“Watch the tape, hear the phone ring, and count your remaining days. In Iris’ world, each ring tolls for thee.”

Watch the original version of Ring

Prologue: “The Unseen Terrors”

In the heart of Tokyo’s swirling chaos, behind the doors of an obscure video rental, a fatal legend quietly lurked, accumulating dust yet exercising an unwavering power. A nondescript VHS tape, cursed with a legacy of unexplained deaths, lay in the hushed silent horror that was beginning to ripple across the city’s underbelly. Every victim had shared a common narrative – seven days of torment after watching the tape, culminating in a cruel, untimely death. The enigma that shrouded this deadly tape kept feeding the fear; an omnipresent dread that was yet to unveil itself fully and cast its blanket of horror upon an unsuspecting soul.

In this chaotic, wired city where technology was worshiped, an archaic VHS tape brewed a storm of dread and death. It was a chilling irony that would be lost on Iris Jones but was destined to change her life forever. Iris, an ambitious journalist known for her prying curiosity, was yet to be drawn into the spiraling terror of the cursed tape.

Chapter 1: “The Fatal Footage”

Tuesday had brought in the cold gusts of November, chilling Iris Jones as she sat in her office, pouring over the city’s updates. A peculiar headline caught her eyes – “Eighth Victim Dies after Watching Unmarked Tape.” Intrigued, Iris followed the eerie string of deaths linked to a mysterious video tape. Her innate curiosity, her constant hunger for a looming thrill, marked the beginning of a journey she had not anticipated.

In the heart of Tokyo’s Akihabara district, a dingy video rental store held the answer to her quest. The old shop owner, a man gnarled by time, had turned pale at her inquiry about the cursed tape.

“Folks say it’s cursed, brings death to those who dare to watch it. Seven days is all they got,” He warned, his eyes averted, hands trembling. Iris had smirked, dismissing his fear as an eccentricity induced by urban legends. Nothing more than a story spun out of control, she assumed.

Pride filled her as she held the black cassette, reading the faded label in anticipation. The very object that had the city spinning tales of horror was now in her possession. Convinced that she’d debunk this far-fetched myth and solidify her journalistic fame, Iris paid her dues and left, the tape soon tucked away in her bag.

That night, in the stark loneliness of her apartment, the tape was put to play. Iris prepared for what she perceived as a challenge to her rationality. As the TV crackled to life, eerie images filled the screen, a chaotic montage that held no semblance of coherence. A ladder, a well, a mirror, a woman combing her hair, a ring of light, each one unfolding in the ghastly silence. The eeriness of the sequence was disconcerting, stirring an unusual fear in the heart of the hardened journalist.

As the screen finally faded to black, a sudden ring of her telephone nearly made Iris jump. Picking up the phone, she heard a raspy whisper, “Seven days.” The line went dead before she could respond. A shiver ran down her spine, replaced quickly by a laugh of disbelief. Iris shook off the uncanny feeling, attributing it to the eeriness of the video and the impending deadline of her writing assignment.

However, the eerie silence of her apartment felt heavier, her solitude ever more palpable. Every tick of the clock seemed to resonate with the whisper, subtly etching the countdown into her consciousness. A fear she never knew began to creep into her psyche, birthing the haunting onset of a torment that had already claimed its victims in the past. Little did Iris know, her life had become the next chapter of a horrifying narrative, meticulously crafted by a vengeful spirit named Sadako, whose thirst for justice had transcended her death and birthed a legacy of terror. Iris’ routine life was about to be swallowed by a whirlwind of supernatural horror from which there was no way back.

Chapter 2: “The Cursed Cassette”

Iris Jones, the intrepid journalist, was never one to shy away from the gripping allure of an enigma. The captivating mystery of a strange videotape, linked peculiarly to a macabre string of deaths, had pulled her into its eerie orbit, and she found herself in the labyrinthine depths of the city’s most ancient video rental store.

The place was a relic of another era, filled with the spectral dust of time, scuffed VHS tapes stacked high like decrepit tombstones. Shadows lurked in the corners, whispering tales of forgotten films and tales trapped in magnetic tape. The store seemed to echo itself, a grave of a bygone age where celluloid dreams and digital nightmares lie intertwined.

She traced her fingers over the faded labels, eyes scanning for the grotesque beauty she sought. And there it was, sandwiched between a romantic comedy and a forgotten action flick, a cassette simply titled “Ring”. She could almost feel an unseen force pulsating from the tape like a dying heartbeat.

