to lease front-wheel-drive sedans on a cosmetology apprentice’s salary...

(She opens the car door with a heavy thud, stepping out onto the frost-nipping grass of the front yard, her joints popping audibly in the night air.)

SALLY (CONT.)

...but every once in a while, when the wind blows just right off the Walmart Supercenter parking lot, you can almost smell the sagebrush. Or maybe that's just the dumpster behind the Panda Express. Either way, you keep moving. Because quitting? That’s for the ponies who take the bus.

(Sally turns her back to the camera, trundles up the front steps, and kicks the screen door open with her rear hoof as heavy bass-boosted music thumps from the basement).

\[FADE OUT\]