Four Gates of Death, The (2026)

[bunniefuu]

Oh. Sorry, I thought I was alone.

Well, since you're here,

could you spare a light?

No? I should've guessed.

Brave new world.

No one smokes anymore.

Mind you, I quit too.

But the habit remains.

Since you're here, why not stay a while?

It's rare anyone passes by.

Anyone alive, I mean.

I've got a good story for you.

Well, not one. Four!

Come with me. Listen.

What are you waiting for? Come on!

You've nothing to fear from me.

Up here it's all calm. If something

happens, it's down there. Got it?

Now follow me.

This story is a favorite of mine,

because the man it's about ended up

right here, in this very place.

And I don't just mean he's buried here.

That much is obvious.

But that he actually died here.

Strange business.

People don't usually come

to a cemetery to die.

But this bloke...

And the morning started off

so well for him.

Daddy

Based on the short story by Kiss Lajos

Written by Bernath Zsolt

Director of Photography and

Edited by Schilling Roland

Special Effects by Pinter Agnes

Music by Vegh Zoltan

Produced and Directed by Kiss Lajos

Right, that's sorted then.

Who the hell is this guy?

I think I've the right to ask, since

he's messing up my car with his DNA.

He's not here.

Course he is.

Coffee's ready. And so's our friend.

I usually take a dump after coffee.

I prefer a quick wank before coffee.

Don't care what comes out of him.

It'll be the last thing.

Unless you count brain matter.

Anyway, smoke him out.

While he's choking, I'll enjoy my coffee.

Don't rush.

I like to take my time.

What the f*ck's going on here?

Once we're done, we could

flog him as an organ donor. Mexico.

This one? What for?

With our luck it'd be like

that film Body Parts.

Where the guy's donor hand

starts k*lling people.

You're the film buff.

I just do the job.

No coffee for you?

Since I'm not paying you anyway,

you might as well take it.

Free coffee?

Thanks, but no thanks.

Looks like you've

smoked him out properly.

Our mate must feel like

he's in a Carpenter movie.

You know The Fog?

Only the ghost pirates are missing.

Only you'd miss them. I can't promise

ghosts, but a corpse I can.

He's got five seconds.

There. Finally gave in.

Looks like someone who nearly

lasted ten rounds with Rocky.

Before running out of breath.

Right, chuck him in the boot.

Fine by me.

Shame we didn't bring a body bag.

Proper b*stard. Used to be editor-in-chief

of a horror magazine.

A horror mag? That's his crime?

You're into horror too.

You showed me that eyeball-stabbing

filth last time.

Yeah, "See No Evil."

Remember the ending?

Yeah. Nearly lost my lunch.

Nothing wrong with horror.

But this scum ran a

beauty contest in the mag.

This one?

Yep. And only picked underage girls.

Printed their photos too.

A filthy pedo.

Got what he deserved.

How'd you feel if it was your

daughter he drooled over?

Let him rot. Just not in my car.

Anyway, let's talk about your date. Much

more interesting than this piece of sh*t.

At least the girl's legal, right?

Shut up.

Here, check out the chick.

Wow. Don't usually get jealous,

but I'll make an exception.

Tell you what: You bury this guy,

and I'll pay for her dinner.

You can pay for dinner.

But you'll have to bury your own guy.

We'll be passing the cemetery anyway.

We'll chat more on the way.

You're bloody mad.

I thought this was a joke.

Who arranges a date in a cemetery?

Unless she's someone who

doesn't like her partner too active.

Oh, shut it. Some like it hot.

Met her online. Horror film group.

Guess how many women

were in that group. One.

Wrote to her straight away.

And get this: She loves Italian horror.

Magnifico.

Personally, I'd have gone cinema.

Or pizza, if Italian's the theme.

We'll go to the new Alien film later.

First, a little get-to-know-you.

She said she had a strange

request: The cemetery.

Sorted it like wiping your arse.

That's where it all goes wrong.

Maybe she was a bloke

before. Had the op in Thailand.

For f*ck's sake.

Can't take you seriously.

Relax, mate.

