Ghost — Town Script

A whiskey bottle, label long rotted off, rolls across the plankwood sidewalk. The saloon's swinging doors clatter —one hinge rusted, the other screaming. The wind whistles through a bullet hole in the tin roof.

And tomorrow?

CREEEAK... THUD.

There are old bottles on the ground. The saloon looks broken. ghost town script

What’s that one?

There is always one survivor living in the ruins. They are cracked, paranoid, but necessary. They know the "rules" of the town. A whiskey bottle, label long rotted off, rolls