Island Of The Slaughtered.

Day 1: Ezekiel Miller

Ever since they got onto that island, there was a hunch.

A very terrible feeling.

Everything, everywhere was all disgusting and gross. The bathrooms were nasty, the forest was terrifying, and the cabins? They weren't any better. The mattresses were horrible. Hopefully you brought a blanket, because the sheet was very thin.

Chris had invited all of these campers, not even doing a through inspection. They all knew there was something up on that island.

It had been the first day.

There was a boy, Ezekiel. Nobody liked him, at all. There was something up with him. But there wasn't. He was just a homeschooled boy that lived on a farm.

"Do you know where the bathrooms are?" Question. The first question he asked, was to Geoff, one of his teammates.

He had pointed in a direction, near the forest.. slightly in the forest. "Thanks." The boy had thanked the blonde man before heading out of sight into that direction.

Ezekiel thought.. no. He knew that there was something.. watching? Him. Maybe.. most likely following.

He decided to not give it another look and he kept walking.

He should've never left to use the confessional.

He didn't even have time to let out a cry for help.

First, the killer was smart.

Ezekiel was taken deeper into the woods, away from the confessional.

The killer sliced his head off with a swift move, then continuing to slice off any joins that he could.

Ezekiel lost his head, arms, legs, hands.. anything.

The killer wanted to leave a message, a warning. So they would leave, and hopefully never come back.

The body parts were dispersed all around the island, an arm in the kitchen cabinets, a few parts in trees, some in odd places..

Then, the head.

Ezekiel loved playing hide and seek as a kid.

Surely a nice way to go..

Nobody had known that his decapitated head was hidden underneath his own bunkbed.

Maybe the smell would've given it off to the other players.

Maybe, just maybe.

They'll find him.