The Short Screenplay Competition for September 2026 at IndieX Film Fest brings together three screenplays exploring fear, loss, and human relationships through contrasting genres. From a mother and son escaping domestic violence, to a young girl confronting the death of her closest friend, and an irreverent horror-comedy that turns sexual embarrassment into an unlikely defense against a masked killer, this season’s selections offer distinct approaches to storytelling.
Spanning psychological thriller, family drama, and horror-comedy, these screenplays explore childhood trauma, grief, intimacy, and the unexpected consequences of human behavior. Through visual suspense, emotional storytelling, and genre subversion, each project demonstrates its own creative identity and cinematic potential.
School Run by Rachel Walsh-Williams (UK)
Outstanding Achievement Award
School Run follows Skye and her nine-year-old son Ryan as they hurry along a secluded wooded path, supposedly on their way to school. Skye’s increasing anxiety, her efforts to maintain cheerful conversation, and Ryan’s reluctance to continue suggest that something is seriously wrong. Through fragmented exchanges and a recurring game of rock, paper, scissors, their apparently ordinary morning gradually reveals itself as an escape from domestic violence. As Ryan questions his mother’s explanations and refuses to walk further, a series of flashbacks reconstructs a traumatic confrontation at home. The revelation of Skye’s injuries, their concealed physical circumstances, and Ryan’s possible involvement transforms the journey into a disturbing examination of fear, maternal protection, and the psychological burden placed on a child.
School Run is an accomplished psychological drama that transforms an apparently routine journey to school into a tense and emotionally disturbing exploration of domestic violence and childhood trauma. Its principal achievement lies in the controlled disclosure of information, allowing seemingly ordinary conversations and physical gestures to acquire increasingly unsettling significance.
The screenplay’s most distinctive feature is its restricted visual framing. By initially concealing the characters’ feet, clothing, and hands, the narrative establishes a visual mystery that develops alongside their dialogue. The eventual revelation that both characters are barefoot, that Ryan is wearing pajamas, and that Skye’s clothing conceals a nightdress fundamentally changes the audience’s understanding of their circumstances. This technique demonstrates considerable cinematic imagination, using withheld visual information rather than exposition to generate suspense.
The recurring game of rock, paper, scissors provides an effective structural device. Initially presented as a familiar distraction, it gradually becomes central to the reconstruction of the preceding violence. The attention given to concealed hands, repeated gestures, and seemingly insignificant objects establishes a coherent relationship between narrative detail and dramatic revelation. The concluding flashbacks are particularly effective in connecting these elements, culminating in an emotionally powerful sequence that redefines the mother-son relationship.
Characterization is achieved economically through behavior. Skye’s insistence on maintaining the appearance of an ordinary school morning reflects both her protective instincts and her difficulty confronting what has happened. Ryan’s questions and growing resistance suggest a child struggling with fear, responsibility, and potentially traumatic knowledge. Their exchanges generally avoid excessive explanation, allowing tension to emerge through the contrast between Skye’s reassurances and her increasingly desperate behavior. Ryan’s observations about the possible consequences of violence are especially affecting because they reflect a child’s limited understanding of death.
The screenplay also demonstrates strong cinematic potential. Its confined setting, small cast, and reliance on performance, sound, and visual composition make it suitable for a concentrated short-film treatment. The contrast between the peaceful wooded surroundings and the implied domestic violence is effective, while the final use of muffled sound and silence provides a powerful expression of shared trauma.
Nevertheless, the visual concept presents certain practical challenges. Sustaining the concealment of essential physical information throughout an extended walking sequence could become artificial or repetitive if the camera restrictions are too conspicuous. Some clues are emphasized sufficiently often to risk anticipating the eventual revelation, while the rapid flashback sequence will require careful editing to preserve clarity.
There are also questions of motivation and chronology. Skye’s refusal to seek immediate assistance, her continued insistence on reaching school, and the reference to 4:49 a.m. would benefit from clearer contextual justification. Similarly, the uncertainty surrounding Jay’s condition and Ryan’s precise involvement is psychologically compelling, but the distinction between deliberate ambiguity and insufficient information could be more carefully managed.
Overall, School Run is a formally inventive and emotionally affecting screenplay with a distinctive visual identity. Its disciplined construction, convincing central relationship, and powerful conclusion outweigh the occasional uncertainty in its narrative logic. With careful attention to visual execution and psychological motivation, it has considerable potential as a compelling short film.
Strengths: Compelling psychological suspense; inventive use of restricted framing and visual clues; effective integration of recurring gestures and flashbacks; economical storytelling; emotionally convincing mother-son relationship; powerful final revelation; strong cinematic potential.
Weaknesses: Restricted framing risks becoming visually contrived; some clues are overly emphasized; uncertainty surrounding the chronology and circumstances of the violence; Skye’s actions require clearer motivation; the flashback sequence demands careful execution to maintain clarity.
Comparable to: The Quiet Girl meets The Babadook, with the domestic trauma and child-centered emotional perspective of Room and the controlled visual revelations of The Sixth Sense.
