The Movie Writes Real Life

Really? That's how this is going to end?

Well, this is it. The last chapter. It would absolutely mean the world to me if you could comment or vote. I started this as an idea in December and by May I never would have dreamed of finishing it. I am open to the idea of a sequel, because this is a slasher, isn't it? But only if at least three people ask. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed The Movie Writes Real Life.

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“Shit,” Lindsey swore as she spilled a bit of her coffee on the floor of the kitchen. She was so close to walking out the door, why did things have to slow her down now?

She was getting ready for school on a normal Tuesday, and it had been a month since the worst day of her life. A month since she’d experienced death, both seeing and causing it. She’d attended six funerals; and skipped two.

She’d always wondered what happened to the final girl after the initial slaughter. Well first there’sthe clean up. The police ask a lot of questions and find out all they can about the situation. Then there are the legal things to be taken care of. Then there’s the never ending therapy and after that… well she was still trying to figure that out.

Of course in between all that she has to deal with people all the time. Her parents, who at first were so happy their little girl was alive she couldn’t do a darn thing wrong. But after that wore of they were livid that she hadn’t called them home right away. She assured them that it was for safety, but as her dad put it, “fuck safety, we should have been here”.

Then she had to deal with kids at school, some of whom were terrified of her and some who thought she was the most amazing martyr. No matter what though, her and Mark were always surrounded by a crowd of curious moronic teenagers.

The biggest pain in her ass nowadays was the press though. Oh, they loved her and Mark. It was like they found the holy grail of journalism; murder survivors. They told the same story so many times, Lindsey wondered how it still interested people. And of course now everyone knew about the little town where the movie-like massacre had taken place. Lindsey had been sent flowers and cards from people around the country.

All of it was rather unnerving.

She mixed creamer into her coffee and threw the spoon into the sink. Her phone buzzed from on the table.

“I told you not to call here anymore,” She answered the phone with a smile on her face.

“And where is here exactly? Because it isn’t at school where it should be,” Mark replied. Lindsey rolled her eyes.

“Calm yourself Lil Wayne, I’m about to leave,” She smirked.

“Don’t call me that,” He yelled. She laughed.

“It really is your fault for doing that perfect impression. Blew my mind,” She pointed out. She headed out the door, locking it behind her. She took her time walking to her car, enjoying the gorgeous autumn morning.

“Hurry up and get here Linds, I’m losing patience,” Mark ordered. She sighed.

“I will. I gotta go, I’m about to get behind the wheel. Love you hero,” She said, and tossed her bag into the passenger seat.

“Love you too, survivor,” Mark said. Lindsey hung up the phone and set it in the cup holder. Just as she was about to shut her door her phone buzzed again. Thinking it was Mark again, as nobody else called her this early in the morning, she picked it up right away.

“I’ll be there quicker if you let me leave,” She snapped. There was silence on the other end and she pulled her phone away to check the number. It was listed as unknown.

“You’re not funny, and I’m hanging up now,” She said. Before she could do what she said, the familiar raspy voice got one question out.

“Don’t you like sequels, Lindsey?”