Without a second thought, Iris brought it to the counter to check it out. The store owner, an old man with gnarled skin and eyes that had seen too many sunsets, hesitated. “Be careful, lass. Some things aren’t meant to be trifled with,” he whispered, handing back the tape with trembling hands.

Soon, the cursed cassette resided in her living room. The VHS player, long since been consigned to gather dusts, was called back into action. Without a shred of fear, she pushed the tape inside the player. The screen blinked, and her heart skipped in anticipation as she pressed the play button.

Monochrome static danced violently before succumbing to a sequence of bizarre images. They moved with a supernatural fluidity that was both hypnotic and horrifying; a mirror shattering into a thousand shards, a well exuding an unholy aura, a handful of blurred figures, and other eerie fragments of an enigmatic narrative. The visuals were trailed by an unsettling deathly silence, amplifying the macabre undertone of the tape.

It was strange, and it was unnerving. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. The tape messed with her sense of equilibrium, her entire reality. Its weirdness, its exotic aura of endless mystery, was intoxicating. It pulled her into its darkest heart, submerging her into its twisting reality.

When it was over, the screen returned to its typical blue, as if nothing had happened, but Iris felt different. She felt a chill run to the very marrow of her bones. She felt the echoes of the video tape’s eerie images watching her from the corner of her eyes, stalking her every thought.

Her existence after viewing the tape was cloaked in an unsettling hush, the world around her felt unreal. The eerie silence intensified the feeling, making her feel as if she was living in a vacuum-vortex of time and space. The air around her was heavy, filled with dread that she couldn’t put into words.

Then came the phone call.

“Seven days,” hissed a voice from the other end, sounding like ghoulish whispers on a heart-stopping, desolate wind. The call ended soon after, leaving Iris in a pool of cold sweat and heart-pounding fear. She tried to dismiss it as a prank – a sick, twisted joke. But deep down, a profound terror had taken root.

The night that followed was far from peaceful. Sleep eluded her, with every attempt being intercepted by horrific images from the video. Trapped between the realms of wakefulness and sleep, she felt like a marionette, her strings being pulled by an unseen puppeteer.

The ‘Ring’ had wrapped its icy fingers around her, anchoring her to its haunting narrative. As the cracks between reality and horror began to blur, Iris found herself thrust into a nightmare that transcended the confines of the screen. The countdown had begun – seven days, seven days of escalating horror and suspense.

Chapter 3: “The Unseen Clock”

The abrupt ring of the phone jolted Iris from her disturbed contemplation. Her heart pounded in her chest as if determined to break free. Slowly, she picked up the receiver. From the other end of the line, a raspy voice whispered, “You have seven days.”

A chill ran down Iris’s spine. She could feel the blood drain from her face, leaving her ghastly pale. Her mind echoed with the eerie prophecy, each word drawing a line under her impending doom. Seven days. Her grip on reality felt as tenuous as the fleeting shadows cast by the flickering lights in the room.

Iris tried to dismiss the warning as a sick prank, an attempt to unsettle her. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the unsettling dread that swarmed her like a malevolent cloud. That night, she tossed and turned, haunted by the spectral figure from the video, her sleep ruined by horrific visions and the relentless ticking of an unseen clock.

Each passing day brought a new wave of terror. Each mundane activity was punctuated by an undercurrent of fear. The cityscape that she loved had been transformed into a gothic labyrinth filled with ominous shadows and spectral apparitions.

Iris found herself counting every passing minute, her once steady world now reduced to a disturbing count down. The digital numbers on her alarm clock became malicious tormentors, their silent change a grim reminder of her dwindling life.

Meanwhile, her research on the cursed video tape hit a wall. There were no records, no creators, and no owners. It was as if the tape had sprung from one of hell’s dark corners.

Her sanity teetered on the edge. Fear-soaked days melded into terror-tinged nights. The intervals between reality and the world reflecting in the video tape blurred and merged, creating an inescapable nightmare. Her dreams became filled with the vengeful spirit, Sadako’s, haunting images — her long, matted hair obscuring her face, her hand extending from a well.

Despite the psychological turbulence, her journalistic instincts kept her grounded. She couldn’t — wouldn’t — let fear overpower her. She had to delve deeper, uncover the truth behind the cursed tape.

The phone calls became a macabre routine. Each call was another tick on the unseen clock. The raspy voice shifted in tones, sometimes a ghostly whisper, other times a guttural growl, but the message stayed the same – “You have seven days.”