But honestly, this place

gives me the creeps.

Reminds me of Night of the Living Dead.

Even I've seen that one. Not the sort

of story I'll tell my grandkids though.

I've plans for her. The girl.

If she's into me and we

click, I'll keep her.

Bit of fun till I'm bored.

If not...

That's what I love about you.

Such a romantic. Such respect for women.

She wanted the cemetery, so I said yes.

Who knows what goes through the head

of a girl fifteen years younger.

Always something new under the sun.

And under the ground.

Fifteen years younger?

Give me her number. If that's her thing,

I'll crawl in a coffin with her.

Wouldn't doubt it.

Anyway, that's the story.

Still a bit nervous though.

Hope she's not some necro chick.

That'd be too much.

But here she comes, so I'm off.

So much for friendship. You could

at least introduce me, you d*ck.

- Later. First get the guy out of the boot.

- Alright, I'm going.

The boot's soaked up his stink.

I mean the body's stink. Go on.

Hi! You must be Timi.

The horror fan.

That's me.

We'll see if I sink or swim.

Sorry for the odd choice of place,

but thought in for a penny.

Cool girl. Since it's horror,

fancy a test question?

Sure, but I'll ask.

Which film has Lugosi as a mad professor

experimenting with a gorilla

in the jungle, plus two comedians?

Don't insult me. If there's a

second date, up your game.

The film's Bela Lugosi Meets

a Brooklyn Gorilla.

Fair. I'll up my game.

If there's a next time.

Kidding. Really glad to meet you.

My exes couldn't even pass a Disney quiz.

But why here, of all places?

Let's take a walk.

You know, I lost my dad when I was eleven.

He always protected me.

He was my world.

Always said, when I had a boyfriend, I'd

have to introduce him. Get his blessing.

A promise is a promise.

Two proverbs are enough for today.

But wait. You don't mean

I do. I'd like to take you to

his grave. To introduce you.

I know it's a strange request.

I'll understand if you walk away.

Not that bad. And now I'm quoting

proverbs too. You're a bad influence.

I'm in. Strange, but fine.

My exes only asked me not

to come inside them. Sorry.

That I'll never ask.

Here it is.

But those graves are old.

Hundred years at least.

Not at all.

We're just too young.

Look, how about we get this over

with quickly, then grab a pizza?

I'm a good listener.

I'm happy to hear about you

and your dad, the bond, all that.

Listen, I'm up for anything that won't

make tomorrow's papers and isn't ill*gal.

But first, the formalities.

Introduce me to your dad, sure.

But let's be honest, we're in

a cemetery, and he's dead.

Which means, no offense, his opinion

doesn't carry much weight anymore.

- Dear Dad, this is Laci. We just met.

- What the f*ck?

Well, Dad, guess you didn't

like him either. Maybe the next one.

Hi, saw you like Italian

horror too. Fancy a chat?

Not your everyday story, eh?

And there's more.

But since you're here, let's talk

about who lies just behind us.

Strange, isn't it? Only two meters

between the living and the dead.

But you know what?

If I used my spade now as it's meant

to be used, you know what I'd dig up?

A proper old-fashioned hamburger.

Yes, you heard right. They buried a

hamburger instead of the bloke.

People had a sense of humour back then.

He started his day with

a coffee too, like me.

Yeah.

Dad, what is it?

Norbi, that you?

Son, you need to come home.

Your Mum...

I don't get it, Dad.

What about Mum?

What's happened?

Listen, Dad. I'll hang up now.

You call an ambulance,

then lock up the dog

and open the gate, alright?

You can do that.

112... or 04, whatever.

Clear? I'll call you back

in five minutes.

It'll be fine. Do it.

I'll ring you.

Bloody hell.

Fresh meat

Director of Photography

and Edited by Schilling Roland

Special Effects by Pinter Agnes

Based on the Short Story by G. V. Cooper

Written by Bernath Zsolt

Music by Vegh Zoltan

Produced by Kiss Lajos

Directed by Bernath Zsolt

We should go get some meat.

Meat?

