Do you know Jack? The Ripper? Saucy Jack? Leather Apron?
The most infamous serial killer in history has long been fodder for the imagination of authors and artists alike, but his true identity remains an enigma to this day. Take a fresh look at the...
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The machete swung and Hapless Blonde Number 2 shrieked, standing stock-still and helplessly flapping her hands. The machete plunged through flesh and bone, and copious amounts of fake blood sprayed across the TV screen.
Jenny Ryan rolled her eyes. "That blood is pink! Pink!"
"Boo," Mikey yelled, hurling a handful of popcorn at the screen. "Why didn't she run or duck? She could easily have got away."
Jenny reached across the sofa and confiscated his popcorn bowl. "It's not that simple. Everyone knows about the fight or flight response, but there's a third option, and that's freeze. Some people just freeze up, and there's nothing they can do about it."
Mikey snorted and threw a piece of popcorn at her. He must have a stash of it in his lap or something. His aim was poor, and the popcorn attached itself to his on-again, off-again girlfriend's hair. Eleanor Smith slowly turned her head and gave him an icy look.
"Michael Jones-Kent, did you just throw popcorn at my hair?"
Mikey paled and hastily removed the offending treat. One thing everyone in the group knew was that you did not ever mess with Eleanor's hair. Ever.
"Careful, Mikey," said Chris Ecton, sitting on a squishy beanbag next to the sofa. "This film might give her ideas."
Onscreen, the machete-wielding killer in the white mask dispatched another nubile young victim.
"Does this even have a plot?" Jenny asked.
Weekly film night had become something of a ritual for them. Four times a month they took it in turn to cram into each other's flats, drink too much, eat their own body weight in popcorn, and gleefully tear apart every film they watched. Last week had been romcoms. This week was horror.
It was Maggie Newman's turn to host, and her flat was the smallest of all. Jenny, Eleanor, and Mikey were squeezed on the sofa, Adam and Chris had beanbags, and Maggie herself was sprawled across the rug on the floor. Bowls of differently flavoured popcorn were strategically placed throughout the seating arrangement, and everyone had a cold beer.
"Who needs a plot?" Mikey said, happily eating the popcorn he'd liberated from Eleanor's hair.
"I wouldn't mind one," Jenny said.
"Nah, all we need is boobs and blood."
Jenny and Eleanor exchanged a long-suffering look, and Jenny suppressed a laugh. Sometimes she still couldn't believe how quickly and easily the group had welcomed her as one of their own. They'd been a happy unit of five for years, and then Jenny had met Eleanor through a mutual friend at university. Things had snowballed from there. Even when the others recounted events from before Jenny had joined them, she never felt excluded or unwanted. She fitted in with them as naturally as if she'd always been there.