Her trusted confidantes became distant. They said it was stress, that she was working too hard. But the fear coursing through her veins knew otherwise. The unseen clock was real, its final chime reserved for her. She was living a race against time, each tick bringing her closer to her doom.

Everything became a suggestion of horror – the static on her television screen seemed to hold ghastly figures, the wind’s midnight howl sounded like a cry from beyond. Yet, she stood firm, resolute. Iris couldn’t afford to succumb to her fear.

Halfway through her seven-day deadline, Iris received another call. Her grip tightened around the receiver. The voice didn’t simply warn this time. It promised. “Four days more.”

Her heart pounded, a grim echo of the unseen clock’s relentless ticking. But fear was gradually replaced by resolve. She had four more days, four more days to unravel the mystery of the fatal footage.

With a renewed determination, Iris set forth against the unseen clock. Each tick was not a countdown to her demise but a countdown to the truth. One she was hell-bent on unearthing. The echoes of “You have seven days” may be etched on her mind. But so was her resolve.

The unseen clock was still ticking… and Iris was not done yet.

Chapter 4: “Echoes from the Past”

The icy winds weaved frigid fingers through the skeletal trees as Iris ventured into Sadako’s abandoned childhood home in the outskirts of the city. It was a spectral remnant of a bygone era, its timbers groaning ominously under the weight of its own history.

Opening the creaky door, Iris stepped into dank, stale air. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a frantic prisoner. But she had come too far to back out. She was on the trail of a story almost too ominous to believe; one that was smudged in blood and shrouded in mystery.

The dim house whispered tales of torment. Sadako’s mother, a secret psychic, was accused of trickery, tragically leading to her suicide. The townsfolk’s relentless persecution led Sadako’s father to throw her into a well to die, marking the beginnings of the deadly curse.

The story was a dismal labyrinth, a tale from hell. Iris trembled as she flipped through old family albums, their once-vibrant colors faded into the sepia-tones of oblivion. The manifestation of the tortured spirit was a vengeful reflection of the girl forgotten by time, yet bound by injustice.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a low, guttural growl — the house itself seemed to come alive with a grim symphony of horror. Shadows stretched and morphed into ghastly apparitions. Flickering lights cast grotesque silhouettes on decaying walls. The dread filled the room like a rising tide, causing her pulse to race.

Frantically searching for a way to lift the curse, Iris methodically sifted through the dusty attic, seeking some kind of salvation in the remnants of Sadako’s past life.

Time seemed to stand still as she peered at an old sketch found in one of Sadako’s notebooks. It was a peculiar drawing of a strange circle, repeated over and over again. Next to it, a word was scribbled in a childish handwriting—‘ring’. Chills ran up her spine.

As the seventh day approached, Iris felt a palpable shift in the energy of the house. An uncanny stillness descended. The air seemed to grow colder, and the silence deepened into an ominous hush. It was as if the house itself was holding its breath in anticipation.

In the heart of this spectral storm, she discovered a hidden letter, a desperate plea by Sadako’s father. It revealed the key to pacifying the spirit – the retrieval of Sadako’s body from the well. It was a sickening revelation, yet it opened the door of hope.

A wave of unimaginable fright swept over Iris as she realized what she must do. The vine-wrapped, forgotten well was to be her next destination. Even as the first glimmers of dawn brushed the sky, she was filled with a dread so primal and deep, it threatened to drown her.

Overwhelmed, she fled from the haunted house, the echo of Sadako’s past gnawing at her mind. The journalist turned ghost hunter was now on the clock, with only a few hours separating her from the horrifying fate that had befallen all those who had viewed the video before her.

The mysteries of Sadako’s curse were unraveled, but the true challenge had just begun. As the sunlight painted the world in hues of morning gold, Iris set off on her mission to break the deadly cycle, armed with the echoes from the past and the courage to face her future.

Her pulse throbbed in her veins like a war drum, her spirit rising to the challenge. Sadako’s haunting past, brimming with a vortex of violence and vengeance, had been laid bare. It was now Iris’s turn to rewrite the narrative, from a tale of spectral revenge to a story of survival.

The echoes of Sadako’s past continued to reverberate through Iris’s mind, a chilling symphony of dread and desperation. But with every step she took, she felt a strange sense of determination hardening within her. The echoes of the past would not dictate her future.

