Kelly Asher
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kellyxasher.bsky.social
Kelly Asher
@kellyxasher.bsky.social
2K followers 1.3K following 2.5K posts
Screenwriter • Stroke Survivor • Nap Taker
Winner: Killer Shorts s5 + HorrOrigins ‘24
Creative & Development Exec - W8S Ent.
Writers Guild Initiative Alum

Linktr.ee/kellyxasher
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kellyxasher.bsky.social
The little script that keeps on giving.

Thank you @killershorts.bsky.social for including Don't Blink on the inaugural #ScreamList! I'm speechless!

#Scriptsky #Killeralum #Killershorts #DeadList
Black and white photo of a girl with a shadowy hand over her face and three laurels. White text: DON'T BLINK WRITTEN BY KELLY ASHER
November 10, 2025 at 5:27 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
In honor of my fuckit script's first laurels, I had to reshare the first page for #FirstPageFriday and #FunPageFriday
#scriptsky
EXT. FARM - DAY Worn leather boots covered in muck step through a sea of white feathers packed tightly together. SUPER: COLORADO, 1945 CHICKENS. At least fifty, frantically scatter and CLUCK. A hand as worn as the boots swoops down and effortlessly snatches a chicken. LEWIS GABLE (42), in tattered overalls, plods through the maniacal fowl, with the unlucky bird dangling by his side. He’s weathered, scrawny, and anything but lazy- he’s simply down on his (c)luck. Just outside a faded red barn, Lewis approaches a stump that has seen the blade of an axe hundreds of times. He lays the chicken on the stump, fussing to get it centered. LEWIS Thank you for your sacrifice. Lewis braces the chicken and with one hand, raises an axe above his head. INT. KITCHEN - DAY A freshly pruned and cleaned chicken SLAPS onto a butcher block. MARY GABLE (38), a rugged beauty and self-sufficient out of necessity, moves to a rack of more chickens and counts under her breath. She grabs a handwritten note from her apron and crumples it on an aggravated exhale. EXT. FARM - DAY Mary ambles past wilted crops to the eerily silent barn. INT. BARN - DAY Lewis rests on a dilapidated hay bale, and a single chicken curiously pecks the ground near his feet. MARY (O.S.) Lewis! We’re short! Lewis perks up. That can’t be true. Blurry photo of circus tents. White text: SIDESHOW WRITTEN BY KELLY ASHER
November 7, 2025 at 5:23 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Thrilled to share that two of my scripts were selected to advance! Thank you SO much @networkisa.bsky.social + @scriptpipeline.bsky.social for the honor! #Scriptsky #scriptsky+
www.networkisa.org/screenwritin...
Dark-haired girl with a medical bandage around her eyes like a blindfold. White text: DON'T BLINK WRITTEN BY KELLY ASHER Blurry photo of circus tents. White text: SIDESHOW WRITTEN BY KELLY ASHER
November 6, 2025 at 10:50 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Got another gig that I cannot wait to talk about.

Sent a draft in for notes/feedback, and got this in response.
My god, does this feel good.

#scriptsky
but you are doing an incredible job at this and I am really happy with how everything is developing!!
October 30, 2025 at 11:32 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
@leahfromsd.bsky.social look what I saw today!!🐬

#scriptsky
An A Class RV with underwater theme and dolphins.
September 8, 2025 at 10:14 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
If you ever feel bad about your writing...don't. 😘

Enjoy this slop that will eventually (hopefully) be a gourmet meal👩‍🍳

#Spectember #Scriptsky
GUY Whoa, steady there. A GUY in a top hat and a suit, buttons bursting at the seams, helps Lewis with the cage. Lewis nods with a half smile as his thanks. GUY Incredible, isn’t it? The guy doesn’t wait for a response. GUY Guy Guy. The guy extends his hand. GUY Put er’ there!
September 4, 2025 at 3:15 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Morality, eugenics & religion collide in this horror/sci-fi series that begs the question:

Would you attempt to genetically alter your unborn child(ren) if you received devastating news about their health that could severely impact their quality of life?

#Scriptsky #AustinFilmFestival #AFF
Two twins in yellow dresses sit back-to-back. Red text reads: TWINS A Digital Series Black Laurels: Script Competition Second Rounder Austin Film Festival Red text: Written by Kristen McNaule & Kelly Asher
September 3, 2025 at 11:01 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
BRB, going to make a million copies.

