Sidney Prescott

STEP 1

CANON CHARACTER

Sidney Prescott

AUDITION

"Sidney Prescott, named Woman of the Year by FEMPOWER magazine, has again made headlines in recent news. After her encounters with a fourth "Ghostface" killer, in the form of her cousin Jill Roberts, Sidney has released the beginning chapters of her next soon-to-be bestseller Survival in the Life of the Modern Woman. After her last book, Out of Darkness, hit stores over a year ago, the world waited in hushed awe to see is Ms. Prescott would give us anymore insight into her wild, exciting lifestyle as a four-time survivor of serial murders that rocked newspapers for weeks.

Similarly, one of Sidney's long-time and fellow survivor of the Ghostface serial murders, Gale Weathers, has announced that she has begun production of a documentary following her adventures as a newswoman and now mother of one. Whether or not you are a fan of either of these prestigious, surviving women, we at News Channel 9 highly suggest you take a look at all of their accomplishments and tribulations, documented primarily in the Gale Weathers' The Woodsboro Murders. For those looking for a more entertaining documentation of the murders, the Stab Triology movie package has been released in stores nationwide yesterday. And now, back to our on-location reporter Debbie Matthews, where she has just come face-to-face with millionaire John-"

Sidney Prescott punched the Power button on her universal remote, watching with some satisfaction as the wall-mounted flat screen dimmed to a reflective black. Her eyes wandered the living room of her California manor, glancing momentarily at the familiar plush white cushions of the easy sofas on either side of the matching couch she currently sat in. A plain brown coffee table sat before her on the floor with a few magazines and coasters resting on its newly varnished sofa. Sidney gave a long sigh as her eyes found the writing desk farther off in the corner of the room, set up before a floor-length window that looked out on the winding black wilderness of a forest that spanned for miles around. Papers were haphazardly scattered along the desk's top, and one of its drawers was pulled out with pens and pencils and journals sticking out at different angles. Her desktop sat in its own space off to the side, the screen black and dusty from being unused for nearly two months now. The two chapters Sidney had released to the public were written nearly half a year ago, not too long after Sidney had been released from the hospital...

Her eyes clouded over with the silvery sheen of a daydream. She saw her sweet cousin's face before her own eyes, perched upon the coffee table with her legs crossed, wearing a pretty black-and-white striped shirt and skinny jeans. That sickly sweet smile held many fake greetings and compliments and those shiny gray eyes did nothing more to ease the mind of malevolence. Sidney shook herself awake from the daydream, resting her palms on the cushions on either side of her. She blinked with slight irritation and, after a few moments of blankly staring at herself in the reflection of her unlit TV screen, stood up and made her way to the kitchenette through an archway next to her writing desk. On her way there, she glanced with some regret at the untouched masses of notebook and printing paper, even considering stopping and sitting down right now to try and get something done. But, it was no use. She had no muse. The last sentence of the last chapter she had managed to comprise was "I didn't know where to go from there." Maybe if she had not written those very words, they would not have come true and encased her in this dark place of confusion and lack of motivation.

She again shook her head of all negative thoughts, making her way over to the island between some stools and her fancy new stove. She idly went around the island and pulled out a wine glass from one of the cabinets next to her microwave, before moving over to a cupboard near the refrigerator where she kept the alcohol. The woman searched for a few moments for a nice year before discovering a bottle on wine from the seventies; a gift from Dewey before their separation last winter. She uncorked the bottle and poured herself a glass before returning it to the fridge. It was a rather hefty bottle, but it might not last the night the way Sidney had been feeling lately. Almost dejectedly, Sidney slid a stool out from under the overhang of the island, set the glass on the table, and sat down. She took her first sip and then sat staring at the clear glass, her mind wandering to other places and topics. Gale Weathers... fellow survivor... reputable newswoman and survivor of the Ghostface killings...

