ACT I — THE ANNOUNCEMENT

INT. QUIET PRESS ROOM – NIGHT

The room is dim. No flashing lights. No red carpet. Just a single microphone and a man who has narrated hope, justice, and humanity for generations.

MORGAN FREEMAN, 87, steps forward slowly. His posture is steady. His eyes are calm.

The room holds its breath.

MORGAN FREEMAN (softly):

“I’ve spent my life giving voice to stories. Tonight… this one is mine.”

A pause. Not for drama. For truth.

MORGAN FREEMAN:

“In this world — in this version of it — I have been diagnosed with terminal Stage-4 cancer.”

Gasps ripple through the room. Some avert their eyes. Others lean closer, as if proximity could change fate.

MORGAN FREEMAN:

“This is not an ending announcement. It’s an honesty announcement.”

Silence.

ACT II — THE MAN BEHIND THE VOICE

INT. MONTAGE – MEMORIES

— A young Freeman rehearsing lines alone in a small theater

— Long nights on set, waiting for the right take

— Quiet laughter between scenes

— His voice echoing over images of hope, pain, redemption

MORGAN FREEMAN (V.O.):

“People think my voice is my gift. But my real gift… was listening.”

The camera lingers on his face.

MORGAN FREEMAN:

“I listened to humanity. And it told me to be gentle. To be honest. To stay curious.”

ACT III — LEGACY

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – DAY

Sunlight pours in. Freeman sits by the window, watching children play outside.

A DOCTOR enters, hesitant.

DOCTOR:

“How are you feeling today?”

MORGAN FREEMAN (smiles):

“Grateful. That’s the word.”

The doctor nods, emotional.

ACT IV — THE FINAL MESSAGE

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – NIGHT

A single microphone. One last recording session.

MORGAN FREEMAN:

“If this is my final chapter… let it be simple.”

He looks straight into the lens.

MORGAN FREEMAN:

“Be kind. Not because the world is watching — but because someone is hurting.”

His voice doesn’t crack. It resonates.

ACT V — THE CURTAIN FALLS

EXT. SKY – SUNSET

The sun dips below the horizon.

TEXT ON SCREEN:

Some voices never fade. They echo.

FADE TO BLACK.