Yeah, Csaba just rang.

Fresh stock. k*lled a pig.

Some chickens too.

Or had you other plans?

Sorry. Hardly slept.

You're driving?

Why, you got a license suddenly?

I'll never get one.

Thought we could have a barbecue tonight.

Burgers maybe. Plenty of meat.

I don't cook much since...

I know, Dad. Burgers sound good.

MISSING FARMER!

Should we be afraid?

- Any cafes around here?

- Cafe? Not a bloody chance.

The Thirsty Shepherd. Mum worked there,

back when you two got together.

Closed two years ago.

Like every other pub.

Lighter's there.

Best not. Ciggies k*lled

your mum too.

What?

She got up that night for a smoke.

Couldn't go without the stuff.

Twice a night, every night.

Never turned the light on either.

Tight as hell.

Some rag on the stairs,

or whatever it was.

Slipped.

No chance.

Her neck... completely- - No, no. I

want to remember her as she was.

Last time I saw her.

At the airport.

She cried the whole way home.

This Csaba the one I used to stay

over with when there was no school?

Yeah.

Came back about a year and a half ago.

Traveled loads, even in the East.

Not everyone likes him.

Drives a flashy car.

Broken Hungarian. Accent like he

left in '56, not '90.

But his stock's good, I'll give him that.

And cheap. Don't know how

he makes a profit.

Chicken's expensive but who wants

chicken when you can get beef?

I come here every month to stock up.

The freezer you gave us is always full.

Old Csaba, yeah.

And there was another old guy,

came round often. Jozsi. Kiss Jozsef.

The farmer.

Had loads of land.

Or used to.

I just read he disappeared.

How can someone vanish round here?

Swamp's deep enough.

Probably got pissed, wandered too far.

You two used to meet up?

Norbi, lad. No one meets

anyone here anymore.

Everyone leaves if they can.

In the last year and a half,

more than ten people moved away.

Two families, a young couple,

a few old folks.

And old Jozsi?

How should I know?

Haven't seen him in at least a year.

Last time just from afar.

Waved from his bike, then off he went.

Everything's changed here.

Especially now Mum's gone.

Dad?

Here we are.

Thought you'd be later!

Norbi says my coffee's rubbish.

Thought maybe yours is better.

We met at the funeral.

And I was here loads as a kid.

Fine young lad you've

grown into. Well fed.

Unlike English cooking, eh?

Need the loo.

Sure, as you say over there.

I'll sort the coffee meanwhile.

Still got a bit of work with the stock,

but we'll have time to chat.

Hope you're not in a rush.

I've no plans. And Norbi.

I promised him the best burger of his

life, so best you get your act together.

I'll vouch for the meat.

You're one of my best customers.

Since the countryside went

downhill, it's hard to sell.

Twenty years ago city folk came

out from Damonya. Since the motorway,

this place is too remote.

Kids today don't even know

what real home-grown meat is.

I remember. The old well

used to be here.

See? Your coffee really is crap.

Or his stomach's weak.

Go on, we'll clean up later.

There'll be plenty of mess.

What the hell is all this?

Eh?

Sorry, my ears aren't what they were.

What the f*ck is this?

What's going on, Dad?

Don't call me that.

What?

You're not my son!

God knows whose b*stard you are!

Wh-what are you talking about, old man?

Told you not to call me that!

You're not my son, which means

I'm not your dad! Got it?

Call me Zoli, like everyone else!

You little sh*t.

Not that you'll have

time to get used to it.

Uncle Csaba, you winding me up?

What the f*ck's going on here?

What. The. f*ck. Is. Going. On?!

Norbi, shout all you like.

No one's around.

No one even knows you're here.

What the hell are you doing?

Wanted to tell you,

but Zoli wanted it quick.

I said you should at least

know why you're going to die.

Half an hour tops.

Come on, Zoli.

The boy deserves the truth,

after living in lies.

Fine. Let it be.

Short then.

The truth is, your sainted mother

was a filthy wh*re.

And no doubt she still is, down in hell.

Our marriage wasn't balanced,

but I thought no big rows.

