Eternity of Horror

11. Osiris

Chapter 11

Osiris

T he cool autumn air bites at my skin as I finish setting up a drop panel located in a hallway that connects two rooms. These scares are simple but effective. You know it's coming, yet, when it happens, it still gets most people every time. I have this hallway lined with old picture frames. Some have paintings in them, some are just wood because it's a haunted house so nothing has to be perfect. The one containing the scare has a painting of a demented clown and is at about shoulder height for me, but at eye level for Lilith.

My cock throbs, letting me know that if I continue any train of thought containing that precious little psycho, all productivity for the day will go out the window. And I have a lot to do today. I put the final screw in the back of the panel, moving from behind the scenes and into the hall to check how it will look for my guests. Perfect. Everything is almost set and ready to open.

The faint whimpers of my 'actors' mix with the natural symphony of crickets, birds, and twigs breaking under my feet as I walk away. I want them to look broken, bloody, malnourished, covered in bug bites, and soaked in desperation. So I just let them rot in the elements, uncovered and unclean, for the months it takes me to finish setting up. It's about a week until show time, so now is when I’ll stop feeding them. I smirk at the thought of how much pain they’ll be in when they finally die.

I make it to my car and the closing of my door silences the ambient sounds, turning up the thoughts in my head that were once muted by my surroundings. I drive in silence. Letting myself become consumed by the ideas of what I am going to do, fantasies of who will come through my haunt, and... her. She’s a new ingredient in my recipe for mayhem. An unexpected treat. I find myself palming my cock over my pants while driving back to my place. Grumbling to myself, I wish I could just go fuck her teeth loose instead of what I need to do right now, but all in good time.

Once back at my place, I gather the materials I need for promotion: a couple small vials of blood, collected from my basement full of test subjects, a scalpel, duct tape, and a few flyers I pieced together detailing how to find the haunt. The night before I open, I'll mark a few trees with red X's, forming a little trail of breadcrumbs for the mice to follow .

The sun dims like a dying candle as it sinks below the horizon. Faint whispers of orange and pink kiss the darkening skies as I start getting my costume on for tonight. Who wants some normal-looking man coming up to them in the dead of night and inviting them to an exclusive extreme haunted house? That's just weird. I stipple white makeup across my face as I stare at myself in the mirror. The eyes staring back at me begin to look more like my true self as my flesh is adequately covered. I don't watch my hands as they work, just my eyes, letting the evil within decide how he wants to be visually represented this evening. A stippled streak of blue down one eye, purple down the other. Black around my lips, and finishing with a gargle of fresh blood before tilting my head back and slowly forcing the liquid out of my mouth so that it can choose its own path down my face, chin, and neck. I let out a soft moan when I finally look at what I've done. Exquisite.

The smell of dirt and death wafts in my face when I open the suitcase containing my costume. I pull out each article of clothing, all handmade, and set it out on my bed. Seeing my costume for the first time each season always gives me goblins in my stomach. The anxious excitement spills into my bloodstream and pumps the contents of my veins in double time. I sing to it as I exchange what I'm wearing with what I've made. My once-white shirt is now a coffee-stained yellowish brown from years of dirt and sweat. Random splatters of blood lead to a massive, deep red stain right around my belly. What once were brown shorts are now almost blacked out from the sheer amount of death that has happened in my lap. Its texture has worn away from a clean soft fabric to a dried, crunchy material from the viscera that's been cemented into the threads. This type of costume distressing is priceless.

Shirt on, pants on, suspenders on, and gloves on. Last but not least I fix my clip-on bow tie in the mirror and admire the creature that stands before me. Some would say it's just me with a costume on. But, by putting these clothes on, I'm actually taking off the costume that I wear eleven months out of the year.. I am finally ME. And me is fucking delicious.

I find myself around the corner from a local bar, tucked neatly away in an alley. I wonder if this is the same alley where Lilith took that man's life. How wonderful that would be. Behind a dumpster, I sit on the damp, cold cement and peer around the side of it. There are specific types of people I like to invite to my show. They usually travel in packs, are the most obnoxious and loud groups wherever they go, and their absence will absolutely be noticed. I want people who will be missed. People with friends, a social media presence, and families. Why kill a loner nobody is going to notice or care about when you can kill someone who's loved? Like throwing a severed head into a pond, the ripples will span far and wide. I get the satisfaction of butchering someone and the sheer pleasure of knowing there will be many, many broken hearts. Maybe she has kids and didn't know when she kissed them goodnight it was going to be the last time. Maybe he has a wife at home that argued with him about going out with his friends again, making the last conversation they had a bitter one. The possibility of dismantling so many lives with the sweet, simple act of murder was enough to make my cock drip in my piss-stained underwear.

The sound of voices approaching pulls my attention back to the sidewalk that stretches out in front of me. Laughter and drunken speech laced with swears and foul language are blurted out louder than what would be deemed socially acceptable in a public place.The sound feels like dropping heavy rocks on sheet metal. These may be the ones.

