Script

Dit is inclusief de bestandsnamen voor de desbetreffende geluidsfragmenten (bijvoorbeeld [narrator_1]). Elke bestandsnaam is één audiofragment in de video.


[narrator_1] The clock on Elara's bedside table blinked erratically, the numbers flickering between 3:14 and 4:22. It had been like this for weeks ever since the incident. The incident, as they called it, had started as a dream. In Elara's dream, time stretched and warped like taffy, minutes turning to hours, then back to seconds. [narrator_2] She woke with a gasp, sweat clinging to her skin, the clock on the wall showing two different times.
One half displayed 8:00 AM, the other, 11:32 PM. The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment, then settled on 8:00 AM as if a switch had been flipped. It happened again sporadically, then became a constant, unnerving presence in their lives.
[finn_1]"Elara," [narrator_3] a muffled voice came from beneath the covers, "Is the clock still at it?"
[narrator_4] Elara sighed. It was Finn, her brother, the pragmatist. [elara_1] "Still going strong," she replied, "3:14, 4:22, can't seem to decide."
[narrator_5] Finn emerged from the blankets; his face etched with the same worry lines that had become permanent fixtures on their parents' faces. [finn_2] "Do you think it has anything to do with…?" He didn't need to finish the sentence. The "incident" hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the loss and the strangeness that followed.
[narrator_6] Their father, a renowned physicist, had been obsessed with the nature of time for years. He believed in the existence of parallel universes, and in the final months before his disappearance, his research had become increasingly erratic. He would disappear for hours, muttering about "chronological fractures" and "time bridges."
[narrator_7] Then, one stormy night, he vanished. They found his car abandoned near a remote observatory, his notes scattered on the passenger seat, filled with indecipherable scribbles and equations. The last message on his phone was a single sentence: "The bridge is open."
The authorities had no explanation. The disappearance, the strange phenomenon with the clock, it was all too much. Finn found solace in logic, burying himself in studies in an attempt to understand what had happened. Elara, however, found solace in dreams.
[narrator_8] Every night, she slipped into a world where time flowed differently. She'd find herself in bustling marketplaces where the sun spun across the sky in minutes, then spend hours in serene meadows where time seemed to stand still. In these dreams, she felt closer to her father, as if he resided somewhere within the fractured timelines.
One night, something different happened. In her dream, she found herself standing at the edge of a swirling vortex, a portal of shimmering light. On the other side, she saw a familiar figure. He stood with his back to her, his long, silver hair catching the ethereal glow.
[elara_2, narrator_9] "Dad?" she whispered, her voice shaky.
The figure turned, a flicker of a smile crossing his face. [dad_1] "Elara," he said, his voice distorted, "I'm almost there. I just need help…"
He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing the edge of the portal. But before Elara could reach for him, the vortex flickered and began to close.
[elara_3]"Wait!" she cried, scrambling towards him.
[narrator_10] The portal slammed shut, leaving Elara in the empty dreamscape. She woke with a start, tears streaming down her face. It wasn't a dream, she knew it. It was a memory, a fragment of what happened the night her father disappeared.
The next morning, Elara found Finn hunched over their father's notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up, his eyes filled with a newfound determination.
[finn_u0] "I think I understand," he said, pointing to a specific section of the notes. "He wasn't trying to create a time machine, Elara. He was trying to bridge the gap, to reach another reality. And the portal… something must have gone wrong."
[narrator_12] Hope, a fragile thing in the face of grief, bloomed in Elara's chest. Their father wasn't gone, not entirely. He was trapped somewhere, in another time, another reality, just as he was in her dreams.
Inspired by the newfound clue, Finn delved deeper into his father's research, working tirelessly to decipher the complex equations and diagrams. Elara, fueled by hope and the memory of her dream, decided to act.
Every night, she returned to the world of her dreams, searching for the swirling portal, the bridge to her father. She explored every corner of the dream realm, traversing landscapes that defied all logic and time. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, the relentless ticking of the erratic clock a constant reminder of the time lost and the time they were racing against.
[narrator_u2] Then, one night, she found it. On a windswept mountain peak bathed in an ethereal glow, the swirling vortex shimmered once more. Elara's heart pounded in her chest as she approached, the memory of her father's plea echoing in her mind. But this time, something felt different. The portal pulsed with a strange energy, emanating a chilling coldness that sent shivers down her spine.
Hesitation gnawed at her. Was this the right portal? Was her father even there? But the alternative, the thought of him trapped and alone, was unbearable. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through.
The world dissolved into chaos. Images flickered past, a kaleidoscope of fragmented realities. One moment she was falling through a starlit void, the next she stood on the edge of a bustling cityscape bathed in neon lights. It felt like an eternity before the swirling colors subsided, leaving her standing on a barren, rocky plain beneath a double sun.
[narrator_u1] Silence enveloped her, broken only by the howling wind. There was no sign of her father, no familiar landmark, nothing but a vast, desolate landscape stretching out as far as the eye could see. Had she reached the wrong place? Was this another dead end?
Tears welled up in her eyes. Just as despair threatened to consume her, a flicker of movement caught her eye in the distance. A lone figure, impossibly tall and cloaked in shadows, stood atop a distant hill.
Hope rekindled. Could it be him? With a renewed sense of purpose, Elara began to walk towards the figure, her legs heavy with fatigue and uncertainty. As she drew closer, the figure turned, revealing a shrouded face.
[elara_u0] "Dad?" she called out, her voice trembling.
The figure remained silent, unmoving. The wind whipped around them, carrying the mournful sound of the double suns sinking towards the horizon.
Elara's breath hitched. The silence, the eerie landscape, the figure looming over her – it was all too unsettling. Then, a voice, distorted as if echoing through a tunnel, spoke.
[narrator_u0] [dad_u0] "Elara," it rasped, "you shouldn't be here."
The voice sent chills down her spine. It wasn't her father. It sounded… wrong. A wave of fear washed over her, but before she could react, the figure took a step towards her, extending a hand shrouded in darkness.
The scene abruptly dissolved. Elara gasped, waking up in her bed, drenched in sweat. The clock on the bedside table displayed a single, unified time – 2:13 AM. Had it all been a dream?
She lay there, her mind racing. The figure, the chilling voice – who or what was it? Was there another way to reach her father? Or was he truly lost… somewhere beyond the reach of dreams and time itself?