Check by Zoe Watson (USA)
Nominee
Check follows Mia, an eight-year-old girl whose enthusiasm for chess leads to a close friendship with her classmate Lyla. As their friendship develops through increasingly competitive games, an unfinished match becomes a promise to continue playing after the weekend. However, Lyla dies unexpectedly in an accident, leaving Mia unable to comprehend the permanence of her absence. Convinced that her friend will return, Mia repeatedly waits beside their abandoned chessboard, resisting attempts by classmates and adults to help her understand what has happened. Her confusion gradually gives way to anger, withdrawal, and grief. When Lyla’s mother gives her a bracelet belonging to her daughter, Mia begins to find a way forward. Eventually, she reconstructs their unfinished game and recognizes the move Lyla had intended to make, bringing their final match to a symbolic and emotionally meaningful conclusion.
Check is a sensitive and emotionally accessible drama that explores childhood grief through the relationship between two young friends and their shared enthusiasm for chess. Its central achievement lies in translating the abstract experience of irreversible loss into a concrete situation that a child can understand: an unfinished game waiting for a player who will never return.
The screenplay establishes Mia and Lyla’s friendship efficiently through their classroom interactions and growing competitiveness. Mia’s enthusiasm, confidence, and insistence on controlling the game provide recognizable personality traits, while Lyla’s gradual improvement introduces a gentle shift in their relationship. The interrupted match offers an effective dramatic setup, acquiring new significance after Lyla’s unexpected death. The chessboard subsequently becomes a visual representation of Mia’s denial, preserving the last moment she shared with her friend.
The narrative follows a clear emotional progression from friendship and excitement to confusion, anger, withdrawal, and tentative acceptance. Mia’s initial response to Lyla’s death, particularly her assumption that an accident must involve a recoverable injury, reflects the limitations of childhood understanding. Her repeated expectation that Lyla will return is touching, although the screenplay does not always distinguish convincingly between psychological denial and a literal inability to comprehend death. At eight years old, Mia’s prolonged misunderstanding despite repeated explanations would benefit from more specific emotional or developmental grounding.
The middle section also loses some momentum through repetition. Several classroom scenes return to Mia’s refusal to accept Lyla’s absence without substantially advancing the conflict. Her confrontation with Katy provides a welcome escalation, particularly when Mia’s attempt to protect the unfinished game results in the accidental disruption of the chessboard. This moment effectively externalizes her emotional distress. However, the subsequent explanations offered by her teacher and parents largely revisit information already established. Consolidating these exchanges could create a more concentrated dramatic progression while allowing Mia’s grief to emerge through behavior rather than dialogue.
The secondary characters support the narrative but remain somewhat underdeveloped. Lyla is appealing, yet her identity is defined primarily through her friendship with Mia, limiting the individuality of the person being mourned. Ms. Brewer and Mia’s parents function largely as reassuring adults, with relatively little personal complexity. The teacher’s restrained response to Mia’s distress also raises questions about the support available to a grieving child. Similarly, the conversation about heaven introduces an additional interpretation of death without fully exploring its implications for Mia’s confusion.
One of the screenplay’s strongest moments occurs when Lyla’s mother gives Mia her daughter’s bracelet. Mia’s observation that she does not need an object to remember her friend, followed by her decision to accept it to comfort Mrs. O’Neal, reveals an unexpectedly perceptive emotional response. This exchange achieves greater subtlety than several of the more explanatory conversations and demonstrates the screenplay’s potential for nuanced characterization.
The conclusion effectively returns to the unfinished chess game, transforming an earlier expression of competition into a gesture of remembrance and acceptance. Mia’s realization of Lyla’s intended checkmate provides a satisfying connection between the opening and closing sequences. However, the precise chess position requires clearer establishment. Because the emotional resolution depends on a specific move, its visual and technical credibility is essential to ensuring that the ending feels dramatically earned rather than primarily symbolic.
From a production perspective, the screenplay’s modest cast, contained locations, and recurring visual motifs make it well suited to the short-film format. Its cinematic effectiveness would benefit from reducing explanatory dialogue and giving greater emphasis to physical behavior, performance, and visual storytelling.
Overall, Check is a heartfelt and structurally coherent screenplay with a clear emotional purpose and an affecting conclusion. Although its premise is relatively conventional and some aspects of its characterization and dramatic development require refinement, its central metaphor provides a meaningful foundation for an accessible and potentially moving short film.
Strengths: Sensitive exploration of childhood grief; effective use of chess as a central narrative metaphor; sympathetic protagonist with a clear emotional journey; strong recurring visual symbolism; touching interactions and meaningful use of the bracelet; coherent structure and emotionally resonant conclusion; promising cinematic potential.
Weaknesses: Conventional premise with limited originality; Mia’s prolonged misunderstanding of death requires stronger psychological grounding; repetitive middle section with excessive explanatory dialogue; underdeveloped secondary characters; insufficient dramatic escalation; final checkmate needs clearer visual and technical setup; occasional reliance on sentiment over emotional complexity.
