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FREEFALL

FT. CHRIS DAUGHTRY

BY STEPHEN WAYNE MALLETT
Rep: Laure Scott

THIS VIDEO WILL CHALLENGE VIEWERS TO SEE THE SILVER LININGS OF
SOUL-CRUSHING SITUATIONS.

LET’S REMIND THE WORLD THAT YOU CAN START AGAIN.

Inside a dark void, a woman clutches a wedding ring on a chain around her neck, her posture hunched as though shielding herself from unseen forces. Around her, ghostly images appear in the darkness: flickering flames, a charred house, and an empty firefighter's helmet. Cut to a man in the void drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle as abstract demons warp around him. You must look closely to see anything demonic, so the overall look will be more abstract and unsettling. His unkempt appearance and the anger in his eyes tell the story of how he is barely hanging on.

Bright abstract lights flicker on and off as the two of them are yanked out of the void.

We cut to the two of them sitting on opposite ends at a diner, oblivious to one another. It's made clear the void represents their inner thoughts and trauma.

The diner lights flicker as a robber storms in, waving a gun. Chaos erupts. The woman instinctively ducks under her booth, clutching her necklace. The man freezes, his hands raised, his whiskey glass trembling in his grip. As the robber demands wallets and valuables, the man notices the woman across the room, her face pale and her hands shaking. Something about her—maybe her visible pain, maybe the way she clutches her necklace like a lifeline—strikes him.

The man, feeling a flicker of courage he hasn't felt in years, decides to act. He quietly gestures to her from across the room, signaling for her to toss her coffee cup toward the robber to distract him. Their eyes meet, and despite the moment's terror, there's a shared determination. She nods. When the cup shatters, the man rushes forward, tackling the robber to the ground. The struggle is messy, but together, they manage to subdue him as the police arrive.

In the aftermath, as sirens wail outside, they sit together in the now-empty diner, their breaths heavy, their adrenaline waning. For the first time in a long time, they smile.

A man sits on a bench outside a veterinary clinic, his head bowed, clutching his dog’s collar tightly. Tears fall freely as his mind floods with memories: his dog bounding through fields to fetch a stick, shaking off seawater during a summer beach day, and curling up beside him on a winter night by the fire. Each memory sharpens the ache of loss, the kind of friendship that feels impossible to live without. Time jumps forward, and now the man lies frail and weak in a hospital bed at home, an oxygen mask strapped to his face. Sunlight filters through the window, illuminating the dog’s collar, sitting prominently on the mantle. He turns his head, his tired eyes softening as he looks at it, and a single tear slips down his cheek. The sound of the heart monitor flatlines, and the room fades to white. Suddenly, the man is standing in a radiant, endless meadow, his hands young and strong again. Confused, he looks up and sees a familiar shape in the distance—his dog racing toward him, tail wagging and barking with joy. The man falls to his knees as the dog leaps into his arms, the two of them reunited. Together, they run and play in the meadow, the stick thrown and fetched effortlessly, laughter and barking echoing in the heavenly expanse. As they disappear into the glowing horizon, the screen fades to white, leaving only a sense of peace and unbroken love.

A young girl sits quietly on a small boat as it drifts down a river, her arms wrapped protectively around a broken dollhouse. Her hair clings to her face from the rain, and her tear-streaked cheeks glisten in the faint light. Behind her, the remnants of her home slowly disappear into the horizon—a crumbled roof, shattered windows, and waterlogged furniture swallowed by the floodwaters. Her small hands trace the jagged edges of the dollhouse, her fingers lingering on the tiny, broken shingles, a reflection of the home she'll never return to. She looks back one last time, her lip quivering, tears spilling over as the weight of loss settles into her chest.

The scene transitions to her grandfather's workshop, where warm, golden light contrasts sharply with the stormy blues of the river. The girl places the broken dollhouse on his workbench, its splintered edges illuminated under his careful gaze. He kneels beside her, wiping a tear from her cheek with a calloused hand, and together, they begin to rebuild. Her small hands learn to sand, glue, and paint under his guidance, and each brush stroke seems to restore a piece of her broken heart.

Time jumps, and now the girl is a grown woman, poised and confident in her own workshop, meticulously adding the final touches to a dollhouse far more intricate than the one from her childhood. Her hands are steady, moving with precision as she attaches a tiny, ornate chandelier to the ceiling of the miniature dining room. Her eyes flick to the corner of her studio, where the rebuilt dollhouse from her childhood sits, weathered but whole, as a silent witness to her journey.