At least that's what I thought.

Till three months ago.

We argued about something stupid, probably

her bloody f*gs, or how tight she was.

I didn't get it at first,

then it clicked.

Said nasty things. She said I was

useless in bed, always had been.

And that you were living proof.

Oh, next day she denied it,

said she was just ranting.

But I couldn't let it go.

Remember when you came

home for a few weeks?

I nicked your toothbrush.

Sent it to the lab in Damonya.

My toothbrush? Why?

It had your spit on it, you idiot.

Sent mine too.

My spit, I mean.

You can't be serious.

Waited five bloody days for the results.

That kind of test tells you

the chance I'm your father.

Guess what it said?

Zero point zero zero zero.

You're not my son.

No way...

Yes yes. Your mum

was a dirty slag.

A wh*re who cheated on me from the day

we moved here. And you - you're the result.

Don't you dare call her that.

I'll call her what I

like! Thirty four years

I stuck with her.

Thirty four bloody years.

While she cheated all along. While I

rotted day and night in that bloody lorry!

- Easy.

- Stay out of this!

How do you think I felt?

How do you think I felt,

seeing that test?

Zero point zero zero,

zero point zero zero zero!

And how's that my fault?

I didn't ask to be born!

Oh, you should've seen her eyes

when I showed her the results.

First she denied it, then admitted it.

Just never said who her pimp was.

I felt relief, seeing

her neck twisted like that.

You b*stard!

Your father, sorry, Zoli came to me,

told me everything.

I promised to help with the problem.

With you. We agreed this is

how to end the story.

The pigs will take care of the rest.

You can't be serious.

k*ll me because Mum cheated?

You're insane. You won't

get away with this.

Oh, we will.

You'll vanish, Norbi.

If some distant relative asks,

I'll say you got on a plane

days ago, haven't heard since.

And no one's asking the pigs.

Help! Somebody help me!

Shut your gob!

Guess who was f*cking your mum?

Time for a little nap.

English cooking isn't

exactly famous for...

Uncle Csaba. What is this?

And what you said.

You and Mum?

What's not clear?

We had an affair.

Sorry for the harsh words earlier. She

didn't deserve that. She was a good woman.

This peasant k*lled her.

- Csaba!

- He'll pay for it.

What the f*ck's this?

What the f*ck is going on?

Funny. You two really could

be father and son.

Both so slow on the uptake.

Why are you doing this? Why'd you

knock me out? This wasn't the deal

Because you k*lled the

only woman I ever loved.

f*ck you, you pimp b*stard!

I'll k*ll you!

Say one more word and

I'll cut your c*ck off.

Uncle Csaba...

Relax. You'll be fine.

How could I hurt my only son?

Though, if I hear "Uncle Csaba" again...

Anyway. Quiet now.

Short version: Why he's going

in the freezer, and you're not.

Summer '93, I got together

with Anna. At the Thirsty Shepherd.

Weekly, fortnightly.

Sometimes a hotel in Damonya.

You never noticed.

Anna said you weren't

much in bed. Truth is,

she was almost grateful

you left her alone.

With me, she was happy.

And when Norbi was born.

I knew he was mine.

Anna didn't hide it.

I begged her to run off together,

but she refused. Too ashamed.

So I stayed the family friend, the uncle.

You spent loads of time here too, kid.

I'd have kept the secret

to the grave for Anna. But...

Then you turned up one morning.

Told me what you'd done.

And what you planned for Norbi.

You asked for my help.

And I said yes.

Sometimes you have to k*ll,

you know that.

But I wanted Norbi to

know the truth first.

Now he does.

You're not needed anymore.

So what now?

What are you going to do?

You're going in the freezer.

Like the others.

When I said this morning I had work

with the stock, this is what I meant.

This one's Jozsi Kiss.

His photo's on the tree.

And in the morning paper.

And this is Margit.

Went to school with her.

Popped by last month with eggs.

Sweet woman.

No. You can't think you'll

get away with this.

You've said that already.

Six people have vanished in a year,

and no one's even questioned me.