Comparable to: Bridge to Terabithia meets The Quiet Girl, with the childhood perspective on bereavement of My Girland the intimate emotional storytelling of The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse.
Le Petite Mort by John Kestner (USA)
Nominee
Le Petite Mort follows Lindsay and Chuck, a young couple struggling with an awkward sexual incompatibility neither feels comfortable discussing. Following an unsatisfying intimate encounter, Chuck retreats to a nearby bar, where he confides in bartender Steve about his discomfort with Lindsay’s unsettling expressions during sexual climax. Meanwhile, an unidentified masked intruder enters Lindsay’s apartment carrying a butcher knife. As the attacker approaches her bedroom, the suspenseful intrusion is intercut with Chuck’s increasingly embarrassing confession. When the masked figure finally confronts Lindsay, her grotesquely exaggerated expression terrifies him into stumbling backward and falling through a window to his death. The incident ultimately prompts the couple to discuss their intimate difficulties, apparently resolving their misunderstanding before a final comic reversal suggests that their problem may not be entirely solved.
Le Petite Mort is an irreverent horror-comedy built around the collision of slasher-film conventions and an exaggerated sexual embarrassment. Its central premise transforms an apparently vulnerable woman into the unwitting cause of her attacker’s death, reversing familiar genre expectations through an absurd visual payoff. The concept is immediately recognizable and potentially entertaining, although its dramatic possibilities depend heavily on the successful execution of a single extended joke.
The screenplay establishes two parallel narrative threads: Chuck’s uncomfortable conversation with bartender Steve and the masked intruder’s approach toward Lindsay’s bedroom. Their intercutting generates anticipation by withholding the precise nature of Chuck’s sexual difficulty while presenting the intruder through conventional horror imagery. The eventual convergence is structurally effective, with the attacker’s terrifying appearance giving way to his own panic when confronted with Lindsay’s unexpected expression. The reversal provides the story’s strongest comic moment and demonstrates an understanding of visual misdirection and audience expectations.
The use of sound is particularly promising. The intruder’s approach is accompanied by increasingly ominous music and the persistent buzzing of Lindsay’s vibrator, allowing the screenplay’s sexual and horror elements to converge before the central revelation. This coordination of sound, editing, and visual disclosure offers considerable potential for a memorable cinematic sequence. However, the buildup occasionally becomes repetitive. Chuck’s conversation circles around the same undisclosed problem, while the intruder’s movements rely on familiar suspense conventions without introducing significant complications. As a result, the narrative advances primarily through the postponement of its central punchline rather than sustained dramatic escalation.
Characterization remains functional within the screenplay’s farcical framework. Chuck’s embarrassment and reluctance to hurt Lindsay provide a recognizable emotional motivation, while Lindsay’s frustration suggests a relationship weakened by poor communication. Their eventual honesty offers a modest thematic resolution concerning intimacy and mutual acceptance. Nevertheless, neither character develops substantially beyond the sexual misunderstanding that drives the plot. Steve serves primarily as a conversational device, and the masked intruder remains an anonymous embodiment of slasher-film menace. While appropriate to the genre parody, this limited characterization restricts the screenplay’s emotional and satirical complexity.
The film’s comic effectiveness would depend heavily on performance, makeup, visual composition, and timing. Lindsay’s expression must be sufficiently exaggerated to justify the intruder’s reaction while maintaining a deliberately absurd tone. This presents a creative challenge: the humor risks becoming juvenile or uncomfortable if it appears primarily directed at ridiculing Lindsay’s sexuality rather than parodying horror conventions and sexual embarrassment. A more clearly established comedic perspective could strengthen the material without compromising its irreverence.
The climactic window fall also requires careful physical staging to avoid appearing excessively convenient. Although the modest cast and limited locations favor short-film production, the stunt, broken glass, and associated effects introduce practical demands that must be handled convincingly.
The conclusion returns to the central joke after Chuck and Lindsay seemingly resolve their incompatibility. While the final recurrence of Lindsay’s terrifying expression provides a recognizable horror-comedy ending, it is somewhat predictable because the underlying problem has never been convincingly eliminated. A more inventive escalation or variation might deliver a stronger final surprise.
Overall, Le Petite Mort is a compact, commercially accessible horror-comedy with a clear premise and a potentially memorable central sequence. Its effective intercutting, visual misdirection, and reversal of the masked-killer archetype demonstrate genuine cinematic potential. However, its dependence on a single gag, limited characterization, and occasionally uneven comic perspective prevent it from achieving greater narrative distinction.
Strengths: Inventive reversal of slasher conventions; clear horror-comedy identity; effective parallel editing and delayed revelation; promising use of sound and visual misdirection; memorable central comic payoff; contained production scale; potential appeal to genre audiences.
Weaknesses: Heavy reliance on a single sexual gag; repetitive buildup with limited escalation; lightly developed characters; risk of juvenile or uncomfortable humor; demanding physical execution of the climactic accident; predictable final repetition; limited thematic depth.
Comparable to: Scary Movie meets Scream, with the irreverent sexual comedy of American Pie and the exaggerated slasher-film absurdity of The Final Girls.
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