A group of unsuspecting teens arrive to the set of a reality game show... a deserted island far from any continent. What could go wrong? They're kids after all. Told from every perspective, the dead, the alive, and the hunted. No being is expected t...
Great, why am I here again? I thought it was over...
Ever since that party incident at Celine's house, the dreams and hallucinations finally stopped. I thought maybe the worst was over, but clearly not. Now, I'm standing in an awfully vivid dream, waiting in line for something. It's slow moving, but I'm assuming it's one of the campers. I doubt I'll ever have a normal dream again.
I quickly figured out I was at a concert... one of those intimate ones in the round that circle three quarters of the stage. As I was pushed inside by the crowd around me, I attempted to get a good look at the stage, but it was constantly covered by people's heads. The crowd kept on pushing and pushing until eventually we all slowed... I was stuck in the middle of the crowd with nowhere to run if I had to.
Then, I looked up. Trent, plucking strings strategically on his guitar... nothing I couldn't do though. I blinked, and he looked at me, causing me to freeze up. His fingers continued to play the strange tune as he stared at me, wide-eyed. Once I had to blink again, he was all bloody...
Fishing spears had been shoved in random positions on his torso, with a giant hook impaling him through the neck. Blood poured from his mouth and wounds, trickling down onto the umbrella hooked through the belt loop of his pants. Jesus fucking Christ, what did this kid go through...?
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He stopped playing as the crowd looked towards me now. I could hear scattered mumbling and snickers.
"Who does this guy think he is?"
"It's his fault, you know."
"He shouldn't have left them to die."
"He has no excuse."
"Chris deserves the same fate."
The crowd was then silenced by an unsettling whine of a guitar. I glanced up to see Trent, still staring at me, bloodied and dead, with an electric guitar and pick in hand. He picks an irregular beat, one that's unsatisfying to say the least.
I hate to say it, but maybe the kid saved himself a life of rejection with that kind of talent. But of course, this is just a dream.
Mhm...
Yup.
Jesus, will he stop playing that beat? Each time the short 8 count repeated, the pitch rose higher, slowly starting to give me a headache. The crowd started to go wild, pushing and shoving as they jumped and screamed, dancing to the song (if you can even call it that). I needed to get out of here. I was uncomfortable, unwanted, and the music sucks. Then of course, he screamed. I looked up at him. His mouth was closed, but the noise indicated a wide mouthed song... which continued to blare as he stared at me.
I covered my ears as I prepared to shove people out of the way, but despite the growing applause, there was no one to be seen. Once the scream ended, he started to mumble... it was a strange tune... like a muttering Radiohead with blood splattered everywhere.
As the song continued, he threw the guitar to the side and started to walk over to me.
He jumped off the stage... I was frozen.
He was feet away from me... I was frozen.
I could only move again once I woke up in my getaway apartment. The sun reflecting off of my white room blinded my sleepy eyes, and if it weren't for the dream, it would have left me wide awake... wait what time was it?
I looked over at the clock on my bedside table. It was already 1:34pm, because of course it was. I rolled my eyes before rushing over to my home phone to see if I had missed anything while I was asleep. I checked to see I had three unopened voicemails:
"Hey Chris, it's Celine. You still haven't-" I quickly turned it off, already knowing she was asking for the money she swears I owe her.
"Mr. McLean, you missed your routine dental check up. You can't reschedule it for sooner and then miss it dude... I mean sir. Please call back to-" I skipped it, knowing I'd come back to it later.
"Hey it's Chef, a bunch of press has been coming to my door asking why we're already back from the island. No one big, but I sent them over to your house. Should be there about 2, 2:30 this afternoon... thought you should know."
He's kidding, right? I specifically told him to do the opposite the day we left the island, and I've been reminding him constantly. He's lucky he needs me, or else I'd fire him.
I started to quickly get ready. It doesn't matter if this is a small news station or a fellow celebrity, Chris always needs to look polished and perfect. I rehearsed what lies I would tell them, though none of them convinced even me. It didn't take long for my doorbell to ring. I glared at the clock to see it was 1:57pm. Must be a professional. I quickly did what I could to look my best before running to the door. I was shocked to see a nerdy ginger kid with vibrant curly locks. He had a weird tan to him, as well as buck teeth.
"What do you want, kid?" I furrowed my eyebrows, at first assuming this was a joke, but he had a notepad...
"Yeah, so uh-" he pushed up his glasses, "can I interview you about the disappearance of the kids you put on the island?"
"They're safe, happy?" I was about to close the door, but he shoved his foot in the way to stop me.
"Look, this story could really make my personal magazines a big name! Don't you want to help a small business?"
"No." I pushed his foot out of the way before closing the door in his face.
