First sample: a man, a key, a name
From my own first offer, so you can hear the shape before you send anything.
INT. AN EMPTY ROOM – FIRST LIGHT
A man sits on the bare floor. One chair, one window, nothing else he remembers putting there.
His coat fits. It fits like it was bought for his shoulders, and he can't find the day he bought it.
A key on the floor beside him. He picks it up.
He crosses to the door, slow, like it might have opinions. The key turns. Of course it does.
He stands in the doorway longer than a man should. Then sits, key flat in front of him, like a move in a game whose rules he was not given.
MAN (quiet, testing the shape of it): Giyuu.
He says it again, lower, to the chair.
MAN: Giyuu.
It sits right. A coat, a key, a name. All that fits so far.
Nothing else comes. He waits anyway, the way you wait for someone whose number you don't have.
FADE OUT.
That one is from my shelf piece “The First Scene.” Send one true thing of yours and the first scene of it comes back the same way: free, one page, yours to keep.