The true terror of her mission loomed before her, yet Iris found herself ready to face it. The haunted echoes of Sadako’s past had illuminated the path ahead, a path shrouded in darkness and uncertainty.

A grim determination set her jaw. Her life was on the line. The journalist turned survivor was ready to delve into the depths of the well of woe. The echoes from the past had set the stage for a terrifying climax to Iris’s desperate quest, a journey that had begun with an innocuous videotape and led her to confront the wrathful spirit of a child wronged.

But before she could continue, she had to steel herself for the confrontation that awaited her. For echoes from the past lingered in the present, a cruel reminder of the vengeful spirit’s wrath. It would be a battle not just against time but against her own mortal fear. And there was no turning back.

Chapter 5: “Race Against Time”

Iris felt an icy shiver run down her spine as she recounted her tale to Ryan, her trusted colleague, in the semi-privacy of their newsroom office. He was a cynic, an avowed non-believer in horrors outside the realm of human acts. However, the paleness of her face, and the shaky cadence of her voice, rattled his skepticism.

She relayed the story of the mysterious tape and the subsequent phone call with the raspy voice ominously announcing, “You have seven days.” He initially dismissed it as a distasteful prank, but the mounting fear in Iris’s eyes was unmistakeable.

As the days rolled on since watching the tape, Iris became more restless. Nightmares that felt too sinister to be mere products of her imagination plagued her. She saw terrible visions – of a well, a troubled woman, and a vengeful spirit – that jumbled her waking mind. Her once vibrant eyes were dulled with fatigue, the rings below them speaking of sleepless nights.

Ryan, unable to ignore the escalating situation, decided to join Iris in her desperate quest to break the curse. They combed through dusty archives and reached out to survivors of the victims who’d watched the video. Their families, still scarred by the inexplicable deaths, were hesitant to discuss their loved ones’ fates. The duo’s journalistic instincts were tested to their limits, leading them to delve into realms beyond their usual beats.

They deciphered the eerie imagery on the tape and established a link with Sadako, a woman wronged and abandoned to die. The more they discovered about Sadako’s tormented life, the more the dots connected, creating a ghastly picture of revenge from beyond the grave.

Experimenting with desperate theories and clutching at straws, they pushed their tools; internet search engines, library archives, and primary sources to exhaustion. Ryan’s skepticism was slowly giving way to a dreadful apprehension. The digital clock on his laptop unceremoniously marked the passing time, the blinking numbers seemingly in league with the unseen clock marking the countdown to Iris’ doom.

Just as hope was shriveling up, a breakthrough emerged. An old, almost forgotten local legend about an abandoned well where unspeakable atrocities took place came to their knowledge. A sense of foreboding filled the air as they realized that this well, shockingly, was an essential element of Iris’s nightmares. It was the same well in which Sadako was thrown.

Time was no longer a casual, linear phenomenon but a beast breathing down their necks as they raced to locate the well of Iris’s visions. Each second that ticked away scraped away a sliver of hope, a sliver of Iris’s life. Their frantic search led them to an isolated rural area, eerily silent as though carrying the weight of untold horror.

As the seventh day approached, with Iris’s strength waning visibly, they found the dilapidated well in a decrepit, abandoned property. The sight of the cursed well, the epicenter of their quest, pulsated with an eerie terror. Would it contain the answers they desperately sought? Or was it merely the opening to an abyss of more tormented mysteries?

They were on a desperate race against time, to solve a puzzle that held in balance not just Iris’s life, but also their perception of the world as they knew it. Little did they know that the real horror was waiting for them at the bottom of the well. The clock was ticking, and time was an unmerciful entity driving toward the arrival of Iris’s final, seventh day. The race was on. It was a race for life, for sanity, for the unraveling of a curse that straddled the realm of the living and the deceased, and for a story that was far more sinister than they could have ever fathomed. Would they succeed? Only time would tell.

Alpha and omega, the beginning and the end were woven into the fabric of time. Everything revolved around it, and as time trickled down the hourglass of fate, Iris and Ryan braved the looming darkness with a glimmer of hope – a race against time that they simply could not afford to lose.

Chapter 6: “The Well of Woe”

It was an audacious decision, tingling with the thrill of adventure and dread. Iris and Ryan stood at the edge of the decrepit well, their hearts pounding with anticipation and fear. This was not just a well; it was Sadako’s prison and her tomb. Wordlessly, they stared into the black abyss, feeling the icy chill wafting from the forgotten depths.