[Credit: Hoodfinch on IG]

#Scriptsky
Sign stapled to a utility pole reads: TRESPASSERS WILL BE ASKES TO READ MY SCREENPLAY
September 3, 2025 at 3:31 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Ohh, #PageTenTuesday sounds fun! Here's #10 from my #Spectember fuck-it script, SIDESHOW.
#scriptsky
Lewis mixes ground corn and water in a glass. LEWIS Okay boy, it’s your favorite. Lewis sucks the thick mixture into the syringe. He carefully finds the hole and injects it, this time with confidence. Kevin gulps it down...then starts spazzing. He’s choking! LEWIS Shit! Lewis scrambles. He tries to calm Kevin. LEWIS Mary! Lewis attempts and fails to give Kevin the Heimlich. Mary rushes into the chaos. LEWIS He’s choking! Mary’s eyes craze. She silently panics, then rushes into a different room. She comes back with a bulb syringe. MARY Hold him still! Lewis restrains a frantic Kevin. LEWIS There, that little hole. Mary JABS the suction bulb in and squeezes. Within seconds, Kevin relaxes. Mary and Lewis lock hopeful eyes. INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Lewis in bed, reading a newspaper. Mary wraps her hair in a nearby mirror. He looks at her. LEWIS I didn’t know you kept it. Mary plays dumb. MARY Hmm? Lewis folds the newspaper and sets it on a nightstand.
September 2, 2025 at 6:44 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Mine & Kristen McNaule's script TWINS is a Second Rounder in AFF! It's my first rodeo, too! This was an absolute blast to co-write.

Congrats to all who entered, advanced & are waiting for that call.
#Scriptsky #Killeralum
Laurel: Script Competition Second Rounder Austin Film Festival 2025
September 2, 2025 at 12:10 AM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Quote post a pic of you from another era.

I was a MUA deep into doing these face chart recreations 😅
Photo of Kelly with her makeup done half in color half B&W
August 31, 2025 at 7:54 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
This is my current 1st page...a failing farmer finds fame and fortune at a Sideshow with his headless chicken after he fails to cull him properly...essentially. Deciding on if I want it to be "how far will you go to stay in the spotlight" or a different angle.
EXT. FARM - DAY SUPER: COLORADO, 1945 Worn leather boots covered in muck step through a sea of white feathers packed tightly together. CHICKENS. At least fifty, frantically scatter and CLUCK. A hand as worn as the boots swoops down and effortlessly snatches a chicken. LEWIS GABLE (42), in tattered overalls, plods through the maniacal fowl, with the unlucky bird dangling by his side. He’s weathered, scrawny, and anything but lazy; he’s simply down on his (c)luck. Just outside a faded red barn, Lewis approaches a stump that has seen the blade of an axe hundreds of times. He lays the chicken on the stump, fussing to get it centered. LEWIS Thank you for your sacrifice. Lewis braces the chicken and with one hand, raises an axe above his head. INT. KITCHEN - DAY A freshly pruned and cleaned chicken SLAPS onto a butcher block. MARY GABLE (38), a rugged beauty and self-sufficient out of necessity, moves to a rack of more chickens and counts under her breath. She grabs a handwritten note from her apron and crumples it on an aggravated exhale. EXT. FARM - CONTINUOUS Mary ambles past wilted crops to the eerily silent barn. INT. BARN - CONTINUOUS Lewis rests on a dilapidated hay bale, and a single chicken curiously pecks the ground near his feet. MARY (O.S.) Lewis! We’re short! Lewis perks up. That can’t be true.
August 31, 2025 at 4:19 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
#ScriptSky

#ScreamPageSaturday

Post a page from anywhere in your script that is scream worthy.

Hope this does the trick.
Kate remains on her back. A SKITTER across the floor... Up the wall... On the ceiling... DRIP. PLOP. DRIP. Black tarry goop oozes onto Kate...her nightgown, her face, and she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even flinch. Eyes wide. Papery pieces of skin float down around her. A naked, frail being clings to the ceiling like a gecko. Its head turns one hundred eighty degrees. Stringy hair, rotten sockets where eyes should be. Like what she’s seen before, but this is a thousand times worse. This is the mother-load. The queen fucking bee. The parasite that’s going in for the kill. A spine-tingling shriek escapes from its unnaturally wide, gaping mouth. KATE I surrender. It breaks into a million tiny pieces, like nano-bots, and takes various shapes until reaching its final form- an exact replica of Kate, only pitch black. It settles over her like dust until it’s absorbed into her rigid body. Kate shoots up, gasping for air. She’s not the same- the entity has fully consumed her. INT. GIRLS' BEDROOM - NIGHT Maisy and Cass are sound asleep. A creak on the floor. Maisy’s eyes shift as a shadow approaches. She wakes up, just barely. MAISY Mom?
August 31, 2025 at 1:23 AM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Still one of my favorite scripts I've written.
My second feature, first horror.

I've got some news about it that I can't wait to share!

