Solo Male 4 - 6 Minutes Psychological Thriller
Door Number 4
Full Shooting Script in Industry Courier Monospace Format
FADE IN:
INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - NIGHT
Sterile, endless corridor. Identical doors. Buzzing overhead lights. Carpeted floor with a faint loop-like pattern. At the far end, DOOR 4 glows slightly brighter than the rest.
RAGHAV (46-53), wrinkled dress shirt, loosened belt, travel pants, anxious eyes, polished-but-fraying, stands with a SUITCASE in one hand and a ROOM KEY in the other.
He stares at the doors like they might answer back.
RAGHAV
(under his breath)
Door one... door two... door three...
He checks the KEY CARD.
RAGHAV
Nahi, nahi... room yahin tha.
He looks at his WRISTWATCH. Ticks loudly.
RAGHAV
11:59? Abhi tak 11:59 hi hai?
He laughs once, nervously.
RAGHAV
Wah. Great. Time bhi hotel guest hai.
He walks to DOOR 2, swipes the card. A GREEN LIGHT.
He enters.
INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Same room. Neat bed. Open suitcase. Shirt on hanger. A ROOM SERVICE TRAY with a cold coffee.
Raghav freezes.
RAGHAV
Arre... yeh toh same hai.
He checks the suitcase, then the drawer, then the washroom door.
RAGHAV
Main yahan se nikla tha. Pakka nikla tha.
He picks up the PHONE.
PHONE SCREEN: 3 missed calls. 1 voice note.
He taps play.
VOICEMAIL (V.O.)
Raghav sir, kal subah 9 baje presentation hai. Client ka call aa raha hai. Please confirm.
Raghav rolls his eyes.
RAGHAV
Presentation... haan. Of course.
Another notification pops.
PHONE TEXT MESSAGE (READ ALOUD)
RAGHAV
(reading)
“Mr. Raghav, please don’t leave again.”
He looks at the tray. Sees a folded NOTE.
He opens it.
INSERT - NOTE
“Mr. Raghav, please don’t leave again.”
Raghav stares.
RAGHAV
Nahi... yeh joke hai. Koi prank.
He backs out into the corridor.
INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - NIGHT
He counts the doors again, this time touching each one.
RAGHAV
One... two... three... four.
He stops. Blinks. Counts again.
RAGHAV
One... two... three... four.
He points at the brighter door.
RAGHAV
Door 4. Hamesha Door 4.
He notices a ROOM SERVICE TRAY outside Door 4: cold coffee, two sugar sachets, same folded note.
He picks up the tray, suspicious.
RAGHAV
Same tray. Same coffee. Same... bad hospitality.
He opens the note.
INSERT - NOTE
“If you’re reading this, you forgot again.”
Raghav’s smile disappears.
RAGHAV
Again?
He swallows hard, then opens his PHONE and taps a saved AUDIO FILE.
RAGHAV (V.O.)
(voice note from himself)
Raghav... agar tum yeh sun rahe ho, toh Door 4 kholo. Baaki doors se kuch nahi milega.
Raghav recoils, as if slapped.
RAGHAV
Meri hi awaaz...?
He looks down the corridor. It feels longer now.
RAGHAV
Nahi. Nahi, nahi, nahi.
He approaches DOOR 4. The light above it buzzes louder.
RAGHAV
Count kar. Bas count kar.
He counts on his fingers.
RAGHAV
One... two... three... four.
He swipes the key card. GREEN LIGHT.
The door opens.
INT. DOOR 4 / MEMORY ROOM - NIGHT
Not a normal room. A white, silent space like a corridor inside a corridor. A magnetic board on the wall with paper slips, room numbers, a hotel map. An ENVELOPE labeled: LAST 24 HOURS.
Raghav steps in, trembling.
RAGHAV
Yeh... room nahi hai.
He picks up the envelope.
RAGHAV
Last 24 hours...
He opens it. Inside: receipts, a newspaper, and a handwritten confession.
He reads silently at first, then aloud.
RAGHAV
(reading)
“Kal raat tumne wife ko call kiya tha. Phir phone off kiya. Phir Door 4 mein khud ko lock kiya.”
He stops.
RAGHAV
Nahi...
He continues reading.
RAGHAV
“Tum bhoolna chahte the. Accident? Argument? Ya apna breakdown? Jo bhi tha, tumne memory ko yahin store kar diya.”
He looks around, horrified.
RAGHAV
Store... kiya?
A beat.
RAGHAV
Main... khud ko bhoolne aaya tha?
The lights buzz. His watch flickers but stays at 11:59.
From somewhere behind the wall, his OWN VOICE plays faintly.
RAGHAV (V.O.)
Ab yaad rakhna, Raghav.
Raghav’s hand loosens. The ROOM KEY slips and drops to the floor.
CLINK.
He stares at it, then at the envelope, then at the dark white walls.
RAGHAV
(whisper)
Aaj... main bhoolunga nahi.
He bends down, picks up the key, and holds it like it weighs a lifetime.
CUT TO BLACK.
END.
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