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Bbc Writers Room Script Submission

Room 309

A group of college friends returns to Shimla, where their lives were once changed by a mysterious and haunted hotel—Hillview Hotel. What was meant to be a carefree trip becomes a journey of self-discovery, friendship, and confronting their deepest fears. Prajwal, a budding writer, is accompanied by her loyal friends: the intuitive Swara, the confident Akshada, the prankster Anushka, the jokester Srushti, the topper besties Apurva and Swarali, the good-hearted Rutuja, the cheerful Khushi, and the ever-silly Akshara. As they revisit the Hillview Hotel, memories of the supernatural events that once left them terrified resurface, particularly the eerie and mysterious Room 309. However, this time, it is different. There are no ghosts haunting their steps—just the echoes of their past adventures. Amidst laughter, emotional bonding, and unexpected twists, Prajwal uncovers the healing power of writing and the unspoken stories that bind them all. Through her writing, she is reminded that stories—whether of ghosts or of friendships—never die; they live on in the hearts and minds of those who dare to remember. Room 309 is a tale of friendship, fear, love, and the stories we carry with us, long after the pages are turned. Prajwal’s journey as a writer mirrors her friendships’ evolution, reminding readers that every adventure, no matter how spooky or mysterious, has a lesson to teach. Join Prajwal, Swara, Akshada, Apurva, Swarali, Rutuja, Khushi, Akshara, Anushka, and Srushti as they confront their past, embrace the power of storytelling, and find the courage to face the unknown once again.
Prajwal_Kadlag · 18.4K Views

The Path Beyond Script

In a world where power and control rewrite history, a boy named Kasel , 18 yr old, lives quietly—unnoticed, abandoned, surviving through routine and silence. But a suppressed memory stirs, disrupting the fragile rhythm of his existence. At the same time, a mysterious 18-year-old contract—tied to political power—is quietly beginning to collapse,slowly digging at the layers of rewritten history beneath it. The story unravels a hidden connection between a collapsing 18-year-old contract and a rewritten history hidden by the government—quietly investigated by two YouTubers driven by personal loss. It travels across private choices, political currents, and fragile minds—slowly peeling back the mystery of a forgotten incident from 11 years ago. ___________________________________ At the center is Kasel—an unnoticed, introverted 18-year-old boy living like a shadow. Orphaned, quietly longing for love, he works in a small shop, enduring mockery and monotony just to exist. Kasel’s mind often glitches—brief flashes of a memory he doesn’t understand, one he’s learned to ignore. But when a stranger appears—someone he doesn’t remember but might be connected to it all—everything begins to change. This arc follows Kasel’s psychological unraveling and the slow emergence of his past and truth . ___________________________________ This is a slow-burn political–psychological mystery thriller about memory, identity, control, and power.
Verax_author · 3.1K Views

Script Walker

Her fingers shook,not from weakness. From the need to control something. Anything. Me. "I want them all dead," she whispered into my shoulder. "Every. Last. One." I wrapped my arms around her. Let her tremble. Not because I cared. But because this was where empires were born: not on thrones, but in broken chambers and whispered grief. "It's already begun," I said into her hair. She looked up at me,those green eyes glassy with heat and hatred. "You'll kill them for me?" "No," I said. "I'll kill them for *us*." She kissed me like a drowning woman. No ceremony. No coyness. Just hunger and rage tangled into something that barely felt human. And I gave her what she needed,not love, not comfort, but the illusion of control. That's what sex is. A chess move with sweat. We collapsed onto her bed like monarchs of ashes. Her grief was my weapon. My whispers were her gospel. And somewhere, beneath all the heat and hatred, she forgot that her son had screamed. I didn't. Later, when the candlelight dimmed and she finally fell asleep beside me,arm thrown over my chest like a claim,I stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene in my mind. Her son's death wasn't clean. It wasn't meant to be. It was a ritual. One sacrifice to awaken a world not yet ready. I opened my HUD. [Narrative Skill: Cinematic Reflexes - Passive Trigger: PLANNED COMBAT SCENE- EXECUTED PERFECTLY] [Event Branching Complete: Historical Rewrite Unlocked] [Villain Proximity Rising: The Scriptorian watches your edits.] Good. Let him watch. The Director's Cut could hide behind his twisted timelines all he wanted,this was my spinoff now.
Nà_thaniel · 6.8K Views
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