"My ass... That bitch would be nothing without me..." Sidney muttered to herself, a bit surprised afterward that such words had come from her own mouth. Gale and Sidney had been good friends, especially after the events of last winter... yet, there had always been an underlying rivalry, maybe even a hatred between them. Ever since the first Woodsboro serial murder, the two had been trying to outdo the other by sucking success from their troubles. At first, it was just Gale. Then Sidney, released Out of Darkness, the most difficult thing she had ever made herself do. But the truth of her inner demons had to be let free, to the public or otherwise. At least someone could read about her struggles and feelings and maybe make better of their life as a result. That was all Sidney was trying to do: help people. But, Gale got jealous, as she always did. Isn't that how it always is... Sidney thought to herself, smug with the first warmth of the wine. It's been about fame from the very beginning for her... And here I am, giving out sneak peaks of a book I'll probably never finish, and Gale didn't skip a beat. She's going to pop out one before I even finish the first draft. It wasn't like Sidney truly cared about all of this, deep down. She just... she had her moments of weakness and self-loathing. Hell, she was a survivor, and she certainly knew it. She would persevere Gale Weathers' attention-stealing ways if it had to mean refueling her passion for writing with bottle upon bottle of wine.

An hour later, Sidney found herself woozily teetering on her stool. The room around her was moving more than she was, through her eyes. Her thoughts were clouded by the raspberry red of the wine, and her eyes were glazed over with sedation and narcotic-induced disorientation. A spark hit her, which seemed to be the perfect description for any right-minded thought that came to her while drunk, a spark that caused Sidney to clumsily leap from her stool and stumble over to her writing desk in the alcove of her living room. Sidney collapsed into the comfortable black rolling chair, steadying herself after reaching a sitting position, and then pulling herself closer to all the papers. The small font swirled in her mind as she peered down at all of the failed attempts at writing chapter three of Survival of the Modern Woman. Out of the word "deep", she made peed. Peed... Eped... Dpee... Now even the intoxicated Ms. Prescott knew that didn't make a bit of sense.

A spark. Another spark. Sidney's eyes trailed lazily up away from her papers. Her mind was on fire. Was it the alcohol, setting her brain ablaze? Had she snorted something. No, it was definitely some sort of instinctual alert. Far off in the distance, she heard a tapping. A tapping on metal? Sidney forced her ears to concentrate, but she could only hear the incessant drumming of her own heart. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her, causing her to lay back against her chair. Her eyes lazily opened and closed, blurred and nearly useless. But she caught something. The window. Something out of the window. The tapping resounded again, seemingly throughout her entire being. Her eyes focused on a shimmery silver out of the window, occasionally hitting the glass of the window. Then, everything became clear to her. There it was, just outside the window. A thin sheet of glass separate four-time survivor Sidney Prescott and the being who haunted every waking moment of her life. It was him, the killer. Even if it wasn't a him, Ghostface would always be someone completely separate to Sidney than who was really concealed beneath the mask.

As if the alcohol in her system dissipated all at once, Sidney's eyes widened in horror and frustration. He was there before him in all his terrifying glory, his signature knife tapping tauntingly at a spot in the glass. He made a slow trail with the knife, slicing an uneven streak of lightning across its now tarnished surface. Sidney's instincts would no longer allow her to wait another second. With power fueled by many encounters with this evil man, Sidney lunged for the her computer monitor. She grasped it in both hands, lugged it above her head, and gave Ghostface one last look. She had learned not to hesitate, or take her eyes off him, in the past decade. In one swift movement, she flung the massive monitor through the glass. It crashed. The monitor plummeted. Ghostface was gone. Sidney's face contorted in terror as she leaned her head out the hole in the glass. There was nothing there. The monitor lay in the grass three stories below, with no platform to catch it on the way down. It dawned on Sidney that there could not have been a Ghostface outside the window, because there was no place for him to stand or creep away into the shadows once discovered. Even the drain pipe was on the other side of the complex. Confused and shaken, Sidney returned to her seat in the rolling chair. There was no Ghostface.

She passed out moments later.

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