20. The Rules of Horror #3
"Fuck... that Labrador almost busted me," he admits, shaking his head. "But, hey... I was hungry. I'd been locked in there for four hours. How was I supposed to know he had a built-in radar for my ham sandwich?"
[Slate claps.]
Quick B-roll. Morning light floods the kitchen floor. Ollie is wagging his tail happier than ever, triumphantly chewing on a piece of bread and ham that fell on the floor, licking his chops.
[CUT]
[REC – OUTSIDE GATES, HANDHELD CAMERA (DOCU-STYLE)]
The morning fog is lifting. The blinding high beams of the four black pickup trucks are suddenly killed, replaced by the harsh, white glare of portable TV floodlights.
Aunt Tina's crew—complete with smiling camera operators, boom operators, and PAs—pops out of the truck beds and from behind the vehicles.
The contestants freeze, panting, locked in a state of terror that rapidly morphs into shock.
"Are you kidding me?!" Cade snaps, throwing his hands in the air. "Are you fucking with us?!"
The silence that follows is shattered only by an explosive laugh. Carolina bends double, bursting into a genuine, liberating laugh. "I don't believe this! You bastards!"
The lens zooms in quickly.
Ron is not laughing. His muscles are still coiled tight, adrenaline still burning through his veins. He takes a step forward, his jaw clenched in a lethal scowl. He looks seriously ready to punch the first cameraman within swinging distance.
But he never makes it that far.
Selene's hand locks firmly around his bicep.
She pulls him back. She doesn't say a word; she simply rests her other hand flat against his chest—an intimate, grounding gesture that is enough to extinguish the fire in the cowboy's eyes.
Ron blinks, looks down at her, and, as if by magic, his muscles relax.
"I didn't sign up for simulated fucking heart attacks," Emerson barks, adjusting his crooked glasses with a menacing glare.
From the production crew, Mayor Nino steps forward, smiling. He pulls a folded packet of papers from his inner jacket pocket, unrolls it, and hands it to him.
"Look closely, my dear boy," he tells him, tapping his finger on a paragraph highlighted in yellow. "Page four, clause two. You signed up for exactly this."
Every remaining contestant shoots a collective look of pure, murderous hatred at the crew. The silence is thick with tension.
Then, slowly, the relief of still being alive takes over. Cade lets out a small chuckle. Josh shakes his head. Ten seconds later, the entire group bursts out laughing.
"Okay," Lizzie concedes, leaning exhaustedly against Josh's arm. "You guys just shaved ten years off my life, but... that was pretty badass."
Katherine steps forward, straightening her gold glasses. "So I was right!" she trills enthusiastically. "The fake killer was clearly based on the true legend of the Elm Hollow Butcher! The slicker raincoat, the crude mask, the weapon..."
Everyone turns to look at her, silence falling again, split evenly between awe and pure nerd dread. Sam strokes her hair with a proud smile.
[CUT]
[REC – FRONT LENS, SELFIE VLOG STYLE]
Natural lighting.
Ron is holding the handheld camcorder with one hand. He's wearing his black Stetson. He looks into the lens with an unreadable expression, his blue eyes piercing the camera, his voice low, narrative, and enveloping.
"Legend has it that in the early 1900s, Elm Hollow was a sleepy village, surrounded by thick forests and perpetual fog. It was during those years that a shadow began to fall over the town: a butcher, a quiet man with burning eyes, became the terror of the community."
Ron tilts his head slightly.
"He wasn't a ghost. He was a real, flesh-and-blood killer who roamed the night armed with a heavy meat cleaver. His shop, a small wooden building on the edge of the village, was always closed after sunset. And yet, people swore they heard strange noises: the metallic scrape of a blade against stone,
the dull thud of something heavy hitting the floor."
The camcorder shifts just a fraction.
"His victims—men and women who vanished without a trace—were found in the surrounding woods, their bodies mutilated so cruelly and ruthlessly that it made even the bravest men shudder. No one could stop him; the authorities back then, few, isolated, and distracted, were completely in the dark."
He takes a deep breath.
"One evening, a young village apprentice, sick of the terror and determined to uncover the truth, ventured toward the abandoned butcher shop. With a flickering lantern in his hand and his heart in his throat, he crossed the threshold, and came face to face with the incandescent eyes of the butcher.
The cleaver gleamed in the shadows, already raised, ready to strike."
He gives a lopsided smile, the dimple carving into his cheek.
"The boy miraculously managed to escape, but he brought back a fear so thick, so pure, that it has hung over Elm Hollow like an eternal curse ever since. And even today, they say that on nights when the fog swallows the streets, the spirit of that bloodthirsty butcher returns,
looking for anyone who dares cross his path..."
[BLACK SCREEN]
[Unidentified sinister noise]