Loglines & Screenplays by Volodimir Skorokhod

GENRES: Period Piece

Kroni watched as the boy she liked reached out his hand — not to her, but to another girl. The one whose hair shimmered under the soft glow of the hallway lights, whose voice rang clear and effortless, whose laughter scattered through the corridor and made people turn their heads without even realizing why stood aside. As always. Like background noise. Like something that exists, but is never truly seen.

If only I were different… were prettier, were braver, were like those girls — the kind that didn’t have to try to be noticed.

Kroni walked home in the rain. No umbrella, energy and thoughts, except one that echoed louder with every step:

There’s something wrong with me?

That night, she fell asleep without even changing her clothes, wrapped tightly in her blanket as if it were armor against the world, and then she dreamed. A dream that would change everything.

Kroni was no longer in her room. Around her stretched long металличес-looking walls, cold and endless, the air thick with the scent of iron and gunpowder. Shelves lined the space from end to end, and on them rested weapons — pistols, rifles, long barrels polished to perfection, every surface gleaming like a machine that had never once failed.

“Wrong place. Wrong people. Wrong choices.”

The voice came from behind her, Kroni turned sharply.

A woman stood there. Tall, draped in a silver cloak that seemed to catch and bend the light itself. Her eyes held something impossible — as if entire galaxies had been folded into them.

“Where am I?” Kroni asked, her voice smaller than she expected.

“In the shop,” the woman replied calmly. “This is where calibers are chosen.”

She ran her hand slowly across the counter, as if revealing something ancient rather than explaining something simple.

“Do you see them? Light, elegant, convenient. Popular. Loved because they fit everyone’s hands.”

Kroni stepped closer and ran her fingers along a row of small, perfectly crafted pistols — delicate, balanced, easy. The woman let out a quiet, knowing smile.

“No, child… don’t touch those. Your caliber isn’t here.” And she stepped aside.

Kroni followed her gaze — and froze. There, in the shadows, stood something immense. A cannon, massive, silent and covered in intricate engravings that shimmered like fragments of the night sky itself.

“This is… too much,” Kroni whispered.

The woman lowered herself beside her, not taking her eyes off the weapon.

“Exactly,” she said softly. “You were never meant to fit into something small. You are not made for everyone. You are made for impact ar they.”

Kroni looked at her, uncertainty trembling beneath her breath.

“But no one chooses me.”

The woman leaned closer.

“That’s because you keep trying to belong where you cannot be measured properly. It’s not that you are wrong for them… they are simply not your caliber.”

Kroni hesitated.

“And what if I don’t want to be a cannon?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, almost amused.

“Then stay here. Choose something small. Become easy to hold, to admire, and to understand. People will pick you up will turn you in their hands. They will compliment your convenience. You will be liked. You will be accepted.”

Kroni swallowed.

“But… then I won’t be able to shoot into the sky, will I?”

The woman nodded once.

“No. You’ll make neat, little shots — just a few steps ahead. And your real power will remain untouched.”

Kroni stood there in silence. Thinking. Feeling something shift. And then…

She reached out her hand toward the cannon. The moment her fingers touched it — everything disappeared. Darkness swallowed the space. Absolute. Endless. And only the woman’s voice remained, echoing from somewhere far beyond sight:

“You will be tested.”

“By who?” Kroni whispered.

Light exploded into existence. And suddenly, they were there. All of them. Everyone she had ever wanted to be chosen by.

The ones who ignored her, who rejected her, who spoke behind her back, she once tried so desperately to become.

“Look at her,” someone said with a smirk. “She thinks she can be something great.”

“She’s not for us,” another voice added coldly.

“She will never be like us.”

Kroni clenched her fists. And in that moment — everything became clear. This was the test. The final chance to step back, to abandon her true caliber, and chance to trade power for approval.

She could have done it, could have lowered her eyes and said, “You’re right”, could have tried again to fit into their world.

But instead…

She stepped forward, right into the center of them, and said:

“Yes. I will never be like you. Because I don’t need to be.”

And fire tore through the sky. Kroni woke up. Her heart was pounding like the opening drum of a battle. She stood in front of the mirror. And for the first time in her life, she saw herself clearly. Not as someone who needed to....