Two ghosts, in the night.

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September 1995, Woodsboro, CA

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September 1995, Woodsboro, CA.


I pull on the black cloak, noticing how it glitters subtly from the dim overhead light of the car. I place the white mask over my face then lift the hood over my head. I see my reflection from the wing mirror, it's perfect.

I pick the knife up from the glove compartment, the blade shimmers with my distorted reflection. For the first time, I feel like I'm seeing my real self. 

I place the knife in the sheaf which I have strapped to my left arm. Stu beside me, mirrors my actions. Both of us in silence, we have spoken this plan over a thousand times. 

Maureen came home with a male guest just as planned, his car is parked just a block over.

We're waiting.

We are ready.

The Prescott's front door opens and a man closes it behind him quietly then starts to walk up the path and out the gate. We watch as he keeps walking well staggering. He's intoxicated. I start the car and crawl along, keeping him in view but far enough that he doesn't notice the lull of the engine. He reaches his car and keeps walking, this is better than I expected.

I turn the car around and park it back up in the hidden spot by the trees. 

It's time.

We both get out the car and head to the Prescott's home. Two ghosts, in the night. We are silent. We walk through the gate and up to the front door, a low light through the glass tells us she's still downstairs. I gently pull down the handle without a sound, something I have practised for months. The door opens and we step inside, to the left on the couch lies Maureen. Her eyes closed, head on the pillow. Some moody music gently playing from the stereo, perfect for the scene. Multiple glasses and bottles of alcohol are scattered across the coffee table, along with an ash tray and stubbed out cigarettes. She's unconscious. Stu pushes the door too without closing it fully. I look at him and nod, he nods back. 

I step closer to Maureen, my black combat boots make the floorboard creak and her eyes open. Horror flashes in her familiar yet different brown eyes.

I lunge forward and grab her throat with both of my hands, choking her. My knees either side of her on the couch, her body automatically starts wriggling, fighting if you can call it that. Nothing can escape through her mouth, not air let alone words. Just gasping, squeaking, croaking. I put more and more pressure on her windpipe, her arms flail hopelessly. Suddenly she tries to claw at my arms but to no avail, then she tries to grab at the mask but I keep pressing. Her eyes, wide, desperate, scared. The blood vessels, bursting in front of me. The whites of the eyes darkening until she stops fighting, I feel her body fall limp. I slowly remove my hands, she lies there, her weak, shaking hands stutter up to her neck and she mouths the word Sidney but nothing comes out. I pull the knife from under my left sleeve, I see the terror in the reflection of her eyes. I grip tightly around the blade with my right hand, I lift it high above my head and bring it down into her chest, then again,  and again, and again. I slam it into her more times than I can bother to count, blood spurts from her mouth. She tries to defend herself but her hands just get cut from the blade. Then they fall to her side, her body not even limp. Just motionless. Her eyes still open, staring ahead at nothing. The light has left them. She's dead. 

I stand, breathing heavily. The knife at my side, I hear the blood dripping onto the floor beneath me. I feel complete. No, almost. Yet, my mind is silent for the first time. My body shakes involuntary from the adrenaline that has taken over me, I wipe the blood drenched knife with my shaky gloved hand. And turn to face Stu. He's stood watching, enjoying. I step aside and bow with the knife towards the corpse. He steps past me, pulling the knife from his sheaf. He kneels beside the cadaver, he lightly traces the blade against it's brown blood dampened hair, then down the neck and across the blood drenched dress. Then with both hands on the knife, he drags it down the middle of the torso, from end to end. He stops then drops the blade and sticks his fingers into the incision, opening the wound, pulling the insides out. They're a weird shade of red, almost brown yet also pink.

We hear movement above, both of our heads turn to the stairs behind us. Stu stands and picks up his knife, wiping it like I did. I look around the room quickly, I need something. I see a mans jacket on the arm chair beside the scene, blood absorbing into the fabric, discolouring it. I yank off the cloak then mask and hand it to Stu. I pick up the jacket and pull it on, I point with the knife to Stu then towards the back door, he nods and follows my directions and exits out of view. I slide my knife back into it's sheaf then open the front door wide, closing it hard behind me with a bang. I walk fast up the path, not looking back. Just as I step out of the gate, I hear Sidney's scream. 

This is going to make a great scary movie.


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