A crooked grin appears on my face as I rise to my feet and begin to walk toward the sound. My plan was to meet them at the entrance of the alley and do my little song and dance. Equal parts silly and scary. Just what people would want in a scare actor. But my feet are cemented to the ground beneath them the moment I hear her name. A girl’s voice spits it from her mouth like it is laced with rat poison. The laughter and degradation that follows from the rest of the group causes my head to tilt harder to one side until the bones in my neck crack. These are the friends Lilith told me about. The ones she bailed on to see me the other night. The ones that I now have verbal confirmation hate her fucking guts and are using her for her money. My smile that was once pulled up on only one side of my face has mirrored itself into a full grin. I have found my group.

I near the entrance to the alley as they meander past. Definitely too fucked up to even notice I'm there. I step out behind them and start to follow, the yellowish street lights guiding the path down the otherwise darkened sidewalk. Rage bubbles in my chest as they continue to desecrate Lilith's name. The visceral urge to cut slits into their soft belly skin and use the new holes to fuck my seed into their guts for being so disrespectful is challenging for me to keep at bay. Luckily for them, I am on a mission. One that involves them being the VIP guests at my haunted attraction. So they get to live, for now.

Their conversation shifts in my favor when one of the little cunts blurts out that she wants to go somewhere spooky. "Not some like * hiccup *... little bitch place. Like a real scary place," she says to the group in a drunken babble.

"Bitch, you can't even watch horror movies without closing your eyes," one of the guys bites back with a laugh. The others chuckle as the girl presses her middle finger to his forehead. "Is that an offer or your I.Q.?" he says in response.

"What are you fuckin twelve? When you hit puberty gimme a call cuz I don't fuck little boys," the girl spits back. The rest laugh harder. My fucking head hurts listening to them. Ever so subtly I interrupt with a screaming maniacal laugh.

"Haha, scary, you say? Hmm." I put on my clowney voice as they screech in response to being startled. The guy who was just talking shit falls to the ground, pure fear dripping down all of their faces. "Well kiddies, do I have just the place for you. You see, my name is Necro the clown, and I was just let out of a very, very scary place just to invite but a small number of new friends to come play. This place is unlike anything you have ever seen before. Hehe, I promise you that." I move from person to person as I speak, getting uncomfortably close, watching their faces contort from the stench emanating from my costume.

"Jesus Christ, dude, calm down," one of the girls barks at me. I can tell by the authority in her voice that she is the leader of this group of fucking idiots. What did Lilith say her name was? Oh... that's right.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett. If you're too scared I'm sure you don't have to join your friends. My playground isn't for pussies," I taunt her. The surprised look on her face tells me not many people talk back to her like that. Watching her die will be the most satisfying.

"Excuse me? Who the f…" She steps toward me, but her words are clamped in her throat by my hand as I grab her neck and slam her against the wooded wall of the storefront we happened to be in front of. One of the guys puffs up and is about to charge when I pull the scalpel from my pocket and point it at his stupid face.

"Uh, uh, ahh. Unless you want to go trick or treating as a shredded piece of paper, I would back the fuck off. Respectfully." I giggle before turning the blade to Scarlett. Turning it sideways and caressing her cheek with the flat side, her eyes widen as she stares into mine, realizing that the weapon I wield is real. I tick an eyebrow up with a smirk. "Against the wall! All of you!" My playfully silly tone turns gravely and wicked. The fear bubbles from their lips as they whimper while quickly following my orders.

I pull out the roll of duct tape from the bag of goodies I brought and tear off a small length. My eyes never leave Scarlett’s as I place my pointer finger over my lips and shush her before firmly placing the tape over her wicked mouth. She blinks a few tears out of her eyes before rolling them at me, clearly frustrated with herself that I just saw her weakness spill out. I smirk again before taking her chin in my hand and turning her head. My tongue slithers from my mouth and scoops up the salty droplet, slowly dragging up the path it made down her face. A low drawn-out growl rumbles from my throat as I savor the taste of her tears.

I reach into my bag and pull out a vial of blood. Popping the stopper, I pour the thick red liquid onto my finger and draw an X across the duct tape covering Scarlett's mouth. She violently gags at the smell of it, and I giggle at her reaction. My scalpel quickly reappears as I wave it in front of their faces, ensuring they keep their backs to the wall.

"If you want real fear like this, if you thirst for pure terror, follow the red X's. They’ll guide you deep into the woods of a forgotten forest. That’s where you'll find me and my home. That's where you'll find..." Yes, pause for dramatic effect. "Eternity of Horror."

I pull the flier out of the bag and slam it above Scarlett's head, taking the scalpel and stabbing it into the wood, pinning it there. The flier is simple: an image of an old dead tree that's been marked with a red X and the words 'Eternity Of Horror' written above it. I back away, crossing the street, and doing a silly little clowney dance as I continue to giggle at them.

"Wait... how do we find the red X?!" the girl that first mentioned a scary place blurts out. Everyone she’s with slowly turns and stares at her like she is fucking insane. I keep giggling.

"Don't worry, Jamie. When the time is right… you'll know." They stay frozen against the wall, my knowledge of who they are sinking in as I disappear into the night. I'll see you soon, my precious little playthings.