Halloween Surprise

The Lock on the Floor

Garbled words echoed in the room as the man lay on the floor, his hands moving above his head erratically, his feet hooking on the ends of the floorboards. His hands scratched at the air, mouth hanging open.

At his struggle, roars of enjoyment ensued.

"Round of applause for Alex Brooks! Our drama club president!"

The man gracefully got off the floor, grabbed the ends of his shirt, curtseying in front of his on-screen audience.

"On the topic of drama, Alex, heard you got cast in one."

He shrugged, a carefree, proud smile, adorning his face, "They just called, I got the lead." He was floating on cloud nine as the congratulations flooded in.

Alex, shushed them, his own laughter chiming in.

"Well, the-" His screen went black. Static noise could be heard from the phone as the voices of his classmates merged into one demonic hum.

His moment of euphoria was gone.

He finally took note of his surroundings. The rain hitting his window, the harsh winds blowing, the sudden bursts of colour filling the sky.

He sighed, sinking back into the couch, 'guess trick or treating is cancelled -- spoke too soon.'

He groaned as the knocking began once more: he was too drunk to play nice with a bunch of kids.

He got up grumpily, like a giant whose sleep had been taken from him, hobbling over to the door. His floorboards creaked with every step he took up the stairs, and out of his basement to the source of the noise.

The rain was louder now: No child in sight.

He cursed at the obvious pranksters, preparing to go back inside, only for the knocking to start once more.

No one was there.

It was the alcohol, he told himself, preparing to turn his back, only for the lightning to open his eyes. He saw it.

A lone strand of brunette hair on his doorstep.

He knelt down, eyeing It, his fingers removed the ribbon around it, throwing the lock away, for another poor soul to find. "It's not even real," he spat, his face contorting in disgust, "just an extension."

His eyes showed the horror he hoped to mask as he locked his front door shut, bolting it, before clamouring back to the stairs, stumbling into the basement, ribbon in hand.

Collecting his breath, he walked over to the couch, bent down, peering in to see the whimpering, petrified, face of his victim: Tied, bound, and gagged underneath. Mascara dripping down their face, nose red and extensions cut off. Muffled pleads echoed.

"This must be yours." He dangled the ribbon between his fingers grabbing a chunk of her hair, before tying it around one single lock, "Must've fallen off with all your struggling."

The rain subsided, he picked up his phone once more, entering the call.

"Alex! tell us, how'd you get the role?"

He leaned back on the couch, his weight crushing it, "there was no one around to act against me."