#Scriptsky #FirstPageFriday
B&W photo of a woman with a shadowy hand over her face. White text: Don't Blink Written by Kelly Asher “All that blood and eye horror would make me squirm more than anything Terrifier did.” “Scary, gross, and freaky in the best way.”“The violence is excellent, brutal.” “Captures your attention with some brutal horror and dares you to look away...” “It's lean, mean, and visceral as all hell.” INT. ONE ROOM HOUSE - DAY Bloodied, mangled BODIES and decapitated heads with eyes squeezed shut litter a splintering plank floor. SUPER: 1892 Poking out from under the expired is a OUIJA BOARD - BLINK and you miss it. The CLANK of spurred cowboy boots as they scuff through the crimson wasteland, then stop in their tracks when -- -- A spur gets lodged in a bodiless arm. A good shake of the boot and the bloody limb flumps off, landing on blood splatter that forms a symbol. The boots belong to SHERIFF BILL (50s), cowboy hat, chaps, and a stoic, weathered face with a smoldering cigar clenched between his teeth. Rookie Deputy BUDDY (25), scrawny and scared of his own shadow, navigates the body parts like landmines until he and Sheriff Bill are side by side. BUDDY Do you think... Sheriff Bill draws on his cigar; the embers glow a fiery red. A pained exhale as he surveys the mayhem. SHERIFF BILL The work of the devil himself. Buddy’s eyes glaze over with terror. Sheriff Bill ruminates, Buddy steadies his trembling legs. SHERIFF BILL Can’t let the rest of the townsfolk see this shit. BUDDY Whaddya reckon we do? Sheriff Bill grabs a bottle of liquor from a small table, takes a swig, then smashes it on the floor. SHERIFF BILL Burn it to the ground. Sheriff Bill chucks his cigar onto the corpses.
August 29, 2025 at 4:44 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Opting for #FunPageFriday feat. RED HOUSE/BLACK HOLE.
I'm excited about this one.

#Scriptsky #Horrorsky
KATE Tr...treck-sh...trex... LUKE Treacherous. Kate swipes the book away and rolls over. KATE I just want to go to sleep. LATER DREAM SEQUENCE Kate slips out of bed and into the - INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Kate flicks on a light, and it illuminates her reflection. She splashes water onto her face, eyes squeezed shut. When she opens them, something grabs her attention. She leans in, her hands trace the contours of her face. They move to her forehead and pause. SQUELCH! She shoves her hand into her forehead! A gaping, tarry black hole. Horror-plagued eyes as she pushes in further. She can’t stop. She’s elbow deep into a dripping black hole in the middle of her fucking face. She nods in obedience...to something. INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT - PRESENT A figure stands at the edge of the bed. It steps closer, and the floor CREAKS. Luke startles awake to see Kate wearing the mask, holding a butcher knife! He clambers to his knees. LUKE Whoa! Kate, what the fuck? Kate walks slowly towards him. Tilts her head.
August 29, 2025 at 3:34 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Maybe it’s the “mom-goggles,” but I’m so dang impressed with my kiddo’s (just turned 10) artistic chops & style. He’s self-taught in every aspect 🥹 ugh, my heart.
Digital drawing of T-60 Power Armor from Fallout.
August 24, 2025 at 10:41 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Thrilled to share that all of my scripts have earned this incredible laurel!

Thank you @pezscreenwriting.bsky.social for the opportunity and recognition!

#Scriptsky
Laurel: -Winner- The Maximum Z Screenwriting Contest 2025
August 22, 2025 at 3:13 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
open.spotify.com/track/7wWvwZ...
A little teaser of it starts here, then the full song at the end credits.

#scriptsky
INT. SHED - SAME Kate’s clothes are ragged- she’s been tearing at them. Her hair sparse and stringy. On the floor, in the corner, sits the mask. Gawking. Taunting. Tormenting. Her head bobs every which way, her eyes flutter as she fights to remain herself. White-knuckling her last ounce of humanity. Her body goes rigid, then contorts. VISCERAL FLASH Maisy, Cass, and Luke are all beyond dead. Bloodied sockets, nearly unrecognizable decomposed faces. That god-awful vapor. White, papery skin flutters around them as a possessed Kate hovers over them. PRESENT KATE No! A sadistic groan escapes her chapped, bloody lips. Kate musters up all of her energy and throws herself into the wall. THUD as she drops to the floor. KATE You’re not...going to hurt them! INT. GIRL’S BEDROOM - SAME Luke paces as he scrambles. CASS What happened? LUKE He said if she’s that much of a threat, to call the police. Maisy breathes heavily. Cass bolts to her feet. CASS You can’t do that after all this time! They’ll kill her!
August 20, 2025 at 4:35 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Cute little spam text I got last night🥰

I appreciate the proper use of the comma.

#scriptsky
Text message that reads: Are you going to homecoming, slut?
August 20, 2025 at 3:11 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Vibe check for RED HOUSE/BLACK HOLE, a psychological horror that explores the blurred line between possession and dementia. Inspired by my childhood.