No trace, no motive.

Unless you count that I picked up

the taste for human flesh down south.

Not for everyone.

But to each their own.

I don't believe this.

I don't believe this.

Bloody hell, do something, son!

Son, my arse.

This is a nightmare.

Yes. Your nightmare.

I'd do it myself, but there's

someone more suited.

Untie me, Dad.

Don't do it, Norbi!

You know I'm your real dad, I raised you!

That b*stard just f*cked your mum.

Thanks, Zoli.

No, son! Don't-!

Tell me, Dad.

Taste. Eating habits.

You think they're inherited?

NEW DISAPPEARANCE IN DAMONYATORONY!

Fear grips the farms.

Fresh meat

Well, at least some

put themselves to use!

But others, others die for nothing!

Like this one here.

Or that one there.

Not buried together, not related,

but they died at the same time.

Over a worthless object.

Want to hear the story?

Then listen.

Let there be darkness

Based on the Short Story of David Damina

Written by Bernath Zsolt

Director of Photography

and Edited by Schilling Roland

Special Effects by Pinter Agnes

Music by Vegh Zoltan

Produced and Directed by Kiss Lajos

It's not your business, keep away.

You're nuts!

Why?

That's a fortune!

Ricsi, you've been around me.

You know me.

Juli, I adore you, but this is too much.

It's only 150 grand.

Only? You're a collector, sure,

but no tape's worth that!

This one is.

What's so special about it?

You know CWT, I told you.

We watched "See No Evil" together.

Yeah, yeah.

Well, this was their first horror film:

"Let There Be Light," aka "Transplant."

Released officially on VHS.

But the filmmakers made their

own edition, too. Only a handful exist.

Mega rare! Even the director's

got none left. And now it's here!

Someone posted it in a group. Worth every

penny. I'd have been stupid not to grab it.

It's even on YouTube. I was just watching

it before you came. For the hundredth time.

So when's this big buy happening?

Meeting the seller this afternoon.

Still don't believe it. Where'd you

get that money? Funding revolutions?

Not exactly.

I'll just cut back later.

Less pizza and stuff. I'll manage.

This one I had to have.

That's it, love.

We're off to Egypt.

It'll be great.

- Varga Juli?

- Yes, hi.

Hi, Peter Nell. Sorry I'm late, my band

wanted to rehearse. So I'm in a rush.

Here.

Wow, brilliant! Been hunting this

edition for ages. Looks amazing!

It's in top shape. Worth much

more than I'm asking.

Well?

Yes, I'll take it.

- Thanks very much. Have a nice evening!

- Thank you, too!

What do you want? Don't hurt me!

I've got money. Take it! Just leave me!

I don't want your money.

Where's the VHS?

What VHS? What's going on?

Don't mess with me! Let There Be Light.

Where did you get it?

I don't have it!

Just sold it to some YouTube girl!

That's not the question.

I know who you sold it to.

Where did you get it?

It was my dad's. He died.

I found it in his stuff.

You'd better not be lying.

I'm not. It's true.

See? Not so hard.

You had to rush, didn't you.

Now you're hobbling.

Very funny. Not my fault I tripped.

Accident.

Yeah. Hurts?

Like hell. But I've got the tape.

My followers will be green with envy.

Just need to make a video about it.

That can wait a few days.

Cool. Still can't believe 150 grand.

Now you'll be spending on bandages.

Worth it. At least I can skip work

and watch it again. 101st time.

Fine, but get some sleep first.

We'll meet later.

Thanks.

- See ya.

- See ya.

Oh, for f*ck's sake!

- Piss off!

- Where's Varga Juli?

Where's Varga Juli?

And the tape!

- The tape! Where is it?

- I don't know!

- Where's Varga Juli?

- f*ck you!

Where's the tape?

Who are you?

A collector. Like you.

Just not public.

I saw the ad too, but you beat me.

Now hand it over.

Go to hell, b*stard!

Where's the tape? The original.

Let There Be Light.

Upstairs. On the bed.

That's not the original. That's a fake.

Where's the real tape?

