Canyon Coyote

-Coyote's first film-

It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder rumbled ominously across the sky, while inside Coyote's car, the atmosphere crackled with a mix of anticipation and excitement. The red and blue neon signs of downtown businesses flickered erratically, their glow dancing across the rain-slicked windshield. Coyote's eyes were laser-focused on the road ahead, navigating sharp turns along a route etched into his memory. For months, he had meticulously planned this night—an audacious leap from independent film director to something far more sinister.He had spent countless hours observing the students of the local college, studying their routines, habits, and vulnerabilities. Tonight, he would put his research into action. Shifting the car into park, he slipped out silently, donning a military gas mask that concealed his identity. Approaching the bus, the rain intensified, as if nature itself sought to deter him. Inside, the silhouettes of unsuspecting girls chatted and giggled, blissfully unaware of the threat lurking just outside. The driver, a middle-aged man lost in thought, remained oblivious to the masked figure poised to strike.Coyote's heart raced as he readied his weapon. Though familiar with violence, executing his plan in broad daylight, right outside a college campus, was a risk he had never before contemplated. Taking a steadying breath, he sprang into action. With a swift motion, he jabbed the man's throat, stifling any sound as he slid him quietly to the ground. Taking the driver's seat, Coyote shifted the bus into gear, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the rain-soaked streets.The bus rumbled to life, headlights slicing through the downpour as he accelerated away from the campus. In the rearview mirror, he caught sight of a few stragglers who glanced after the bus, but their attention was quickly drawn back to the rain. Gaining speed, he drove past city streets and into the enveloping countryside, allowing a small, satisfied smile to creep beneath his mask. The first phase of his plan had unfolded flawlessly.Glancing at the dashboard, he mentally calculated his arrival time at the compound hidden deep in the woods. In the back, the girls grew noisier, their laughter grating against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He gripped the wheel tighter, accelerating as he navigated the winding road. The rain lashed against the windows, each drop amplifying the thrill of the hunt. He wasn't merely driving a bus; he was steering them into his domain.As he hurtled down the darkened path, his knuckles turned white from the tension. The wipers struggled against the torrential downpour, blurring the world outside. He glanced back at the unconscious forms slumped in the rear, the chloroform-soaked rag still clenched in his hand. Finally, he arrived at a secluded entrance, veering off the main road onto a narrow dirt path that snaked into the heart of the forest. The vehicle jolted along the uneven trail, branches clawing at the sides as if desperate to impede his progress. In the distance, a faint light flickered through the trees, guiding him closer to his compound—a sanctuary he had spent years constructing, a refuge for the darkest of his desires.He parked the bus and stepped into the relentless rain, droplets stinging his face like a thousand icy fingers. Methodically, he dragged the unconscious girls from the backseat, their limp bodies feeling like dead weight as he carried them through the shadows of the forest. The rain's steady rhythm became a lullaby, drowning out the world and the horrors he was about to unleash. Within these walls, he had created a temple for his depraved fantasies—a place where nothing was forbidden.Coyote closed the heavy door behind him, sealing away the secrets he held dear. In the depths of the night, he succumbed to the darkness he craved. One of the girls, Vanessa, began to stir, awakening in confusion. As she crept from the room, her eyes widened at the sight of cameras lining the walls. She hurried down the hallway, passing a costume room filled with grotesque outfits—a hazmat suit splattered with paint, a baseball uniform, and even a Tarzan-inspired costume hanging from an empty hook. Her pulse quickened as she pressed forward into the kitchen, where a large sink overflowed with what appeared to be severed ears. Beneath the flickering lights, a note sat ominously under a camera: "Now they will love me." Terror gripped her heart as she fled into the nearest door and stumbled into a dining room littered with broken cameras and film cartridges. A computer sat in the corner, its screen flickering to life. Vanessa's breath caught in her throat as she hit the space bar, activating a video feed. Horror washed over her as the camera panned to a shadowy figure standing over a lifeless body. The sickening realization struck her: this was not a movie set; it was a nightmare made real. Frantically, she scanned the room for an escape, but the shadows of costumes and props closed in around her, trapping her within the unfolding terror. Vanessa's scream echoed through