As Iris prepared to descend, she felt a shiver of unease crawl up her spine. Even though she had been on this perilous journey for days now, nothing could have prepared her for the reality that was staring back at her. She stared at the well, her heart pounding in her chest, the silence around them stretching into an uncomfortable eternity.

With a heavy sigh, Iris secured herself with a harness. Her breath hitched as she stepped onto the edge of the well, her gaze fixed on the abyss. She had only the dim illumination from the torchlight that Ryan held, the flickering glow casting long, ominous shadows around the mouth of the well.

As she began her descent, the outside world gradually faded away. The last vestiges of daylight vanished, replaced by an oppressive darkness that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own. Every sound, every shift of the rope against the rough hewn brick became a deafening boom in the confined space.

Her heart hammered fiercely against her chest with every inch she descended, the scent of musty, stagnant water filling her nostrils. The air grew colder, and the weight of years worth of despair pressed down on her. The silence was shattered only by her own steady, controlled breathing and the distant echo of water from deep within the well.

Eventually, her boots hit the hard ground. She let out a shuddering breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Unhooking the harness, she moved slowly, hesitantly, feeling her way through the darkness. She felt a ripple of trepidation wash over her as her torchlight fell on a spheric object. A skull.

She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the cold, rough surface of the bones. Taking a deep breath, Iris nudged the skull, revealing the skeletal form of a woman curled in a fetal position. Sadako.

As Iris touched the bones, a surge of energy pulsed through her. In that moment, she could see flashes of Sadako’s life – her pain, her anger, her vengeance. Iris saw Sadako’s true power, her raw rage that was as uncontrollable as it was terrifying.

The impact ejected her into reality, leaving her panting on the cold hard floor. The vision had been harrowing, a stark reminder of the timeless wrath she had invoked by watching the tape. Nausea washed over her, leaving her breathless and shaken. Her mind spun with the horrifying realization – she was running out of time. The seventh day was nearing.

Her hands clung to the skeletons, her grip firm yet shaky. Sadako deserved justice, but they were far from accomplishing it. The cold, harsh reality sank deep into her – they were only just beginning to understand the depths of Sadako’s pain.

As she prepared for the ascent, she clung to the hope that this horror was not in vain. This encounter with Sadako’s remains was a significant step towards ending the curse, she tried convincing herself.

When she emerged from the well, Iris was a changed woman. The experience had rattled her; there was newfound fear in her eyes, but they also held a spark of determination. The journalist was ready to face the final reckoning.

She had confronted Sadako’s past, been thrust into her terrifying reality. Now, she knew what stood ahead – an ordeal that would question her sanity, her strength, her survival. But Iris was ready. She had glimpsed into the abyss; now, she was prepared to stare it down.

Her journey into the well of woe had only reaffirmed her resolve. Sadako’s curse had claimed several lives. It was time to end the string of horror. And Iris was ready to do whatever it took to break the chain. For herself, for Ryan, and for all future victims of the deadly tape.

Chapter 7: “The Final Reckoning”

The atmosphere was fraught with tension as Iris Jones glanced at her wristwatch, the tiny silver hands showing the tormenting countdown to midnight. The seventh day was here. Despite the thrumming fear in her veins, she felt an odd sense of calm, a deep-seated resolution. Iris was no longer a mere spectator of the rampant horror but an unwilling participant in this ghastly dance of death.

Her journalist’s instincts had nudged her into the path of the macabre, and now, there was no turning back. She had become the story, and Ryan Wood—an erstwhile rational newspaper reporter—had somehow become entwined in the same narrative. Neither of them had signed up for this, yet, here they were, trapped in this spine-chilling saga of Sadako’s vengeance.

Ryan was with her, his skeptical demeanor replaced by a grim determination. They were stationed in her once-peaceful living room, their only weapons against Sadako’s wrath being their relentless will to survive and a bizarre hope to appease the restless spirit.

The television screen flickered into life, casting an ominous glow. A white-noise static filled the room, the hairs on their arms standing on end in response. Was Sadako about to make an appearance?

Iris could feel the spectral presence growing stronger, the temperature dipping significantly, their breaths turning into frosty puffs in the sudden chill. Ryan threw a comforting arm around Iris, though his own heart pounded like a frantic drum against his ribcage.

“Are you sure about this, Iris?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “We could still leave. Get far away from this…”

“No, Ryan,” Iris interjected, her tone resolute. “Running isn’t an option. We need to face this head-on.”