Looks like we've both been conned.

You too. You did all this for nothing.

Takes energy, this job.

Two funerals today, plus an exhumation.

But while it lasts,

I'll tell you the fourth story.

Maybe the wildest of all.

You know why?

Because no one lies in this grave.

Yet I buried the dead man myself.

I shiver just thinking of it.

Every time I pass,

I look over my shoulder.

Never know what might happen.

These others I don't fear.

If I buried them, it's fine,

even if the family moves them later.

That's okay.

But an empty grave, with no one in it...

that's different.

Where was I?

Ah, yes. The story.

The interrogation

Director of Photography

and Edited by Schilling Roland

Special Effects by Pinter Agnes

Music by Vegh Zoltan

Produced by Kiss Lajos

Written and Directed by Bernath Zsolt

It stuck. The shift.

Sorry?

The shift key.

Press it. Might work.

You're ahead of me.

Better now.

So. Fifty eight. Hm.

Your plastic surgeon's good.

Just joking.

Genetics.

They say if I were vegetarian

I'd look younger still. But I'm not.

You writing that too?

Anything might matter.

You said when we came in you hadn't

been here since childhood. Born here?

You could put it that way.

I'm one of those who skipped that event.

Sorry?

Caesarean.

They pull the baby out with a knife.

That's not birth.

A baby wants to be born.

Seems I didn't.

We don't need to start with Adam and Eve.

What's this got to do with childhood?

Everything.

Didn't you know?

It's all decided in childhood.

Inside, you're still a six-year-old boy who

hated carrots and loved semolina pudding.

I hated semolina. And if you don't mind,

I won't add that to the statement.

What's this mess?

Just look.

You're visual, right?

Then you'll picture what I tell you.

That's all that's left

of the family album.

That's me.

Ten years after the caesarean.

Odd way of keeping time.

And him?

That's Robi.

My best mate. Was.

We grew up together. That old block in

Kossuth Street, with the inner courtyard.

Now a ruin. I saw it.

Of course you did. You called us there.

Wish you hadn't.

I should be at a wedding with my wife.

Lucky it's not my own.

That house was like a city.

A city within the city.

Builder must've gone mad with it.

Couldn't stop.

One more wall, one more courtyard,

another balcony, more cellars below.

A hundred flats.

But we only cared about one.

Go on.

That's where the old man lived.

What old man?

The oldest tenant.

Robi's dad was a journalist.

Had a decent camera.

We took about a hundred photos

of the old man. This is all that's left.

We even interviewed the neighbours.

Sorry?

Went round asking

what they knew about him.

Turned out everyone had moved in later.

Mrs. Margit said when they moved in,

he was already on a stick.

Mr. Bela, who moved in as a child,

said he was already retired.

No one ever saw him go to work.

And what was your conclusion?

That he was a vampire.

Moved in a hundred years earlier.

Sorry?

Vampire.

Like in the Lugosi film.

You're taking the piss.

Instead of telling me what happened today.

Today?

Today, I visited Robi.

My best friend.

After fifty years.

Not seen him since.

But let me start from the beginning.

Please do.

Robi.

Can I interrupt?

You are.

Mind if I sit?

Since when do you ask?

Your mum said you work here.

I just thought... you know.

Yeah, I know.

No, no. I don't drink.

Maybe because of what happened then.

I do. Since then.

We were ten. Both of us.

Never too early to start.

So. Tell me why you came.

Though I don't care.

Didn't mean to bother you, just...

We never talked about it.

About what you saw.

At the old man's flat.

You broke into a private flat?

Trespass?

Didn't call it that.

But yes.

We spied on him.

Then one morning when he

went to the shop, we went in.

Robi did.

I stayed outside on watch.

And what did he find?

You know, we nailed it.

I guessed werewolf, you said vampire.

We were kids. Half of it was in our heads.

You know what, maybe I will have a drink.

In our heads, eh? Maybe yours.

But I saw what I saw.

What did you see?

The truth.

I- I'm sorry...

Don't be. You were right.

The old man was a vampire.

And that sort of thing spreads.