Midnight Massacres

Chapter One

"Hello! Welcome to another episode of 'Midnight Massacres'!". The TV boomed into the dark room. "The show where we pick unsuspecting victims to pay a visit to our very own 'slaughter house'". The words 'slaughter house' came equipped with a roaring sound of thunder. "contrary to our usual crowd of adult victims, today we will be focusing on children to celebrate the national Childrens' day!"

"Yes!" shouted Fred. Fred was a twelve year old boy, who happened to be a fan of Midnight Massacres. MM was a show where random people get chosen every week to face a fully trained 'Massacre'. This was the official term given to someone trained and paid to perform certain slaughters for governments or for entertainment purposes such as Midnight Massacres.

"Before we announce today's victims, we would proudly like to reveal some new merchandise on sale now! Some of these include the T-shirts, hats and guns for use for people over 8 years of age! Now finally, we will reveal our lucky 'contestant'... after this commercial break!" Fred made an obnoxious groaning sound directed at the TV. This happened every time a victim was about to be announced. Suddenly, the dire silence was broken with the sound of a ringing phone. Fred rushed to the corner of the room to pick it up.

"Fred, are you watching Midnight Massacres?" said the voice on the phone

"Hello to you too, Noah"

"Just answer the question." Noah was Fred's best friend. They had known each other since they were two years old, in the nursery they both went to as children. People called Fred and Noah 'a match made in Hell', this was mainly due to their combined sense of humor and trouble-making tendencies. Fred and Noah both lacked any siblings, thus they referred to each other 'brothers'. One might believe them if they hadn't known them for an extended period. They would spend almost all their time together, neither of them had many other friends. They would be together every day after school and on the weekends, though this day was an exception as Noah was grounded for being out past 10 o'clock, which was punishable by law if you were caught. No one knew why. It was one of the greatest mysteries facing the civilians of that mysterious time.

"Yeah, are you watching it in your room?" laughed Fred, fully aware that Noah did not possess a TV in his room.

"Oh, shut up." he replied, "Make sure you call me the minute the victim is announced. I heard that-"

"Hold on," interrupted Fred, "I need to turn down the TV." Fred reached for the remote and held a button to turn down the TV's volume, which was now advertising fully fletched machetes for children to young to bare guns. "Okay, carry on"

"I heard this week's victims are going to be children" began Noah.

"Right you are, Parkinson"

"I hope it's not you or me, or both of us."

"Don't be stupid, out of all the children living in the UK now, what are the chances of us getting picked?" said Fred, not only hoping to lift the spirits of Noah, but also himself as he too knew deep down that this day may be his final. Because after all, what chance does a 16 year old boy have against a fully trained massacre?

After a long suspenseful commercial break, Brook Bensen's joyful face suddenly appeared on screen.

"Hello everyone!" said Brook, the commentator of the dreaded show, "and welcome back to Midnight Massacres. Now, time for the moment you have all been waiting for, the 'lucky' contestant." The world suddenly became silent in anticipation of the major announcement. Fred leaned in closer.

"This week's contestant is..." Fred's stomach fell. He was looking at the TV for what felt like a solid hour, making sure that he had read the name right, and sure enough he had. Fred felt tears being generated in his wide eyes looking at the name written on the screen. He fell off the chair, devastated, mortified. It cannot be. No. It must be a mistake, out of all the people in the UK, what were the chances of this name appearing in bold on the screen. He looked up again, hoping he was imagining this whole scenario. But surely, the grim, bold words spelling out 'Noah Parkinson' remained on the screen.