Iris turned her attention back to the screen. The static started forming a pattern, transforming into an image. It was the same eerie well from the video, an ominous hole in the ground that held Sadako’s vindictive spirit bound to the mortal realm. A chill ran down Iris’s spine as she saw a pair of terrifying hands slowly emerge, followed by a horror-stricken face with long, unkempt hair covering it.

The apparition crawled out from the well, approaching the screen with a slow yet deliberate pace. Iris could feel her pulse racing, her breath hitching as the terrifying figure of Sadako started to crawl out of the screen, shattering the thin boundary between the supernatural and their reality.

The room went deathly silent, save for the agonizing sound of Sadako dragging her ragged form out of the TV. Ryan, seeing the spectral figure materialize, was frozen in terror. Iris, however, stood her ground.

She stepped forward, her gaze never leaving Sadako’s veiled face.

“Sadako,” Iris began; her voice trembled, but there was a firmness to it. “I know what happened to you. I know what they did. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the ghastly figure halted, cocking its head as though considering her words. Iris continued, “We found your resting place. We told your story. You’ve been avenged.”

The spirit let out a wretched howl, filled with centuries of pent-up anguish and wrath. As Iris battled her primal urge to run, she felt a sudden rush of empathy for the spirit. Sadako was a victim, just as they were now. Maybe in understanding that, they could find a way to survive.

The room filled with an escalating tension—a barely contained storm of paranormal energy. It all culminated in a blinding flash of light, grounding Iris and Ryan, who held on to each other for dear life.

When they dared to look, the spectral figure of Sadako was gone. The room felt lighter, the tension dissipated. As they exchanged a look of relief and disbelief, Iris couldn’t help but wonder: Was it over? Had they survived Sadako’s wrath? The answers were unclear, and as the clock struck midnight, they knew their fight was far from over. This was merely the beginning of the end – the final reckoning.

Chapter 8: “The Last Ring”

Darkness hung over Iris Jones. It clung to her like a second skin, leaking into her spirit like a terminal disease, relentless and overpowering. A normal life seemed so remote, a mere illusion masked by the escalating dread that gripped her. Her once mundane existence as a journalist had spiraled into a terrifying ordeal, the faded line between reality and nightmare blurred by the spectral haunting of Sadako.

Her senses were heightened, every muscle taut with anticipation, every sound amplified in the stifling stillness. Her eyes locked on the flickering digital clock, the seconds pouring away as the dreaded seventh day ominously approached. This was not how she envisioned her story to unfold, yet here she was, embroiled in a dark narrative of her own.

Ryan, her once skeptical colleague, was now her steadfast rock amidst the chaos. He was there, his warmth an antithesis to the bone-chilling horror they were facing. His scepticism had vanished, replaced by a fierce determination to unearth the truth and save Iris. Their entwined destinies had brought them to this pivotal moment, teetering on the edge of the abyss.

They had discovered Sadako’s skeletal remains in the well, the grim secret it held within its dark expanse. The echoing wails of her past whispered tales of betrayal and vengeance, chilling Ryan and Iris to their core. They had thought uncovering the truth and giving her a proper burial would be enough to break the curse. However, as the hours dwindled, Iris’s visions of Sadako only grew more vivid, more horrifying, making them question if it was enough.

The horrifyingly spectral figure of Sadako seemed to close in on Iris, her eyes curiously empty, yet filled with suffering and bitter rage. The television screen flickered, mirroring the erratic thumping of Iris’s heart. The spectral form reached out from the screen, her slithering movement echoing a sickening dread. Iris steadied herself, her eyes meeting Sadako’s dead ones, her fears buried under her unwavering resolve.

Just as Sadako was about to grab Iris, Ryan intervened, thrusting the unearthed skeletal remains towards the spectral figure. Sadako flinched, her form flickering, a guttural hiss piercing the air. The tension was palpable, the room submerged in an unsettling silence, the very air heavy with anticipation. Sadako’s rage was tangible, yet there was a flicker of confusion, of surprise in her hollow gaze.

Iris found herself holding her breath, her gaze unwavering from the spectral visage before her. “We’ve given you justice, Sadako. We’ve set your spirit free. It’s time for you to find rest,” Iris whispered, her voice surprisingly steady. She felt a bizarre connection with the vengeful spirit, their lives intertwined by a cruel twist of fate.