#Scriptsky
A dilapidated shed/house. A woman floats in an abandoned house. An elderly person lies in bed, mouth agape. A distorted image of a person with their mouth open.
August 19, 2025 at 2:51 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
Spent the weekend celebrating the coolest, kindest, funniest, most talented, (and Star Wars obsessed) 10-year-old I know - mine🧡.
Birthday cake on a teal plate with rainbow sprinkles, a Happy Birthday banner, #10 candles, and a #10 on the front of the cake. Drawing of a Mandalorian helmet on Tatooine.
August 4, 2025 at 2:59 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
I didn't enter many competitions, but Coverfly was still a game-changer for me. Being on The Red List, getting industry downloads, the little badges, and getting an email from the team saying they wanted to endorse me all helped boost my confidence as a writer. Thanks for the mems.
#scriptsky
Coverfly Dashboard with rankigns of screenplays.
August 1, 2025 at 12:42 AM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
ROO

Coverfly Top 11% (lol again). Another requested script, and the first one I wrote that wasn't a short.

#ThurdPageThirsday #Scriptsky #writersky
FAYE Joey, call nine-one-one! Joey is frozen with fear, eyes wide. FAYE Call nine-one-one! Joey flees. Faye eases closer to Ethan, who slams his fists on his head. ETHAN I said go away! You're not real! FAYE Ethan! It's me, Faye. Your wife? Faye reaches for Ethan's hands. He swings at Faye and his fist connects with her jaw. Faye clutches her face. FAYE Ethan! Stop! This isn't you! You're not you! Ethan lunges at Faye, this time, flask in hand. ETHAN Go away! Faye stumbles backward. She SCREAMS. INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT Faye bolts out of the office and SLAMS the door, locking it from the outside. INT. HOME OFFICE - NIGHT Ethan scurries to the door and violently rattles the handle. Then SILENCE. INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT Faye trembles, chest heaving. Presses her ear to the door. Without warning, a GUNSHOT echoes and a bullet rips through the door above Faye's head.
July 31, 2025 at 3:48 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
The Forget-Me-Nauts.

Coverfly Top 17% (lol). One of the scripts requested by the manager.

#ThurdPageThirsday #Scriptsky #Writersky
MORGAN Shit. Imagine if she knew about all the others. EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY Morning rush in a drizzly Brooklyn. Morgan drags her suitcase, dodging PEDESTRIANS and potholes. Her phone BUZZES. 9:00 AM at the top of her screen. It's her boss, MR. CHEN, and she's an hour late. MORGAN Mr. Chen! I'm on my way, my uh, my aunt needed help with her -- A WOMAN who struggles with a tiny dog in a stroller bumps into Morgan. MORGAN Dog...stroller? Morgan holds the phone to distance herself from Mr Chen's incoherent shouting. MORGAN Please. I need this job. I'll make it up to you, just don't -- CLICK. MORGAN Hang up. Nothing else for Morgan to do besides laugh. MORGAN Alright universe. Is that all you’ve got? EXT. CAR - CITY STREET - DAY A rusty Saab with wipers on the headlights. Makeshift curtains block the windows. A pile of PARKING TICKETS on the windshield. Morgan rips open the newest- a thousand-dollar fine. MORGAN Fuck.
July 31, 2025 at 3:41 PM
kellyxasher.bsky.social
#FirstPageFriday from The Forget-Me-Nauts, a tragicomedy adventure 🥲

I know, I know, Over Black AND V.O. 😱🥴

#scriptsky #writersky
OVER BLACK The rhythmic THUMP of a headboard against a wall. The MOAN of a sexually satisfied - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT MORGAN PHILIPS (27), fresh-faced with surprisingly voluminous hair, as she wistfully takes in all that a dangerously chiseled MAN (20s) has to offer. She’s eating this shit up. MORGAN (V.O.) You know the story of King Midas, where everything he touches turns to gold? INT. BATHROOM - SHOWER - DAY Oversized with a rainwater shower head. Morgan and a WOMAN (20s), explore each other's curves. Heavy breathing and skin speckled with water droplets. Their lips lock, then Morgan's moves down the woman's outstretched neck. MORGAN (V.O.) That’s me, Morgan Philips, and everything I touch... INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Velvet sofas, mirrored coffee table, and a gaudy chandelier. Morgan on the sofa with her legs wrapped around a different MAN (40s). Heavy make-out session, straight out of a movie. MORGAN (V.O.) ...Turns to shit... LATER A nude Morgan supine on a coffee table. The woman and men huddle around her and snort white powder from her abdomen. MORGAN (V.O.) ...Probably because...I can’t keep my hands...or any part of me, for that matter...to myself.
July 25, 2025 at 4:27 PM