I’ve always loved Halloween! So when I saw the black and red advertisement on social media asking for haunted house people, I applied without a second thought.
“Sign-ups for haunters—50 bucks a night, free pizza, and scare the shit out of people.”
I left a note on the chalkboard: Mom, gone out. Might not be back for dinner.
I made my way to the address on the form. This was the sketchiest-looking building I had ever seen.
After knocking on the screen door, a thick layer of dust fell on my hand. Shuddering, I wiped my hand on the outside of my jeans.
The door swung open, and a sickly sweet smell of rot and decay invaded my nostrils. I grabbed the tiny flashlight out of the pocket of my jeans. Looking around the room, I could see a wooden chair and a sign above it that said in sloppy block letters, “Wait here, you moron. You should have asked for details and directions.”
I cussed myself out. How could I be so dumb? I stomped my foot, and my chubby black boots made a loud thud. Crack! As I fell through the floor, a shooting pain pierced my ankle.
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a man coming out of the dark corner of the room.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
“Who are you?” My hands shook.
The noise intensified as he closed in on me. Something cold was pressed to my throat.
“Are you here for the job?” a mysterious voice called.
“Dude, you’re a really good actor!” I laughed. You scared the shit out of me.
“I’m not an actor.” the mysterious voice said flatly.
I could feel the knife against my throat, causing my heart to stop briefly. A man pushed me to the floor, and I could feel his hot breath against my neck. I screamed as the knife penetrated my neck. The pain was unbearable as I heard veins and muscles snapping.
“Who are you?”
“I’m the prop designer.”