For a moment, Sadako merely stared back, her spectral gaze piercing through Iris. But then the air shifted, a low hum resonating throughout the room. Sadako’s form flickered, her face contorting in what appeared as a grimace before fading away. The television screen abruptly turned to static, the troubling silence returning.

Iris felt a chill crawl up her spine, her body suddenly free of the oppressive fear. They had done it. The curse was broken. The spirit of Sadako had found peace. But the lingering aftertaste of the harrowing ordeal remained, the haunting spectacle forever etched in her memory.

The aftermath of their encounter with Sadako left Iris irrevocably changed. She was no longer just a journalist but a survivor, a woman who had looked into the eyes of death and lived to tell the tale. The horror was over, but she was cursed with second sight, a chilling reminder of the ordeal she had battled. But she was alive, and that meant she had won.

Their lives returned to the semblance of normality, but Iris could never look at life the same way again. The world was a darker place, filled with unseen horrors. But she discovered strength she never knew she had, a fierce resolve that enabled her to stare down the face of death. Her story, now entwined with Sadako’s, served as a reminder of the chilling intersection of reality and the supernatural, a bone-chilling narrative that would forever haunt her.

“The Last Ring” was done, but its echoes would forever whisper in the chilling winter wind.

Some scenes from the movie Ring written by A.I.

Scene 1



On-screen, a news report plays images of RECENT DEATH SCENES. Iris Jones (30s, attractive, ambitious) sits watching, concern etched on her face.



Yet another in the series of puzzling deaths that’s sent a wave of fear. All victims reportedly had watched a mysterious video before their untimely end.

Iris takes a moment, deep in thought, then quickly grabs her notebook, scribbling notes with a sense of urgency.



Iris is on her computer, scanning through articles about the recent deaths. Her colleague, RYAN (40s, skeptical but supportive) watches her.


Really, Iris? A cursed video?



There’s a pattern, Ryan. And I intend to find it.

Ryan shakes his head, smiling at her determination.



Iris enters an aged video store. An OLD MAN greets her. She asks about the video. The old man hesitates, then hands her a dusty OLD VHS TAPE. Iris takes it cautiously.



I don’t know how it came here. Just…be careful with it.



Scene 2




An untouched universe of dust and cobwebs. IRIS, early 30s with a piercing gaze, steps in, her eyes scanning the shelves filled with forgotten classics.


(Obscured by a newspaper)

Can I help you?

Iris does not look up.


Rummaging through tapes.

No, thank you.

She freezes as her fingers run over a dusty, anonymous CASSETTE. She pulls it out, studies it. It’s old but holds an uncanny allure.

She approaches the owner, the cassette in hand.


How much for this?



That old thing? Just take it.

She smiles, thanking him.


Iris sits, the television light flickering across her face. She inserts the CASSETTE into the player, her breath hitched in anticipation. Disturbing IMAGES start to flicker on the screen. There’s no sound, just an eeriness that chills her spine. She watches, transfixed.

Suddenly, the PHONE RINGS. Iris jumps, not tearing her eyes away from the screen. The call ends. Iris, rattled, ejects the tape and switches off the television. She shakes her head, dismissing her unease.


(Murmuring to herself)

Good story, Iris.

She laughs, trying to extinguish the eeriness with levity. She picks up the phone and dials.



Ryan… You won’t believe what I found today.


Scene 3



Iris sits on her worn sofa, the eerie images from the cursed video still replaying in her mind. Suddenly, her eyes dart to the phone as it RINGS. She picks it up with a shaky hand.




A RASPY VOICE whispers through the receiver.



You have seven days.

Iris drops the phone, her face turning ashen. She fumbles to pick it up again but the line is DEAD. She sits back, clutching her chest, her breaths shallow.



Iris tosses and turns. NIGHTMARES jolt her awake. Shadowy figures, distorted faces, the tick-tock of an unseen clock. She sits up, gasping for breath, her eyes wide with fear.



Iris, bags under her eyes, steps out of her apartment. She’s visibly shaken. She spots NEIGHBOR Mrs. BENSON, who stops to talk.



You alright, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.


(forcing a smile)

Just a bad dream, Mrs. Benson.

She waves goodbye and walks away, leaving a concerned Mrs. Benson behind.

Dissolve to:


Iris walks in, eyes sunken from a restless night. A colleague, RYAN, approaches, mug of coffee in hand.



You okay, Iris? You look spooked.

Iris brushes it off, masking her terror with a chuckle.



