SKEWER
The word flashed on the TV screen, followed by black and the words "Directed Richie Kirsch."
The young couple watching from their sofa look on as the credits roll, before the woman looks at her boyfriend with a disapproving glance and callously remarks
"That. Is the last time I'm letting you pick what we watch for movie night."
The man next to her let's out a small chuckle as she gets up to toss their dishes in the sink.
"Oh, come on," he jokingly pleads, "I didn't think it was THAT bad."
The woman returns from the kitchen and sits next to him again.
"Really? You didn't think it was that bad?" She asks him, almost offended.
"I thought you liked those Skewer movies," he responds with amusement.
"No, no, no, I LOVE the STAB movies."
she says passionately,
"Those are masterpieces of cinema, a bright beacon in the sea of garbage that is the slasher genre these days.
"THIS," she says, pointing at the screen, "is some trashy, shoestring budget fanfiction that honestly did a better job offending me than your mom did the last time she was here!".
At this comment, her boyfriend becomes annoyed, "Hey, I didn't know there was a difference. It's just something I saw scrolling through r/independentfilms on reddit. I thought you'd like it. And my mom wasn't trying to offend you. It's not her fault she thought you were pregnant, " he cheekily retorts while taking a sip from his cup.
He turns around to see his girlfriend glaring at him with her jaw hanging wide open. She gets up and heads to their room, shaking her head as he returns to his drink, propping his legs up on the couch he had now resigned himself to sleep in tonight.
At that moment, he hears a knock on the door. He thinks of yelling at his girl to go answer it but thinks better of it and picks himself up from the sofa. Peering through the eye hole in the center of the door, he scouts the area, finding nothing. Shrugging, he turns around to return to his seat when he hears the knocking again. This time far more aggressively. He once again peers through the eye hole and once again finds nothing. Turning around once more, this time, the knocking becomes a fervent banging, shaking the doorframe with each strike. Having had enough of this, belts out a warning scream of "HEY" before throwing the door open.
Upon doing so, he finds himself face to face with a hooded figure. Wrapped in black robes, the figure stands perfectly still, calm in its demeanor. Its jet black garments masked the true size of its wearer and blended well into the dark suburban street. But most curious of all was the face, a ghastly white shrouded by a black hood. Its plastic texture glimmering in the moonlight, contrasting its gaping empty mouth and the dark, souless pits that were positioned where the eyes should be.
He suddenly felts a tickle in his midsection, a feeling as if liquid was trickling down his midsection. He looked down to see a dark red stain spreading like wildfire across the bottom half of his shirt. At the epicenter of this curious crimson stream of fluid was a shiny metallic silver blade, jabbed directly into his lower abdomen. He stood still, staring at the sight unfolding before him for a moment, almost as if unsure what to make of it. The blade suddenly retracted and quickly stabbed deep into him once more, this time puncturing right below his ribcage.
Suddenly aware of what was happening to him, the man sprang into action, striking the figure directly in the jaw, his fast making contact with the rubbery surface of the white mask. The figure breathed sharply in pain before pressing the knife deeper into his body, a shockwave of pain rippling through every nerve in the man's body as the pain finally caught up with him.
He pushed the figure away and slammed the door shut, pressing his body up against the wooden entryway while applying pressure to his wounds. Remembering his girlfriend, he screamed her name, yelling at her to call the police. She rushed into the living room in her nightclothes, shrieking at the scene before her. Collecting herself enough, she rushed to get her cell phone from their room, dialing 911 as quickly as her shaking fingers would allow.
"This is 911 what is the nature of your emergency?" The voice on the other end asked calmly.
"Please help. My boyfriend is bleeding, and I think there's someone trying to break into the house! You have to send someone, please!" She pleads desperately with tears in her eyes.
"Ma'am, please remain calm. Help will be on the way shortly. Can you please give me your home address?"
"Yes, thank you, thank you. We live on the west side of - "
AAAAAAARRRGGGHH
A loud scream cuts her off. She drops the phone in fright and rushes back into the living room. She stops dead in her tracks upon catching a glance of the front door. Her boyfriend is curled up in a lifeless heap on the floor, the gushing red blood from his body staining the white flooring as he lays motionless, his eyes open. The front door now a mess of holes and splinters. Unable to muster a scream, she slowly backs away, running back into her room to finish her. She scoops up the phone and brings it up to her ear, the 911 operator still on the line asking repeatedly if anyone is there.
Finding her voice, she weakly begs for help. Asked for her address once again, she begins listing out the information requested of her before a sudden realization makes her blood run cold. It's chilly in the room she notices. It's never chilly inside. She and her boyfriend despise the cold and keep the heater running at all times. She turns her head to the left, feeling a slight breeze on her cheek and the blood drains from her face at the haunting image in front of her. The bedroom window is wide open.
She turns further left just in time to see the masked figure rapidly burst from her closet and sink his blade deep into her flesh again and again. She quietly resigns herself as her life leaves her, collapsing to the floor with little more than a whimper. Now turning its attention to the phone in her hand, the figure picks it up and brings it up to its face. Pulling a small device from its robes, the figure presses a button, which makes a slight clicking sound followed by a low hum. The operator on the other end continues to speak,asking again where the address is. A sinister voice leaves the figure as it humorously provides the answer with a laugh.
Five squad cars and a wailing ambulance arrive on the scene mere minutes later, their flashing overhead lights illuminating the dark, quiet street corner. Several officers cautiously enter the house, guns drawn. The pass by the man's lifeless husk, signaling to the paramedics to enter the home upon verifying the front entry is clear. Sweeping through the rest of the abode, they discover nothing before finally reaching the bedroom. Upon entering they look upon the grisly murder sight, the woman's white nightgown now pink and her complexion pale. On the wall to the right, is a knife stabbed directly into the green wallpaper, pinning to the wall a single piece of paper. On that paper was a single sentence, scratched onto the white surface in messy lettering;
WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SCARY MOVIE?