the empty halls as the feed flickered and went black, leaving her with the haunting image of the shadowy figure looming over her fallen friends, their eyes vacant and lifeless. But the terror was only beginning. "Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide," Coyote's voice slithered through the darkness, low and primal, tinged with a feral edge that sent shivers down her spine. With each deliberate step he took, the air thickened with dread, his footfalls echoing ominously in the silence. Draped in a lion's pelt, he transformed into a figure of raw, untamed power—an embodiment of the wild that was both enthralling and terrifying."You're in my territory now," he continued, his gaze locking onto Vanessa's face, a predatory glint flickering in his eyes. "You thought you could escape me?" His chilling chuckle reverberated around the room, a sound that could freeze blood in her veins. "I've been tracking you for months. You're more predictable than a mouse in a maze." He circled her, movements fluid and calculated, savoring the thrill of the hunt.Vanessa's breath quickened under his gaze, but desperation ignited within her. "Y—you have to stop this—" she stammered, backing away toward the door. Coyote's eyes narrowed, delight curling his lips. "Stop this?" he echoed, his smile cruel. "Why would I stop now when the fun is just beginning?" He advanced, suffocating the distance she desperately tried to create. With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Vanessa lunged forward, defiance igniting within her. Coyote, caught off guard, stumbled back as she landed a fierce kick to his face, the impact reverberating through the air. Seizing her moment, she bolted for the door, her heart pounding as she burst into the night.The cool air filled her lungs as she fled into the depths of the woods, shadows closing around her like a cloak. Coyote's furious roar echoed behind her, a primal sound urging her to run faster. She dashed through the underbrush, branches clawing at her skin as she pressed on, fueled by the instinct to escape. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she stumbled onto a desolate highway, the asphalt glistening under the pale moonlight. Her legs ached, but she pushed through, frantically waving her arms as a pair of headlights pierced the darkness. A car slowed, the driver's expression shifting from confusion to concern as they pulled over. "Are you okay?" the driver called out, their voice a lifeline in the engulfing night. Breathless and trembling, Vanessa felt relief wash over her. Glancing back at the woods, half-expecting Coyote to emerge from the shadows, she saw only the stillness of the trees. "Help me," she gasped, voice trembling. "Please, help me." As she climbed into the car, the door slammed shut behind her, sealing her away from the nightmare she had narrowly escaped. The driver glanced at her, concern etched on their face as they sped away from the dark woods, leaving Coyote's territory—and the terror of the hunt—behind. But deep in her heart, Vanessa knew the fight was far from over; the king of the wild would not be so easily vanquished. Vanessa's heart raced as she stumbled into the police station, her mind racing with the horrors she had just escaped. Breathlessly recounting her harrowing tale, she watched as the officers exchanged skeptical glances, their disbelief palpable. "You're telling us that a man in a lion's pelt is stalking you?" one officer scoffed, dismissing her claims with a wave of his hand. Despite her desperate pleas, they deemed her story too far-fetched, chalking it up to a traumatic episode. Frustration and despair settled heavily on her shoulders as she realized that the very system meant to protect her was instead casting her aside. Weeks turned into months, and as the world moved on, Coyote emerged from the shadows, his twisted fantasies transformed into a series of chilling films that captivated audiences. Each release bore the mark of his sinister genius, drawing in viewers with gruesome tales that echoed Vanessa's own ordeal. The media hailed him as a visionary, a master of horror, while the haunting memories of her escape played like a broken record in her mind. Every time she saw his face on billboards or heard whispers of his films, she felt a sickening knot tighten in her stomach, the terror he had inflicted upon her surfacing anew. As Coyote's fame skyrocketed, so did the relentless reminders of her past. He became a household name, his films dominating the box office, while Vanessa remained an unwilling captive of her own memories, haunted by the knowledge that the predator who had nearly claimed her life was now celebrated by the masses. With each new movie, he seemed to draw closer, his presence a dark cloud looming over her daily existence. The once-vibrant life she had known was now a mere shadow, plagued by nightmares and the constant feeling that she was being watched. Despite the world's denial, she knew the truth: Coyote had not just left his mark on her life—he had woven himself into the very fabric of her reality, and the fight for her freedom was far from over.