Just couldn’t sleep.

They both delve into work, but Iris’ mind is elsewhere, a ticking clock echoing ominously in her mind.


Scene 4


Iris, a late 30’s journalist with an inquisitive nature, sits at her computer screen. On it, an OLD NEWSPAPER ARTICLE – A GIRL’S face stares back, the headline reads, “GIRL FOUND DEAD IN WELL”. This was SADAKO.

Suddenly a KNOCK on the door. It’s RYAN, a skeptical yet supportive colleague.



Looking into ghost stories now, Jones?


(With a hint of fear)

Not just any ghost story, Ryan…

She gestures toward the computer screen. Ryan moves closer, peering at the article.



Sadako? The vengeful spirit? You don’t really believe in that, do you?

Iris turns her gaze onto him, her expression stern.



I don’t know what to believe anymore.

She picks up the video cassette from her desk and holds it out to him.


I watched this. The phone rang, said I had seven days.

Ryan takes the cassette, examining it.


(Shakes his head)

That’s a prank, Iris.

She looks back at the screen, the darkened face of Sadako reflecting in her eyes.



I hope so, Ryan. I really do.

A beat. The haunting story of Sadako looms in the silence of the room, a dread-filled precursor to the race against time that lies ahead.


Scene 5


IRIS, a passionate journalist, is sitting on her couch, visibly shaken. Next to her, RYAN, her skeptical yet supportive colleague, is trying to make sense of the situation.


(whispering, scared)

Did you see her, Ryan? Sadako – she was in my dreams.

Ryan looks at Iris, concerned. He’s never seen her this frightened.


(trying to reassure)

Iris, it’s only a dream. It’s the stress. You’ve been working non-stop.

Iris shakes her head and hands Ryan a folder filled with research about the cursed video and Sadako.



No, it’s not just stress. Look at this. There’s a pattern, Ryan.

Ryan opens the folder, his eyes growing wide as he scans the documents.



This…this can’t be real.

Iris looks back at Ryan, her eyes welling up.



It is, Ryan…and I’m next.

Ryan seems to finally grasp the gravity of the situation.



Okay, we need a plan. Let’s find out more about this Sadako and how we can break this curse.

Nervous but determined, they begin their journey against time, racing to unravel the mystery of the terrifying entity known as Sadako.

Scene 6


Iris and Ryan, both in their early 30s, stand before a decrepit, old well.


(voice trembling)

The well… Sadako…was thrown into this…


(skeptical yet concerned)

Are you sure this isn’t just some urban legend?

Before Iris could answer, they glimpse a WHITE FIGURE flitting by the well’s rim in the darkness. Iris GASPS. Ryan GRABS a flashlight, flicking it on to reveal skeletal remains at the bottom of the well.




Iris fights back tears as she peers down at the gruesome sight.



It’s her… Sadako…

They look at each other, equally horrified. Iris jumps into the well. She crashes into the water below, scrambling to the skeletal remains.



I’m sorry, Sadako. It’s time to rest…

She cradles the bones tenderly, haunted by the tragic fate of the girl whose spirit is entwined with her own existence.

Suddenly, the wind HOWLS. The well rumbles ominously. Ryan, peering anxiously into the abyss, loses his footing and tumbles down into the well.


“TO BE CONTINUED…” appears in bold white letters.

Scene 7


The room is dim. The countdown on Iris’s wristwatch is ticking down ominously. Ryan is pacing nervously.


(looks at Iris)

We need a plan, Iris.



We confront Sadako. It’s the only way.


(shakes head)

You make it sound so simple.

Iris walks over to an old cabinet, opening a drawer to reveal the cursed tape.



Ryan and Iris sit in front of the TV. The video starts playing the cryptic footage they’ve come to dread.

Suddenly, the room turns cold. A chill breeze blows. The TV starts flickering – Sadako’s haunting face appears on the screen.



We’re not afraid of you, Sadako!

The TV screen CRACKS. Sadako’s ghostly figure crawls out from the TV, eyes filled with rage.



Wha-What do we do?

Iris takes a deep breath, standing firm.



Hold your ground, Ryan.


(guttural voice)

Seven days…

Iris lifts the tape in her hand, showing it to Sadako.



No more. Your time is over Sadako!

The room shakes violently. Sadako screams, her voice echoing throughout the room before vanishing.

Ryan and Iris are left in the silent room, the broken TV the only testament to their supernatural encounter.


Author: AI